A Complete Unknown

Short Story Sunday

2010-01-27T09:24:00.000-08:00

Short Story Sunday is my new blog. It'll be where I post my short stories every Sunday.

Weekend Bowl Predictions

2009-12-17T13:42:00.000-08:00

I'm going to attempt to do Bowl Game Predictions for the upcoming week, and since this is the first week I've started, this weekend will be the first games I predict....(wait for it......wait for it....)

Fresno State Bulldogs (8-4) vs. Wyoming Cowboys (6-6) – New Mexico Bowl

-Wyoming blown out by Texas, beat down by Utah and BYU's game was a shellacking. Do we need to mention their game against TCU?

-Fresno lost to Boise State and Natty early on, along w/ an OT loss at WIS. Not horrid.

-This game is pointless. Really really pointless – what's the name of the bowl? New Mexico Bowl...why isn't New Mexico playing in it?

UCF Knights (8-4) vs. Rutgers Scarlet Knights (8-4) – St. Petersburg Bowl

-How many headlines have 'Knights vs. Knights?' This is why I'm not in newspaper headline writing positions.

-Rutgers solid losses against Pitt and West Virgina. Good wins against Conn. And S. FLA, so the real question is will they join the Big Ten?

-UCF beat Houston, but I don't care because they're in Florida. It's single digit temps here. I'm bitter.

-UCF doesn't have to travel very far. What, playing in St. Petersburg and all.

Southern Miss Golden Eagles (7-5) vs. Middle Tennessee Blue Raiders (9-3) New Orleans Bowl

-Dwayne Wade and John Madden will not be involved with this bowl.....tragic.

-MTBR (because I'm not spelling that out) dominated the Sun Belt. The Sun Belt. They play football in the Sun Belt?

Tune in next week, or at the very least, by Tuesday, when some ranked teams play. On a Tuesday. They didn't suck all season long and they're forced to play on a Tuesday.

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T11:09:00.000-08:00

You know you only love her for the breasts.

This Should Be Epic

2009-11-16T22:23:00.000-08:00

The title says it all.

Where to start, where to start, where to start.....how 'bout here?

It's painfully obvious that I don't have a fucking clue.

Now that that's stated, I can go on. It's amazing how much freedom that statement gives me. Just accepting the fact that I don't know it all, it allows me to move one. If you know me, you know that to a certain degree I have to know everything, or I'll at least give it a shot. Maybe it's not me, maybe it's a guy thing. Who knows?

It's past midnight on a school night, I should be asleep. But, I'm here, and so are you.

I was talking with a good friend (OK, maybe great friend) of mine, as I do often, about my next step. Which is never what I think it to be. 25-years-old. I've got the world ahead of me with a quarter of a century behind me. No strong footing to step on, to allow myself to climb higher up. Just sand. Quick sand, maybe.

Lately, I've fallen into the rut of waking up, cooking breakfast, setting the kids off to school, kissing the wife, and off to work I go.

Wait.....

I must've seen that on TV. But, I've fallen into the rut, anyway. Just without the kids or the wife. This whole concept of growing older, but not up, appeals to me. The problem is, I don't know if that's possible.

There seems to be a piece of the puzzle missing. One that I can't locate (hence the fact that it's missing). The problem is, I don't know what to look for. For as long as I can remember, I had this set plan of how my life was going to work out. Turns out, the only thing I had set planned was my career. Now, I wonder if that was just wishful thinking. Maybe I just assumed that once you hit a certain age and had a job, the rest would fall in line. No one said this would be easy. Bastards.

I was naive, I'm sure, in my presumptuous notion that a job = being grown up. That I had it all planned, and that was going to work.

Problem is, I don't like the plan that I had set forth for myself in 7th grade. Yeah, that's right, I'm doing what I've wanted to do since I was in 7th grade ('96-97). Great, right? Well, not so much anymore. I envy people that care so much, that are so passionate about what they want to do (solve world hunger, cure AIDS, etc.), yet, when I do what I do, I don't feel any good from it. Sure, it pays the bills (and I'm grateful for that) and I'm good at it (but I've got a lot to learn in this industry), but I don't know what kind of affect it has on the rest of the world.

We've all got a gift - whether we use it is up to us. I've got one. And sure it's nice and all, and I've shared it with the world once or twice (not my gum, but that is a gift that keeps on giving), there isn't much that can be made out of it. It's something I enjoy as a hobby, but in no way would I try to use it to support me (I'm not that good at it).

I talked with a couple of interns today, and told them "If you can find something that you can enjoy the dirty work, then go with it. Because, it'll only get better." Problem is, I can dish out advice like a barkeep and you're my only patron. My own medicine is harder to swallow. I'm not the type that thinks I deserve better (because I don't, and there's plenty of people out there who do, who deserve at the very least a fighting chance - I've got my cards, I'm playing my hand).

My puzzle doesn't seem to have a picture with it. So, not only am I missing a piece, but, I don't know where it's going to fit when I find it - into this picture that's only partially finished.

Drive

2009-11-03T20:00:00.000-08:00

There's something to be said about driving. The Beatles sang about it. So did the Beach Boys. Even Chuck Berry got in on it. Sammy Hagar let us know that he "can't drive 55" - because really, who can? There's even a band called Cars.

Getting behind the wheel - there's power. You become the master of a two-ton wrecking machine. Gas. Brake. Clutch. Windows rolled down - the top if you're lucky. Gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled with a cold sweat. Like your first fight, you look around, trying to anticipate what others around you are doing, but ultimately it doesn't matter. You're in control. For once, you are your own boss. Going as fast as you need to to get where you're going, if anywhere in particular.

Weaving in and out of traffic like Barry Sanders. Cutting left. Then jamming on the gas pedal to avoid getting rear ended. You're flying now. Look ahead, the left lane is clear. You glance in your mirror like you do when you're checking yourself out in a reflective window walking down the street. Not enough to be considered vein. Not enough to worry about anyone that might be behind you as you start gliding down the highway.

The music blares. Not any of that top-40 crap. The oldies can't handle the speed. Jazz doesn't provide enough of a rhythm. Rock. Rock will direct your speed - dictate to the world who's highway this is. It's yours. The drum beat. Your foot listens to and adopts the pace of the skin player - like you were in the rehearsals when the song was cut. Your thumb now taps along on the steering wheel - picking up the beat.

You can't understand the words. You've tuned out the singer - the song is all too familiar to you, anyway. Your eyes are darting. The side view mirrors. All you see are the reflection from the lights behind you as each person you pass becomes another statistic.

The road bends, you bend. The tires hug the corner like the women saying goodbye to their G.I. Joes for the last time. There's no tears here, just rubber. Concrete. Inches from smearing the car against the sidewall. It doesn't matter, you don't think twice as the cars vibrations are almost unnoticeable. It hums like when your mother would lay you down to go to bed as a baby. It's a calming hum.

The songs have changed - but you haven't noticed. You're still in the moment. You can't take the risk of taking your eyes off the road - the station stays put. The car in the left lane isn't going to keep up with you. In your head you execute the perfect maneuver to avoid them without having to lay off the gas - time, is of the essence. Your hands are wet - you rub them on your pants to dry off the cold sweat.

You know people are looking at you as you fly by - the bullet leaving them for dead. Dust. You don't have the luxury of looking to see who's in the car next to you, like all the other times you've been in the car. It's not for fear of anything other than knowing you're better than them. It's not a race, but, you're not losing.

You lean forward to check your blindspot. You move right. Quick. The exit is coming. You don't know how far - you've yet to read a sign. You've been here before, it's no different than all the other trips you've made before.

Check the blind spot again. Clear. You hit the off ramp and lay on the brake. You pull of the highway and park the car. The cold sweat is gone. Your heart is pounding like the bass drum as the music blares. You turn the key and step out of the car. You breathe.

A Quarter Life Crisis

2009-10-20T10:20:00.000-07:00

It might be a quarter life crisis, or just the stirring in my soul - John Mayer, "Why Georgia"

I'd apologize for the lack of updating of the blog, or the John Mayer quote - but, I'm busy and I like John Mayer.

Over the last few months (read: this hasn't been updated since May) I've been working a lot. Sure, it's money, and affords me the things I like to do (read: drink), but it takes up my time - almost all of it. But, in this economy, if you have a job, you should be thankful - and I am. In my mid-twenties, with a job, a couple of roommates and a fat dog. It's not all bad - trust me. I assume most of this shit is in my head, which is where it is for everyone.

But, I've come to that proverbial fork in the road - left, right, straight, north by northwest, south by south east? You get the point. If you don't, here. We all get to that point in the road - some of us love it, some of us don't care either way. It keeps some of us up at night for weeks in a row. I'm one of those people.

Time to put up or shut up.

I don't know what to do next. I've got a few options, which is great! A lot of people don't have options - beggars can't be choosers. But, each one has a question...don't they all?

Allow me to introduce item "A" to the jurors.

Do I go back to school to get my masters? Then, if I do, do I get it in my field - or something totally off the wall? Chances are, it'd be in my degree field. But, then would there be a job after I get out of school? Should I leave my full time job to go back to school to risk not having a job when I get done? Seems a bit fucking insane, no?

Do I go back to school to get my masters while working part-time in my field?

If I go back to school and get something in my field, then it may depend on which school has the best program - location becomes a key issue as to if I can even find a part-time job while going to school.

What if I don't go back to school and just continue to work full-time? Then there's that regret feeling - maybe, 10 years down the road, married with children while working full-time, I decide to go back to school.

If I go back to school, and I look back on it, and never needed my masters - how much of a waste would it be?

(BRB - taking Sox to the dog park).

And we're back.

So, it wouldn't be bad for the extra education and having more than one degree wouldn't be too bad. But, what if I really didn't need it? That's a lot of money to throw out there...

Then there's evidence section "B" - forgive me if this incorrect, but I guess it's clear I won't go to law school.

What if I don't want to continue to work in my field? Then, do I go back for a random degree? I don't know what it would possibly be in - outside of teaching (more on that in a moment). Sure, I've got hobbies - but nothing that I could really turn into something that I'd love doing for the rest of my life. I'm not nearly good enough to even think about playing the guitar as a studio musician, nor have I honed any of my bier drinking skills to have the slightest clue about brewing it (but I could learn). Maybe writing - I love to write short stories, but there's a lot of people that do, and well, I can do that along side any sort of job regardless of what it is or where it's at.

Teaching is something that I've thought about doing since before I graduated college - but not as far back as to wanting to have majored in teaching. I'd like to teach high school communications/journalism. I want to solve the crisis (that's not too big is it?), in that I want to prepare the next batch of journalists for what it's really like out there. I love in-depth journalism - ground-breaking/someone-is-going-to-jail-because-of-this/someone-is-going-to-cry-because-of-this/this-will-stop-a-war kind of journalism. None of this "meet the deadline" quota filling stuff. Oh, 750 words? OK. No, I love the stuff that when you read it or watch it or listen to it, you think, "wow, someone gave a shit. Someone cared"

Think big, work small.

Then there's the whole "what if I just need a change of scenery?" I need to be where the weather suits my clothes. I own a lot of t-shirts and shorts. Flip flops to the extreme. I'd love to be outside, doing something, having fun - not in front of a computer (like you are now, like I am as I write this ramble). It would be way-too-fucking-cool to be a deep-sea fisherman (not like in those Discovery channel shows, but in the tourists rent a boat and go fish for an afternoon). If not anything else, it would allow me to wear this hat. I'd love to have a job that I needed to wear that hat. But, again, I know nothing about deep sea fishing. I've never been on a safari, so how could I wear that hat?

I'm not an adventurous person by nature, it's really not my style. Maybe that's what I'm so afraid of. The whole fear of the unknown. But, you won't ever learn how to swim if you don't jump off the diving board.

But, what if I can't swim?

Workin' Fo tha Man Ev'ry Nigh' 'N Day

2009-05-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

A lot has been said about work. But, I haven't said much about it.

The Grateful Dead - a band that I look like I'm following (see here) on tour - said, Workingman's Dead. John Lennon devoted a classic to the Working Class Hero. But, like the title says - Creedence said it best. Oh, if you're not in the know - because, you are - "Coaches' Rule" applies here. Every time, and I mean every time, Creedence Clearwater Revival comes on the radio, or in this case, your computer speakers, you're required to turn it up, regardless of how loud the speakers were before. So, now you're in the know.

Well, sorry to cut this short, but needs to be...

Off to find the hero of the day

2009-05-15T22:38:00.000-07:00

I grew up with a hero. His name is Mark Carrier. He was a safety for the Chicago Bears during the early to mid '90's. I was 10.

He was the last hero I had. The last idol; the man on the pedestal. I put him as high as I could until he was no longer a Chicago Bear. That's all my alligence was worth when I was a kid. Play the same position as me on my favorite team (we both played safety), and I'll put posters on the wall (please note: I never owned a Mark Carrier poster - seriously, who the fuck would print that? And further more, who the fuck would buy it?).

But, I digress - as I almost always do. Mark was the last. Sure, there were guys I would've love to have been like: M.J., Brian Urlacher, this guy. But, the thing I learned over time was that I stopped idolizing people. Sure, I knew there were people out there working their asses off everyday fighting for causes they believed in. There were people running into burning buildings to save strangers. There were people that worked 15 hour days to put food on the table or a roof over their kids' heads.

But, they were people. I've come to learn over time that people are simply human. Look at the A-Rod's and Mannies, the Murdoch's, Bush/Cheney's of the world. These men had all the power they could want - and somehow managed to completley blow it the fuck up. Yeah, that cliched quote comes into play:

"With great power comes great responsiblity."

But, it does.

But, so does this:

"Question everything."

We sit back too often and let things happen. The people that we put in charge of our lives, our world - the people we hold to a higher level of accord, the people we put on the pedastal - often fall the hardest. But, it's not their fault. Afterall, after 9/11, we found out about the heroes who had drug problems and failing marriages, just like other people - hell, your neighbor, or maybe you. Yet, for a moment - they were the ultimate heroes. Better than G.I. Joe and Superman (because even Christopher Reeve was human). They were super-human. But, most of all, they were human. To hold them to a higher degree is unfair.

We didn't hold our heroes accountable. Our leaders, award winners. Instead, we took their word as truth, until we found out that it wasn't. Then, we had the nerve to cry wolf.

Yes, life would be easier if we let the inner 10-year-old idolize the heroes we'd created. But, those heroes don't know what's best for that kid. The only one that does is you. You need to be your hero.

Those posters on your wall are getting old.

Who grows a beard in May?

2009-05-10T14:28:00.000-07:00

This guy!

In case if you're wondering why I'm growing a beard in May, you're not a hockey fan. That's OK. I like you less than I did before, but not a lot less. Just a bit. But, if I may - click here. That's Eric - he's in the playoff beard club too. Feel free to send a donation his way, all the monies raised on the site will go Blackhawks' charities. Eric, when you read this, post a new pic for the Beard-a-thon.

The Blackhawks are in the playoffs. And, not just the playoffs the way the St. Louis Blues showed up, they're one win away from the Western Conference Finals vs. the winner of Detroit/Anaheim. The Hawks have won 7 post-season games in the playoffs. In the last 11 seasons, they'd won one.

Needless to say, I look borderline Canadian lumberjack-ish. Please note I included "ish" so as to not offend Canadian lumberjacks who would feel as though my playoff beard isn't beardly enough for them. Secondly noted: they're Canadian lumberjacks on a computer. That's a miracle. But, let us not go so far as to say it's this kind of miracle. Because, really, it's all about next year.

As for the Blackhawks and my playoff beard...it will be bitter sweet when it goes. If you're not sure of the playoff beard rules, see here. Ok, since you didn't click on the link:

You shave the day of the first playoff game - you can't get a playoff beard now - it's too deep and too late. Remember this for next year. Also, if you're female, you shouldn't be growing a beard.

Then, you don't shave or trim until your team is out. That means round one through the Stanley Cup Finals (that's the cup to the right). However, I did scrounge around for the rules, which is where I found that link you skipped over. You are allowed to manscape the neck. Which I did. Unless you're Eric and you rock the Kyle Orton.

But, again back to the bittersweetness of it all. Because, lets face it, no one wants to grow a beard in May. But, for those few fortunate teams and their millions of fans - you have to. Those are the hockey rules. If you don't play by the rules, you're a cheater. No one likes a cheater. So, I've taken up my patriotic duty and am rocking the playoff beard. Please note: this is the first time in my life I've had the opportunity to grow one. The last time the Hawks were in the playoffs, facial hair was not an issue for me. Let alone trying to grow a playoff beard.

But, I know that when I shave it, and bare faced I become, I'll have it again. And I look forward to it.

Don't forget, the Hawks play Vancouver tomorrow (Monday - in case if you're reading this Monday) and with that win they will await the Wings/Ducks winner. With a loss, we've got another game after. And, with a win, we're guarenteed another series to grow the beard out. June seems like a good time to shave.

Sunday Mornings Are My Favorite Days

2009-04-21T12:04:00.000-07:00

I realize I've let people down when it comes to posting this so called "blog." Hell, can I even call it that? I prefer the term coffee fueled ramblings. To which, those of you not in the know, is my newest addiction.

As today is going - I've spent almost my whole day between work and the BMV. I'm convinced that no one ever gets one easy trip into that place. It's like a black hole of lost time...(see Salvador Dali....or better yet, look at the picture of the clocks).

I went in for a simple procedure, but of course, that would've been too easy. Instead, I walked out, more confused than this guy (please note: that guy is really good).

So, after I left with another form to have to get signed, I came back - with a vengeance! I handed over my papers (keep in mind, this was all for switching a title and license plate over to the Grand Am - the Taurus, well she's gone).

To top it all off - I'm in the process of growing a playoff beard. Which doesn't entirely tie into a trip to the black hole of lost time, unless you're in need of a new license, because your current one expires this year (like mine). So, I got my picture taken. With my awesomely partial playoff beard. Turns out, too, that you can't have an open mouth smile. So, either you have that classic fifth grader w/ (also means "with" for you typing impaired persons) braces smile who doesn't want to show them off or you look like a convict. I, instead, went for the creeper smile.

I don't want to say that it's gotten that bad yet, but the hair on the beard is itching. On a side note, I could always move to London. I hear they love MJF there.

Another side note: what's w/ (see above) all the love for vampires? Yes, there is a Vampire.com. Wow. What about werewolves?

That's all I've got there.

Needless to say, I've gotta live with that pic on the license for the next six years. Which could be worse. Don't ask me how, it just could be.

I feel as though this coffee fueled rambling has gone on long enough....

2009-03-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

2009-03-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

Skills, I have them....

2009-03-07T12:47:00.000-08:00

So Eric and Sean and Bo have updated their blogs. Hell, even Jay created a new blog and posted twice since my last blog post.

Time for a new beginning.....well, not a new beginning, but, more or less me being a badass.

In My Life

I'm typing this from my brand new Toshiba laptop. Yeah, I went Asian on the world. Look out Yoko and Ricky Bobby (not of Will Ferrell fame, but of Lowe's fame). This is the first Saturday that I've got off since sometime in January. As I recline the chair, The Day the Earth Stood Still is on TV. We, the fam, may go out for all you can eat prime rib. MMMMMMMMMMMM.

My typing will have to take some adjustments with this new keyboard. I type really fast, but the new shift button on the left isn't like the size of one on a normal keyboard. The enter button on the right as well, damn, all outta whack.

Work has finally slowed down, which is great. I had a nice run of about 300 hours over six weeks. Which is only 50 hours a week, but it was everyday, it was rough. I'm going to enjoy the downturn for a bit.

I finally said goodbye to the Taurus yesterday. She was towed away while I was at work. Off to some charity thing - a tax write off. I'm still cruising in the grandpa's Crown Vic. Which means, my ass is officially without a car for the first time since I got my license in December of '00. So, I'm now car shopping like a mo' fo'.

Aside from work and looking for a new car, not a whole lot going on....well, my grandparents' house finally sold. I went over there w/ my dad and Uncle Mike to get some couches and chairs and desks from the house. I met the guy that bought the house, Tim, he seems like a nice dude. He gutted the interior. The island in the kitchen is moved, the closet on the front end of the house, that my grandpa put in years ago, is also gone. From the outside it was my grandparents' house, but from the inside, it no longer is. That's a part of life I suppose.

Da Coach
While Lauren won't be returning to The Hills, I know, sad, we'll always have Heidi Mountains.....er.....Montagish.....ly.....Mountains. At least we know she'll always have a career as a Baywatch babe.

Mary Mary Quite Contrary
I don't know how your section can follow Heidi's mountains, but we now both have Toshibas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We're Talkin' About Practice
I work in sports radio. I am sports.

2009-02-01T06:33:00.000-08:00

In My Life
The wah-wah pedal maybe the coolest thing I've ever bought for a guitar. If you read this, and you're unsure of what a pedal is....think Jimi Hendrix. While Jimi played a Stratocaster, and I rock the Telecaster (much like Keith Richards), I sound like neither.

But, the blues has a little more punch with the pedal. Now, time for a new amp! And I've still gotta buy those pick-ups.

I worked 105 hours in two weeks - it was a bit much, even for me.

Da Coach
I'm upping the anty on this one:

Mary Mary Quite Contrary
You really are Aunt Moiya's daughter. There's something about the southern accent that the two of you share, well that and the nose.....and now the hair.

We're Talkin' About Practice
I work in sports radio, so as I told Da Coach yesterday, I get to watch SportsCenter, read Sports Illustrated, ESPN the Magazine, and Sporting News.....all for my job!

Holy shit balls

2009-01-29T21:22:00.000-08:00

I broke the radio station on Tuesday without knowing it until Wednesday. Es no bueno.

I got a phone call at 6 am that something was wrong. Naturally, I got up and headed in. But, no.............

Fucking snow. Seriously, big hurry. Gotta fix it! Stupid snow.

Well, I finally got to the station at 6:45 and spent roughly the next 6 hours or so working on the problem. Turns out I'm a dumb fuck and imported the wrong file.

Long story short....I fixed it. Also, I've been working a lot. I'm really tired.

If I had a life, I could tell you about how much I've been working. As I'm writing this, I'm waiting for games to finish up so I can write, record, and edit a sports segment for tomorrow's morning drive.

My boss gave me some helpful tips on how to not suck so bad on the radio. So did my mom. I guess I'm pretty awful? Well, they keep paying me..........................

According to one co-worker, I have a face for TV. Clearly they didn't understand why I'm in radio.

The Hawks are losing 3-0, I should get back to work.

I...I....I'm still alive!

2009-01-24T18:29:00.000-08:00

In My Life
So, I'm now working full time in radio. I'm the production coordinator/operations manager/producer - yeah, I wear three hats.
Well, what that really means is I drink a lot of coffee. Seriously, a lot.

I'm hunting down a new car...or, new to me. I'm debating buying another piece of shit (see: poop) so I can buy a bike (read: motorcycle) in the spring. But, it would be nice to have a car that doesn't blow goats (think: Red Wings).

I finally got a new guitar! I'm rockin' a Fender Nashville Deluxe Telecaster, her name is Charlie,.....which I plan on whoring out with some Lindy Fralin pick-ups (really expensive things to make the guitar sound cool). I also got a Dunlop CryBaby (think: T.O.), to make the guitar sound cool. Too.

Bottom line: I work. Finally.

Da Coach
She plays something....maybe it's with something....I dunno...I forg......

Everyone else
The lack of posting and the lack of your yelling at me for lack there of has led me to remove your sections unless you cry about it.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T09:56:00.001-08:00

2008-12-02T11:56:00.000-08:00

In My Life:
So, I've finally picked up my guitar for the first time in what feels like years. The tips of my fingers on my left hand hate me.

God it feels good.

I've also picked up "Licensed to Kill: Hired Guns in the War on Terror," a book that I left quite some time ago......oh, when I didn't have time for anything.

But, like most everything, there won't be time unless you make it. So, I've made it for myself. My schedule flexes every day so I figure I need to take advantage of the free time. Think less porn and bad daytime T.V. and more reading, playing guitar, and writing. Now, think Tom is insane.

In the job front, I'm pretty burnt out. 2 months of 60-70 hrs. a week wore me out pretty quickly. Yeah, I'm a pussy. Fuck off. So, I've decided to give myself more of a social life now. Going out on weeknights and weekends.

Where are the checks for the work I've done?????????? Anyone? Hellooooooo?

As for the radio station, my mental process is that I didn't get the job. I still haven't heard anything about a possible second interview and there's several people that've never been called for the first, when they were told they would be. If it turns out I get the job, great! If not, I move on. I respect the fact that those things happen. Would it suck? Yeah. But would it be the end? Not even close.

I still need a new car. Fuck.

Da Coach
I think she may be God:

Err Dizzle Fo Shizzle
Your man crush on a large black man doesn't surprise me......

Mary Mary Quite Contrary
Seriously, what do you want here?

We're Talking About Practice
The Bears suck. I'd rather not address it anymore.

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

2008-11-30T13:54:00.000-08:00

What should've been a great week of seeing friends, drinking, football, and turkey quickly turned stone cold sober Saturday afternoon.

A friend of mine recieved a call from another friend. She told him she'd been in a car accident earlier Saturday morning. This was her second in two weeks. She took a turn too wide and crashed into a phone pole (she was the only person in the single car crash). The airbags never deployed and her face was smashed into the steering wheel.

After orginally planning on going out for dinner, plans were quickly changed. We made a few quick phone calls to other friends, who joined in the coconut telegraph. Some phone calls were made later than others. Realistically, we've never had to go through this, so there was no rhyme or reason as to who was called first or last. I happened to find out, only because I was there when my buddy got the call from her.

After going home and hoping in the shower, between phone calls, I darted out the door and into the Crown Vic (a V8 engine in cop car comes in handy when one is in a hurry). I picked up another buddy on my way to the hospital.

I didn't, and neither did he, expect to know what we'd be looking at. The first buddy was already there, with the eggs that she wanted. Hey, who likes hospital food?

Well, there sat one of best friends and two other friends. She was in good shape, considering her face had been smashed against a steering wheel (air bags didn't deploy). Her right eye was swolen shut, her left was black and blue, her hair had blood in it, she still smelled like smoke.....we still love her.

After sitting around for a few minutes, gaging how she was, it was clear she was back to herself. Of course we spared no jokes at her expense, after all, that's what friends are for.

Her guy friend came by, but he'd been there for quite some time already. A few more trickled in and we enojyed the calmness from chaos that had happened only hours before.

The phone continued to ring as more people called to check in on her. It seemed that she would be OK.

But, would we be? We came very close to losing one of our best friends in a moment where none of us were around. Will this be one of those things that the luster wears off after awhile and things go back to normal? If it does, then how long does it take? If it doesn't, what changes?

I guess only time will tell.

2008-11-14T15:25:00.001-08:00

In my Life
A few things, I suppose:

An update to the radio station -
What was originally planned to go live on December 15, has been pushed back to January 5 2009. I've also got to go through a second round of interviews with the new program director for WLPR. Of course, that's if they want to interview me. My boss no longer has the pull he thought he was going to have in terms of getting myself and the SOB positions there. So, we're treading water without lifevests....interesting.

Meyer Broadcasting will be carrying the IU and VU basketball games along with the remainder of the IU football season on WWLO in conjunction with Lakeshore. Nothing new there....

I'm also waiting on the automation system to show up next week and I get to live at the station getting everything set up.

My Lowe's Life -
God......
So, I got called into an office the other day to talk about my attendance (or lack thereof). Needless to say, I'm the worst in the store in terms of being late. Really, I am. There's over 100+ people that work there and I'm the worst? I think I deserve something. A plaque? A statue? A firing?

Well, I don't care. So, my response during this whole "you need to be here on time" charade was "Are we done? I need to go take a shit." Yeah, go say that to your boss the next time your ass is getting chewed out. I assume you'll get fired. But, me? No.

Tattoo You -
I'll be going into the tattoo parlor again, to set up another appointment. This time I'll be getting two celtic designed four leaf clovers either on the front of my shoulders where they meet the chest, or on the inside of each arm at the biceps/triceps. I haven't decided yet, on the location, but those are the two places I'd get 'em.

Da Coach
Beer goggles, oh thank the Lord.

The Err Dizzle Fo Shizzle

Mary Mary Quite Contrary
If you weren't my sister, you probably wouldn't have this space. Be thankful. Cool shit will go here in the future.

Who Dat?
I bought new shoes.

We're Talking About Practice
So, the Blackhawks are 2-0-1 in the games the Err Dizz and I have gone to this season, 3-0-1 overall. Not too shabby.

The Bears blew their game against the undefeated Titans (undefeated? Yeah, I know). Needless to say, they're starting to piss me off. The division is horrible, they should be able to take it, but I guess we'll have to see how they do against Green Bay this weekend.

Da Bulls........um, ok.

Happy Halloween

2008-10-31T16:05:00.000-07:00

Short Story Sunday - Black Donald, Pt. II

2008-10-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

The rain was pouring as the two made their way down the road, the same one they traveled down with Abigail Reed in their truck bed, four years ago. This time though, they were on their way to a rally as they could see the orange in the sky in the distance, even with the rain coming down like it does only once every 20-years.

Abigail Reed was the last thing on their mind as they saw headlights coming at them. Not thinking anything of it, Jeff cut to the middle of the road, a little game of chicken.

Just as doing so, he saw a girl run across the road.

Abigail Reed stopped in the headlights, starring at Jeff and Rob.

"What the?" Rob slowly let out as Jeff cut the wheel hard to the right, trying to avoid the ghost in their past.

The truck came to a halt in a row of trees on the right side of the road.

The headlights of the car slowed and came to a stop.

A black man, wearing a black suit, black tie, black shoes, a white shirt, and a black fedora stepped out of the driver's seat of his black 1972 Cadillac DeVille. A well dressed man and a very nice car for such a poor area.

He walked slowly towards the disaster.

"Oh my," he said aloud as he came to the body of Rob, laying in the road, face down. He was thrown out of the windshield of the truck, "I don't think you made it."

He made his way to the truck. Jeff, sitting there, his head smashed against the steering wheel, but still hanging on for life.

"Well Jefferson, looks like you've got yourself a problem," said the man, calmly. Too calmly for such an accident as this.
"Please mister, please save me," Jeff cried out. Tears rolling down his cheeks, next to the blood that came from his forehead on down. "Did ya see that girl? Oh, no, did ya see her?"
"No, there's no girl out here but, I suppose you'll have to do me a favor."
"Yeah, yeah, OK, please just. OH GOD!" Jeff bellowed out.
"I'm not God," laughed the man in the black suit, "but, I do reckon it's time for you to be a changin' your ways now, son."
Jeff nodded then fell into unconsciousness.
The man pulled Jeff from the wreckage and carried him over to his car and put him into the back seat.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Jeff asked the man questions.

"Who are you?"
"The name is Donald. They call me Black Donald, on account of me always wearing black suits," said Donald, the man in the black suit.
His head pounding, Jeff went back under.

He came back a few minutes later.
"Where are you takin' me?"
"Why, to the hospital, son. You need some help."
"No, you can't take me there, I'm wearing my robe," Jeff cried out. "They'll see me and know who I am."
"Yes, but that's not who you are anymore. Now get some rest, you need it."

The black DeVille pulled up to the county hospital and the car came to a stop. There was no one around. Donald stepped out of the car, and walked around, the rain still pouring down as lightning and thunder rolled through the black night. He opened the door and woke Jeff.

"Let's go, we're here and you'll be alright."
Jeff didn't respond but the look of thanks in his eyes was enough for the man in the black suit.

Donald helped Jeff up the ramp into the hospital. The nurse had her head down as the two men walked in. A black man and a white man wearing the cloak of the KKK. A site that surely would've given the young nurse a heart attack.

He sat Jeff down in a chair, turned and headed for the door.
"Wait, how can I thank you?" Jeff asked.
"You'll see, eventually," said the man in the black suit as he walked back out the door.

The nurse looking up to see Jeff, blood soaked, screamed. She never heard the two men come in, nor saw them.

Hearing the nurse's scream, the night shift doctor and several nurses came running into the waiting room.

Working quickly, they got the man on a gurney, and checking his vitals. It looked like he was going to make it.

Jeff awoke the next day, his mother by his side.

"Jeff, how ya doin'?" Sheriff John Dallenck asked.
"I'm alright Sheriff," Jeff said, calmly, thankfully.
"Oh just leave my baby alone!" Jeff's mother, Virginia, snipped at Dallenck.
"Sorry ma'am. But, you know I've gotta ask questions," Sheriff John replied woefully. "Now Jeff, can you tell me what happened?"
Virginia squeeze Jeff's hand and gave him a motherly scorn that only Jeff could appreciate at this time. She'd already heard the story when Jeff woke up some two hours earlier after being told that Rob didn't make it. He's already mourned for his friend.
"It's alright mama," Jeff reassured her.

"Huh, dunno if you'll believe me, Sheriff, but I was saved," Jeff started off, as Dallenck looked puzzeled. "Yeah," Jeff laughed awkwardly, "Rob and I were drivin' and I saw a deer in the road and cut my wheel, after that, I don't remember much. A black guy in a suit brought me to the hospital."

"A black man? You were saved by a black man?" Sheriff Dallenck laughed heartily. "I just as much woulda rather died there!"
"Well I'm here and I'm breathin'! So you shut the fuck up Johnny!" Jeff angerliy retorted.
"Well, then boy, how much did you drink last night?" the Sheriff questioned quickly.
"Enough...." Jeff trailed off, realizing now what might be.
"I reckon you watch tounge then, you got it?" Dallenck said, calmingly. "Now, do you remember this man's name?"
"No, no. Just, he wore, just what he wore. A black suit," Jeff responded using what was left of his memory of last night.
"Anything else, Jefferson?" Virginia pushed.
"YEAH! He was an angel. He saved my life," Jeff boasted proudly.

Sheriff Dallenck looked puzzled, his jaw agape. He blinked twice, as though trying to compute what Jeff just said.

"Well then, I guess we don't need to do a search for him, do we?" Dallenck asked, sarcastically.
"I dunno, Sheriff," Jeff said, sensing Sheriff Dallenck's disbelief. "I suppose I should get some rest."

With that, Sheriff Dallenck turned and walked out of the hospital room. Virginia gave Jeff a kiss on the head and made her way to the door as well. Jeff closed his eyes and went to sleep.

The events over the years that passed showed that Jefferson Alpeck was a changed man. He discontinued his pledge with the Ku Klux Klan. He became a pastor at the local church, preaching togetherness and brotherhood. He worked with the poor in the area, working to get them jobs, living quarters - sometimes his own couch, much to the dismay of his wife - and spending time with them.

He had two children, two boys. The life that he had up until he was 23 was forever gone.

It was a warm Sunday evening in the late-Southern summer. Jeff was inside, getting the kids cleaned up for the picnic dinner they were hosting for members of the church later that night.

A knock on the door sent Jeff's wife, Amy, scurrying from the living room to answer the door, thinking that some of the guests were early. As she swung the door open, she saw a man she'd never seen before.

He stood about 5'10" and 170 pounds, much smaller than Jeff's 6'4" and 245 pound frame. He was a black man wearing a black suit, black tie, a white shirt, black shoes and a black fedora.

"Hi, you must be Amy, Jeff's wife?" the man asked.
"Yes, I am, how can I help you?" she responded.
"Well, could ya do me a favor and let him know that his old friend Donald is hear," the man said, with a smile on his face. "I've come for his repayment."
"Sure, just a minute...." she trailed off as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Jeff, hon, you've got a visitor, a man named Donald," Amy said.
Jeff's eyes went wide, hearing the name of the man he hadn't seen in 20 years, "Oh my!"
"What sweetie, are you OK," Amy asked, seeing Jeff turn a pale white.
"That's my angel," Jeff gulped down. Amy had heard the story multiple times; it was a staple in Jeff's sermon.

Jeff quickly darted to the front door to see the man he wished to lay eyes on. He opened the door, and Donald looked as though he hadn't aged a day in those 20 years.

"Jeff, mind if we have a word?" Donald asked.
"No, not at all, won't you please come inside my home?" Jeff offered.
"It's quite alright, if you'll just step outside," Donald countered.
Jeff didn't ask, but rather stepped outside. There, in the drive way was the Cadillac DeVille, with someone in the passenger seat. "Why don't you invite your friend in?"
"He's not my friend, Jeff, he's yours."
"Well, who is he?" Jeff asked, unsure of who could be with the man in the black suit.
"We'll find out soon enough, Jefferson."

The man in the black suit smirked, and the back door of the car opened and a young girl no older than 15 or so, went running across Jeff's front yard, wearing a smile that haunted Jeff.

Abigail Reed was back.

Chills ran all over Jefferson's body as he watched her run off into the setting sun. Gone, into the dusk.

He looked back over to the car, and began to recognize the man in the passenger's seat. His best friend was dead - 20 years now, yet, there he was, riding with the man in the black suit.

"Oh my lord," Jeff mumbled.
"Your lord ain't going to save you son. Now, let's get in and we'll be on our way," said the man in the black suit.
"There must be something I can give you, something I can do" Jeff pleaded.
"I'm not in the business of making second deals."
"Second deals?" Jeff questioned.
"You heard me," the man in the black suit clearly becoming angry, said.
"Now wait! Wait just a gosh darn minute!" Jeff yelled, nervously.
"Come hell or high water, you're getting in that car with me. And wouldn't you know it, there's a storm a brewin'."

Just a few moments later, Amy came out the front door to see what the problem was.

"Jeff, is there a problem," she asked as she stepped outside to see her husband gone, "JEFF!"

Off in the distance she saw the taillights of the black DeVille, driving into the sunset as the rain began to fall.

I've always been fascinated with the way that the character, Black Donald, has been portrayed. For those of you who didn't catch it, Donald is the devil; Black Donald is another alias for the devil, in Scottish folk-lore, who happens to be called that because he wears a black suit. My original description of Donald was the same as before I came across the description of "Black Donald." The name literally just happened to fall into my lap. I made him black because of the context that the two men were in the KKK, and black people aren't exactly their favorites.

Oh Won't You Stay...Just A Little Bit Longer

2008-10-22T17:17:00.000-07:00

In My Life

It's been a few days, and I hope you're enjoying the new Short Story Sunday segment of the blog, since I've updated this thing.

An update is needed, as I've gotten several requests. Seriously, people read this thing!

I'm still in the hunt for the job at the new 89.1 FM WLPR. That's a good thing, however it's not a "sure thing" like I first thought it would be. But, then again, nothing ever is.

I'm looking to do on-air sports, just as I do right now with Meyer Broadcasting. But, along with that, I'm also hoping to do whatever they, they being Lakeshore Public Television, would like me to do - as long as there's a paycheck attached.

I'm still working allllllllllllll the time. But, our broadcasting season for Crown Point football is over, so that will free up my Friday nights to sleep, which will be nice. 89.1 FM is still carrying IU football, but Valpo Uni b-ball will be starting up now in less than a few weeks - two I think. So, Dec and Jan look to be fun filled and action packed. I need to quit Lowe's.

My Taurus died, I think I mentioned that last time (see it's been sooo long), and I've been car shopping to find something that would fit my budget and make sure the top goes down.

Hit up the gym today, and I'm already sore. God. My year-long membership with Gold's expired and I went looking for another gym. I was going to join a gym much closer to my house, but, I didn't really like what the owner had to say. He was a cool guy, but something just didn't click. Maybe it was when I said I "oly lift," "power lift," and "CrossFit," that didn' make him too thrilled. So, I'll be staying at Gold's. I need to make sure I bust my ass to get there tomorrow and the next day, then the day after, and the day after that and the day well you get the point (you're not that stupid, are ya?).

I went to a wedding this past weekend with Kristin (the former). It was very nice and low key. It was also dry. Needless to say, it gave an Irishman the shakes. But, as always it was good to see Kris. Now if I can only get her to bring Sox with.

Big plans this weekend as well. Jake (my buddy in the Air Force - one of several) is finally back and his family is throwing a welcome home party; it'll be great to see him and Lacy (his wife) for the first time in I think two years or so. Then Saturday, it's the Blackhawks vs. Red Wings on Saturday in Chi-town. The Err Dizz and I will be ready to fight. Be prepared for a phone call to bail us out.

Da Coach

In case if you were wondering what Leo DiCaprio has been up to, here it is:

Life is not fair.

Who Dat

On account of my sister reading this blog, here's a gem:

While living in Wisconsin, we used to hit golf balls into the marsh land behind our house. Well, my sister and her friend were standing on top of the hill that our house was on that we used to hit the balls from. I was about 30-40 yards downhill, and decided I didn't want to carry the golf club up the hill. So, I threw it. It went further than I thought it would.

It hit her and her friend. The club head smacked her friend in the face and the shaft hit my sister in the head.

Needless to say, it was the ass beating of a life time (thanks daddy!).

We're Talking About Practice

The Chicago Bears should be 7-0. Instead, they're 4-3. But, Kyle Orton (the starting quaterback - not to be confused with team drinking captain) has been a stud. If I were a female horse.........

So on another note, it's hawkey season (you like that?). The Hawks are 2-2-2, but fired their former head coach Denis Savard after the team's first win over Kristin's Phoenix Coyotes (GO HAWKS!). So, like I said before, Saturday should be fun.

Short Story Sunday - Black Donald Pt. 1

2008-10-21T09:16:00.001-07:00

Yes, I realize it's not Sunday, but forgive me.

It was dark. The moon light scattered in the tree branches as Jeff and Rob made their way down a back country road that their 1989 Chevy pick-up was guiding them down - a road they've traveled so many times before.

Only this time it was different.

"Well folks," a voice crackled on the radio, "it looks like we got ourselves that '20 Year Storm,' so stay inside, hunker down and let some good ole southern boys make ya'll feel at ease."

Lynyrd Skynyrd's "That Smell," blared from the speakers in the rusty cab of the truck.

The rain came down in buckets, no lightning but enough thunder to set off the dog barks.

Jeff and Rob weren't you're average buddies. Jeff, short for Jefferson Alpeck, and Rob, short for Robert L. Johnson were named after southern Civil War heroes – some 240 years after the war – and just like those that fought in the Civil War, Bill and Rob upheld the belief that they were created better than others. They were part of the brethren known as the Ku Klux Klan.

In most areas they'd be wanted for murder, but here, they're just some of the "good ole boys." They've never been arrested or questioned for the murder they committed some four years ago.

Her name was Abigail Reed, a 14-year-old honor student. Her crime – being black.

Abigail was walking home one late summer evening from her cousin's house when Jeff and Rob drove up on her.

Reeking of moonshine, they began harassing her as their trusty pick-up truck crept along side her now quickening pace.

She'd seen this truck before. Over two hills and across Johnson's Bridge, in the corn fields where they burned crosses. She's seen the two ghost men before, too. But, not their faces. She remembered what her mother told her; repeatedly.

"Don't look at 'em! Don't you talk to 'em! You just get on home where you'll be safe!"

"Whatcha doin?" the men in the white hoods asked her.

She didn't dignify them with a response, but instead, began jogging towards her destination – home.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to ya! Ya fuckin' bitch!" Rob screamed out.

Abigail began a full sprint along the road while Rob's foot hardly pressed on the gas pedal. Within a matter of seconds Rob stomped on his gas pedal and cut off the would be path of Abigail. Dust kicked up the setting sun sky. To the average person seeing this, they would've assumed a truck had blown out a tire.

Screaming, she came to a stop. But, like most areas in their rural county, there was no one to hear her screams.

The two ghosts jumped out of the cab of the truck and swooped up a kicking and feisty Abigail.

"AH! Bitch scratched me!" Jeff hollered, and with that, slapped her with his big heavy farming hand. It hit Abigail with a force she's never felt. The impact caused her to hit her head on the side of the truck bed, knocking her out.

They tossed her motionless body into the bed and hopped into the cab. They drove for what felt like hours, never removing their masks - their protection.

The truck finally rolled to a stop in the middle of a field coming to the start of a small forest. Getting out, they grabbed Abigail's body, which remained motionless.

Jeff got out of the passenger's side, lifting up his hood, and took a big swig out of the bottle, and grabbed the rope sitting in the middle of the cab. Rob hopped out of the driver's side and grabbed the limp body that had only moved around due to his fanatic driving.

He tossed her over his shoulder like a potato sack as the three of them made their way into the woods. They stumbled some 20 feet in before giving up and throwing her down against a tree.

"Gimme that rope!" hollered Rob, as he snatched the rope from Jeff's hands like a dog feeding on table scraps at a steak house. Jeff walked around to the other side of the tree and waited for Rob to pass the rope around.

Within a matter of moments, Abigail Reed was tied up and still unconscious.

"Let the fuggin' varmints eat 'er," Rob growled out.
"Shoot, ain't no one gonna miss her anyway," said Jeff, agreeing with Rob's thought to keep her there.

They turned and took their time getting back to the truck, but once there, realized something was wrong.

"Where the fugg is your mask, ya dumbshit?" Rob questioned.
"Ah fuck!" Jeff said, grabbing at his head, realizing that it had fallen off.
"Lets go back. You know you's a retard right?" Rob joked towards his disgruntled friend.
"Yeah, yeah, shut up!" Jeff snarled back.

Coming back to the tree where they left Abigail, Jeff saw his hood. He stepped over, bent down and picked it up. While doing so, keeping his eyes glued on Abigail.

She stared right back, a look of questioning horror.

She knew the man.

Jefferson Alpeck.

He lived just around the corner from her.

"Oh fuck! She's up! Oh fuck, she's up!" Jeff hollered.
"WHAT?" yelled Rob.
"She looked right at me. SHE' FUCKIN' AWAKE"
"Sun-uh-bitch. Looks like we gots-ta do somethin' here."
"Yeah, yeah we do," Jeff said with a eyebrow raise and a devilish smirk across his face.

He bent down and with one hand, gripped her neck while looking her right in the eye, the moonlight providing the only light he needed to make sure he did the job.

"She ain't gonna tell no one," Jeff said reassuringly as her body went limp and stopped breathing.
"You a sick sun-uh-bitch," Rob laughingly replied.
"Yeah," Jeff sheepishly replied, keeping his head down like a five-year-old getting in trouble for spilling a glass of water.
"Suppose we better get the fugg outta here."

Jeff bent down and grabbed his mask and the two made their way back to the truck.

The rain was pouring as the two made their way down the road, the same one they traveled down with Abigail Reed in their truck bed, four years ago. This time though, they were on their way to a rally as they could see the orange in the sky in the distance, even with the rain coming down like it does only once every 20-years.

Abigail Reed was the last thing on their mind as they saw headlights coming at them. Not thinking anything of it, Jeff cut to the middle of the road, a little game of chicken.

Just as doing so, he saw a girl run across the road.

Abigail Reed stopped in the headlights, starring at Jeff and Rob.

-Part 2 next Sunday.

Short Story Sunday - Man From Mars

2008-10-12T13:00:00.001-07:00

Let me preface this by saying: I'm not like you.

You wouldn't know it if you saw me walking down the street, or driving a car. Eating or sleeping.

The only way you'd know it, is if you knew how long I've been on your planet for.

I've watched the pyramids being built. World Wars, jungle wars, and revolutionary wars. I've seen your gods walk the planet (yes, they've all been here at least once). I watched everything from fire being discovered to computer technology.

If you're wondering how I've done all this, remember, I'm not like you.

I was born in a time long, long ago. In a place not too far from here. Ok, ok, by your measures, it's only a few hundred light years. Which, if you consider how long I've been living, is really only a month or so based on Earth's calendar.

Now, you may be wondering why I'm here. I'm a scientist, much like you have here. I would be called an anthropologist if I were from Earth, but instead, I'm just a scientist. I was sent here to study the evolution of this new planet (well, when we saw it created; it's not new anymore).

The unfortunate thing for you people on Earth is that every planet I've gone and studied has been destroyed. Oh, don't get upset at me. I'm not one of your gods or some monster (we look the same as you) sent to destroy planets, but rather we already know if a planet will survive.

So, I guess the best way to describe to describe me is a "watcher of destruction." Well, that's what it says on my business card. I've watched several thousands of planets destroy themselves. Wars and pollution are always the top causes. Only once, have I seen over population become a cause for a planet's destruction. But, my people were able to branch out and now live on a dozen or so planets, with our original home planet now something more of a novelty than a livable planet.

Earth has had quite a few wars, based on: money, ego, land, and a new one, oil. But, just the same, I suppose that oil fits in with the others. I mean, it's a thing. There's a lot of it on Earth (remember, I'm a scientist) and a lot of ways to make it, in a lab. But, I'm not here to save a planet, no, only to take notes and learn. After I'm done studying a planet (I'm finished once it's gone) I return home and teach what I've learned, so that our planets' will not follow in the same fate as others.

On our planets, we treat others with respect. You know the saying, "treat others as you would like to be treated." But, my personal favorite is "you're only as strong as your weakest link." We don't have wars. We don't have starvation, or unemployment (but when you've got that many planets it's tough to not find work). Murder is something that my people only know of because of my notes that are constantly streamed to them.

I've seen some strange things on this planet. My personal favorite is the treatment of animals. One group of people worships cows. Another one eats them. But the one that eats them, worships cats and dogs (if you don't, then why do they live in your house and eat your food and sleep in your bed?). Then there's another that eats cats and dogs. Needless to say, that made the front page on almost every newspaper in our galaxy (the first time ever, my mother was proud - and yes, we have parents).

Love is another. I find it strange, as I've noted several times in my notes, that Earthlings don't know who their supposed to be with. They have multiple partners and often split with those partners, before moving on to another...much in the way a parasite works. Sex, it seems is a major focal point in several cultures, yet in ours it's hardly important enough to even mention, aside from the fact that people here are obsessed with it. Don't get me wrong, I've had sex. A lot of sex, and I enjoy it. But, when you've been around since the dawn of man kind, you've got the opportunity for a lot sex. I'm not supposed to be with anyone here. Remember? I'm not from here.

I wouldn't worry too much about the pollution problem that you claim to have. Even if Los Angeles, California, of the United States of America had the cleanest air in the world, you would all still live. Besides, your wars will kill you off before some pollution factor will.

In the 1950's through the 1960's I really thought I was getting ready to leave. The Cold War between the then Soviet Union and the United States had all of the ego for a globally destructive war. But, I'm still here. The newest war lord is an American President named George Bush. It's amazing that you people think that this man will cause World War III. I can't tell you a lot, but based on my research of the other planets and my notes on this one, the beginning of the planet's destruction will begin with another American Civil War. I can't tell you when, simply because I don't know. I can't tell the future, merely it's a guesstimate (a very good one, I'm not paid to be wrong). But, it won't be anytime soon.

The world's governments have no idea I exist. If they did, it would cause a lot of problems. This is why I can't be found. I live a simple life in a major metropolis and have a dog. I find it funny that I own what so many people love, yet I only do it to fit in. I can never get married and I move once every three to five years. I can't stick around too long, people will notice that I don't age the same as them. Questions would be asked and people wouldn't be ready for the answers.

If I was asked where I'd rank Earth with the planets I've studied, it would fall somewhere in the top 25%. There've been flashes of brilliance, but there've been too many problems for Earth to be any higher.

Even if I wanted to, I still couldn't save Earth from Earthlings. Your planet's future has already been decided, regardless of what's done to save it. I've enjoyed my time here and I will continue to, until my work is done.

You won't know I was here, until I'm gone.

Short Story Sunday - 1

2008-10-05T17:48:00.001-07:00

I began writing in early high school, and stopped before my Junior year. I've always loved writing, and this is my attempt to get back into it.

I wrote this today, my first short story in quite a few years:

“Ah, God dammit!” The first words uttered out of Steve’s mouth on a hot, sticky late August morning as his alarm clock buzzes like a wild bird.

Disgruntled, he throws his blue linen sheet to the ground and whacks the alarm with the impatience of a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.

6:45 AM

“Another day, another dollar,” he says as he looks down at his feet as he places them on a cool hardwood floor.

He gets up, heads to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he peers inside, “God, I need to go shopping,” is all he can say to himself as he admires a half-empty bottle of ketchup sitting next to a three day old gallon of milk.

He opens the carton, sniffs, and takes a sip. This has been his morning ritual for four days now, maybe nine. It feels like weeks though, since he and Debbie, his girlfriend of three years, got into a very heated argument that sent her running out the door, a suitcase jam packed and tears a plenty pouring out her eyes. He hasn’t talked to her since, but still checks his cell phone almost religiously to see if she’s called.

She has yet to.

Looking like he’s attempting to grow a beard – though it’s just a matter of how lazy he can possibly be – he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Nah, not today,” Steve says stroking the hair on his chin, as though there’s someone else listening, or caring. He leans over and turns on the water for the shower. While waiting for the water to warm-up, he grinds a toothbrush against his teeth, quickly spitting out the toothpaste without rinsing.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s dressed and headed out the door, ready to catch the #9 bus to Jackson Street. His car was his girlfriend’s car. He’s now a regular at stop #4 on Williamsburg Court. At least for this week.

Getting on, he drops a handful of coins into the slot before taking a seat towards the back – a window seat, smiling to the dozen or so people on the bus before him, but not meaning the smile he wears.

12 stops later and he’s squeezing by the fifty or so people now on the bus, attempting to get off at Jackson. Neither big nor small, average – like he’s always been, Steve slides between the standers towards the front and gets off.

He quickly jogs across the two lanes of early morning traffic and hurries up the stairs into his office building. He’s quickly stopped in his steps by two small children – coming from the company’s daycare center – sprinting down the hallway and making a sharp turn towards the basement stairs.

Steve throws his arms out in his best traffic cop imitation. “STOP!”

The two children come to a sudden halt, as though they were running from the police.

“Now, just where do you think you’re going?” Steve questions.
“Shhhh!” Nicholas, the older of the two boys, says as he holds up his pointer over his mouth.
“We’re playing hide-and-go-seek” Johnny screams out, just as Nicholas covers up his mouth as well.
“Shhhh!”
“Well, OK, but hold on, you’ve gotta pay the toll to get down the stairs,” says Steve as he pulls out a few loose coins – his bus fare for the evening ride home – and hands it to the two boys. “Now, give this to the boss man and he’ll let you pass.”
“Thanks Steve,” the boys whisper simultaneously, as Steve smiles at them. It’ll probably be one of the few times he really smiles today, and was the first time in quite a while.

Quickly, they scamper off down the stairs and into the basement halls. The basement had undergone renovations, going from several janitors’ closets to an adequate weight room and a few empty offices that have yet to be filled by potential employees. Steve’s applied twice to move down to one of the offices.

“Good morning Jean,” he says as he bounces up the stairs from the lobby to the receptionist’s desk.
“Mr. Barlow, how are you? Better, I hope?” Jean asks, with a glint of hope in her voice.
“I’m breathing,” he replies as he heads towards his office.

Steve, a writer for City Trends – a magazine highlighting the city’s up and coming arts scene – walks into his office, which is littered with a few awards, thumb-tacked to the wall. Pictures of him and Debbie in their better days, and a calendar and a red circle drawn around the last three days of the month, when he and Deb – as he called her – were supposed to head upstate to visit her parents at their cottage on the lake. He was going to propose.

Now, that feels like a dream, as he takes a seat at his computer. He opens his most recent file, a piece on an up and coming band from the south-suburbs that brings to mind the sounds of fuzz-ridden guitars and howling vocals. Steve’s favorite band.

The document is blank. He doesn’t worry. He hasn’t typed anything on it. No notes. No ideas. No sentences. No interview dates. Just blank. He wouldn’t call it writer’s block. He’d have to write something first for it to be writer’s block.

“How’s it coming?” His boss, Alenn asks.
“Oh, it’s great!” Steve mocks condescendingly towards his boss. His boss doesn’t pick it up.
“Two days” his boss replies as he walks out.
“Gotcha!”

He looks at the clock; it’s already 11:45 AM. Almost lunch, and still nothing. It’s not that he strives under a looming deadline, quite the opposite really. He’s normally got his work in almost a week before it’s due. The editors love him.

The familiar sound of the fire alarm goes off. Is it Tuesday? Sarah normally burns her popcorn at 2 o’clock on Tuesdays. He looks at the calendar. It’s Monday. “Odd,” he thinks to himself as he slowly pushes himself away from his computer and stands up out of his chair.

He steps to the door and opens it.

“HOLY SHIT!” Steve screams out as the hallway is billowing with dark heavy smoke. The fire alarms are all going full blast.

“Hello?” a voice calls in the distance.
“HEY! HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Steve shouts out.

There’s no response. He’s in the back of the office and it looks like he’ll have to go straight through the darkness to get out the front door. There’s no back door, which as it turns out, is a pretty stupid idea.

He pulls his shirt up over his mouth and nose and hits the floor. It’s the same routine he was taught in elementary school. He starts crawling, stopping every few feet to cough up his lungs. His eyes are burning from the smoke as he can hardly breathe. As he crawls out, he notices that there’s no one else joining him in his quest to get out of the building that’s surely to go up in flames at any moment.

Steve, not a religious man, begins to pray as he inches his way closer and closer to clean air. Finally, he can see the front door. Everyone is already out, or so it looks. But, at this point, it’s good enough for him. He slides down the stairs, past Jean’s desk, as the front fire alarm rings loudly, giving Steve an almost sudden migraine.

“HEEEELLLLPPPP!” A voice screams from down stairs – the basement.
“Oh NO!” Steve musters up enough oxygen to gasp out.

“The kids, the kids are down stairs,” Steve says to himself.

He turns and looks behind him, flames coming from the back of the building, no doubt burning into what once was his sanctuary. The ring, sitting in the top drawer of his desk, melted by now. He knew that he didn’t have an option – he was gonna make his way down the stairs into the basement.

“I’M COMING! I’M COMING! YOU’RE OK!” Steve bellowed down the stairs into the black hallway in the basement.

There was no response, again. He can’t breathe. Did he really hear the kids? Had they already been pulled out by someone else? Debbie, what if I don’t make it, will she be OK? How much longer before this all goes? Thousands of questions ran through his mind in the few seconds that it took to plunge his body into the darkness of the smoke inferno basement.

He stuttered to his feet, bent over at the waist, arms out stretched, trying to feel his way around in the darkness. Calling their name with every breath he could recover, Steve’s mind raced faster than his heart. Palms dripping with cold sweat, panic began to set in. Where’s the basement door? Where am I? Where are they?

Seconds felt like minutes as he finally made it to the end of the hallway.

“Help,” a small voice squeaked out in the corner to Steve’s right. Reaching out he grabbed something. Unsure, he pulled his arm closer to him.

“Johnny!” Steve coughed out.
Johnny grunted, choking on the smoke that began to settle in his lungs.
“Johnny, where’s Nick? Where’s Nick? Johnny!”

Johnny pulled Steve into the corner where they were hiding. Nicholas was curled in a ball, breathing, barely.

Using the last of his strength, Steve grabbed Nicholas and Johnny, tucking each onto his hips, like a mother carrying two babies, squeezed them tight as he looked both ways trying to figure out where to go.

He fell to his knees. His eyes closed as the boys began to cough violently. He fell forward, the boys laid by his side. He looked up, one more time, hoping…

Light! He saw a light! He closed his eyes again, unable to maintain the oxygen intake needed to survive.

Air! A facemask…an oxygen machine! The firefighters. Steve gasped for the air he’d longed for. The boys. Are they OK? Where are the boys? He reached out and looked over. The firefighters had already begun to pull them out. Steve pulled himself up onto the shoulders of one of the firemen, Steve’s arm draped around him like a buddy carrying him out of a bar after a few too many.

The front doors opened. Greeting Steve were the paramedics and sunlight and the heat. The heat was beating onto Steve.

“Water!” Steve gasped as though it could’ve been his last word ever.

He leaned back against the closed doors of the ambulance taking deep breaths of oxygen from the air tank.

“STEVE! STEVE!” a young woman’s voice called out.

Jean?
Was it his mom?
Debbie!

“Oh, thank God!” he cried out as he looked over to see her running up.

But, she stopped at the stretcher – some seven feet away – looking down, she began to cry.

“Debbie, I’m here! Debbie, come here!” he called out.

She bent-over the stretcher, sobbing.

“What? Wait, how am I laying down? How am I laying down?” he demanded to know! He closed his eyes; blackness.

Debbie felt his hand, lifeless, there was something in his fist. She opened his fist and saw the ring. Hysterically, she began balling over Steve’s lifeless body, as they pulled a white sheet over him before loading him into the ambulance.

Steve Barlow was pronounced dead at the scene. He died in the basement, saving two boys who were sure to have suffered a fate just as similar as Steve’s, had it not been for him.

Life Is Waiting For You

2008-09-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated this in just over two weeks, but it's felt more like two months. You know, time flies when you're driving.

In My Life

Well, the title pretty much says it all. Over the last two weeks I'd worked 130 hours (70, then 60) between Lowe's (yep, I'm still there) and the radio station. And, it doesn't look to slow down any time soon - the fall/winter is the busy time at the station, couple that w/ work at Lowe's.......yeah, buddy!

A typical day runs like this:

3:30 am wake up, work until 10 am, then go home and get ready for the station. Get to the station about 1 pm and work until 5 pm. That time in between is often relegated to bathing my grandpa (I've earned a spot in heaven for this alone - regardless of all the shit I've done), doing dishes, taking care of the dog, and sometimes getting to the laundry. So, 2 hours flies by quickly. Then, after

Lately, I've been run down and haven't gotten to the gym as often as I'd like and it seems there aren't enough hours in the day. That, and when I'm done with work at 5 pm and if I work out, I'm not home until 6:30-7ish, then going to bed at 8-9ish leaves for a whole lot of nothing.

I haven't touched my guitar(s) in what seems like forever, and let's face it, probably has been. I've still got a book to finish up. And by finish up I mean, I'm somewhere between the front cover and page 35. I don't remember.

I haven't written anything for my stand-up, either. Granted, nothing funny has happened, either.

My Taurus has finally had it. She's got severe transmission problems that'll cost more to repair than she's worth. Quite sad really. I'll miss that car. Hell, I got all three of my speeding tickets in it (last one in '05).

But, on the plus side, that means I'll be getting a new car. I'm looking at roughly a 2000-2002 Ford Mustang convertible (helloooo, ladies) with under 75,000 miles. Did I mention the top will go down?

Da Coach
That's Megan Fox. Enjoy.

Who Dat?
I broke my arm playing American Gladiators in 3rd grade.

We're Talking About Practice
The Sox, after sucking the big one (search: blowjob, oral sex) have forced a 1 game playoff against division rival Minnesota Twins tonight for the the fourth and final playoff spot (oh, and for the American League Central Championship). The loser goes home, the winner gets swept by the Tampa Bay Rays. Needless to say, I'm scared. It's game 163. It's Twins vs. White Sox. It's playoff baseball.

Oh, and the Bears didn't blow their lead. They're now 2-2 on the season, and should be 4-0. Good job jackasses.

Video killed the radio star

2008-09-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

In my life
Well, ladies and gents.....it's official. 89.1 FM, WWLO, Lowell, IN has been bought. Lakeshore Public Television (NWI's PBS affiliate) has bought the current religious station based out of Mississippi. Well, on the Board of Directors for LSPTV is John Meyer, president and my boss at Meyer Broadcasting Corporation, who will be spearheading the joint effort between LSPTV and MBC to create a new radio station.

The new station will be WLPR (Lakeshore Public Radio), The Lakeshore. Hell, there's even a t-shirt already.

I currently work for MBC, doing sports/production/plant watering/sales/billing/sidewalk shoveling, along with a friend of mine (who recommended to me that I apply - thanks dude).

Along with music, the station will have several talk shows and an AM news show along with carrying Indiana University football and basketball and Valparaiso University basketball. There's also the possibility of carry the Gary Railcats along with a new minor league hockey team, the South Shore Shooters out of Dyer/St. John, IN.

Needless to say, good things are happening. Stay tuned for more.

Da Coach
This is God's way of saying, "I love you."

Who Dat?
My first detention was in middle school. It's true.

We're Talking about Practice
So, my ever sucking pre-season Chicago Bears came out on Sunday Night Football and put the proverbial hurting on p-Money and the Indianapolis Colts, 29-13. This week, they travel to the East Coast to take on the Carolina Panthers, who also came up with a shocking upset on the West Coast against the San Diego Chargers, 26-24.

Needless to say, I doubt lightning will strike twice in favor of either team, Chicago and Carolina tie, 17-17. Book it.

Oh, and about CQ for MVP, that may have been premature, as the Sox are 1 game up on the Twins and make up last night's game against Detroit today, as a day/night double header. The Sox are fucked. But, then again, so are the Twins. Regardless of who makes the playoffs between these two teams, both of them will be sitting at home watching the ALCS.

2008 Season Preview

2008-09-02T11:08:00.000-07:00

In following the Coach's blog, I figured, I too would do a 2008 season preview: only, mine is real.

There are a lot of things that go into making a season preview that's worth holding water. Time, knowledge of the sport, teams, players, coaches, systems, schedules, etc......

I haven't got a whole lot of those. Namely, just time.

So, here are the NFC picks (AFC will be posted tomorrow):

NFC East:
Dallas 12-4, Romo and company do work son.
New York Giants 10-6, Defending champs prove they can still play.
Philly 9-7, McNabb needs a few more offensive weapons.
Washington 8-8, .500 ball ain't getting you no where.

NFC North:
Green Bay 11-5, Proving that they can beat up the weaker teams, they'll face a challenge in the post-season.
Minnesota 10-6, A slow start but a very promising finish.
Chicago 5-11, After a very rough start, they string some wins in the middle of the season, but nothing to write home about.
Detroit 3-13, After a promising start to the season, they hit the skids.

NFC South:
New Orleans 13-3, Even a hurricane can't stop the Saints.
Tampa Bay 9-7, Doesn't look like the post-season this year for an older Bucs team.
Carolina 8-8, .500 isn't what Carolinian's had in mind with Delhomme back under center
Atlanta 2-14, Life after Vick is going to take some time to readjust.

NFC West:
Seattle 12-4, They take this division easily
Arizona 6-10, This team is still stuck on the bubble
Saint Louis 2-14, Wow - I'm not nice to bad teams, but chances are their record will be better than this
San Francisco 1-15, I strike out what I said earlier about this holding water. No way will four teams in the NFC (Detroit, Atlanta, Saint Louis, San Francisco) combine for only 8 wins.

Post-Season Standings:
1. New Orleans 13-3
2. Dallas 12-4
3. Seattle 12-4
4. Green Bay 11-5
5. New York 10-6
6. Minnesota 10-6

Wild Card:
Seattle vs. Minnesota - Seattle 13-4
Green Bay vs. New York - Green Bay 12-5

Divisional:
New Orleans vs. Green Bay - New Orleans 14-3
Dallas vs. Seattle - Seattle 14-4

NFC Championship Game:
New Orleans vs. Seattle - New Orleans 15-3

Bear down, Chicago Bears are down

2008-08-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

In My Life

For those of you who don't know me, I'm Tom. I've been a Chicago Bears fan for 24 years. I'm 24-years-old, which means: I'm a lifer.

Call it the Kevin Garnett syndrome, but I can't pull myself away from bad Chicago sports teams (Bears - 1 Super Bowl; Blackhawks - haven't won the Stanley Cup since......wait, I've gotta take off my shoes to count...the 1960-1961 season, that's 48 years; White Sox - 1 World Series title in over 50 years; Bulls - well, we had the 90's).

Now, on Labor Day Weekend, the end of the boys of summer (the way the Sox are playing, only 1/2 game up on the ever lovable Twins - fuckers, it looks like it'll be soon), brings on the men of autumn.

Normally, I'd be thrilled. Notre Dame football (oy vey). Chicago Bears football (oy ve......deja vu?). Hell, football (yay)!

But, after going 1-3 in the pre-season, the Chicago Bears don't look like the "Monsters of the Midway" of old. They just look old.

Yes, I know it's the pre-season, which means the games don't count, but the ticket prices do.

Quarterback problems aside, Devin Hester is God. Pictured to the right, is God, contemplating how he was not able to save the Bears from the Colts in Super Bowl XLI (41, for you Roman Numeral impaired).

From there, the Bears went down a spiral known as the "losers of the Super Bowl." Last season, after going 13-3, they went 7-9 and chances are they're not looking much better this season. Hello 1st pick? Hello. Well, they may not be that bad, but, they'll still be top five drafting.

That's something even Devin can't control.

I've thrown my heart out there for Caleb Hanie, the current 3rd string quarterback, behind Kyle Orton (the starter) and Rex Grossman (not the starter). However, rumor mills are circling that Hanie may not make the squad.

Hanie, in the pre-season, against third string talent went:

29/49, 321 yards, 3 touchdowns, & a qb rating of 82.1.

Grossman's rating? 78.4. Orton? 87.1. Yay Orton. Of corse Orton was the only one to play against quality talent. More often than not, Grossman looked confused. Blitz 'em and he's done. Hanie, however, looked cool, poised, and dare I say, calm? Yes Hanie played against 3rd and 4th stringers. But, he was an undrafted free agent out of college. But, when the Bears cut him, it'll light that fire under him and he'll get signed by Detroit (Lions, are you reading this? Because you should be) and destroy us like Brett Favre did for so many years in Green Bay.

But, one guy that was cut, that left me scratching my head is Mike Hass, the former Saints wide receiver. Hass, a kid who knows how to play football, with decent hands and a good size. A decent WR on a team that's suffering from WR's. Does that make sense?

Turns out that Hass was never a favorite of Lovie Smith (ah, finally, the point of today's blog). Much like Mark Bradley who's been in Smith's doghouse since the beginning of time, Hass never stood a chance. But, 59-year-old Marty Booker? We sent him to Miami and now we got him back. Welcome to the wide receiver graveyard - thanks Moose (it's possibly the smartest thing you've ever said).

It is true though. Chicago is a graveyard for wide outs. Quarterbacks can't throw to them, due to lack of skills, be it arm strength or a lack of an offensive line. But, look here too. Running backs seem to be our saviors, Thomas Jones...Rashaan Salaam...Walter Payton. So the O-line can't be that bad. Cedric Benson though, he was the devil in disguise.

This looks like a season that the front office needs to turn things around, quickly. 7-9 or worse, and the echos from the windy city will be calling for the heads of Jerry Angelo, Lovie Smith, Bob Babich, well you get the point.

My prediction: 5-11 with some heads on a serving platter.

New Bands

2008-08-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

Fuck, this is two blogs in one day. Someone call my editor.

Da Coach sent me a request some time ago about bands that I'm currently diggin', so I figured I'd give that list to the world. World, don't say I never gave ya nothin'.

In no particular order of some of my very favorite non-radio played bands:

Radio Moscow
Parchman Farm
Orange Sunshine
Wolfmother
Black Diamond Heavies
Buffalo Killers
Soledad Brothers
Pearlene
Modoc
Joe Pug
The Last Good Year
The Elms
The Swinging Fingers
Dirty Sweet
The Wildbirds
The Parlor Mob
American Minor
Rose Hill Drive

Roofies

2008-08-26T17:44:00.000-07:00

In My Life
Roof: that thing on the top of your house/building. It needs to be replaced every few years. Like 20-35 to be exact. Well, at the Maloney household, the roof leaked around skylights like a woman on a heavy flow during her honeymoon.

It sucked.

So, needless to say, two strong Maloney men, hell there's only five in the whole family, embarked upon the northern most point of their household and destroyed it.....like Vikings destroying a pig roast.

Yeah, like that.

We went upon the roof with shovels that were flat blades. So, they weren't really shovels. They were flat blades. The flat blades sucked.

But, a gracious and helpful neighbor, Vic the "Freakin' Puerto Rican," lent us a pitch fork worthy of Satan himself.

The pitch fork was awesome. Like Wayne's World followed by Super Troopers on Comedy Central. Oh yeah, that was Saturday. When we were roofing.

Well, Thursday was day uno. Thus begun the DESTRUCTION (notice the flow of words that kinda rhyme?) Uh.....it sucked.

The sun was beatin' down on my dad and I like camel jockeys in the Sahara. During a heat wave. That's hot.

Friday, obviously, was the next day. Or day two for those of you keeping score at home. Ugh. Still not done.

Remember Thursday? Well, Friday was like Thursday, only with two nails in me. Read the last blog.

My Uncle Jim, who is a carpenter, like Joseph without the beard, came to help on Saturday and Sunday. That's two days for the price of one!

But, he's a bit older than Ole Joe is in this painting.

However, with a nail gun, Jim is probably way better than Joe. Although, Joe did knock up some ho without nailing her. Shazam!

Saturday went rolling away as my dad and I finished tearing shit off the roof. Jim, on the other hand, got started on the other half that we got done on Thursday and Friday. See, even with nails in my body on Friday, I still managed to do more work than Jesus did for three days with nails in him.

I'm going to hell, aren't I?

Saturday was hot. Like Satan being pissed off because the Puerto stole his pitch fork. But, that didn't come as a surprise for Satan. He's used to his fork being stolen. His hell hounds that normally guard it are still chasing down Robert Johnson (I was going to make an awesome racist joke here, but didn't).

Saturday ended. Then Sunday came. What ever happened to rest on the Sabbath? Well, our family is Irish. The last name "Maloney" means "remember thy Sabbath." Fuck.

We worked.

I'm to the point now that I don't remember Sunday. I think it was the same as Thursday and Saturday. There were clouds in the sky. A breeze every so often. It was not heaven. Oh, my brother helped out. 3 out of 5 Maloney men ain't bad, considering one is 80-something. He's like a 20-something times 4.

Monday and we were done! Jim left and Mikey was back at school. It was back to dad and I, just like Thursday and Friday. Well, clouds rolled in. We were done by 11:30 A.M. We were dead sometime at 9:45P.M. on Sunday.

Da Coach
Here's ya boy! I hope you notice that grim look of pain on his face, like he just got schooled by M.J. But, don't be frazzled. He didn't get schooled by M.J. M.J. doesn't even play on the same court as Granger. Granger is in the NBA. M.J. is playing against 40-somethings for their money. Winner? Not the 40-somethings.

Who dat
My first car was a Lebron rookie year. In NWI, we're required to take our cars in for emissions tests, so the air stays clean. *Cough* Bullshit *Cough*. Well, the day my baby failed emissions, the top also stopped working. It was the 4th of July weekend a few years ago. It was a sad sad sad day.

We're Talking About Practice!
The Chicago Bears play their last pre-season game tomorrow, in the Dawg Pound known as Cleveland. Shouldn't it be known as the Brown Pound? Then shouldn't the Browns change their name to the Brown Pounders? Nah, that'd be too much like Green Bay.

Well, they're 0-3 so far. Which I could give a flying fuck about. More importantly, they haven't won. They'll start off the regular season in two weeks against the one-time defending champion Indianapolis Colts, who they lost to in the Super Bowl, one time.

P-Money is still recouping from knee surgery. Which means he'll start and destroy our shitty defense. Hey fellas, lets face it, you're sucking. Bad.

And, my White Sox are now 2 games up on the ever frustrating Twinkies, after a well earned 8-2 win last night at Cal Ripken Jr. Park (aka: Camden Yards). But, after today's game, they travel north, where the Green Monster meets Pesky Pole. A land so feared (due to wicked Bawston accents), that they'll take two out of three. That was my prediction. ESPN, where the fuck my check at? Oh, and CQ for MVP!

Lockdown, lockout, lockjaw

2008-08-22T11:38:00.000-07:00

I'm stealing a wonderful idea from Da Coach, look to the right, "Coach's Tenacious Blog," and categorizing my blog....sorta, sometimes.

In My Life
In a few days I will chronicle my roofing experience with my dad as we re-roof the crib (that's "house" for you white devils).

No, the roof wasn't on fire. It was just shitty.

Well, today, your brilliant blogger decided it was a grand idea to put nails through his hand and foot, ala Jesus Christ.

That's right, I went stigmata on the world. I'm sin free again! Fuckin' YES!

Well, both nails were rusty and caused a lot of bleeding. The bleeding was my impure blood being removed from my body.

I got a tetanus shot before going away to college, and they're good for like 10 years, so I'm covered. Thank my father (remember, I'm Jesus?) I didn't go to college for 10 years, otherwise I'da been screwed, and not like the unholy sorority girls at college.

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to lockjaw like a porn star at an all you can eat cock-buffet.

But, my dad (my real dad), also put several nails into his body as well. Like father, like son. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Screw off.

Da Coach

Who dat
When I was in third grade I got hit in the head with a pink dumbbell.

Yeah, it was one of those.

We're talking about practice
The White Sox are in first place, by one-half game over the Twins. I hate the Twins.

The Bears lost their third straight pre-season game. Thank god for the fact that it's pre-season. But, Kyle Orton (who my dad is a big fan of) has won the starting job over my former front runner Sexy Rexy Grossman (who my dad was not a big fan of). However, my "Pick to Click" is

Caleb Hanie.

Just some thoughts

2008-08-18T14:32:00.000-07:00

I fucked up my back at work last week.

You ever notice that girls w/ sisters always have a good looking sister and an ugly sister (if there's a few in the family of sisters)?

Aerosmith blues is good.

I wonder what would happen if the NFL used Nerf footballs.

What if MLB was a wiffell ball league?

I love pain killers.

The moon is made of cheese....

2008-08-14T13:18:00.000-07:00

"Harry Caray here....." - Best Will Ferrell impersonation doing his best Harry Caray

Well, it's August 14, 3:28pm (my dad just called, said he was going golfing - I'm not, I'm stuck at work w/ the golfing blues again), and that means baseball season! And the Sox signed Beckham, their 1st round draft pick from Georgia (that's College World Series Champions Georgia).

"Yeah, baseball started already. They've been playing for months. Shut the fuck up."

Those were your thoughts....right?

Well, after the White Sox win last night, and the Twins win, we're still in first by 1/2 game. Think of it as 4.5 innings. (Update, Thome hit a 3 run shot followed by Konerko's solo effort. Hell, I've got a solo effort every night, Sox 7 - Royals 2.)

Looks like that Quentin trade worked out well. That Alexei kid from Cuba, doing pretty good too. Jr? Eh, he's old. But walks a lot. Kenny might not be so dumb after all (we'll just ignore Swish sucking the big one).

(Alexei just went yard, solo style, back to back to back shots).

So, we're right in the middle of a pennant race with the "re-building" Twins. Seriously, re-building and they're in contention for first in the AL Central. Where are the Tigers and Engines? Oh, that's right......

They're where we're supposed to be this year. Sucking.

(Uribe homered, Han Solo style, back to back to back to back, Sox 9 - Royals 2 - looks like a Bears score. But, Toby Hall will end that, I'm sure.)

Logic points to the White Sox of '05, coming down the stretch being followed by the Indians like Dick Tracy on the hunt for Roger Rabbit. But, this isn't '05. CQ (Carlos Quentin) is having an MVP year, like JD did in '05. JD is having an MVP year like JD did in '05. Our homeboy, 95-year-old Jose Contreras is dead....I think. So, he's not gonna be much of a help like he was in '05.

See....totally different. This time around we're being chased by the Twins. Way different.

Either way, like '05, we're where we didn't think we'd be or should be. So, regardless of what happens this season, it's turned out pretty well.

NOT!

If they don't take the division from those Yankees (referring to the Twins being from the North and using "Yankee" as a derogetory name), I'll be pissed. Look, Tampa Bay is doing it in the East and the Los Angeles Angels of Anehiem (spell check please?) are doing it in the west, why can't we do it in the midwest?

(Chris Getz, my new homeboy for the Sox is now up - Holla!)

(Getz grounded out. So much for .500.)

Oh, and by the way, I got my "Holy Grail."

Lets hope the Sox can get another this season.

I'm 12 again!

2008-07-31T14:33:00.000-07:00

WOW!

"WOW?" you ask? "WOW!" I say.

Coming up this weekend I'm going to a minor league baseball game followed by one of the largest sports card trade shows in the U.S.

Well, baseball fever is back. I'm 12 again!

The Chicago White Sox have just acquired one of the greatest sluggers of all-time, and future H.O.F., Ken Griffey Jr. They're also in first place, 1 1/2 games up on the ever nagging Minnesota Twins, in the AL Central.

To top off the Jr. trade in which the Sox sent RP Nick Massett and utility infielder Danny Richar to the Reds; the Brew Crew picked up last season's Cy Young Award Winner (it's like the Heisman Trphy for MLB Pitchers) from the Sox rivals, the Indians (they're from Cleveland); the north side homos (Cubs) copied off of their NL Central rival Brewers and got Rich Harden from the land of pitchers (Oakland); and as of the last few minutes, Manny "I'm a fucking douche" Ramirez has been sent to the west coast to play for Joe Torre and the LA Dodgers, while the Red Sox pick up Jason Bay (he's from Canada and hits the ball like Pete Rose) from the Pirates and the Pirates picked up four minor leaguers (2 from LA and 2 from BOS).

That was a hell of a lot of trading.

Speaking of trading, remember when you'd sit in your room and trade cards with your neighbors/friends/classmates? No? Well I do. I stalked you, I had no friends. No, of course I'm kidding. You're not good enough for me to stalk. But, I did spend hours cataloging and organizing and trading my massive (by massive I mean cheap) card collection.

After moving from Wisconsin ( land of Packer fans = FUCK) to Indiana, no one seemed to collect cards anymore (well, there was only 1 person who collected in WI that I traded with, by the time I left). That is, until I went away to college. Where, me and my delinquent roommates began collecting/selling/trading cards again.

Now, 18 years later, I'm going to mecca. That's right, the Chicago Sports Memorabilia Trade Show (or whatever they call it). I don't give a fuck. I call it Mecca.

My collection was made for Frank Thomas, the then almighty slugger for THE Chicago White Sox. Well, Frank and White Sox parted ways a few years ago after an '05 World Series victory (it's like the Super Bowl, but for baseball). I never found my "Moby Dick," my "Holy Grail" if you will:

Well, it looks like I've got a new "Holy Grail" on Saturday:

Here's to being 12 again!

Get that summer body fast!

2008-07-13T09:49:00.000-07:00

"I'm going to pump....you up!" - Hanz and Franz

In a world where we as people want things fast (I-pods, on-line banking, microwave meals - OK, they've been around awhile) it's no surprise that we often expect results even faster.

Faxes, e-mails, and texts have allowed us to reach people with ease. They get back to us even quicker. Those, my dear reader, are results.

Losing weight? Well, that's QUICK and EASY! Well, with Tribalean, Phen Phen (my personal favorite, come on, LOOK AT THAT NAME), and Yellow Jackets you can achieve that ultimate summer look. Because, lets face it, what woman wouldn't want to look like that bikini bombshell?

Men, you're not alone. While women are out there gulping down pills, you too, can achieve mega huge muscles FAST! Companies like MuscleTech have tons of supplements to help you get Hoooge (huge). As soon as that bikini bombshell loses all that weight, she's not going to want to be seen with you. She'd rather have:

(Because everyone wants to look like them)

Ah, the wonders of advertising. Ah, the wonders of technology.

WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What ever happened to those good old days where men got muscles by doing men things, like digging holes, yard work, building houses? Where women had curves? You know, something larger than a size 0000.

With today's advanced marketing, you get ads everywhere telling you how to look and how to get that body fast!

But.......awww, there's always a but, something like getting big guns or ripped abs, toned tummies, and perfect legs doesn't come easy. Too often people look for the easy way out, and the easy way is not the answer here.

The average person puts on 1/2 lb. of muscle per week. So, in a 52-week year, the average person can put on how many pounds? You can use your fingers and toes.

If you guessed 26 lbs. then by George, you're right. But, that's 26 pounds with a perfect diet and the perfect routine and the perfect set of DNA.

But, on the opposite end, the average person can safely lose up to 2 pounds a week. That's 104 pounds in a year! That's a lot.

So where are the commercials telling you this information? Where are the doctors saying that people's bodies have to adjust to what they're doing and a sudden loss of weight could hamper long term weight loss?

People today, too often are looking for the easy way in or out. So, it's no wonder that they don't know that the key to a good weight gain or weight loss program (which is the key to that summer body) starts in the kitchen. Not at McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King, Taco Bell, Subway, or DQ, which is where all the ads tell you the key to weight loss is.

Tip #1 for you: cut out the junk. No fast food, no pop/soda, drink lots of water, eat fruits and veggies.

Tip #2 for you: come back soon for the rest.

Going Green

2008-07-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

Green is the new black
Everywhere you turn; MSNBC, Oprah, and Planet Green, have all got ways for you to live a greener lifestyle. Even Hollywood celebs like Brad Pitt, Leo DiCaprio, and Hayden Panettiere (I love her, then again, who doesn't?) are jumping on the "Green Wagon" and doing their best to promote a green lifestyle.

So, what is a green lifestyle? If you haven't been living under a rock as of lately, you know....light bulbs, cars, food, and gasoline usage all are incorporated into living a green lifestyle. Wearing hemp? Green. Driving a hybrid car? Green. Making money? Green.

That seems to be the number motive for a lot of people who are jumping into the green money bag.

Livingreen.com has not only outlined several tips on how to live green, but they'll gladly sell you green products to live your green lifestyle.

Green-living.com, well, look at Livingreen.

Lets not forget about EVO.com where they've got everything to help go green from clothes, cars, to well.....money.

While we're at it, why drive to the mall when you could hop online and go to the Ecomall.com?

In a time when our world is rapidly changing, due to greenhouse gases and the changing weather patterns due to the ever popular El Nino, everyone seems to be trying to make a buck on the "Green" trend.

In another concept, why don't we as people try to consume less products, regardless if they're "green" or not. Drive less. Recycle. Drink tap water and fill up a reusable water bottle, rather than chug down bottled water from a plastic bottle that's 30% more green efficient. What ever that means.

It is our duty as citizens of the world to leave this place better than what we found it. Right now it seems we're far away from that. But, there's always tomorrow.

Voting

2008-07-12T17:38:00.000-07:00

No voting here
I, a life long White Sox fan did not vote for Jermaine Dye (who at this moment has just hit a triple against the Texas Rangers - W.'s, see below, Texas Rangers) to get into the 2008 All-Star game to be played at Yankee Stadium. It's not that I voted for someone else, either. See, after going through my adolescent years clogging the All-Star ballot boxes at County Stadium - the former home of the Milwaukee (the city in which I spent my favorite baseball loving years) Brewers - I've grown out of it.

Too often the fans don't pay enough attention to the current baseball season to vote for the proper players, all too frequently voting for players who should've either been their last year or not at all. Every All-Star team is filled with great names of great players who've put up not-so-great half seasons.

Well, that can be said for the Presidential election, too. However, I'll be voting in that one. But, many citizens choose to treat the presidential election like the All-Star vote. Voting for the guy who shouldn't be there. I'm not going to point any fingers to any particular elections of late, but for some reason 2000 and 2004 seem to jump out at me like an Olympic pole-vaulter.

Then there are the ones who decide that they're not going to vote at all. "My vote doesn't count," "It's just one vote," "The president doesn't care about me," all seem to be valid arguments (and they're all pretty right on) that people use when avoiding the polls on that wonderful November day.

Well, you've also got to remember who you're voting for. There's the future leader of one of the greatest nations in the world (sorry, America is no longer #1 - how can you be with a struggling economy and a very unpopular war and surging prices on a product that a nation relies so heavily on), but you're also voting for Senators, Mayors, County Commissioners, your neighbors, the people that live in the same town that you live in.

They're the same people that've got the same economic concerns and problems you've got. They're paying bills just like you. They're bringing their kids to soccer practice, baseball practice, softball practice, footb.....well, you get the idea. THEY ARE YOU! They're the ones that care, the ones that'll make a direct impact to your life.

Tattoo

2008-07-10T08:44:00.000-07:00

"I want you. All tattooed." - The Offspring

I finally got it done! What you see above is minutes after my first tattoo, in the Ancient Ink Tattoo Studio. Jeff, the tattoo artist did a fuckin' sweet job. He scripted my last name, "MALONEY" in Olde English lettering with the colors of the Irish flag, green, white (skin tone), and orange across my upper back.

This is the tattoo I've wanted since I was 16 or 17. A long story short it went from being $300 to only costing me $80 out of my account. Winner, this guy!

While at times a bit painful, it was worth it.

Holy fuck balls......

2008-06-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

Wow! Where did the time go? It felt like my last post was just in April.

Anyway, I've been up to a whole hell of a lot of nothing. Working. All. The. Fucking. Time. Putting 10+ hours a day in at Lowe's and the radio station (combined). But, it looks like the radio station might finally become full time. I can't get more specific than that, but it's possible.

However, I'll still be working at Lowe's until the station becomes full time. But, once it does, fuck off Lowe's. But, if the station doesn't become full time by the time August rolls around (the start of football) I'll be seriously looking for something outside of radio.

Camp will be making his way back to the region and we'll probably end up rooming together. My dad is looking to buy a foreclosed house in Ceder Lake (Cedertucky - if you're from the region). The house is in good shape (according to him) and it'll have three room (hopefully more bathrooms than three). If that doesn't happen, Camp's dad was also looking into the same idea (which is probably where my dad got his). Our ultimate goal, though, is still Colorado. The slopes, the trails, the mountains (I dig rock climbing), oh, and the excess amount of weed......yay!

I'm still waiting on my Federal $600 check to stimulate the economy. The only thing that check is stimulating is my hatred for patience. I should've had it direct deposited into my account in the beginning of May, yet still haven't gotten it. But, once I do, hello Fender Telecaster Nashville Deluxe! Yup, a fourth guitar, which I totally need. My first guitar is an electric (but it don't work so good no more), and my second and third guitars are acoustics (steel & nylon strings respectively), so, it's no surprise that my next one would be an electric......again. Oh, God I can't wait for that fucking money.

Watch me not get the check. Ever.

Still working out. Crossfit and 25 for strength. Just enjoying the gym.

Aside from that, I'm just running on a lack of sleep.

Oh, and congrats to the Philly's and Stevenson's for gettin' hitched. Glad it ain't me.

The Curse?

2008-04-24T14:30:00.001-07:00

"Together now we mourn the loss and remember all the fun" - Dropkick Murphys - "Curse of a Fallen Soul"

Bambino. Done. Black Sox. Over; the year after the Bambino's curse ended. Billy Goat. Still going strong. Madden.....hmmmm....

For all of you Madden football fans, undoubtedly you've heard of the "Curse of Madden." With the '08 Draft this weekend, I know who's sitting around drinking and watching hours of pointless football coverage, ESPN posted a great little insight to the football world. The Madden Cover Boy will be named at the Draft. Oh boy. Time for the fresh faced rooks to watch a star's career tumble down. George, Lewis, McNabb, Vick are all but a few who've suffered the most widely known sports curse of the Century, because, let's face it, no one gives a shit about the Cubs.

With Vince "All I do is win" Young claiming three vics at the end of last season to lead the so-so Titans to the playoffs, where they, well, didn't win, after gracing last year's Madden cover does it mean it's over? But, my Bears weren't in the playoffs, so a loss in the playoffs is better than not being there. Broken bones for Alexander, Lewis, and Vick either ended or caused several problems for them during their ensuing seasons after gracing the cover. So, a broken bone for Young could cause a problem. But, not if you're into curses.

This season, I'm hoping Peyton Manning makes his cover debut. P. Money as he's widely known around Indianapolis, seems like a sure thing to end the curse next season. It'll be interesting to see how Young does this season. Defenses get faster every year, and Young now has two seasons of highlight film to be dissected like that frog in your sophomore year biology class. So, does Young become that proverbial frog? Or, does he rise from a somewhat sophomore slump where he only produced 9 TD's on top of 17 INT's. Only this season will tell.

Here's to finding out who becomes the next Culpepper or Faulk. I hope it ain't Urlacher.

Dead on Arrival

2008-04-22T16:53:00.000-07:00

So, yeah.....

An update into the radio world; I sent out resumes and tapes to WXRT and WDRV for part-time on-air DJ positions. They're both owned by The Bonneville Corporation. Those were sent out last Tuesday, along w/ taxes. So, they probably didn't get them until late last week. God, I hope I hear from them soon.

The S.O.B. and I had two meetings w/ our boss at MBC about the future of the station, whether we'll get full time, get an actual on-air signal to make a sports station out of, where the money will come from....all the fun stuff. We wrote up a business plan for the station. I guess the plan was OK. It seems that the boss might be too indecisive about bringing us on full-time.

Lately, I've been questioning my decision about going into radio. Some days are just rough. There's very few job openings in radio, let alone in the third largest market, which, coincidentally, is what I call home. Chicago. I have no money to move anywhere, and can't afford to live off of the $8/hr. I get from Lowes and the station. It works out well for the time being, being for the time that I'm living at home. However, I don't have any financial concerns due to living at home and am down to paying off just one credit card from the three that I had. I'm also looking into buying a new electric guitar w/ my tax rebate check, rather than saving it. Hey, the government said to spend it, so why not listen to them for once?

I'd like to find something that I'm passionate about and find a job doing that. The downside is I'm too flip-floppy. One day I want to do that, the next day it's this, then next week it's something totally new. What the fuck? Granted, I'm only 23, and have been out of school for not even one full year. Yet, I've now gotta compete with the newest crop of grads coming out and everyone else that's still looking. I wish I had something; a great writing ability, drawing/painting, photography, singing/songwriting.....anything. I've always had the ability to make people laugh, but I can't seem to write anything worth adding to the stand-up routine. Nor, do I have the ways manageable to translate anything funny into some sort of a script, yet I used to love script writing.

I don't really have a whole hell of a lot of motivation right now, either. I haven't been to the gym in weeks and haven't gone running in as long. I've pulled my guitar out the last two days for the first time in weeks, so that's better, I suppose. Maybe it's the 5-2's I'm working that just seem to beat on me. I look forward to the weekend, but too often it flies by, like a night of great sleep (which I never seem to get anymore). The weeks, too, fly by. All too often, before I know it, I'm staring at Friday, wishing to hell that Saturday and Sunday would crawl by. I guess this is what they mean when they say, "wait 'til you get older."

Time for dinner. I'll probably wake up tomorrow feeling much better, maybe. Either way, I need something new/different/major to spruce things up (that means something good) to drag me out of my funk.

Give me back my favorite blue jeans

2008-04-06T09:37:00.000-07:00

"Delilah" - Dirty Sweet

Ah, how sweet it is to be dirty. Dirty Sweet, that is. A gruff band from San Diego bringing back the sounds of old....formed in only '03. "You're dirty and sweet, clad in black, don't look back and I love you." Remember that line from T-Rex's "Bang a Gong?" Listening to the Sweet boys rock brings the musical evolution back about 35 years to a time when giants roamed. The Stones, Aerosmith, and well, T-Rex.

Their debut album, ...Of Monarchs and Beggars, is 10 songs of pure bliss. Not the typical 3-4 min. radio friendly songs of today, DS cuts fast grooves with wailing vocals. They look like they were ripped out of 1970-something. They sound like they were ripped out of 1970-something. Thank God they're here.

Starting out with a plea, "Baby Come Home," Monarchs and Beggars rocks. Ryan Koontz, the lead singer, wails away with a great rhythm section in the form of Shaun Cornell (bass and keys) and Chris Mendez-Vanacore on the skins. Nathan Beale and Mark Murino chop riffs back and forth.

"Delilah" is an ode to the ex-lady friend who takes everything, but, the guy needs his favorite blue jeans. This song needs to be in a jeans commercial. I don't know how it's not. It's also my favorite tune on the album.

A few more songs down the line, "Long Line Down" proves that just like fellow rockers, Jet, proves that they can not only throw it down hard and fast, but slow it down, nice and easy.

"Born to Bleed" gets right back into what Dirty Sweet does best. Rock. Put the top town, and the volume up. It's clear these boys know what they're doing. Of course, it doesn't hurt that this tune was nominated for best "Rock Song" in San Diego. Naturally, they took home "Best Rock Band" for the second straight year, I smell a dynasty, and "Best Rock Album of the Year." '07 was a good year.

It's clear that the UK knows its shit when it comes to good music. While the rockers may not feel quite warm in the waters of American music, much like their inspiration before, the Beatles, they'll be looking to strike it big in the UK. Heading to the UK in just days, '08 looks to prove to be bigger for Dirty Sweet.

Smelled Like Lou Dog Inside the Van

2008-03-25T18:25:00.000-07:00

Here's the first of what should be many installments of "Tom's Tunes."

Sublime -

My albums:
40 oz. to Freedom
Robbin' the Hood
Sublime
Second Hand Smoke
20th Century Masters: Millennium Collection
Live at the Palace, Hollywood, CA 10-21-95
Live at the Tressel Tavern, Everett, WA 11-14-94
The Black Album #2
Live at Blockbuster Pavilion, Camden, NJ 8-17-95

Born in Long Beach, CA in 1988, Sublime is a Ska/Punk/Reggae/Funk/Hip-hop that finally hit the big time too late. Their tale was that of a common story...a garage band that formed into a band. The band played live shows, and cut a record. However, unlike "Eddie + the Rebels" (Tom Petty), Sublime didn't hit the charts right away.

It wasn't until the song "Date Rape" was put into the hands of KROQ (Kay-Rock), via snail-mail, that the band got a larger exposure outside of Long Beach, and into the greater Los Angeles area. "Date Rape," what would become one of their most popular songs, barely made it to 40 Oz. to Freedom, their first album which was released on lead-singer/guitarist Bradley Nowell's Skunk Records. Nowell, Bud Gaugh, and Eric Wilson, the three members of Sublime thought the song was one of the worst.

"Date Rape" was released two years prior to its success.

The success of "Date Rape" and it's five week stay atop Billboard's Top #100 Pacific Region Chart in 1995, gave way to Sublime signing on with MCA Records.

Under the contract Sublime released their follow-up to 40 oz. Robbin' the Hood seemed to be a chaotic release. Originally recorded to have only six tracks, the 22 track album was "13 self produced 4-track home recordings." Wiki states that Brad did this to offset critics of his who said he was in the music business for money.

WOW, THIS TOOK A FEW DAYS. Well, two days. However, I didn't do this to write reports about cool bands. So, I guess I'll give album reviews and links to cool bands that I dig. Fuckin' a.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sublime_(band)#Career
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/40_Oz._to_Freedom
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brad_Nowell
http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=11:jvfuxq8gldse~T1

Documentaries into the Soul

2008-03-22T15:08:00.000-07:00

So, if you're not living in a hole in the ground shack in the Carolina hills, you know how great documentaries are. Especially the music ones; "Running' Down a Dream" - Tom Petty, "The Blues" - Martin Scorsese; are two that come to mind, along w/ Scorsese's "Last Waltz."

Well, we love family drama. And the late Bob Marley's family is no different. Here's a link to Billboard's article about a potential Scorsese documentary about Marley being put on hold:

Rights Flap Jamming Bob Marley Film

That would be a great documentary. I love Scorsese and would love to see what he does w/ Bob Marley.

Stay Tuned Sports Fans

2008-03-20T21:38:00.000-07:00

In this wild and wacky month of March, not only do we have three NCAA Tournaments occurring for college basketball, but we've also got the start of MLB's regular season.

And if that wasn't enough, over the course of the next few days/weeks, I'll be delving into my massive record collection (we're talking almost 2,000) and talking about my favorite bands, records, and songs from long time favorites Tom Petty + The Rolling Stones to the new guys Dirty Sweet and Ray LaMontagne.

We'll be hitting classics like the White Album, Dark Side of the Moon, and Dizzy Up the Girl (it ain't classic, but shut the fuck up). I'll also be discussing my favorite tunes. Oh, and there will be Dylan, not just Bob, but Jacob too.

So, if massive amounts of college basketball and the return of the "boys of summer" (a little Don Henley for you) don't get you hard, well, my music tastes sure won't either.

I made enough money to buy Miami

2008-03-15T11:46:00.000-07:00

"I have been drunk now for over two weeks" - Jimmy Buffett - 'A Pirate Looks at Forty'

Jobs/Money
I talked w/ my co-worker + boss (two different people) at the radio station in the past two days. Good news travels fast. We've gotten the OK to carry IU football + basketball, VU basketball, and HS football + basketball. Then the co-host and I are going to meet w/ the Gary Railcats to see if we can carry their games. If that goes through, the station will finally start to go somewhere.

So, along those lines, I doubt I'll be taking the driving job. I'll be kicking myself for turning down $15/hr ($600/wk, $2400/mo, $28,800/yr), but I need to give the radio gig a chance. And with that, I'll be sticking around at Lowe's until something better comes along. The driving job, as you recall, is from 7-4, as opposed to Lowe's 5-2. Those 2 hours make all the difference in the world.

I got my gov. tax return back and got paid on the same day. Boom-shock-a-lock-a-boom. I paid off my Penney's card. I owe them no more! Now, I've just got my Mastercard + Discover @ roughly $1400 combined. It's not too bad, considering I'll be putting my tax return to the two of them, plus $100 from each paycheck ($200 a month for each cc).

Life
It's St. Patty's Weekend and I'm heading up to the Err Dizzle's for the day/afternoon/evening/night to drink. Yay for the snakes in Ireland.

On the other hand, Tulsa is getting handled by Memphis. It's 42-15 in the second half, 19:04 to go as I write this. Memphis just scored again. Ouch, not much of a challenge. I'm hoping Memphis can do something this year in the NCAA Tourney. I've been following them for the past 3-4 years and they've been playing some great ball.

The tix came for the final Blackhawks home game. The Err Dizz and I will again drink, and watch some Canucks beat on each other. What could be better?

So barmaid bring a pitcher; another round of brew.

Work

2008-03-09T16:00:00.000-07:00

"Everybody's workin' for the weekend" - Loverboy - 'Workin' for the Weekend'

I'll give you a rundown of my current job situation:

I'm currently working 2 jobs. One at a local on-line radio station (www.thebreez.com) - easy listening - and the other at Lowe's as a day stocker, 5a-2p....40 hrs. a week.

I'm making $8/hr @ the station with no set hours. I go in when I want, get shit taken care of and leave (normally about 5 hours a week if I'm not running a board for a college basketball/football game which we broadcast via buying on-air time from a local signal, 89.1 FM WWLO). I make $8.68/hr @ Lowe's, w/ that set 5-2, Mon-Fri. Weekends off are wonderful.

So, on an average week, I'm working 50-70 hrs, which I don't mind. I like money, and I'm still able to go out on weekends, so sometimes I've got a social life.

I've moved back in w/ the folks post graduation (a degree in Telecommunications - Radio Broadcasting), and I picked up the Lowe's job to help pay off my $1600 in credit card debt (stupid college purchases - gas, groceries, eBay, booze, fast food). While I just started at Lowe's, I've never had the desire to want to make Lowe's a "lifer job." Basically, I look at it more like a "summer job." I'm seasonal and the season ends on Labor Day.

Now, I've just talked to my neighbor who needs a new delivery driver for his business. I'd be delivering tools/construction materials to different job sites. I'd be making $15/hr. working 7-4 Mon-Fri (weekends off again), plus over-time, and I'd be fully insured for the first time since Dec. of '06. They'd pay for me to get my CDL to which I'd then make $18/hr. Then, there's a possibility of having me take over one of the shops. He says there's a lot of older guys who will soon be looking to retire or cut back on the amount they work, and he'd like younger employees to come in for the future.

This would obviously mean I'd leave Lowe's, which I have no problem w/. However, when talking to my dad, he brought up the point of the radio station. I guess this is where I need help. See, I love radio (I'm often asked why I don't go into TV; I hate TV), it's what I've wanted to do since 7th grade (12 years old???). However, trying to find anything outside of the station that I'm at has been very hard. The slumping economy doesn't help the fact that traditional/terrestrial radio is dying and XM/Sirius, while appearing to do well, have both suffered badly due to the FCC not allowing them to join, thus causing a monopoly. I've applied for on-air, producing, play-by-play/color positions at a shit ton of stations in the Chicago-land market.

To be honest, it sounds wonderful, making $15-18 an hour (for the first time since a summer job a few years back at a factory). The full insurance coverage is great too. I'd have to wait a very long time to get any sort of coverage from Lowe's. My buddy that I work w/ at the station and myself have tried to make the station job a full-time gig, but it hasn't worked out yet, and may never (the boss says make more $ via sales, but we're not salesmen, we're radio guys, but even then it doesn't mean that we'd get full-time).

I'm thinking of accepting the driver job and taking a smaller role at the station, something that I'm doing now w/ Lowe's. Prior to Lowe's I was in the station about 20 hours a week.

I Love Rock and Roll

2008-03-04T15:54:00.000-08:00

"Echoes the sounds of silence" - Simon + Garfunkel

Today I bought myself three cds from Best Buy. It was the first time I've bought cds for myself since roughly 2002. Needless to say, today was a good day to buy.

Flogging Molly - Float
The Black Crowes - Warpaint
Jack Johnson - Sleep Through the Static

I'm a fan of all three, and well, for a "self-proclaimed" music junkie, it was like fuckin' Christmas.

Flogging Molly sounds as wonderful as always. TBC seem a bit older, less harsh than they were almost 20 years-ago when they first stormed on the scene. Jack Johnson went electric; it's not Bob Dylan going electric, but it'll take some adjustments in listening.

Overall, as of listening to these three for roughly 3 hours, I've gotta say, today was a good day.

Couple these three w/ my purchase of Tom Petty's "Runnin' Down A Dream" DVD set, and the last two music purchases are pretty much bad ass, just like me.

He Looks Up, You Can Put It On The Board.......YES!

2008-02-09T11:39:00.000-08:00

"There's new grass on the field. Oh, put me in coach, I'm ready to play" - John Fogerty 'Centerfield'

Continuing on with my baseball mindset (because, it's right around the corner), I came across an interesting little article on ESPN, http://sports.espn.go.com/travel/news/story?id=3230603&lpos=spotlight&lid=tab3pos1 , about the eccentrict Spring Training ballparks.

This immediatly brought me to memories as a kid of going and seeing the White Sox and Texas Rangers in Sarasota, FL (now home to the Cincinnati Reds in what I think is Ed Smith Stadium). Growing up, it was often a treat to go visit my grandparents in Port Charlotte, FL (roughly 2 hours south of Tampa Bay), during Spring/Easter Break.

I remember everything from their house, having only been there roughly a dozen times or so in my life. The lamps with seashells in them, the pool, the little river behind their neighbors' houses that housed the local gators of the area all the way to the baseball games.

It wasn't until a few years ago when Kristin and myself went down to visit my Grandma (who had severe Ovarion Cancer) that I realized how much those baseball games mattered to me. See, it was normally my folks, brother and sister, and my grandparents (7 of us total, for those of you who wanted to know), who'd trek out to Sarasota (about a 45 min. drive due to horrible old Florida drivers) to watch boys and men try to make their dreams come true. This is back when they were both healthy and happy, both still living.

This time around, Kristin and I were on our way to see her in the hospital when we happened across the City of Palms Park, home of the then defending World Series Champions, the Boston Red Sox, in Fort Meyers/Cape Coral, FL. It ain't the Green Monster, but hell, I wouldn't mind seeing the Red Sox play in Spring Training for all of $30 for two tickets, a beer, and a couple of dogs.

But, I was quickly transported back to reality when I realized where we were going. We got to the hospital and I briefly mentioned that we saw the Red Sox ball park on the way here. Naturally, she asked if they were playing, to which I responded with a "yeah, I think so." Well, that was followed up by a look of disgust and I knew that she wanted us to go to the game, rather than see her in the hospital. She told me that we should've gone to the game (I pick up on things well).

I played it off as though it was no big deal (because, let's face it, it's the Red Sox and they aren't a big deal....now the White Sox, I may've stopped off for), they'll play again, and I can see them some other time. I knew, quickly, that baseball would be in my life longer than she would. It was early spring of '06, and she passed in the late summer of '07.

If you ever get the opportunity to go see the Red Sox in Florida or visit with friends and family, pass up the Sox, they'll still be there (until they move to Arizona) next time.

A breif update into my mind

2008-01-28T22:03:00.000-08:00

"Sky is falling down" - 'Mayfield' - Augustana

I passed the required drug screening for the job at Lowe's. So, I got the job. I'll be making $8 + change, working the 5-10:30 AM shift. That'll suck. But, my dad made a valid point (he does this quite often). In the summer, I can be up early on the weekends and get in 18 holes before most people are even up. I still get to work at the radio station too, which is the most important thing. Right now, we're just trying to sell ad time for football (we've got a few spots sold, and a few months to go, but would like to be done by May at the latest). I do wish that I didn't get my degree in Telecommunications, but rather something way fucking cooler, like lifeguarding, drinking, video game playing, roller coaster operator, exotic pet store owner (good call Kowert), or even porn viewing.

I'm looking forward to an obnoxious amount of golf this summer, so, if you (the one looking at the screen) would like to join me, let me know. I'll be looking to play at a lot of random places throughout Chicagoland, Indiana, Michiana, and maybe even Illinosin (that one doesn't work as well as Illiana + Michiana).

Today was a rough day at the gym, due to playing some hockey for the first time this season. But, it was raining all day today, so naturally, me wanting to play, couldn't.......again. Seriously, it's frickin' freezing Mr. Bigglesworth, then boom! it's warm/raining/ice melting weather.

Ah, I can't wait for the summer. I've got two weddings to go to, and lots of booze to drink (which is really the only reason I'll be attending them.......hahaha). However, it's going to be another summer without a convertible, which sucks. Because, lets face it, the Toreass, is well, sucking. It sucks gas, it sucks my money. It's dirty, needs an alignment, new tires, has no A/C, the hood doesn't pop without using a tire iron or screw driver (don't ask), oh and the "check engine" light has been on since god knows when. I'd like a convertible. Even if it's a bigger piece of shit than that of the Ford Taurus I currently drive. At least the top would go down.

I'm still working on the "Drug Wars" blog/article that I'm writing. It's a continuation piece on what I wrote about in college about the "Drug War" being fought by the U.S. Government, and whether or not it's worth it (money, time, other wars being fought, thinning out of troops, etc...).

Until next time kids. Don't do drugs, stay in school, and ignore the last two things.

Peace!

White Sox Offseason So Far....

2008-01-14T15:43:00.000-08:00

It's that time of the year when the small child in all of us gets excited. There's snow on the ground, it's 30 degrees outside, and only a matter of weeks until pitchers and catchers report to the sunny skies of Arizona and Florida.

Of course, if you're like me, you're wondering what in the hell your G.M. is doing to your ballclub. My G.M. is the brilliant man behind the 2005 World Series Champions. He's also the guy behind the team that missed the playoffs the following year, with 90+ wins (only the second time in MLB history that it happened - the first being to the 2005 Indians). No biggie, right? Well, he was the guy in charge of the team that almost finished at the bottom of the A.L. Central, if weren't for those wonderful Kansas City Royals (thanks fellas).

To get things started this offseason, Williams sent Jon Garland to the Angels for Orlando Cabrera. At the time it made sense. "Okay, we've needed a shortstop for years, and we've got some great pitching in the minor leagues that's getting ready to move up. But, couldn't we have sent Jose Contreras to L.A.A.A. (Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim)?" I said to myself.

Well, along with Cabrera we got some "straight cash homie" (thank you Randy Moss for a quote that will never get old - well, until you bust your knee and your career is over). Cash is good. Moving the little extra money from Garland out is good. Torii Hunter is good. Torii likes cash. We're clearing room for him. Yay!

Noooooooooo! What's this? The Texas Rangers have taken our future center fielder? So, why were we clearing up room? Kenny Williams, you've gotta try harder. We don't accept screw ups at our G.M. position.

Well, Dontrelle Willis, is a good pitcher, and he's avalible. We could use him. We've got money. I'm sure he likes money. Dammit! Detroit gets him? A Central Division rival? Jesus Christ Kenny, what are you thinking? Not only do they get him, but they also get Miguel Cabrerra at third base. We didn't need help there, but still, they're loading up Ken, what are you doing?

Williams kind of pulls his head out of his ass. We get Carlos Quentin, our new left fielder, for minor league 1st baseman Chris Carter (not to be confused with the Vikings great reciever who seemed to destroy the Bears every chance he got). Carter, though, is or was, the #4 ranked minor league talent in our farm system, http://www.baseballprospectus.com/article.php?articleid=6912. Wait, it'll get better. Just keep reading.

Then, he went out and got Scott Linebrink from the Padres and Brewers. Bullpen help is always usefull, especially when you're getting rid of quality starting pitchers and not replacing them. Anywho, Linebrink looks like he'll be Bobby Jenks' new set-up man. $19,000,000 for four years ain't bad. But, that's money we could've given to Hunter.

Alexi Ramirez, formerly of Cuba, was also signed for $4,750,000. If he doesn't suck, he can earn another $3,250,000. Not too shabby for a Communist. Ok, that's not a loss.

Now, here's the swift upper cut to the ovaries. Nick Swisher, the outfielder and 1st baseman for the A's of Oakland is now a White Sox! Yes! Screw off Torii Hunter. We don't need you. Winner, us guys.

But......wait a tick.

Damn, I hate when that happens.

Williams sends to Oakland, a team once so deep in minor league talent that you could drown to death in a pool of them, three of our top 10 minor leaguers. Numero uno on that list, Fauntino De Los Santos. A young stud pitcher, you know one of those guys that could've replaced Garland. Next on the list is Gio Gonzalez. We had him, then sent him to Philly (in some random trade, I can't remember ever non-sensicle thing Williams does), then we got him back. Only to send him to Oakland. Brilliant! Here's the kicker. They're both pitchers. They're both good, they're #1 and #2, http://www.baseballprospectus.com/article.php?articleid=6912 , on our top prospect list. Then, Williams decides to throw in our #8 guy, 3rd outfielder overall, with the two pitchers. Yeah, you know that postion that we had problems filling, due to one certain base stealing fella who could stay healthy. This does not make me happy in my pants.

Well, when Crede gets dealt early in season, if not during Spring Training, Williams had better get something in return. Like a pitcher, or two. Joe Crede, the guy that should've been the World Series MVP in '05.

I Can't Get to Sleep

2008-01-13T23:23:00.000-08:00

"I think about the implications, of diving in too deep" - Men At Work 'Overkill'

After writing the first blog, see below, I realized that I've got a lot of shit running through my head. Now, please keep in mind that this will be a very open blog, about news/sports/music/life/anything else I can think of, I've told a friend this, so someone will hold me accountable to make sure I don't turn this thing into a 14-year-old girl sob story.

Considering it's early Monday morning or late Sunday night (I'll let you pick), and I need to get up at a decent hour tomorrow for work (one of the few times), I've got a million and one thoughts going through my brain.

In two days I will say goodbye to Sox, my Pomapoo (Pomeranian/Poodle), the dog that my former girlfriend (you can use the term "ex" but I'll use "former") and myself got while we still lived in Muncie (Ball State). She, however, moved to Phoenix and got a job in advertising out there and he's now going to live with her. I don't know how I'm going to give him up, it's going to be hard. We'll be down to two dogs (Clover and Molly). Clover has been very sick and has a severe spinal cord injury/problem. She's on pills to help her walk, and she'll stay on them for the rest of her life, whether 2 months or 2 years. Who knows. Then there's Molly. She's a moron, but she's Sox' best friend here (Clover is like a mother to him). They wrestle and play, like dogs do, much to the dismay of Papa Dan(grandpa), who is Molly's owner. He lives at home too.

Then, on top of that wonderful (I use the term 'wonderful' very sarcastically) situation, the thought process of finding a full time job (you know, with benefits, a salary), which is harder than a "bodybuilding elf" (Bloodhound Gang), has got me going mental. The radio industry doesn't like to open its doors to anyone, including people whom are already in the building.

A few thoughts have gone through my head on what to do. Maybe get my master diving certificate and move somewhere "where the weather suits my clothes" (Jimmy Buffett). Paradise, if you will. Then, there's also the stand-up comedy thing. Lets face it, I can make people laugh (I've got skills), but, I'd need more schooling in terms of being a better sketch writer and being funnier in general. Besides, someone's gotta rescue SNL. That show has gone down faster than a $3.00 hooker. The downside with those two dreams is that they'd cost more money than I'm currently worth. I'm not worth a lot. While either/or would make me very happy for the rest of my life, regardless of how poor I am, they're both just dreams.

Yeah, I know there's still the Lowes interview on Friday (that's not really a career choice), but I've also put in an application for Agricultural Commodities as a meat grader/inspector. I used to be a butcher, so it wouldn't be a stretch, and I could handle the job. But, it's with the government, and one can only assume that I wouldn't even get thought of twice for it...considering how many people from the inside are probably applying for the job as well.

Then again this shit won't fall into my lap, as one person put it (then again, she's a lot better off than me - as are most people). It's times like these that I wish I had a surplus of cardboard so I could make up crazy signs and stand next to the highway on/off ramps and shout at people for their capitalism and greed and how that will in time cause the end of the world, meanwhile having a cup available for "tips" or "donations." Then again, that wouldn't work either. My teeth are too nice. Someone would notice.

The only thing that makes a lot of sense right now is to get back into writing. I enjoy writing short stories and have got a layout for a movie script about Blackbeard (the pirate), in my head, however there's a ton more research I need to do on one of the most infamous pirates, who also happens to not have a lot of factual history behind his name. Figures. I rather enjoy getting lost in books and characters, and perhaps that can open my mind and release some of this shit that's going on right now.

Well, here's to hoping that Kenny Williams (White Sox General Manager) does something dumb in the next day or so, so I can rant about that, rather than my "So Called Life" (No musical reference here, that one used to be an actual T.V. show)

How does it feel?

2008-01-13T15:51:00.001-08:00

As you can probably guess, assuming you've got some sort of musical intelligence, that the title of the blog comes from Bob Dylan's "Like A Rolling Stone" of off 'Highway 61, Revisited.' It's my favorite Dylan record, and he's got some great ones to choose from.

I was going to go with something from Jimmy Buffett, but it seems that almost everything to deal with him, his songs, or albums have already been booked. Who'da thunk it?

As of right now, I'm working at an on-line radio station in Crown Town. I've been there for around six months and love it. I work with the boss, creating a massive playlist of tunes, broadcast high school boys basketball and football, oh, and I get to make my own hours. Which generally means I'm not out of bed until well after the sun rises. However, it's only part time, and doesn't look like full-time is right around the corner.

So, I've begun lookin' around for another source of income (lets face it - you can never have too much money). The S.O.B. who got me the gig at the station may have also hooked me up with a job at Lowes. I've got a second interview on Friday, so we'll find out how that goes later.

I also like to dabble in stand-up comedy. I'm actually pretty funny, but you'd need a few drinks in you first. Nothing new has been going on there since I moved back from Indy.

And by back, I mean, with the folks. Ouch! Could be worse though, I could be in a box or under a highway overpass. No, seriously, my family is great. Free bed, parking, food, and they haven't kick me out, yet.

Other things that I enjoy, aside from being broke and stand-up comedy are; tunes (which is why I got into radio), reading (I'm actually more well read than I ever thought I could've been), sports (baseball, hockey, football, college basketball), and weight lifting.

I like to make my goals almost unattainable, so I've got something to reach for. Yes, I could change the goals once I get them, but, that means I'm not pushing myself hard enough......right.....