There's a song that I'm particularly fond of titled "I'm my own Grandpa." This song has been performed and recorded by a number of artists, but I'm most familiar with the version that was done by Homer and Jethro, who just happen to be members of the Country Music Hall of Fame. This humorous little song chronicles how, through a series of unorthodox events, and if you happen to marry the right person, you COULD become your own grandpa (not in an incestual way, though. Seriously). This particular tune was running through my head while I was playing hockey last night, because I just happened to be playing AGAINST, and beating, my own team. How could something like this happen? Easy...I'll fill the details in for you right about...now...

I've mentioned before that I play hockey. It's good exercise and it's also a lot of fun. I've been playing goalie for the same team, sponsored by Big O Tires, at the Chapel Hills Mall for damn near 8 years now. This is all well and good, but if you take into account the fact that, as a team, we're finding wins extremely hard to come by and also that I'm now living about as far away from the mall as I possibly can, playing in that league, and on that team, is getting a bit tedious. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy the games and I get along well with the other players, I just thought that, for my own sanity, it might be a good idea to find another place to play. There are a number of leagues here in town, and a lot of the games are played at rinks that are considerably closer to my house, but there's one little tiny problem with my joining some of them...

I'm not particularly well liked by some of the other "hockey people" here in town...

I know that it may sound crazy, but my occasional nutty hijinks aren't universally viewed as "cool." As such, I'm often wary of joining other teams blindly on the off chance that said hockey team MAY include someone who, in a moment of youthful enthusiasm, I have "knocked over" or, God forbid, "smacked around." Despite this (very real) possibility, I boldly fired off an email to a guy who, according to the Colorado Springs World Arena Ice Hall website, was putting together a league. Then, I waited...

I didn't have to wait a whole heck of a long time, actually. Soon enough, he emailed me back and told me that the league was already set, but that I could (if I wanted) be an "on call" goalie for the league. In addition, one of the teams (the Sharks) would be losing their goalie sometime during the season. Again, if I were willing (hint: I am), I could join them full-time once they needed me. I agreed. Everyone who needed to agree to this arrangement agreed. I filled out paperwork and paid to renew my USA Hockey membership.

I was in...

The first order of business was to attend an informal practice/scrimmage with this new team of mine. It seems that the Sharks were simply thrown together from the people who expressed interest outside of the established teams (like me). Kind of a group of stragglers, if you will. As such, it was decided that we should at least have a chance to play together prior to the start of the season. I attended the scrimmage and felt that I performed well. I also had fun and it felt like the team had accepted me. I figured that there would be no confidence problem once I took over for their current goalie...Still, I always wonder...

In the interim between that scrimmage and our first game, I mentioned to Scott, who's running the team, that I COULD play wing if they happened to be short skaters. In turn, he asked the guy who runs the league if I could simply join their team as a skater until I took over the goalie duties. It was decided that I could, but there might be a snag for the first game. The Blue Dawgs, whom the Sharks were scheduled to play in their first game, were in need of a goalie. If a suitable replacement couldn't be found, I would be asked to the one between the pipes for the Dawgs, charged with the responsibility of stopping the team that I had so recently joined up with...

Long story short, the two goalies that were asked to fill in could not do so. The onus then was upon me to stand in. An interesting quandary!..I'd get to play, but it's possible that, by doing so, I could tarnish the record of my own team...Still, I wanted to get out and stop some pucks, so I agreed to the arrangement. The Blue Dawgs team rep was notified and everyone was happy...

In the locker room prior to last night's game, the members of the Blue Dawgs were all very friendly toward me, mostly due to the fact that, simply by showing up, I had saved their ass, so to speak. It's hard enough to find a full-time goalie in some leagues, let alone find someone to fill in when your first choice can't make it...A warm body is better than nothing, but, in the long run, everyone wants to win. As such, I had to field the obligatory "So is there a reason they sent YOU over to us" or "don't let in TOO many obvious goals for your team" comments. I responded by telling my temporary teammates that, in essence, the game was kind of a tryout for me. I definitely want the Sharks to be comfortable and confident in my abilities once I take over for them so, with this in mind, I wanted to not only shut them down, I wanted to shut them out. This revelation seemed to ease any concerns the Dawgs players had...

Of course, I'd opened my mouth...Now, I had something to prove...

Early in the game, I faced a decent number of shots. Early on, it appeared that, if the Dawgs didn't get their collective butts in gear, it would be a long night for me. Luckily, due to my affiliation with subpar teams, I'm used to facing an inordinate amount of shots and was able to hang on through the initial rush. Soon enough, the Dawgs found their bearings, so to speak, and began to turn the tide. They popped in a goal late in the first period, giving me a lead that I would not relinquish.

Between the first and second periods, I chatted with some of the shark players, including the goalie about how close the game was. During the second period, the ice tilted and the Dawgs put up three more goals, where the Sharks managed only one, coming on a good shot off of an even better pass. Between the second and third periods, things had obviously changed. No member of the Sharks wanted to speak with me. I was now responsible for ruining their night and they were determined that I was the enemy. Just as well, I still felt as if I had something to prove. I didn't want to give up ANY goals, even if it were a good one...I certainly didn't want to give up any more...

I had to hang on for one more stinking period of hockey...

During the third period, the Dawgs managed 2 more goals. The Sharks goalie had seemingly given up late in the period with no comeback in sight. The game, predictably, got a bit chippy and, during the ensuing moments of altercation, I felt torn. Nether team was the bad guy in my mind. After all, they were both mine. The Sharks WERE able to put one more puck behind me, the result of a breakaway where I went for the poke check but mistimed it, putting myself in an awkward position which allowed the skater to slide the puck into the net. Being that the goal truly was "too little, too late," it didn't bother me much. I turned away the rest of the Shark scoring chances en route to a commanding 6-2 victory.

6 to 2! Hell, I'd almost forgot what it felt like to win.

All in all, I think I played pretty good. Certainly, I've played worse AND we...Well, I won. I had set out to prove to my new team that I was a capable goalie and I did it. I also wanted my temporarily adopted team to have confidence in my abilities and they had nothing but praise for me in the locker room. The nicest part of the whole night for me, though, came after the game during the handshakes. The Dawgs team rep came off the bench, skated over to me and said, simply, "they sure picked the wrong goalie to play against." Granted, the Sharks didn't have much of a choice, but it still feels good to be regarded as "better." Good is good, but it really feels good to be better, even if it IS better than your own team...

Of course, eventually, I'll have to face the Blue Dawgs...I'll let you know how THAT goes when it happens...

Labels: hockey stuff, lame stories, sports, tales of triumph

One more reminder about the story contest going on currently at the forum. DEADLINE IS WEDNESDAY! The rules, for those of you who haven't ventured over to find out, are as follows:

There are a set of words. You must integrate these words into the story. Also, sometimes there's a theme. In this case, the theme is that all stories have to take place in England. The words for this round are as follows:

Kerfuffle
Serene
Bittersweet
Demure
Invoke
Knowledge
Mutilate
Mesmerize

Story writin' is FUN! Head to Head Death Match style Story Writin' is even more so. You shall participate, if you haven't done so already. Big "ups" (as the kids say) to those who have already participated! To fill space, I will now share MY entry in this contest with you...now...

As Sergei stepped out of the jetway into the terminal, he scanned the seats for a familiar face, any face that could bring him some sort of comfort. It had been a rough flight in every sense of the word and, making matters worse for him, his thoughts had been anything but serene. She had told him when he left that she'd be right here, waiting for him. She had spoken her promise, but her eyes, he thought, told a different tale. He was fearful that, not only would she not be at the airport, but that he'd never have the pleasure of her company again. It seemed that they'd grown apart during the last few months and his having to return to Chelyabinsk to tend to the death of his mother only strained their relationship further. Certainly, it had been a bittersweet relationship at best, but he knew that he loved her. He loved her more than he could say, perhaps it was the language barrier between the two of them or perhaps it was merely Sergei's own insecurities, but he never felt that he was expressing his feelings effectively, nor was she offering him the opportunity to do so...

Standing at the baggage carousel, Sergei allowed himself to reflect on the first time that he saw her in the restaurant, so quiet, so demure. The fact that she was absolutely mutilating her lunch while she ate belied her petite stature and was instantly endearing to him. He recalled how he had offered to lay down a tarp for her and how she had smiled wryly back at him and asked him, politely, to kiss her ass. This led to their first conversation and, of course, their first date. It was no wonder why he insisted upon invoking her wrath every time he got the opportunity to do so. Seeing her get all kerfuffle, as she was apt to say that he made her, gave his heart a flutter. Simply put, she was mesmerizingly beautiful in his eyes, even when she was at her worst.

As Sergei emerged from his daydream and collected his baggage, he scanned the faces around him one more time, desperately searching for her, hoping against hope that she would, indeed, be there to comfort him and to take him home where she would rub the tension from his shoulders and listen to him ramble on about his homeland and all of the people he had seen during his trip. How strange, he thought, that he hardly missed his own mother, whom he had just buried, but that the girl who has been on his mind so much over the last few days seemed to consume his whole being, even though now it was clear that she didn't even care for him enough to keep a simple promise. Forlorn and defeated, carrying his heavy luggage and an even heavier heart, Sergei hailed a taxi and headed for his flat.

As the driver negotiated the streets of Manchester, heading toward Sergei's home in Macintosh Village, Sergei came to the realization that had never felt more alone in his life than at that moment. Like a crushing weight, the knowledge that he'd no longer have the pleasure of dancing with her, or dining with her or drifting off to sleep with her securely in his arms, made it increasingly harder to breathe. Sergei now felt trapped in a dark world, filled with despair. He had to find a way out, he thought to himself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sedan pulled up to the curb outside his home. Sergei emerged and handed the driver the fare, augmented by whatever else he had on him. Cash, jewelry, credit cards, it didn't matter anymore. He'd have no need for those things where he was going anyway, he thought. On the ride up to his flat in the elevator, he planned out the whole scene. His handgun was in his top desk drawer, the bullets for that gun were in the second drawer in the kitchen and the tarp...Yes, the tarp that he'd lay out as a courtesy to whomever found him was underneath his bed. He'd enjoy his last glass of wine and pull the trigger in front of the far window, he thought, so that he could enjoy the view that she had loved so much one last time.

About this same time, a lovely young woman who had been napping at the airport rose from her seat and looked around. She had drifted off to sleep while waiting for a friend and was suddenly aware that it was well past time for his arrival. Strolling over to check the arrival screen, she saw that his plane, indeed, had arrived as scheduled but at gate 12, not at gate 4 as she had originally expected. Scurrying around the baggage claim and the taxi stand, but not finding him in either location, she decided that he had simply gone home on his own and that she should depart too. She was eager to meet up with him so she could comfort him and share the special dinner that she had prepared for the both of them. It surely would be a special night tonight, she thought to herself as she buckled herself in for the ride home...

A very special night indeed.

Labels: sad stories, Stupid Contests

it's not everyday that someone ACTUALLY does what I say they should...This is why I am proud to say that my friend Sean has started his own blog. He calls it the Soccer Farm and, while there's not a whole LOT of stuff to read there (yet), we should all drop by and give him some encouragement. Welcome to the blog thing, Sean!

Labels: lame stories, tales of triumph

So I watched the (real) CSI season premiere this morning before coming into work...We taped it last night because Heather had to go play hockey (her team lost) and, even though I COULD'VE watched it last night, I didn't. A couple phone calls during the program distracted me (dammit people! If the Broncos, the Avalanche or CSI is on, whatever you have to say can wait...I don't ask for much...) so I just left the room while it was taping. This way I didn't get confused and nothing was spoiled plotwise. I wanted to watch it BEFORE work today because I KNEW that it'd be part of the conversation today. I didn't want anything to be spoiled for me there, either.

I give it a B+ and, overall, I liked it. I know that Andy said (in his comments from my last entry) that he thought it was a bit busy, but it HAD to be, you see. Otherwise, the bitchy new DNA girl wouldn't have quit. Get it? Good. Yay for CSI!

Don't forget about the story contest at the forum, folks. We need participants, that makes it more fun. Everyone needs more fun. Go write. Thanks.

I added a few new links to my "I read these" section in the sidebar this week. Clicky and see where they go, unless you already know where they go...If that's the case, well...Go get me ice cream. Thanks.

Labels: misguided rantings, watchin' teevees

So I watched CSI: New York last night, which was a premiere that I was ACTUALLY looking forward to. I'm a HUGE fan of the original CSI, but cannot stand to watch CSI: Miami. The characters on the Miami show just don't endear themselves to me like the ones in Las Vegas do. Capt. Brass, Gil Grissom, the DNA kid, (and the rest) just feel familiar. In addition to that, I've been to Las Vegas many times (I have family there AND I like to gamble and eat) so the locations that are featured in the episodes feel familiar as well. The Miami spinoff, though, with their uppity (and unfamilar) Miami characters and their uppity (and unfamilar) Miami locales and the orange camera filter and the stuff and the things...Well, suffice to say it's not on my list.

Frankly, I don't watch a whole lot of television and, with that in mind, I watch even less network TV. If it's not sports or Alton Brown or Iron Chef on the Food Network, I'm probably doing something else. There's just not a whole lot out there that I enjoy. But back to my having watched CSI: New York...

Before I start picking the premiere apart, I have to say that I think that Gary Sinise is a phenomenal actor. The caveat here is that I think he's at his best WHEN HE'S PLAYING A SINISTER CHARACTER. In the case of CSI: New York, where he's playing the Gil Grissom equivalent character, I just don't find him likable, or even believable. In actuality, and especially with the reveal at the end of the episode that he's the token 9-11 victim in the show, his character comes off as merely pathetic and haggard. "Detective Mac" gives me the impression that he has nothing to live for and that it's only a matter of time before CSI ends up "processing" him. Also, his corny interaction with the coma patient (especially after he KNEW she was brain-dead) and his constant, screwed-up, constipated face left me feeling a bit shorted. Grade: D

did I mention earlier that I didn't like the overuse of the orange-ish filter on the camera shots in CSI: Miami? Yes, yes I did...Well, with the New York spinoff, it's the overuse of a blue-ish filter that gives the whole show a dingy and depressing overtone. My only experience with New York City has been through movies and television where, in general, New York City is portrayed as a dirty, imposing prison of a city where the streets and the alleys are packed full of psychos. Ok, not always, but CSI: New York certainly continues along these lines. In fact, since my only "real-life" experience with New York City was driving through it on the way to Boston last summer, and being totally intimidated by it's sheer size, CSI: New York doesn't give me a "jones" to visit anytime soon...

Anyhoo, I should probably type a bit in regards to the (thin) plot of this opening show. I know that the mystery pretty much HAS to be wrapped up in an hour, but c'mon...Try and throw us off A LITTLE BIT...According to the 2000 US census, the population of New York City and it's surrounding boroughs hovers just around 15 million people. Of that, around 250,000 reported Russian ancestry. Now, granted, that's around 1% of the population, but the FIRST RUSSIAN GUY THEY TALK TO ENDS UP BEING THE KILLER just because they found cyrillic writing on a medical bag where they found the last victim? C'mon...Also, way to just about completely rip off the movie The Bone Collector for the killer's method of selecting his victims. Psh. Grade: C-.

Back to the cast, though...Gary Sinise isn't the only disappointment...Melina Kanakaredes, who portrays Det. Stella, seemed to do nothing more than follow Sinise's character around and feel sorry for him, asking him when he'd go home to rest (his reply: "what's sleep?") and generally just looking sad and concerned. So far, a very shallow character who always has that "I'm cocking my head to make it look like I'm thinking deep, but in reality my brain is as barren as the Gobi desert" pose about her. Go fight some crime, or at the very least, process a crime scene. If Mr. "My wife died in 9-11" doesn't want to take a nap, he doesn't have to. Also: Does EVERY show that's set in New York City HAVE to feature a pouty-lipped, ambiguously hispanic female (in this case, Vanessa Ferlito as Aiden) who cannot seem to do her job without posturing and attitude? Christ, people, it's been done (again, see Bone Collector or Third Watch). In addition: Eddie Cahill...Nice to see that he's been working on a New York accent for his role as "tough guy" detective Don. Newsflash: I'm not buyin' it, Eddie...I do NOT believe in Miracles this time...Hill Harper plays Dr. Sheldon, the coroner guy...At least he got the opportunity to say the phrase "petechial hemorrhaging" right off the bat, a CSI staple. His character, however, comes off as a little underqualified for his job. There's some Carmine guy who plays some guy named Danny, a largely forgettable character. I can't really remember anything he said except for "down goes Frazier" when describing how the killer initially subdued his victims. Has that phrase NOT been said by everybody in the free world yet? If you haven't uttered it, get it out of the way now, and use a good "Howard Cosell" voice while you do it. After you've done that, file it away forever. t's not so cool anymore...There are other cast members on CSI: NY, just as there are on the other CSIs, but they, too, came off as forgettable. Overall cast grade: D-.

When it's all said and done, I'm just gonna stick with the original (and best) CSI show which, in case you didn't already know, has it's season premiere tonight. I CANNOT WAIT! As for CSI: NY, if you liked it...Well, good for you. Next week's episode features the (legendary) New York sewer rats, or maybe they're just (legendary) rats in general. Again, though, DID ANYONE SEE BONE COLLECTOR? I damn well KNOW that the CSI: NY "creative team" did...Sheesh...

Overall Grade for CSI: NY...D+.

Labels: misguided rantings, watchin' teevees

I added an audio links archive to the sidebar (that thing, to the left there. No, your other left. RIGHT THERE! yeah, good.) so that it's easier to get to the audio entries I've posted throughout the past year. Enjoy!

Labels: audio, pointless shit

Ever done something regularly and then simply gone AWOL? Yeah, that would be me, in regards to the ultra-cool story contest thing that regularly happens at Collin's forum. This time, though, for round 12, I am back in the fold and WILL participate. I can say this with confidence because I ALREADY HAVE MY STORY WRITTEN! It flowed out earlier and, I have to say, I'm satisfied with it. Satisfied enough to post it, at least. I am waiting, however, because I don't feel like being the first to post. Why? Maybe because I'm insane. Either way, you should all follow my lead and write stories! You should then post said stories at the forum! Go! Do it!

I hear that people will love you more if you post a story. You want to be loved more, right? RIGHT!? Yeah, thought so. PARTICIPATE IN THE STORY CONTEST!

Labels: collin crap, Stupid Contests

it's amazing sometimes how one little tidbit of information, in this case, Collin the quitter's original story about his inability to safely handle chemicals, can unlock so many (painful) memories (of doom). I've already shared one thrilling tale of destruction arising from the misuse of chemicals at the workplace, but my sister's comment on THAT story (about HCL) forced me to remember another wee tale buried deep within my evil brain. It's an event that occurred during my childhood that I feel compelled to share with you all. Before we get too deep into the nuts n' bolts of the story, though, I should introduce (to you) the main characters...

You all know me. Well, at least you know that I'm writing the story. Failing that, my name is Derek and I maintain this blog. Anyway, I've probably mentioned my friend Ryan before. No, this is not the Ryan with the limp whom I introduced in the "running like Hell from spittle-chick" story, this would be the Ryan whom I had been friends with from 4th grade until...Well, a couple of years ago. We no longer speak to one another, but that's neither here nor there. For the purposes of THIS story, we're kids and Ryan and I are bestest friends.

I had another friend when I was younger who was named Jamie. Jamie was a smallish kid who was usually very quiet. His dad, Bruce, had served in the navy during Vietnam and came out of that experience a very loud, tattooed and aggressive individual. I've never seen anyone get abused, mentally and/or physically, like Jamie. His dad was such an asshole while he was growing up that Jamie lived in constant fear. As an example, one time when I was in elementary school, I stayed over at Jamie's house on a Saturday. On Sunday morning, Jamie's mom cooked us all up a nice big breakfast. When I was younger, I wasn't a big fan of bacon. I'm not sure why, I mean, I'd KILL for pork of any kind NOW, but back then, I just wasn't into it. Long story short, I refused the bacon and told Jamie that he could have the rest. His dad, apparently missing what I had said, became enraged as soon as Jamie had placed the bacon on his plate. Bruce the dickhead grabbed Jamie by the arm, drug him out of the room and beat the crap out of him for not letting me have the bacon.

Seriously...I didn't WANT the bacon...

You know, thinking about this event now makes me want to go give Bruce a stern talking to, and by "talking to," I mean "straight left to the mouth." Remember, I know where you live, Brucie...

Anyhoo, the beatings and the belittlings and such didn't keep Jamie from doing some of the most absolutely stupid things, it just meant that, when he got caught, he'd get smacked around more than us other kids. Like that time he blew up that lamp!..Heh heh...I kind of felt sorry for Jamie, but...Hey, forget I said any of that stuff...In fact, WOAH, is that a butterfly? Over there! RIGHT OVER THERE!

Oh, heck. It must've fluttered away...Where were we...

Oh yeah, "Jamie" was my friend. As such, Ryan and Jamie soon became friends (Ryan always picked up the friends of his friends as his own, he was (probably still is) a "networker.") and us 3 did stuff together from time to time. One of our "traditions" was to go to Skate City on New Year's Eve for their "lock-in skate party." IT WAS AWESOME! You conned your folks into giving you some money and, for one insanely low price, you got to skate from 6:00pm until ONE O'CLOCK IN THE FRIGGIN' MORNING! That's right, out until after midnight! When I was a kid, it was the closest to tasting sweet, sweet freedom as I could possibly get. There was skating and video games and food and girls (not that I was visible to them) and it was big, big fun! In general, we would be driven to these events every year by Sue, Jamie's mom (I wonder how Bruce treated her)...Afterwards, we'd be picked up and driven back to Jamie's house where we'd all have a "sleep-over." One particular time that we had this "sleep-over," SOMEBODY (I know it wasn't me, it HAD to be Ryan) made one of the most RIDICULOUS claims of all time...One that HAD to be investigated...

Ryan's RIDICULOUS claim was: "Hey, someone at school told me that if you mix ammonia and chlorine bleach, it'll explode, like a bomb!"

My memories of this whole event aren't necessarily complete, but I'm pretty sure that, around this time, we were all in the seventh grade. After elementary school, which went up to 6th grade here where I live, I attended Sproul junior high. Jamie and Ryan, however, went to Watson (Sproul's ARCH RIVAL!)...As such, there were now a whole new set of "mystery kids" who seemed to be filling Ryan and/or Jamie's heads with some new tale each week. THIS bit of information, though, was completely different AND (dare I say) "exciting!" If we did things right, things might EXPLODE! We HAD to try it out, even if it meant blowing up the basement and earning Jamie another ass-whuppin' (what's one more, right?). Displaying his usual goofy mental abandon, Jamie rushed headlong into the laundry room and quickly emerged with the earlier named components. In our sudden scientifically fueled furor, we hunted around for a container that could be suitable for the impending "experiment." After an exhaustive search, we settled on a container that would commonly be called "a ziploc baggie." After a short (yet serious) discussion, we decided it was time to green-light "project chemical bomb."

One kid held the baggie, one kid poured the bleach and the other was saddled with the responsibility of handling the ammonia. Slowly and carefully (and scientifically), we mixed the components, each of us tensely awaiting SOME kind of volatile reaction...After it was all said and done, though, we didn't get the big crazy explosion that we had been told would happen (and secretly hoped for). In fact, by our standards, the whole combining thing was pretty damn uneventful. The liquid DID emit a nasty, chemical-y odor, but instead of going boom, it just kind of sat there...No explosion, no fizzle, no pop, no fireball, no nothing...

Feh...

Not satisfied with the fact, albeit unknown to us, that we had just concocted a very powerful acid, ryan offered that our would-be bomb "might need a fuse." Of course, Jamie and I agreed that this, certainly, could be the case...

As such, we set the little acid-baggie down and went off in search of anything that we could turn into a fuse. Ultimately, we ended up with one of Jamie's shoelaces, onto which we sprayed some accelerant (Aquanet, probably belonging to Jamie's sister). Placing this into the bag and lighting it did nothing. Well, nothing spectacular at least. The shoelace lit up for a second or two, slightly melting the ziploc bag, but it did not ignite the liquid inside it as we had all dreamed it would. We were defeated, our attempt at a molitov cocktail having ended up as an unspectacular clear liquid with a nasty stink. We HAD, however, proven that whichever mystery kid at Watson which had told this tale was lying. At the very least, they too had been misled. In the end, there was no big boom, there was no loss of life or limb. It seemed that it was time to declare the experiment "over" and do something more constructive like play Metroid. Of course, we now had the responsibility of disposing of the dangerous mixture...

So, you may be thinking "Where the Hell is he going with this?" Big payoff, just around the corner. Stay tuned, kids...

Since it was Jamie's house we were at, we figured that he would know where would be the best place to dispose of our concotion. As such, the vile stuff was passed over to him and he grasped it firmly, with both of his wee little hands, at the top of the baggie. Goofball started toward the laundry room, but hesitated. I'm not quite sure what possessed him to do what he did, but he damn well did it. Granted, he did a lot of stupid crap, but this was really something...Jamie, bag full of acid in hand, stopped, looked at the bag, placed his face as close to it as he could and (for whatever reason) breathed in a giant whiff of the fumes.

The "pandelerium" that followed resembled the kind of action you'd expect to see in a Three Stooges short. Jamie's tiny head snapped back, his little eyes at started to water and his (wee) face was suddenly bright red. He screamed at the top of his (smallish) lungs, "OH MY GOD, IT BURNS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He then started flailing his (tiny) arms around and running about, bumping into walls and shit. Of course, his sudden frenetic kineticness sent the little doom-baggie full of homemade hydrochloric acid tumbling toward the basement floor. While Jamie stumbled about, tripping over furniture and screaming like a nutcase, the acid (predictably) fell on the shitty seventies brown shag carpet which so lovingly adorned the family room there in Jamie's home. While dumbass was wondering (aloud, mind you) whether he'd ever be able to see again, Ryan and I were praying that his cries didn't alert ol' Bruce that something could be amiss downstairs...That family room doubled as his office (he's an insurance salesman or something equally as vile) and it surely wouldn't do to have 3 goofy ass kids flinging acid everywhere, not to mention blinding his progeny. Soon enough, though, we got Jamie to calm down and also to (thankfully) shut the Hell up.

Once things settled down, we were able to "survey the scene," (except Jamie, remember...he was now blind) as it were. the acid had already eaten away the color from the patch of carpet that it spilled out on and was threatening to dissolve fibers as well. The three of us sprung into action, grabbing cleaning products and scrubbing the acid-patch as best we could, trying desperately to reverse the unreversible. After a while, we figured that we had done all that we could do. Jamie decided that the only way to avoid being beaten to death by his dad was to hide the patch by rearranging the furniture, so that's what we did. The ottoman that went with the chair covered the spot nicely and actually, the furniture, and the room as a whole, looked real nice after we rearranged it. I'm not sure if Bruce or Sue ever noticed the change, but if they did, they didn't say anything. Jamie avoided a beating, for another day at least, and we all avoided being horribly disfigured by our would be bomb. In fact, when it's all said and done, I'd label that experiment "a success!"

The moral of this story is simple: Don't try this crap at home, kids. Try it at your friend's house. If anything goes wrong, run like Hell. Oh yeah, stay in school. Don't do drugs. Eat your peas. Love Jesus. Obey the law of the pack. Don't believe what the kids at school tell you. Always wear your seatbelt. Thank you.

Labels: collin crap, indignities, lame stories, me roots

Ok, so yeah. I've done this before, but NOW it's even better! Seriously, before it was there, and that was fine, but now there are all of these curse words and better effects and production and I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH YOU BECAUSE...well, just because. Here you go, friends and neighbors...The new, improved Wingity Ding Dong...



Like the image at the top says, there are explicit lyrics. Like, 20 or 30 "f-words" just as a start. NO BLEEPS OR CENSORING! All raw and uncut for you. Kind of like "Wingy gone wild."

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

The last couple of days, the DSL connection at work has been down. It's painfully sad, that when there is no access to the internet or to email, how helpless we all become. Most of our communications, personal and professional, happen via email. We also email and FTP files to newspapers and clients and this has allowed us to work RIGHT UP TO DEADLINE...Without the luxury of a connection, though, we're thrown into the dark ages, so to speak. It's very strange. Anyhoo, our connection is back (whew) and so I get to share with you an audio entry that I hastily constructed as an inaugural project with some new audio editing software that I downloaded. First, some background:

Johnny, who I work with at the radio station, was telling me that I needed to record and produce a spoof spot called "Al Qaida Ford." This suggestion stuck around in the back of my mind, not really causing me any great inspirational flashes until a couple days ago when I needed to write SOMETHING just to give some of the filters and things in this new program a test drive. As such, Al Qaida Ford is not my finest work. It is, however, an audio entry and I will share it with you now.



I also recut the "Wingity Ding Dong" spot that I did a while back. For the re-do, I left it in an uncensored state (all 200 or so curse words audible) and will probably share that with you soon. The quality of the production is markedly better...Anyway, it's great to be back online. HOW I'VE MISSED IT SO! I can actually pay some bills...Whoo!

Labels: all those funny voices, audio, spoof commercials

Internet connection is down today, therefore no posties until it's fixed. Probably sometime tomorrow!

Labels: sad stories

A great big "fuck you" to hockey fans like me...
from NHL CBA News:


The NHL's Board of Governors will meet today at a New York City hotel. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman will address the media following the meeting and NHLCBANEWS.com will stream the press conference live beginning at 2:30 p.m. ET today . The League's CBA with the NHLPA expires at midnight ET on Wednesday. NHL executive VP Bill Daly said the Union's last proposal was unacceptable and currently no talks are scheduled.

Labels: hockey stuff, misguided rantings, sad stories, sports

There was SO MUCH that happened over the weekend, I'm hoping I can cover it all in one little entry...(taking a breath)...Here we go...

Worked at the radio station on Saturday morning. Also had to sit through a "mandatory" staff meeting during my airshift. What a joke...Anyway...

On Saturday evening, we had the first official Dead Money Poker Tournament at my house. Some of the invitees declined, others cancelled out at the last minute but despite such things (and thanks to a last-minute phone call), we still had enough (9 players) to make it fun and competitive...For this tournament, we were playing no-limit Texas Hold 'Em with blinds increasing every 20 minutes. I personally didn't catch enough cards to hold myself in once the blinds went up into the $250/$500 range and, as such, was the fourth player eliminated, right about the same time as Ray, and a while behind Trevor and my wife (who was first out). Playing for the big money ($20) at the final table were Collin, Sandy, Lorne, Jason and my sister Heather.

Collin, while he WAS having a wonderful run of luck before moving to the final table, became apprehensive (by his own admission) because he started to see the chips as real money...Due to this loss of composure, Collin was the first eliminated from said final table and, sadly, did not finish "in the money" as the kids say. Sandy was the next to go from the final table, finishing in fourth place and earning her entry fee ($5) back. Lorne, Sandy's husband, was the next to go. Lorne finished in 3rd place and earned an $8 prize. That left Jason (the Iowa Kid) and my sister (Heather Bee) squaring off for the big money top prize (and also the t-shirt that UPS misrouted to California). In the style of the big time televised poker tournaments, the $20 was brought to the final table to "show the players what they were playing for." Heh.

Long story short, my sister continued to catch cards, as she had done all night, and eliminated Jason in 5 hands. Jason came away with $12 while Heather earned $20 and the t-shirt (which should be delivered today). Congratulations to her and thanks to everyone who participated. It was big fun! We'll surely do it again soon...

Sunday was a day to do very little other than watch NFL football. I'm involved in two different Yahoo Fantasy Football Leagues, so just about every game on TV held interest for me. Initially, my wife was only interested in watching the Pittsburgh Steelers game seeing as she went to high school and college with Aaron Smith, who is a Steeler defensive end. Aaron had a good game on Sunday, including scooping up a fumble and rumbling 50 yards downfield before being tackled. Heck of an effort all the way around. Of course, once the Broncos game came on at 6:30, we were both glued to the set. A few of my observances regarding the Broncos/Chiefs game...

Bernie Kukar is a moron. His entire officiating crew are morons. Perhaps Bernie Kukar is too old to be an NFL official, or perhaps he's just a dickhead. Either way, if the NFL does not take any disciplinary action against Kukar and his crew, I'll be sorely disappointed. Again, Bernie Kukar can kiss my ass.

Preist Holmes IS the Kansas City Chiefs. They should change the team name to the Kansas City Priests and just admit the fact that they are completely one-dimensional.

Trent Green is ugly.

Dick Vermeil cries more than any man should.

Joe Theisman, for having played professional football, must not have retained anything. As a commentator, he's a failure. Still baffled as to how ESPN allows him on the air.


I thought that Pat Summerall had his drinking problem licked...Maybe not...Pat seemed lost during most of last night's game and sometimes was just mumbling about nothing...

Paul Maguire mumbles MORE than Summerall...he also trails off while talking about nothing to the point of being inaudible. The three of them are completely worthless, almost to the point of being Bernie Kukar-esque. I'd rather listen to two monkeys chatter and screech during the game than endure the constant stupidity that spews forth from Pat, Paul and Joe. You guys suck.

It's Quentin GRIFFIN...Not "Griffith." Get it straight, you'll be saying it a Hell of a lot this season.

Clinton Who?

Dick Vermeil...Did I mention that he cries too much?

Tony Gonzalez is no longer a viable weapon at tight end. Hey, Tony, you weren't interfered with, you just suck. Retire already.

Dante Hall, meet John Lynch.

Eddie Kennison is a quitter. He'll probably quit the Chiefs after they lose their first 4 games.

And finally, to all of those "prognosticators" who arrogantly claim to know SO MUCH about professional football who gave the Broncos no chance against the Chiefs, you can kiss my ass. Again, I know more than you do. If you wish to challenge me on that fact, all we have to do is compare fantasy football stats over the last 3 years.

Anyhoo, I'm done being an ass about it. Yay Broncos! Boo Chiefs!

Labels: lame stories, misguided rantings, poker, sports

Hey, terrorist pigs! see the Bee and I? Take a good look, because we're livin' our daily American life like a couple of SHAMELESS INFIDELS JUST TO PISS YOU OFF! That's right, I'm drinkin' a ginger ale and listening to ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC RIGHT NOW you cowardly bastards! You got NOTHIN' on me! NOTHIN'!..

I'll never forget the events of September 11, 2001, but I'm DAMN SURE not gonna stop livin'...Neither should anyone else because when THAT happens, terrorism wins. In addition, there are a large number of young men and women who serve proudly in our military to ensure that our American way of life, however you want to live it, is secure. To not appreciate our freedom and simply live day to day would be an insult to them...I salute every last one of you who serve, even if you cut me off in traffic on your way to work everyday...You know who you are...

What, you don't have a bee at home? Seriously, you're missing out...

Labels: tales of triumph

Earlier, as in late last month, I failed to mention the fact that, on August 31 of this year, the 2nd Invader Zim DVD set was released to the public. IT LOOKS LIKE THIS:

Granted, Hot Topic had some copies in advance, but they quickly sold out. Anyway, the DVD is currently available at all of those places where you usually purchase your DVDs (providing that you don't routinely buy your DVDs from, say, a guy named Juan who brokers DVDs, burritos and trinkets from the back of a beat up pickup truck)...Anyhoo, if you feel the need to read some sort of official "review" for this wonderful little piece of viewable awesomeness, check out IGN's review here...I didn't read it, so if it's inaccurate...Oh well...

If you're not in the vicinity of any sort of chain store that sells DVDs and other crack rock-like entertainment products, you can order the DVD from Media Blasters...There, you can also find more useful info regarding the Zim DVDs AND, as if that weren't enough, it appears that you'll get a free Zim button if you...Wait, that's if you purchase the first one...Oh well, go there anyway, maybe things will pan out for you...I didn't stick around there long enough to tell...As for me, I have the DVD, I've watched it and I consider it to be "mostly good," bordering on "great"...The DVD contained more than one episode that I hadn't seen, mostly due to Nickelodeon's dickin' around with the original air schedule and stuff, so it was all very well worth it. Run screaming to your favorite entertainment store and purchase Zim today...

Labels: watchin' teevees

Dammit, Shit, Fuck, Hell, Crap, Poop! United Parcel Service seems, due to some bad karma on my part, to have some sort of stinkin' damn grudge against me. I can almost sense when they're about to screw with me, too, it's uncanny...See, if I order something that I merely want, it'll arrive MOSTLY on time...If I order something that I ACTUALLY NEED, however, those bastards at UPS will find SOME way to misroute my package. If by some miracle they don't misroute it, they'll simply forget to deliver it. failing that, If they have a chance to do so, they'll actually lose my package WITHIN THE LOCAL FACILITY ("I know it's here SOMEWHERE"...). They're real effing efficient at PISSING ME OFF, which seems to be about the ONLY thing that they're consistent at. The latest evil deed that this vile global shipping entity has perpetrated upon yours truly has to do with the top prize t-shirt that I ordered for the big poker tournament this weekend...

As I mentioned last week, I ordered the shirt from CafePress in what I hoped was an ample amount of time to have it produced and shipped to me. This, in fact, WAS the case right up until stinkin' UPS got their greasy mitts on the thing...With an originally scheduled delivery of tomorrow, which would have been AWESOME seeing as the tournament is this Saturday, UPS took it upon themselves to route the package the wrong God Damned way...Seriously. The wrong direction. The information that I am able to get from the tracking page tells me the following:

AN INCORRECT ROUTING AT A UPS FACILITY CAUSED THIS DELAY;THE PACKAGE WAS MISSORTED AT THE HUB. IT HAS BEEN REROUTED TO THE CORRECT DESTINATION SITE

Hey, thanks at least for FIGURING OUT THAT SAN JOSE, CALI-FUCKING-FORNIA IS NOT THE SAME AS COLORADO FRICKIN' SPRINGS, COLORADO! As such, the delivery has been rescheduled for Monday the 13th. MONDAY! Dammit...This means that my smokin' top prize will not even be AVAILABLE to award to whomever ends up being the big winner of the poker tournament. Oh Heck no, instead, I'll have a FUCKING PICTURE of the shirt to show the winner with the promise that they'll get the shirt EVENTUALLY. I say eventually because, even though delivery is SCHEDULED for Monday, I still don't trust that it'll happen. No, Something else COULD go wrong...I won't trust UPS until I get my shipment in hand and EVEN THEN I'll still want to poke those assholes in their collective left eye for the consistent level of incompetence that they display...

Not that Fed Ex is any better...Ah well...Enough of that crap...

So if you happen to be an astute observer of change (and things like it), you may have noticed that I added an Avalanche logo to my sidebar (right over there...TO YOUR LEFT! yeah, there). This is due to the fact that I am participating, thanks to Tricia, in the big Rocket Jones Hockey Whoopass Jamboree wherin competitors (like me) choose their hockey team and, because hockey KICKS ASS, proudly display that team's logo on their site (Like I did). You are then required to talk trash about impending games with other Whoopass Jamboree competitors and, if your team loses to a team that's been claimed by another competitor, you have no choice other than to display said opposing team's logo IN PLACE of your team's logo for a period of...what...24 hours or so...Sounds fun!..Well, sounds fun as long as there'll be an NHL season that is...Let's all think collectively good thoughts about that collective bargaining agreement situation, shall we?

So, speaking of sports (we were), the NFL season kicks off tonight with the stinking Indianapolis Colts traveling to Foxboro, Mass. to take on the stinking defending SuperBowl champion New England Patriots...Hooray for football! This means that I can start to REALLY pay attention to my fantasy football teams...Go Broncos!..

Ooh, before I run off and be more productive and stuff, I'll share the fact that today, being that this week marks my 5-year anniversary at the agency, I had my annual review. Things went well! Apparently I'm an "asset" to the department (who knew!?). Always nice to hear such things when it comes to employment...Yay for being appreciated!...It's certainly better than having to look for a job...

Labels: hockey stuff, indignities, misguided rantings, poker, sports

I don't often simply lift stories from a news service and present them, but today I have little choice. I'm not in the right frame of mind to author an appropriate tribute to a man who gave so much of himself to our community. With that in mind, here is the Colorado Springs Gazette news story regarding the passing of Dominic Venetucci...
____

Pumpkin Man ‘gave, gave, gave’

By DEEDEE CORRELL - THE GAZETTE

The Pumpkin Man is gone.

Nick Venetucci, the beloved farmer who gave millions of pumpkins to generations of children who visited his farm during the past 50 years, died Tuesday. He was 93.

“He taught our kids the definition of generosity,” said Suzanne Royer, principal of Venetucci Elementary School in Security, which was named after the venerated community figure in 1986.

“He gave, gave, gave, and never expected anything in return. He was kind of like Santa Claus.”

The legend of Dominic Venetucci began 50 years ago when the farmer would drive his truck slowly along Tejon Street and hand out pumpkins to children.

Eventually, a teacher noticed him and asked if she could take her children to his farm.

Of course, he said.

Thus began a tradition that touched nearly every child in the region and led him to give away millions of pumpkins to children who visited his farm along Monument Creek in Security.

“He’d be right there with his big smile, very patient. He just loved those kids,” said Fred Darpino, a Colorado Springs artist who is creating a sculpture of Venetucci surrounded by children in his pumpkin patch. It will be placed downtown by the Pioneers Museum.

He especially loved to watch the enterprising children who went to the far end of the field to find the largest pumpkins, then struggled to roll or push them back to their school bus.

“He said those were his favorite,” Darpino said.

“He saw the joy it brings to children, and he loves children. They are his pleasure in life. He was always so happy having children running around the farm,” Nick’s wife, Bambi Venetucci, said Tuesday afternoon.

Venetucci, who did not have children of his own, regarded the students at Venetucci Elementary as his own, Royer said.

“He said, ‘How many kids do you have at school this year?’ I said, ‘474 kids,’ and he said, ‘OK, I have 474 kids,’” she said.

The saddest thing she ever saw, Royer said, was a man stealing pumpkins from Venetucci. As children roamed the fields, a man parked his pickup near the far end of the field and started loading pumpkins into the back. Someone ran after him, but he escaped with the stolen pumpkins.

“It really upset Nick,” Royer said. “Here he is giving, and someone wants to steal.”

When the drought hit several years ago, the Venetuccis announced they wouldn’t be able to have their annual giveaway.

That was difficult for her husband, Bambi Venetucci said.

“It’s been very hard for him,” Bambi Venetucci said. “It’s been part of his life.”

“It’s kind of a hole in our September,” Royer agreed.

When Pikes Peak International Raceway spokesman Clark Curtis, who once covered the annual pumpkin giveaway as a reporter for a local television station, heard the news, the raceway decided to try to pitch in, he said.

“It was the first time in 40 years it wasn’t going to happen,” Curtis said.

PPIR officials asked Hirakata Farms in Rocky Ford to donate pumpkins, which were given to children at several elementary schools. This year, they’ll have pumpkins for about 600 children, Curtis said.

“We obviously were never going to be able to do all he’s done over the years,” he said. “He meant so much to the community.”

Last year, a campaign began to raise money for a sculpture to honor Venetucci. Royer said they’ve raised enough money for the $100,000 sculpture but still need $10,000 more for its maintenance fund.

Venetucci resisted the idea of the statue at first, Royer said.

She argued with him, telling him he deserved it because he had done so much for the community.

“He kind of smiled with his toothless smile and said, ‘No, I didn’t,’” she said.

The first time they saw the sculpture, Royer said, Bambi, who is blind, ran her hands all over it and began to cry.

“She put her hands on his hands and said, ‘It’s so much like Nick,’” Royer said.

The sculpture, which depicts Venetucci handing a pumpkin to a child while two others play with their pumpkins, is nearly finished, Darpino said.

“Everyone says it looks just like Nick,” he said.

The statue will be placed on the north side of the Pioneers Museum, probably in late October, with pumpkins and marigolds planted around its base.

“I was hoping he’d live long enough to see it,” Bambi Venetucci said.

A public memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. Sunday in the Widefield High School auditorium. Burial will be at Evergreen Cemetery.

Anyone who wishes to make a donation to the “Pennies for Pumpkins” campaign — which remains $10,000 short of its goal — may send a check to the Widefield School District No. 3, Nick Venetucci Fund, 1820 Main St., Colorado Springs, CO 80911.
____

I'll see if I can make it to the memorial and also I feel the need to donate to the sculpture fund...After all, he gave me more than one pumpkin in my lifetime...It's only fair...

Thanks, Nick...We'll miss you.

Labels: sad stories

this post is a true rarity for me...It's being typed up from somewhere OTHER than my trusty Mac workstation at the Agency and, (holy crap), it's being typed INTO THE BLOGGER WINDOW THING! I'M WORKIN' WITHOUT A NET HERE, PEOPLE! Usually I type these silly entry-things into "TextEdit" so's I can...well...edit 'em and save 'em and such, but not today. No, this day I live squarely on the EDGE! Screwy, I know...I'd probably forego posting ANYTHING today (it's a holiday), but I'm so bored...Well...Here I post...

I'm currently sitting in the control room at KSPZ 92.9 FM, the radio station where I work part time. Judging by the station website, though, I don't actually exist. I am, in fact, a non-entity, someone who must've defeated the security permiter, restrained the regular DJs and defiantly went on the air. As cool as that scenario would be, it's not true. The truth is significantly less glamourous, I've simply been forgotten. I am disposable in every sense of the word. The station doesn't HAVE to treat me well to keep me around, they've proven that already. In fact, the only station I've worked for here at Citadel Broadcasting that DID acknowledge my presence was KKFM and, just a couple weeks after my name, although misspelled, was placed on the station website and I was presented with my very own personalized radio jingle sweep...I was taken off of the schedule. No explanation, just replaced...

I'm not bitter or anything, don't get me wrong...But c'mon...What the Hell?..

Anyway, that's neither here nor there. What is here, though, is me. Or would it be "I?" Aw Hell, like I said, I'm "driving the bus" this morning, as it were. Being that it's Labor Day, the "full-timers" are out at Memorial Park for the Colorado Springs Balloon Classic...Due to that, I get stuck, on-air, in the studio. Don't get me wrong, I don't care to be out at the event...In actuality, I'd prefer to be asleep, an activity that I'm sure my agency co-workers are currently enjoying. I've been on the air every day of the three-day Labor day weekend...You might think "ooh, how cool!" I'd disagree, but I like to do that...That facts are that, this being my second stint in radio, I'm just not terribly excited about the whole thing. Truth be told, I was really damn close to simply quitting this "gig" rather than show up for my scheduled shifts this weekend. I've decided that I'm reaching the point of diminishing returns when it comes to this second career of mine and I'm quickly becoming indifferent to the world of broadcasting as a whole. As B.B. King would sing, "the thrill is gone"...

Here's a hint from me to you, kids, if you EVER find yourself thinking about picking up radio, or broadcasting in general, as your career...Don't...You CAN do better for yourself...It doesn't matter what else your prospects are, if you want peace of mind AND the possibility of financial gain, Radio is NOT the place to be..."But what about Howard Stern and Larry King? What about Rush Limbaugh and Don Imus? They make big money in radio!?" you'll ask me...My response would be "Right place, right time, kids." How lucky do you think YOU are? That's what THAT'S all about, friends, luck over skill plus how much ass you can kiss in a given day. Even if you DO have all of the right components in place, the odds of you being the next Limbaugh or Stern are very heavily against you. Best case scenario? You'll most likely top out as the next Randy Hill, who was my boss when I first started. Randy is the most unabashed "yes man" I've ever had the occasion to meet...This not-so-endearing trait HAS afforded him a reasonably successful career as a program director and on-air talent in various markets, but he has no other choice in life than to follow the money, picking up and moving to another market once he's worn out his welcome in whatever one he's in which, oh by the way kids, ALWAYS happens in radio...It's only a matter of time before you're looked upon as expendable, no matter how much praise the management heaps upon you. They'll pat you on the back right up until they hire your replacement and unceremoniusly usher your ass out the door. It's all about the bottom line in corporate radio and, as such, the "talent" sees as little money as possible. In addition to their tight bankroll, corporate radio stations run as lean as they can, with computer technology affording "station clusters" the ability to run with a true skeleton crew which can appear to be a full frickin' airstaff through the black voodoo computer magic that is "voicetracking." In fact, if you hear someone "live" on the air on your local station, chances are...They're not really there...A computer runs the show, segues the music and logs all activity. That same computer allows for individual "live mic" breaks to be PRE-RECORDED up to 2 weeks prior.

Feel ripped off? You should...This happens all over the country...In fact, in a neat little ironic "voicetracking" twist, when my wife and I moved into our new house, the folks at the U-Haul place were LISTENING TO ME while I was SIGNING THE CONTRACT FOR THE TRUCK...Got me some funny looks that day...

Only the smallest percentage of radio people make it big and, unless something changes, that percentage will most likely go DOWN year after year...The aforementioned Computerization, consultant-driven homogenization of station formats, corporate "cluster" ownership and increasingly diverse media availability and options are all combining to erode the already pockmarked face of radio...Long gone are the days of the "boss jock" and, in fact, gone even are the days of the "DJ." As my oh-so-astute Operations Manager explained to us "jocks" in an airstaff meeting last year "The day of the DJ is dead. You do not make any decisions about content, you do not put on a show, you do NOT deviate from the format, you DO NOT play requests...You do what we tell you to do or you will be replaced, I've got dozens of tapes from people all over the country who would fill your position in a heartbeat. You are all a dime a dozen."

Cool...Thanks for the pep talk, chief. In essence, His dumb ass is the organ grinder and I'm paid to be the monkey. And I'm not paid very well at that...

When I "retired" from radio in 1998, I was making $6.00 per hour. That sum represented 5 years of hard work, dedication, improvement and 3 raises...I started in 1993 at what was then "Springs Radio" as an overnight board operator making the laughable sum of $4.25 per hour, minimum wage at the time. For my part-time monkey work now, I make double that, but considering the fact that I have to drive to the far north end of town from my home at the far south end to babysit a computer and say the call letters 4 times per hour, it's just not worth it. There's little to no job satisfaction inherent in my presence here, in fact it's quite a joke. It's not about the money so much, seeing as I can makethe same amount voicing ONE SINGLE radio commercial at the Agency (even though I'm only paid a half rate for THAT) as I can in 5 hours of radio monkey work. If I happen to pick up spots to read at other production houses in town, that amount can double, even triple...

Can you say "disenchantment?" I knew you could...Here, gold star for the day...Ironically enough, my Program Director JUST called to thank me for working this weekend. He said that I've "done an awesome job and that he owes me big"...Being the asshole that I am, I just responded with a simple "yep." Heh...If he only knew...

So, Anyway...Have you ever been listening to the radio in your hometown (or elsewhere) and the DJ comes on and does his or her thing and you think "man, this DJ sucks?" If you have (and I KNOW that you've had occasion to think such things), there's a very simple reason why...The individuals that happen to be unfortunate enough to have fallen into the trap and ACTUALLY MADE RADIO THEIR CAREER are not always the ones who are best at it...Make any sense? A lot of times, the ones who are really very good end up finding their way out, if only into managerial positions within the corporate radio structure. Even then, when those who escape end up with very satisfying careers and peace of mind and all of that noise, they're often referred to as "former DJs" or, god forbid, continue to identify themselves as such...The reason for this comes down to the "X-factor," the intangible lure of possibly being a "celebrity"...DJs are afraid of giving up radio because they're afraid of losing their identity. There are a number of people who fill space on the air in many markets who are simply there because they're willing to trade a liveable wage, job security and other really great things for that great stupid intangible...

"celebrity." Say it with me, "celebrity..." it sounds so seductive! Wouldn't you like to be one? Well, if you're on the radio full time, you'd certainly become one, wouldn't you? if only on a local level, you too could be "COOL."

Truth be told, you don't REALLY become a cool-ass celebrity, which is just as well, as not many people are truly equipped to handle such things. Don't get me wrong, you can still be cool...That's completely up to you...If you want celebrity status, though, you're gonna have to star in a major motion picture or fire some rounds at a political figure or something...Oh sure, when you're a radio DJ you'll get to have your one or two (10 or 11 if you're female) personal nutcase stalkers who think that YOU, mr. radio man, are their VERY BESTEST FRIEND because you happen to be transported into their homes and cars and, by proxy, their very lives via the voodoo magic that are radio airwaves...These stalker-people can range from benignly annoying to downright fucking scary. I've never had any "fans" whos behavior progressed beyond mildly annoying, but my sister, when she was a recognizable on-air personality, had (among her collection) her own personal stalker named Jesse. Jesse lived in La Junta (probably still does) and was totally head-over-heels in love with her. Well, to be fair, he was in love with her voice. So much so, in fact, that he asked my sister to marry him on many occasions. He routionely sent gifts to her at the station's address, including a...well, for lack of a better phrase, a framed "Glamour Shot" of himself all dressed up like the Frito Fucking Bandito, replete with a sombrero, two pistolas and a bandolier or three. It was good for a chuckle, but deep down I was always a wee bit concerned that, someday, he'd actually show up, stinkin' drunk, brandishing those pistolas...Luckily, nothing like that happened, but things like that HAVE happened to people in similar situations...

Anyway, I've bitched enough about this topic. In about an hour I'll be going home so I can (hopefully) rest up for work tomorrow. Perhaps this WILL be the last time I'm ever on the air...I guess time will tell...If history is any judge, I'll keep coming back for more...I'm not terribly bright, after all...

Labels: holidays, me roots, misguided rantings, radio stories

I figured I'd better upload a photo to show that there IS something new going on...Heh...Anyway, here is that photo, taken mere minutes ago...

Here I stand, proudly displaying the 650 extra poker chips I purchased for the big poker tournament that I have in the works...They arrived via UPS today from a wonderful company in Ohio called 5 Star Deal. If you happen to be on the market for casino supplies, they rock. They also sell knives and swords and stuff, but I stick with the casino stuff. For now.

And yes, that is my #54 "Knight" official Charlestown Chiefs jersey. Putting on the foil as we speak, folks...

Labels: Phrickin' Photoblogs, poker, tales of triumph

Some folks, not buying in to the fact that I really am clogged up with work, wanted to actually SEE the bear that killed the clown. Ok, I can do that...Here he is.

Note the blatant disregard for authority! This bear not only killed and ATE the clown, but now morbidly prances around WEARING THE CLOWN'S CLOTHING! Stinkin' bear...

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, Illustrations, stagnation

No time for anything today. Here's a clown.

Do whatever you want to with it, no purchase necessary, void where clowns are prohibited.

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, Illustrations, stagnation

It's been a screwy, busy week for me...I've been feverishly working on a specific set of ads here at work that have turned out to be nothing more than a giant pain on my ass due to the "too many cooks" principle. Actually, if all of them damn "cooks" would just communicate with each other, it probably would've been much easier. Anyway, with all of that going on, I've been kind of handcuffed when it comes to polishing up "content" for the ol' blog here, but I haven't forgotten about it. No sir...

A couple of times last week, I shared some small chunks of a larger project I was working on called "Dead Money." As I said, Dead Money is a poker term which, if you want the full definition of, you can find here. Since I've been busy (like I said) I haven't had a whole lot of time to complete said project. Good news, as I see it anyway, is that I finally DID complete it, working a little here and there. As such, I will share more information with you all now...

I am planning on having a Texas Hold 'Em poker tournament with some of the people that I (semi-regularly) play poker with. And, if you're wondering, Texas Hold 'Em is INDEED the poker that you see most often on ESPN or the Travel Channel, but in our case, there's no celebrities, hidden cameras or really good players...I'm also looking to include some other newer players, a few of whom truly are "dead money," but that's neither here nor there...This whole "tournament" idea is not new, in fact we've done it before, just not at MY house and NOT with a smokin' top prize such as I will now describe...(get ready)...

Everyone will buy in to this little tournament with five measly dollars. They will then be given $1,440 in chips to play with. I'm hoping to get 12 players in this tournament and start play on 2 separate tables, combining into one after enough people are eliminated. If I do get 12 people to play, which is likely, the top four finishers will receive prize money with the WINNER receiving 30 bucks AND (as if that weren't enough) A FREE commemorative T-shirt! Yes! A whole T-shirt! THIS was what I was working on. Yep. The design for said "championship t-shirt." Because I like you, and because I know you won't tell anyone, I'll let you all take a sneak peek at the shirt design...Ready?...

I've already ordered more chips especially for the tournament and also ordered the shirt from my store. THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME! I'll let you know the results after it happens. Oh yeah, it's scheduled for Saturday, September 11. So...um..."Stay tuned," as they say...

Labels: cartoons n' stuff, Illustrations, lame stories, poker, spooky shit, Stupid Contests