And so, while the sleeping giant that is the phrickin' photoblog continues to lie dormant, I shall thrill you kids with quite possibly the lamest of the Friday posts...That's right, I'm going to acknowledge a "tag" from another blogsitething...See, Mark Maynard (whom I've never really read) "tagged" our old buddy Collin (even though he linked him incorrectly when he did it) on this and, ever the dilligent little monkey, Collin tagged me. As you well know, I usually dismiss such "tags" with a disdainful wave of my (mighty) hand but...Well...Since I have nothing else for you today...Let's get this over with...
*ahem*
Derek Knight Presents: Five Things You Likely Do Not Know About Me

1. I love the smell of gasoline.
Now, don't start shouting to your significant other (or your 17 cats) "hey, that cheese boy is a gas huffer!" I am decidedly NOT a gas huffer, I simply find the smell of gasoline to be enjoyable if not (dare I say) comforting. It's hard to explain, really, I guess that my earliest recollection of enjoying the smell of gasoline was when I was maybe 3 or 4, sitting in the backseat of the family's 1969 Dodge Coronet while my mom filled up (likely at the Skelly station on Main street which is now...What is it, a Walgreens?). I think I even mentioned that I liked the smell that was emanating from the pump to my mom who, with a horrified look on her face, instructed me never to smell gas again...That clinched it, of course...The sultry smell of 85 octane was the forbidden fruit of my youth...

2. I worked at a strip joint.
But I was young and I needed the money. Seriously, when I was 19 (maybe 20) and working at a local radio station, one of the other DJs (a real dickhead named Randy) told me that he was picking up extra money DJing at a place called Jerry McNasty's. He then told me that they were short staffed and that I should go talk to "Chucker," who hired all the DJs there...Even though I was underage (I stopped getting carded when I was 17), I agreed to go talk to this "Chucker" and see about playing music while chicks that I likely went to high school with shook their c-section scars for immigrant construction workers on lunch break...Chucker turned out to be a shaky paraplegic radio-jock-turned-strip-club-DJ with a bad attitude. Despite all that, he hired me on the spot and, for one day (I just couldn't handle the crust of despair that was all over McNasty's) I was a strip club DJ. "Get your hands out of your pockets and your tip dollars ready, Gentlemen! Here comes long-legged, lovely ROCHELLE! No, really...Get them out of your pockets..."

3. I'm actually an only child.
My sister was adopted. Oh, sure, she'll refute this up and down (as will my parents) but don't listen to them. Sister. Adopted. All the way.

4. I have one of the worst speech impediments I've ever heard.
I'm not kidding about this. When I was 5 and first in school, I (like all the other students) was put through a battery of tests...Being the sharp little bastard that I am, I aced all of them with the exception of the speech test. My mom was told by the individual administering said speech test that I had a "click" in my speech and that I needed speech therapy which, of course, I took part in for at least 4 years during school. I never did get over this "click" that the school identified, mostly because I couldn't actually hear it and nobody would TELL me where my specific problem area was. After all this, I largely forgot about my speech problems until I was 18. While recording some off-the-cuff parody songs with a friend of mine, I heard on the playback (for the first time, mind you) that damn "click" that the school personnel had identified so many years earlier. When I heard it, I was devastated...I suddenly realized that I sounded idiotic, I couldn't say "ch" or "sh" sounds without mashing those sounds up into a spitty mess...For the first time in my life, it was terribly clear why the Speech lady at my elementary school had told my mom that I'd never EVER be able to participate in any form of public speaking...As you can imagine, I was horribly self conscious from that point on about my speech and, even after getting a job at a local radio station, I couldn't seem to shake my impediment...I tried to simply avoid saying things like "chubby checker" or "chuck berry" but it was no use. I tried every possible remedy I could think of to no avail until one day I realized that, if I substituted a "ts" sound for the "ch" sound and said it quickly, I suddenly sounded less idiotic if not damn near normal...In a single moment of clarity, I had identified the specific part of my mouth that caused my stupidly specific speech problem! I admit, It took a good long while to retrain myself, but now I speak with both clarity and confidence. Since "fixing" my speech impediment, I've not only worked on-air on (at least) 5 radio stations here in town but I voice commercials for radio and television which run in just about every media market in the country and I've been a public address announcer for a professional hockey team...Never going to be able to speak in public, my ass...

5. I tried, but failed, to get on Jeopardy®
A few years ago, I visited the Jeopardy website and saw that, at some point, they were going to hold contestant tryouts in Denver. Ever the eager nutcase, I registered for the chance to try out and then promptly forgot about it. A few months later, though, I got a call from the Jeopardy people telling me that I was randomly selected to participate in the big contestant search. Believe me, when I heard that, I was elated! I agreed to be at the Downtown Westin at whatever given time on whatever given day to be part of their testing. The deal is, you (and a hundred of your closest friends) first take a written test (of sorts). Those that pass said written test then go on to play a mock game of Jeopardy and THEN, those who succeed at that portion are placed into a "contestant pool" for whatever season is upcoming. I felt that it was a foregone conclusion that I'd succeed in all phases of the testing and, leading up to test day, I would play Jeopardy at home, tracking my correct answers and, essentially, continuing to feel confident. The day of the testing came and, even though I was absolutely sure that there were no possible scenarios wherein I could fail, after the written test when the chubby producer fellow called the names of those who would move on to phase two, mine was not among them. I have to say, even though I stayed calm and didn't show it, I hadn't felt so devastated since...Well, I don't even know when. I learned a valuable lesson from that day, though...Well, I learned a couple of things...First: don't get your hopes up. Second: READ CHARLES GODDAMN DICKENS! You never know when someone is going to ask you a STUPID Dickens question...SHIT! DAMMIT! AAAAAAAAAA. Er...Ah...Yeah. So that's it.

And yes, that really is it, 5 things that you didn't know about me. Likely, 5 things that you didn't care to know about me either but hey, it's Collin's fault for tagging me, right? I plan to NOT tag anyone for this little assignment, mostly because I love to watch things like this die. DIE A SLOW DEATH, 5 THINGS POST! So yeah, thanks for stopping by today...You kids have a great weekend now...

Labels: collin crap, Done Got Tagged, indignities, lame stories, me roots, pointless shit, radio stories, stuff mom's done, tales of triumph