Home > Wendy Does Waco
I want the “Ho”
I had considered getting a tattoo of the city’s stylized “W”. Then I decided maybe a Waco charm for my bracelet would do.
But now it’s all become so clear to me. The perfect little piece of this town for me is the “Ho” from the Townhouse “Mo-Ho” Tel. Yes, as I understand it, the city has ruled that the “Ho” part of this fun little getaway must be demolished by May 25. But the “Mo” is allowed to live on in its eyesored glory. To me, this makes a kind of sense that is non, but whatever.
By the end of this month, the Townhouse Mo-Ho Tel sign will be a misnomer, that is, unless Mo-Ho is to take on another meaning from henceforth. So I volunteer to take the sign off the owner’s hands. Or at the very least, I’ll be happy to give the “Ho” a good home. Because really, leaving the sign as is would just be in poor taste and you wouldn’t want to sully the class and elegance of this non-establishment. And what about all the people who would see the sign and whip their Lexus SUVs into the parking lot, looking forward to staying in the “Ho” part? How disappointed they might be.
Yes, I consider it not only a kitschy Waco souvenir, but actually my civic duty to take in the Ho. No need to thank me. The love of the people and health of the “Ho” is all I need.
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Feed Waco, please
I was told a story the other day about a couple in the Kate Ross development who, for a couple of days, saw a little boy sitting out on a stoop. They approached him and asked if he was ok. He told them his mama was gone and he was hungry.
Not that he was scared or alone, but that he was hungry. There was no food in the house. This is a reality in our area, according to the folks volunteering and working in local food pantries.
I don’t know why I feel so moved by this issue. Maybe it’s the time I’ve spent volunteering in the Caritas food pantry and hearing stories like this. Or maybe it’s that my family had an abundance of food growing up. Food was love and we had a lot of both, hence the extra padding I carry around with me today.
It’s staggering to me to think that while I’m whining over the cost of grass fed beef or wild salmon, there are families that can’t even afford milk for their children. The really amazing thing though, is that I can actually make a difference in this issue and make a dent in this problem. I can pick up 2 for 1 cans of green beans to donate as I’m grabbing my organic pintos. It’s that simple.
I’m doing a food drive at the paper this week in honor of Stamp Out Hunger and I invite all of you to take part too. Clean out your pantries and put the lima beans that your kids won’t touch and the cake mixes that your wife won’t make you since you both went on the South Beach Diet in a bag and put the bag by your mailbox Saturday. Your letter carrier will pick up the goods and they will be shared with the local Salvation Army and Caritas food pantries.
Let’s feed Waco.
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Accepting all hugs
Should you find me wandering through HEB, puffy-eyed and pouty-lipped or see me at the gym, ellipticizing through my blues — feel free to hug me.
The best friend I had in Waco moved away last weekend. I’ve seen a lot of people leave, and there are more on their way out, but Jenn and (4 year old) Madison’s departure leaves me especially sad. Jenn can take one glance at me and know if something’s wrong and she gives real hugs, that make you feel like a lifesaver in a tossing sea. Her husband Terry (on his 2nd tour in Iraq) is a hugger too and watches out for me by casting judgement on the guys I date. And Madison — what can I say about her that I haven’t already said? She’s perfect. With the Sims family I always felt safe — totally and completely.
And now they’re in Kentucky. Emily will move away after she gets married this summer and then I’ll really be screwed. I’ve been here more than a year, but still feel like I don’t know anyone because all my close friends have left or are leaving town. Should I start having potential friends fill out applications to gauge their longevity in Waco before I invest myself emotionally?
“Gee, you seem cool and a margarita after work does sound like fun, but what are your plans for the next 3 to 7 years? What’s that? You’d like to move to Dallas? Gosh, I’m going to have to say no.” That makes me the creepy, stalker, single white female friend and that’s not cool.
ARGH! I’m frustrated. Who’s going to make me mind-numbing Cosmopolitans? Who’s going to let me borrow their child just to hear them say things like “Who is Baby Jeebus” or “Let’s fortend (pretend) to be princesses” ? Where am I going to do my laundry?
What’s a lonely girl who wants to stay in Waco for a while to do?
Saturday night, as I said goodbye and tried hard not to cry, Madison smothered my face in kisses. Then she took both hands, spread them on my face and mushed them. “If you rub them in, they’ll last longer,” she said.
I hope she’s right, but just in case, I’m accepting all hugs.
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Stop to pick the poppies
I have to admit, I tend to do a lot of moaning and whining when it comes to appreciating Texas foliage. I’ve been spoiled on delicate Carolina dogwood, azaleas like pink exclamation marks in front yards and other natural delights like pink coneflower and Carolina jasmine.
Don’t get me wrong, I worship the bluebonnet too, but you don’t tend to see those nestled along front walks. Since I’ve taken to walking more places though, my appreciation for what Waco’s got growing has changed. I can’t tell you how many rose bushes of every color that I have nearly accosted with my nose. And the owners of a certain gorgeous magnolia tree on Sanger Avenue should be forewarned, I’ll be keeping my eye out for the perfect blossom to float in a bowl of water on the breakfast table.
And then there are the poppies. Anyone who’s driven down Cole Avenue in the last month has seen the army of poppies that guard the front walk of a lovely lady named Ruth.
Walking home from a friend’s Sunday I saw Ruth working in the garden and stopped to say how much I appreciate her poppies. “Do you want some?” she asked, before we had even introduced ourselves. She led me to the back and picked a handful of blooms, scrounged up a glass jar, which she filled water and plopped the orange and crimson gifts in.
I took them home and brightened my front stoop with them. I’ve driven by her house so many times, but never knocked on her door. I guess sometimes it pays to stop and pick the poppies.
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Say it loud and say it proud
I’m way into name pride. When I was young, anything and everything I owned had my name or initials on it, from embroidered dresses to hair ribbons to pencils and stickers.(I was a kidnapper’s dream)
So I found it very sad this week when I could find basically nothing bearing just the name of Waco to go in the going-away gift for my little friend. Sure, there’s zoo stuff and there’s Texas Ranger and Dr Pepper stuff, but I simply wanted something Waco.
I was hoping to find a postcard book with pictures of the Suspension Bridge and places in Cameron Park, stuff like that. These are things she could put in the photo album I made her (great idea!) and point at and say, “Miss Wendy took me there.” Even a T-shirt or tote bag with the city’s “W” would have worked (I love that W). I have to say, I was particularly disappointed with the Dr Pepper gift shop. Considering the way the city pushes that place, they could at least reciprocate with Waco specific postcards.
Because I’m crafty like ice is cold (Beastie Boys reference), I still put together a good gift. I wrote Madison’s name on a little pink plastic suitcase from Michael’s. Inside is the photo album I filled with pictures of me, her and her mom and dad that I took throughout the year. I also included several envelopes, stamped and addresed to me, so she can color me a picture and drop it in the mail easily. There’s also a Keep Waco Wacko sticker and (the best part) a bright pink “I (heart) Texas” T-shirt, which I made.
You guys had great ideas. The boots would be adorable but she’s so partial to flip-flops, I didn’t know if she’d wear them. I still may do the charm bracelet. After all, she’s got a lot of birthdays ahead of her that the bracelet would be great for.
Thanks for your input and, City of Waco, where’s the pride? Say it loud and say it proud, at least with a few postcards.
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Texas for tots
I need help, pronto!
Say you know a little girl who’s 4 who is moving away to Kentucky. She has grown up in Central Texas and considers herself a Texas girl. What do you get her as a Texas/Waco themed going away gift??? Remember, you don’t want to give her a bunch of crap because it just makes more stuff for her mom to keep up with.
Any suggestions? She leaves this weekend!!!! Come on you moms out there, I know you can help me with this!
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Walking the walk
Talking the talk is all fine and good, but sometimes you’ve got to walk the walk.
So I walked to work today. I figured I’d see if it was a viable option and see how scary the trek would be on a bike.
I’m not going to tell you how long the trip from my La Providencia neighborhood to 900 Franklin Ave. took becuase it’s just embarrassing. I’m sure it would have been a speedier trip, had I not stopped for coffee at Shipley’s, stopped to pick honeysuckle and stopped to talk to a dog. It’s entirely possible that I’m too ADD to ever make walking to work a speedy venture.
But what a great experience. It’s funny how much more you notice on foot. It seems like through the window of my SUV I only notice the dim houses, with their shrugging structure and shedding paint. But on foot, I saw the peacock stained glass windows at a house on Gorman Street. And the persimmon colored roses sunbathing in a front yard on 24th Street.
Alleys that usually look dingy by the slight tint of my car window, were bursting with greens. And the smell! There was honeysuckle and wild onion for sure and I thought I caught a whiff of magnolia, but that might just have been wishful thinking.
It was a pleasant jaunt and I think it would be an even more productive bike ride. But first I have to relearn to ride a bike. J.B. says it’s just like riding a bike (haha, yes, that was really his joke.) J.B. is actually going to bring one of his bikes up to the paper for reporters to use when we have downtown business. I love this idea! I need to figure out whether I can afford a bike.
At least I now know I can hoof it if I want to. I only have one question — does someone want to give me a ride home?
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A missed weekend of queens and kings
SLIDE SHOW
Well, crap.
In my fervor to take in Fiesta festivities, and then my post Fiesta recovery, I totally missed 2 massive Waco cultural events that surely would have made for fun blog fodder. I speak of the Cotton Palace Pagaent and the First Self-Righteous Revival Revue presented by the Royal Sovereign and Imperial Court of the Central Texas Empire and Friends.
The whole Cotton Palace thing confuses me. I always assumed it was the classic debutante thing, like my mom, curtsying to the floor in her white dress, accompanied by my Grandad in tails. But I’m wrong, right?
It’s actually a play? But what about all the elaborate costumes and fanciful titles from the early 1900s, like “Goddess of Liberty” ? The original Cotton Palace sounds more like the San Antonio Battle of Flowers court, with daughters from the “best” families crowned creepy names like Duchess of Noble Fortresses (huh?).
Apparently I’m too easily confused to be high society. I just don’t understand any of this. I have the history of the Texas Cotton Palace by Lavonia Jenkins Barnes sitting on my desk, which might clear things up, but it’s going to take me a while to get through it because my brain insists on reading it with a lilting southern belle voice. But I guess I’ll have to wait a whole year to catch the pagaent, darn it.
The other function, however, I think I get. And my experience in the early 1990s sneaking into clubs for raves and drag shows in Charlotte, NC, tells me that any function of the Royal Sovereign and Imperial Court of the Central Texas Empire and Friends is probably a hoot. So to this esteemed sect of society, I ask to please keep me aware of any future soiree that I might attend.
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A reason to rally
I fled town last week to catch the tail-end of Fiesta in San Antonio with a couple of friends. We had a great time — music, Mexican food, yelling “show us your shoes” at the girls in the pretty dresses on the Battle of Flowers Parade floats (anybody get that reference?).
Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that San Antonio is less than my favorite place. It will always be home because my family and my history are there, but my motto about S.A. is “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” I like to breeze into town and catch some swimming at my Dad’s (can’t wait to try the new pool!), indulge in girl talk and a little shopping with my Mom and then head home.
But there is one thing I admire about “say-town”, the people’s ability to get behind something. Like Fiesta. Whether it’s a dinner party in celebration of Fiesta or nights of beer swilling at NIOSA, it seems to be something that the masses celebrate, a subtle pride of place. Another unifying point I always love to see is the support for the Spurs. When the season really heats up, everywhere you look, it’s “Go Spurs Go”. I guess that kind of shared spirit is to be expected in a town with such a stellar professional team (biased? me? yes.), but I’m still always tickled by it.
So I’ve decided, Waco needs a rallying point, something we can really all get behind and celebrate. Is it already here and I just haven’t picked up on it yet? If not, then we should create it. Let’s start the trend. We could make people say, “Those Wacoans, they can’t decide where to place blame for the Branch Davidian thing and they’re awful fickle about Baylor, but they really all get behind _.”
Ideas?
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Great service
Almost every morning, I stop at the Waco Drive Shipley’s and get my little Shipley’s coffee mug refilled. The ladies behind the counter are always pleasant, fast and put my cream in for me. It’s a small, simple part of my day, but I’ve come to really enjoy it.
So I thought this might be a great time for shout outs to those people you see on a regular basis — at the gas station, the coffee shop, your office’s front desk — who in some little way, have an ability to make your day better.
I’m going to put my Shipley’s girls at the top of my list. Then there’s everyone at Barnes and Noble, from Craig to Carol (who recently moved away). I like the way the ladies at the downtown Bank of America counter call me by my name and can help me with anything. And Joel at Baskin Robbins deserves a tip for just being a cool kid. I even have favorites in the areas of jurisprudence and radio. I could go on and on.
Ultimately, I think these people go a long way in making you enjoy the place you live. So please, add to the list. And to everybody on it — Thanks!
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Totally off topic
OK, this has nothing whatsoever to do with Waco, but it’s a question I desperately need answered, so I’m going to throw it out there:
Why, in the name of all things holy, do those Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints women wear their hair roughly five inches high in front?
All the newscasts and news stories talk about polygamy and whether children were abused, etc. Sure, that’s important, but do you mean to tell me I’m the only person that’s just dying to know, “What’s up with the hair?!?”
There was an article in the Trib today trying to address the “polygamist-wear” and hair. They grow their hair to wash Christ’s feet with (eew, but ok, whatever) and they apparently curl the front, but not with a curling iron. But that still doesn’t answer why they fashion it like a wall at the front of their head.
I get the Little House on the Prairie dresses and the no makeup and I even understand the mono-brow that some FLDS chick on the news was sporting. I’m sure it’s all a modesty thing. Fine. But, the hair? You know that coif takes some serious backcombing and, I’m guessing, hairspray too.
So really, are they that much more modest than me? Sure I shave my legs, but I guarantee you I don’t spend the amount of time they do on my hair. And yeah, I wear pants and (gasp!) shorts, but I also wear Crocs, so clearly there’s no vanity in my fashion choices.
Please, I’m begging someone, anyone, to enlighten me on the polygamist wife hairdo of choice!
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Earth Day guilt and carpooling
Since when did Earth Day become, “All humans should feel like total crap for how they’ve ruined this planet and, oh yeah, we’re all going to die a horrible death” day?
I’m down with celebrating the Earth and talking about ways to take better care of it, but these scary Earth Day TV programs can take their guilt and shove it as far as I’m concerned. Maybe guilt is what it takes to mobilize some people to save the planet, but it just ticks me off.
Yesterday, after some news program pointed out to me that I am single-handedly responsible for the global warming that caused the disappearance of some glacier in the Andes Mountains, I sat around trying to figure out what else I could do to environmentally redeem myself. I already recycle, use my own grocery bags and try not to drive too much. I guess I could quit bathing.
And then I actually had a useful idea — carpooling. I would love to carpool to church with someone on Sundays. I’d consider carpooling to work a few days a week as well. With gas getting so high, carpooling sounds better and better. Plus, there are all the fun carpool sing alongs and games to play! (Not. I don’t speak in the morning. I’m not unpleasant, it just takes me a while to work up the enthusiasm for human interaction.)
Waco doesn’t strike me as much of a carpooling town. Am I wrong about this? Any takers, at least on my church (Dayspring) carpool?
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The other half
I got to see how the other half lives today with my first visit ever out to Ridgewood Country Club. Holy crap, it’s pretty out there. How did I not even know this area existed? I think it’s possible I don’t know enough rich people.
Because I love people of all colors and tax brackets and I would seriously like to diversify my portfolio of acquaintances, I am now accepting invitations to lunch at the club. Or dinner. Or drinks. I’m not picky. I’m even up for a round of golf, though I don’t really know how to play, but I could caddy or drive the cart or something.
Seriously. I clean up real good and I know which fork to use. I may be poor, but Daddy’s a doctor and Momma was a deb, that gets me some cred, right?
Just give me a call. I’ll be waiting.
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Picture-perfect Waco
Everyone’s an amateur photographer, right? And I’m no exception.
I’m always seeing things around town that I want pictures of — from the lifesize yard virgin on my street to the old Paul Quinn building that is being seduced by crawling vines which I’m sure one day will pull the entire building down into the earth. These photos plus the “Mo-Ho-Tel” and the Hippodrome sign at night are all must haves for any Waco album of mine.
But what would you hang on your wall that says Waco? Well, my friends, my publisher has answered that question in style. His conference room has a trinity of pictures that couldn’t be more perfect.
First, there’s the up close shot of a snow encrusted bluebonnet. Next, a night scene of a full blue moon hanging over the suspension bridge, with ALICO glaring faithfully in the background. Last is a shot of the miracle lion, Kioja, at the Cameron Park Zoo, with her brothers, before her lameness required she be separated from her family.
I’m sure these shots are the work of our photographers and to them, I say kudos and thanks for making my fleeting foto attempts look like the amateur efforts that they are. And to Mr. Vivio, I say thanks for this display that keeps me completely distracted during important meetings.
What about y’all? Any prized pics or photo opps I’m missing out on?
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I love black people
I love black people.
I’m sure that sounds ridiculous or even offensive to some people, but it’s the purest statement I could make to describe how I feel about African American culture. That simple, silly sentence is also part of why I feel at home in Waco.
I think there was maybe one black kid in my grade at St. Mary’s Hall in San Antonio. Then I moved to Raleigh, NC and, talk about culture shock! I was like, where are all the Mexicans? (yes, Mexicans, because at 8, there is no way I was p.c. enough to say Hispanics) I spent many, many years in the Carolinas with black friends and learning about black culture and history in school.
When I moved to Killeen, I worried that I would be giving up one minority for another. Not that I valued Latin American culture any less, but I had been speaking Spanish since kindergarten and I had been going to Mexico since I was 4. That culture was just an extension of my Texas roots to me.
I was pleasantly surprised that, unlike the San Antonio I knew, Killeen has a significant black population. And I was pleased to find that Waco does as well. Texas will never be the Carolinas and Waco will never be Charlotte, but somehow, having a thriving black culture around makes me feel not quite as far from the East Coast I miss so much.
And this week, the icing on the cake for me was getting to write a story about a rediscovered slave cemetery in Falls County and the slave and plantation owner descendants meeting for the first time. What a story!
Once again, I hope I haven’t offended. I’m just a geek who is intrigued by the similarities and differences between individuals and cultures. And from the town of West to the schools of East Waco, from Czechs to blacks, I find that Central Texas keeps me intrigued. And keeps me learning.
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Don’t drink the water (or fill your sink with it)
“The water has healing properties,” they said. “It will tint glass a lovely shade of amber,” they said. “Fill up a container and take some with you,” they said.
But they never bothered to warn me that the Marlin water I brought home and filled my sink with would make my entire small apartment smell like rotten eggs.
I spent last Friday morning in the Marlin area with some truly lovely people (working on a story that comes out this week). I was intrigued when, over lunch, they told me of Marlin’s heyday, when the famous and the curious flocked to the small town to take the mineral waters. A bath in the hot springs will cure what ails you, they told me. And they also said that people used to leave glasses in the water for a few days and let the water tint them the color of iced tea and then they would give the glass items as gifts.
Since the public bath house is no longer standing, a dip to cure my over ellipticized hips wasn’t really an option. So I figured the next best thing was the tinting experiment.
Nick the photographer and I filled a gallon container with water from the fountain that still spews the warm liquid on Coleman Ave. I brought it home, filled a dishtub in my kitchen sink and submerged a glass in it for the weekend.
All I have to show for it is a home that reeks of sulphur water (or more recognizably, rotten eggs) and a glass that’s still crystal clear but that I’m not sure I’ll ever put to my lips again after soaking it in eau de stinky springs. Oh yeah, and I have lots of questions.
Like, how did people stand to bathe in this stuff? And, what did I do wrong? Or was the tinting of the glass just Marlin’s brand of a snipe hunt?
I love the lore and history of this tiny once-was town. But the water? Well, ask me my feelings about it once I’ve had a couple of weeks to air out my apartment.
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Cross-blogging
Alright, I’m gonna engage in a little cross-blogging here.
There’s a thread on JB’s downtown blog of people encouraging him to look into local haunted places. (there’s also an interesting couple of comments about local blackholes and to that post-er, let me say, “Will you marry me? You had me at ‘otherworldly vortex’”)
Anyway, I’m a haunted place buff, always eager to seek out that kind of thing, so I want in on that action. JB and I could team up, be all Scully and Mulder about it. Though I guess JB is a bit more Kolchak and I’m a bit more Daphne from Scooby-Doo. It would be great, JB, the straight man could bring the history and substance and me, the sci-fi fan, could bring the snark.
Am I crazy, or is this a great idea?
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Everybody loves baseball (but me)
So I had a pretty full day last Saturday. After the stray dog moral dilemma at the park and then a brief nap and Scooby-Doo break at my place, me and Madison and her mom headed out to the Lake Air Little League opening day.
I was impressed. It was maybe the first Waco thing I’ve been to where there was such a heterogeneous mix of people. And they all had two things in common — their kids and baseball.
There must be something special about baseball. I wouldn’t know because I can’t stand the sport. I’m my Daddy’s girl, I love football. Why use a stick to hit a ball when you can just knock the hell out of someone and take the ball? That’s my motto.
But I digress, blacks, Hispanics and whites were mingling, eating bad baseball food, corralling the siblings who came to cheer on the budding ball player in the family. It was very cool to see.
Usually, when I rack my brain for new experiences to have in Waco, I think “Well, I could go here to be around these people or go to this different event to hang around this other demographic.” Who knew I would find such a cross-section at a darn baseball game?
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Stray dog ettiquette
Did you sleep well Saturday night? Was your neighborhood especially peaceful?
That’s because EVERY DOG in the greater Waco area was apparently on my street. At about 3:45 a.m. Sunday, I was awakened by so much barking and canine activity, my sleep addled brain thought, “My God, it’s the dog version of an Obama rally or Hanna Montana concert.” Even dogs whose puny fences kept them from joining the excitement chipped in their vocal support. I would have yelled something at them, but dogs are a lot like my noisily amorous next door neighbors, they either don’t understand or don’t care that their nocturnal activities are robbing me of sleep.
Perhaps I was extra sensitive to the early morning dogapalooza because my conscience had been wrestling with stray dog ettiquette earlier that day.
While at the Cameron Park playground Saturday afternoon, Madison, 4, spotted a tiny little limp-haired, forlorn looking dog wandering around. I could tell she very badly wanted to pet it, but I was pretty sure I would lose kid-borrowing privileges if I let Madison’s face get ripped off.
(The following must be read in the voice of a 4 year old w/ big brown eyes and curly chestnut pigtails) “Well, he looks so sad, because, because he wants a family to love him and pet him,” Madison reasoned. When I insisted her mother would not want her to pet the puppy, she had another idea. “Call 911, to help it,” she shouted.
My heart sank. See, I’m a dog person, but I’m also a former little girl who was afraid of dogs, cats, hamsters, the KISS posters on my brother’s wall and the Frito-Lay kid on the bottom of my Grandad’s pool.
Part of me wants to scoop up the dog (and many stray dogs I’ve seen), toss him in my SUV and take him to Fuzzy Friends. But the part of me that is still afraid of a dog launching onto my jugular always wins out and I do nothing.
I want to do the right thing, for my karma, the dog and the impressionable 4 year old at my side. But what is the right thing in these cases?
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Let’s get out of here
And by “let’s” I mean me, with your help. Because while I think Waco isn’t a bad place to live, I desperately want to get out of town for a few days of vacation during my birthday week in July.
We don’t have a travel blog and you guys are always so helpful, so I thought I’d hit you up for ideas. A few months ago, I thought I’d be able to go to Ireland (my dream). But I did my taxes last week and it turns out that the federal government has decided to punish me for being low-paid, fairly fiscally responsible and having absolutely zero debt by NOT giving me a tax refund. In fact, this year I had to pay.
So my dream has been diminished and dessicated, to say the least, and now I’m wondering if I can even afford a few days somewhere in-state. I don’t need commercial or fancy or lots of flashy things to do. In fact, I prefer off the beaten path with lots of gorgeous scenery, maybe some hiking or other activity in the area and preferably some body of water nearby, lake, ocean, whatever.
Have any good suggestions? Anywhere in the state would be fine as long as it’s pretty. And affordable. I’m so tired of scanning the Internet only to find $200 a night chain hotels. You guys know the state better than me. Isn’t there some hidden spot you’re just dying to tell me about?
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Go “not-walking” in Waco
Maybe you hate walking. Maybe putting one foot in front of the other gives you hives. Or maybe pedestrianism is against your religion.
If this describes you, then my friend, your day has come. Let me introduce you to Segplay of Waco, your source for Segways (or “not-walking”, as I like to think of it). You can find Segplay in the The Shops of River Square Center and at segplaywaco.com
Segplay of Waco rents out Segways for tours of Waco. I saw similar tours advertised when I was in San Francisco and after hiking up and down, hill after cement hill, I understood why seeing that city on a Segway was a good idea. But Waco?
I admit, it’s tempting to try one out, if only to prove that I am brighter than (or at least Segway superior to) the leader of the free world.
But is anything in Waco so big or so far that you really need one of these? Plus, there’s the whole dorkiness factor. While the machine itself might be fun, once you put someone on it and have them strap on a helmet, it just turns into a perfect picture of dorkdom. (And yes, I have the maturity of a seventh grader and still think about things like what makes me look dorky)
I wish the Segplay entrepreneurs the best of luck, but for now, I think I’ll keep doing Waco the old-fashioned way.
Latest comments
A Ho by any other name is still a Ho. Wendy, your mind and wit are truly just as beautiful as your lovely face. You remind me of the female lead in Shakespeare’s…”The Taming of the Shrew”. I love the last line of that great play;
... read the full comment by Fred | Comment on I want the "Ho" Read I want the "Ho"
Come on, Fred. Surely you have a comment about THIS.
... read the full comment by null | Comment on I want the "Ho" Read I want the "Ho"
Hmmmmmm,the sign “HO”, do not tell me your going to hang it with a red light above it,, lolol,,…Absolutely no offense ment Hun.. lolololol……
... read the full comment by C.F.M. | Comment on I want the "Ho" Read I want the "Ho"
The folks who live there legitimately won’t be affected. They live in the “Mo” part, which is owned by someone else. The interior of the Hotel is supposed to be off-limits…it’s full of asbestos, garbage, burned out walls, etc.
... read the full comment by j.b. smith | Comment on I want the "Ho" Read I want the "Ho"