dbigtex56

What, people in Smallville don't pee? The Broken Obelisk pool is just a couple of blocks away...and I've never seen anyone urinate in it. Maybe I was just there at the wrong time? However, I can see people dressed as apes throwing bones at it while blasting Thus Spake Zarathustra.

'sic' as a Dog?

It just depends. This past April, a parking garage ramp collapsed without warning in downtown Rochester, NY. It had been standing for only 32 years; the cables which supported a cantilevered spiral ramp had been wrapped in paper, which deteriorated over time and allowed the cables to corrode (and eventually fail.)

Martha Stewart had a tribute to Governor Richards on her show today, identifying her as the first female governor of Texas. (Martha is in error. That honor belongs to Miriam "Ma" Ferguson.) Regardless, Ann was a refreshing change from the ignorant good-ol'-boy stereotypes, and caused a lot of people to view Texas (and Texans) more favorably. Wish she could have lived forever.

So it's not just me. Others also have noticed that Mai's Restaurant on Milam has really gone downhill. I've eaten there for many years, and to my sorrow the service has become sloppy and blatantly rude, and the food has taken a dive. Used to be such a nice place, too. I need to find a Vietnamese restaurant nearby to take its place - nothing fancy, just good food at a reasonable price, and without the damn attitude. Help me out, HAIFers.

Not only is walking between Suburban Point A to Suburban point B unappealing, sometimes it's downright difficult. For example, there's no clear path for people who enter or exit the Galleria from Westheimer. Pedestrians are obligated to wend their way through an unmarked parking lot and squeeze through a small gap by the parking garage. It really sucks. Likewise, crossing the street on foot in many suburban areas ought to be classified as an Extreme Sport. Due to a lack of crosswalks and inattentive drivers, it should not be attempted by anyone who feels he still has something to live for.

Merged topics. If you see redundant threads, they can be merged by using the "Report this post to a moderator" button - and including the link is always appreciated.

Done - and thanks for including the link.

According to this article Pete Hope is 79 years old. He looked plenty alive last Friday. And if he's crazy, the world would be a better place if it had more crazy people. Check out his role in supporting The Men's Center. The man has done a lot of good for the community. Interestingly, although Pete owns a lot of property in that area, HCAD lists the restaurant property's owner as South Main Baptist Church.

Where does it say that? From the article: "Daniel Smith was the product of Smith's 1985 marriage to Billy Smith. "

It is. If your friend is wearing his hat and standing by your house, it will look like the top of his head is missing.

Tonight one of the employees of New Orleans Po' Boys spotted me in Fiesta and told me that today was their last day, and that the restaurant would not be reopening. I'm very sorry to see it go. The oyster loaf po' boy was legendary, and a traditional diner-type of breakfast could be had cheaply. (This is that sort of Googie looking 50's diner with the unique green, yellow and red color scheme.) That section of Main Street is turning into a ghost town - the only businesses left between Alabama and Richmond are Sears and that little fire sale store.

Perhaps the Monterrey notation indicates where the card was printed? Anything printed or written on the other side of the card? It's my understanding that liquor "by the drink" wasn't sold in Texas until 1973 (bars provided set-ups and customers brought their own bottles). Was that also the case prior to Prohibition? Anyone know what time of year Notsuoh was held? And would anyone care to speculate on the purpose of those towels hanging in front of the bar?

I'm reminded of my childhood school bus rides, which were terrifying without being fast. Our bus never maintained a steady speed - it would first accelerate to thirty miles per hour, then slow almost to a stop, then accelerate again. By the time we got to school everyone felt slightly seasick. The problem wasn't with the bus; it was the driver, a short fellow who must have weighed at least 300 pounds. The bus just wasn't a good fit for Ed. Even with the seat in its furthest rearward position his gut overflowed the bottom of the steering wheel. And then he couldn't reach the pedals, as his legs were too short. So he'd suck in his stomach and force himself down in the seat far enough to poke at the gas pedal with the toe of his shoe. The pressure of the steering wheel in his stomach must have prevented him from inhaling, as he couldn't maintain this position for very long. Soon as we'd reach thirty mph, Ed would pull himself back up and gasp for air until the bus slowed to a crawl. This process would repeat until we reached the school. You could look out the rear window and see a line of cars stuck behind us, and the drivers would just be cussing Ed out. It was very educational.

A few years ago an ad appeared in Reader's Digest promoting tourism in Houston. Among the attractions listed were our restaurants, including several featuring "Native American food". I'm not familiar with any "Native American" restaurants...however, Houston has numerous Indian restaurants.

Yes, a million things named Something Oak(s) in Houston isn't enough...let's make it 1,000,001. How about "Sweaty Palms Park"?

Houston's grizzly past? I can't bear hearing about it!

"It burns! It burns!"

"It's one more."

And that's turned out to be a big ol' steaming pile of crap, now hasn't it. Culberson then decided that he would base his decision on the opinions of the people and businesses on Richmond - a small fraction of his constituency. So much for pledges. (But duplicity is nothing new for Culberson. He's the fellow who, three years ago, assured his constituents that the war in Iraq wouldn't cost taxpayers a thing, as we'd be repayed in oil revenues. ) What a nutcase.

It looks like something you'd find at a miniature golf course - but much, much larger. Much. Think maybe the proud owner may have designed it himself? "Yep, and never took an architecture course in my life!"

Well done, indeed. The destruction of the Ashland Tea House is not entirely in vain if, at last, developers understand that actions have consequences, and that the public does not suffer from collective amnesia. Would you rather that the principles who instigated this mess were rewarded for their arrogance? If so, we should only look forward to more of the same.

He would humiliate me by making me dance naked. It was such a strange thing, because for the most part he believed music was evil. If a guest at the estate played music, he would cover his ears until the "poison" was silenced. But other times he would become this devout party boy who wanted to hear Van Halen or some B-52's. To this day I hear the song "Rock Lobster" in my sleep. I would be jerking around like a white girl -- "Dance like a Causasoid girl!" he would say -- and his eyes would track me from one side of the terrace to the other. "Your ass is too big, show me the front," he said. Osama, you understand, did not know the difference between being vicious and being tender . . . . more