Amoeblog

Nejla Ates: the Exquisite Turkish Delight

Posted by The Bay Area Crew, April 27, 2017 08:48pm | Post a Comment

Nejla Ates

By Kai Wada Roath
Ambassador of Confusion Hill and host of the Super Shangri-La Show


Nejla Ates"She had a ruby on her tummy and a diamond big as Texas on her toe
She let her hair down and she did the hoochie-coochie real slow
When she did her special number on the zebra skin
I thought she'd stop the show…"
~ "Little Egypt" by The Coasters

If you have flipped through Middle East or Belly Dancing records, you most likely have seen her…for she is hard to miss. As Sandra Warner was the enchantress for Martin Denny’s album covers, Nejla Ates, “the Turkish Delight,” was the “Honk-honk, hubba-hubba, Ee chee wa waa!” album cover model of Middle Eastern records in the 1950s.

A fellow Pisces, born March 7, 1932, Nejla lived a life of wild seduction, exotic belly dancing, and love drama. (If you are a Pisces too, join the Bay Area Pisces Power group on Facebook!) Dancing at night clubs around the world in the 1950s, Nejla was said to have "left a trail of broken hearts from Istanbul to the Bronx, with stops in Paris, Miami, and Las Vegas.”

Princes, oil tycoons, famous singers, and actors would fall madly in love with her, knowing full well that her side-hobby was stealing taken men, even from Zsa Zsa Gabor.

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A Playlist For Your Time Travel And Commute

Posted by The Bay Area Crew, February 27, 2017 07:32pm | Post a Comment

Historic F Market Train. SFMTA

By Brent James

When you’ve lived in a big city for an extended period of time, no matter where or when, you find yourself automatically adjusted to the normal, everyday droning sounds of sirens, car horns and the like. There are those of us that have let human (or inhuman, it’s case sensitive) screams become a part of everyday life because that’s how it is in the “Big City,” right? Wrong. Or at least, it doesn’t HAVE to be.

The hustle and bustle of a commute each and every day can be taxing, even if you don’t realize it. Taking the time to “stop and smell the roses” isn’t as easy as it used to be, and let’s face it -- doesn’t that look a little creepy anyway?

My advice when things get a bit jumbled upstairs is time travel. It’s easy, it’s relatively cheap and there are many eras to choose from! I’ve made a complete guide for a wonderful trip through time and space, and I’m about to share it with you so you too can step away for just a bit…

For our first trip, we find ourselves at the fabulous Embarcadero in Downtown San Francisco. There is a light drizzle, but the sun should be out a little later. For now though, the fog twirls in and out of the buildings saying hello and welcoming us to History!

Mamie Smith
Mamie Smith

We’ll be taking the historic F train outbound on Market Street and, for those visiting, there are multiple passes available to ride. Single cash ride is $2.50, including a transfer. Don’t get caught hopping on the back; you may get a ticket. Make sure you read the specific history for your particular car, as these are refurbished beauties from all over the world! Now, obviously you don’t want to get too carried away or buried too deep in any electronic devices on this trip. Pay attention while you have fun, as sadly this is NOT the 1920s. Yet.

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Gomez Comes Alive In Las Vegas - Thanksgiving In Vegas

Posted by Gomez Comes Alive!, November 27, 2007 09:55pm | Post a Comment
This Thanksgiving I went to Las Vegas to visit my parents. They are now retired and living with the vast number of seniors who have ventured to the desert for the cheap housing, warmer weathe, and, of course, the gambling. There is nothing Vegas likes more than getting those social security checks deposited straight into a slot machine! Coincidentally, my annual visit has fallen on the Thanksgiving holiday. In fact, I don’t like the holiday. First off, to me, celebrating Thanksgiving is basically celebrating the genocide of all the indigenous people of the Americas, and, much like Columbus Day, it is one of my most loathed holidays. Still, what are you going to tell your parents when they invite you to their home for Thanksgiving dinner? “No, Mom, no, Dad, I refuse to celebrate with you because this holiday celebrates the rape, murder and the stealing of the land of indigenous people like you and me...?” However, my ideals are often compromised by the love of my parents. They will win every time.

I remember when they were looking to buy the house they live in now a couple of years back. I drove with my mother to Vegas to check out the house. I remember walking into the place and thinking how “faaabulous” the house was. The owners weren’t there, but because of the numerous naked Greco-Roman statues, posters of Broadway musicals and the abundance of I Love Lucy show memorabilia, I had concluded that the house belonged to an older gay couple. Then there was the backyard. Rome suddenly turned into Martin Denny’s Quiet Village, complete with faux Polynesian totem poles, tropical plants and Tiki torches. My mother, on the other hand, was clueless.

After a quick look through the house, I asked my mother,

“Are the owners of the house an older gay couple?”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“No” she replied. “I met the husband the first time I came to see the house. He said he had a partner.”
I looked at her like, “And…”
She continued. “Yeah, and he had a cute dog too.”
“What kind of dog was it?” I had to ask.
“A white poodle!”

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