So, we’re now less then two weeks away from Vegas. As I write this, it’s 13 days, 23 hours and 24 minutes till take off but, who’s counting? Needless to say, I’m excited about this. Wait, that’s one of the most ridiculous phrases. Needless to say? If there was no need to say it, why the hell did I? That along with, “I could care less,” and “take a piss/dump.” First of all, there’s no way to prove that you could care less. And it’s usually said when someone really could care less. You could care so little that you don’t even mention how little you care, I mean the fact that you’re acknowledging how much you care proves you could in deed care less. That just bothers me. And “take a piss,” really? You don’t take that, or a dump. You leave it behind. I mean, you might take it but, that would just mean you didn’t wipe very well.
Oh yeah, I was talking about Vegas. Well, after the last two times I played poker, I think I may have forgotten how to play. It wasn’t just cold cards, although that didn’t help, it was the idiot behind the wheel driving. So to try and relearn how to play, I’ve been playing a little World Series of Poker on the Xbox. I really don’t think it’s going to make a difference. But there are two ways to look at it, either I’ll use up all my good luck or I’ll get all the bad luck out of the way. How this makes sense, I’m not sure, I only know it does. If you don’t believe me, ask someone who plays poker. Then if a poker player wins, they are positive luck had nothing to do with it. This makes sense because, most poker players are men, and we’re idiots.
But of course I have this pipe dream that I’m going to go, and I’m going to play the best poker that’s ever been played. And I’ll win big, huge even. So in my head I’ve already started thinking about how to spend my winnings, like everyone else does after they drive by one of those Powerball billboards. I don’t want to give it all away, or jinx it cause it’s such a sure thing but, it’s gonna be really great. See, you don’t realize it. Right now I’m trying the double reverse jinx. Don’t try this at home.
I’m also working on getting a cousin of mine that lives in LA to come meet my friends and I. And at the same time, I want him to talk his old boss into coming to. He used to work for Donny Deutsch, who now has a show on CNBC and has been on Celebrity Poker on Bravo. And I want so badly to play this guy. Not just because he’s worth a gazillion dollars but, I really respect how he plays. Okay, I just want a shot at his money.
September 28, 2006
September 27, 2006
I just heard that Dallas Cowboy receiver, Terrell Owens, attempted suicide last night. I’m not sure if it’s true or not yet but, it sounds like it is. There probably isn’t anyone playing sports today with as bad an image as this guy, and a lot of it is well deserved. But this weekend, I think it was Sunday Night, ESPN aired a profile about the guy that really helped explain some of his antics. I’m not saying it excuses some of the crap he has pulled, but it shed some light on it.
As a kid he was pretty much kept from having a social life, and a lot of interactions with other kids ended with him being made fun of because of how dark his skin color is. You really should find out when they’ll have it on next and TIVO it. There was a lot that I can’t remember right now. But what I do remember thinking was that Owens isn’t a bad guy. He does horribly stupid things. He’s selfish. But he’s super sensitive, and being a great self promoter who is super sensitive is a bad mix. He wants so badly to be loved and accepted but he never learned how to let people accept him, and somewhere along the line Terrell Owens became the super ego TO.
Last year my buddy Bum, did a little arm chair diagnosing and said TO must be bi-polar. I think I even posted something about it at the time. This is the super macho guy that questioned his quarter backs sexual orientation, came back from a horrible injury and played a game for the ages in the Super Bowl who also breaks down and cries anytime someone asks him about his grandmother. He loves the spot light but doesn’t have the public relations savvy of a guy like Shaq.
And last night he made the ultimate cry for attention, luckily he wasn’t successful. Hopefully he’ll hang up the spikes and get some help.
As a kid he was pretty much kept from having a social life, and a lot of interactions with other kids ended with him being made fun of because of how dark his skin color is. You really should find out when they’ll have it on next and TIVO it. There was a lot that I can’t remember right now. But what I do remember thinking was that Owens isn’t a bad guy. He does horribly stupid things. He’s selfish. But he’s super sensitive, and being a great self promoter who is super sensitive is a bad mix. He wants so badly to be loved and accepted but he never learned how to let people accept him, and somewhere along the line Terrell Owens became the super ego TO.
Last year my buddy Bum, did a little arm chair diagnosing and said TO must be bi-polar. I think I even posted something about it at the time. This is the super macho guy that questioned his quarter backs sexual orientation, came back from a horrible injury and played a game for the ages in the Super Bowl who also breaks down and cries anytime someone asks him about his grandmother. He loves the spot light but doesn’t have the public relations savvy of a guy like Shaq.
And last night he made the ultimate cry for attention, luckily he wasn’t successful. Hopefully he’ll hang up the spikes and get some help.
Protests, Grilled Cheese and Hirp
This week I wondered, or meandered if you will, around the Plaza Art Fair with a couple of friends. Along with the, handful of people who were actually there to really pay attention to the art on display and the majority who just were enjoying near perfect weather, there was a group of protestors pounding the pavement. This didn’t really bother me, or move me. I respect what they’re doing, and most of all I was just thankful it wasn’t Fred Phelps. They made some pretty powerful visual statements, as they carried around boots on stretchers to represent soldiers who had lost their lives in the war.
I happen to be against the war myself, for the record this doesn’t mean that I do not support the troops. I couldn’t help but think that protesting really doesn’t do anything. It may have caused a few conversations among people in attendance but, I doubt it changed anyone’s mind. Nor do those protestors on Ward Parkway who want you to honk to stop the war, as if my horn is suddenly going to wake up our President, and he’ll pick up a phone and order all the troops home. And maybe the protestors know this, and accept that they aren’t going to change anything but, they still want to voice their opinions.
As I write this, I realize it’s pretty similar to what I’m doing here. I don’t really think my writing anything is going to have any lasting ripple effect. And yet, I just keep writing. Suddenly, this little epiphany has brought my point to a screeching halt. Anyway, I do have some one for protestors; don’t use kids. I don’t care if it’s anti-abortion, anti-war, or even anti-DH. Do not, under any circumstances use a child, who can’t form their own opinion as a marketing tool.
I’ll move on to something else now, since I totally lost my momentum. Yesterday I read how the heads of the Cali Cartel made a deal to forfeit $2.1 billion to the US government. I have no idea what happens with that money but, I think every last dime should go to rehab and education.
I just read some upsetting news; Nichols Luncheon on Southwest Traffic Way is closing its doors for good after 85 years. First of all, it’s just sad that after 85 years a family restaurant will no longer be open. Secondly, that’s the closest thing Kansas City has to a diner. I liked going there, always a good place to stop for a grilled cheese. It had sort of a Monks, from Seinfeld, feel to it.
After watching the second episode of Studio 60 this week, I was mentally comparing it to Entourage. Not because they are similar, only that they are my two favorite shows right now. Some how I asked myself the question “which would I rather be a part of?” And I was almost surprised by my own answer (no this conversation didn’t take place out loud) but, I’d rather be part of Studio 60, than part of Entourage. Writing, working with other funny and creative people as part of a team is more for me then partying with Vince and the guys. I’m not sure what, if anything, this says about me. I imagine it means I should get into writing.
I happen to be against the war myself, for the record this doesn’t mean that I do not support the troops. I couldn’t help but think that protesting really doesn’t do anything. It may have caused a few conversations among people in attendance but, I doubt it changed anyone’s mind. Nor do those protestors on Ward Parkway who want you to honk to stop the war, as if my horn is suddenly going to wake up our President, and he’ll pick up a phone and order all the troops home. And maybe the protestors know this, and accept that they aren’t going to change anything but, they still want to voice their opinions.
As I write this, I realize it’s pretty similar to what I’m doing here. I don’t really think my writing anything is going to have any lasting ripple effect. And yet, I just keep writing. Suddenly, this little epiphany has brought my point to a screeching halt. Anyway, I do have some one for protestors; don’t use kids. I don’t care if it’s anti-abortion, anti-war, or even anti-DH. Do not, under any circumstances use a child, who can’t form their own opinion as a marketing tool.
I’ll move on to something else now, since I totally lost my momentum. Yesterday I read how the heads of the Cali Cartel made a deal to forfeit $2.1 billion to the US government. I have no idea what happens with that money but, I think every last dime should go to rehab and education.
I just read some upsetting news; Nichols Luncheon on Southwest Traffic Way is closing its doors for good after 85 years. First of all, it’s just sad that after 85 years a family restaurant will no longer be open. Secondly, that’s the closest thing Kansas City has to a diner. I liked going there, always a good place to stop for a grilled cheese. It had sort of a Monks, from Seinfeld, feel to it.
After watching the second episode of Studio 60 this week, I was mentally comparing it to Entourage. Not because they are similar, only that they are my two favorite shows right now. Some how I asked myself the question “which would I rather be a part of?” And I was almost surprised by my own answer (no this conversation didn’t take place out loud) but, I’d rather be part of Studio 60, than part of Entourage. Writing, working with other funny and creative people as part of a team is more for me then partying with Vince and the guys. I’m not sure what, if anything, this says about me. I imagine it means I should get into writing.
September 25, 2006
Brothers and Sisters
Alright, first thing first, I watch too much television. Okay, let’s just get that out there. I know it, and I’m perfectly okay with it. I feel better now that it’s out in the open. So, big shocker, I watched a new show last night. And before you judge, hear me out. Oh hell, you won’t hear me out so, just go ahead and judge me you ignorant bastards. I watched Brothers and Sisters. That’s right, I said it. A new Calista “I swear I don’t have an easting disorder” Flockhart and Sally “your mother has cried through every movie I ever made” Field. If those aren’t the longest middle names ever, then well, let me introduce you to some Africans I know.
Anyway, the show is fine. This isn’t going to actually be a review. Watch it, don’t watch it. I don’t really care that much. It’s nothing ground breaking and it doesn’t seem to be a water cooler show. But, it did get me thinking. See, in the show there is a rather large family. And in this rather large family, there is something like three boys and three girls. But they aren’t kids, no they are my age. Shit, they are all in their 30’s and 40’s and I just said my age. I am now seriously depressed. Anyway, so we have this big family and it’s far from a perfect family. But, that’s what is supposed to make it a normal family. It’s a perfectly normal dysfunctional family.
And here is what stuck a chord with me. All these brothers and sisters seem to have these cool relationships. Not to where they are each others best friends or some cheese like that. But, they know each other. They know embarrassing stories, accomplishments, and everything in between. What’s so great about that? Nothing, it sounds perfectly normal to me. And that’s what sucks. It’s how it sounds to me, not the experience I have as the youngest of three. For the most part, I don’t really have a relationship with either my brother or sister.
My brother is a great guy, a loving father who is nuts about his two girls and a devoted husband. An amazingly creative guy too. There isn’t an instrument he can’t play and he seriously makes music that can rival anything you hear on the radio. If American Idol came out ten or fifteen years ago, I’m sure he could have won it. But we hardly know each other. And it isn’t that we’ve grown apart, it’s pretty much always been like that. There’s a pretty big age difference, and I think that’s played a large part in our relationship. We weren’t close enough in age to ever fight like some brothers do, and we were so far apart that he didn’t really have any reason to take me under his wing. And to be honest, he had some troubles when I was a kid, and probably wouldn’t have made a great role model. About a year ago he was in town, and he stayed with me, and it went really well. But neither one of us has called much. We simply don’t have all that much in common.
My sister and I, well that’s a whole different sob story. I’ve talked to her for seriously, maybe 15 seconds in the past year and only a handful of times in the past two years. She’s battled a substance abuse problem since Reagan was in office. Holy crap, that’s weird to actually say. I hadn’t ever thought of it like that, till just then when I wrote it. There were times we were pretty close but, it was always different. I’m five years younger but, have felt more like a big brother. As a baby, we shared a room and I guess I used to sing myself to sleep. And in doing so, managed to keep her awake, can’t sing now so I imagine I couldn’t sing then. I also did my share of pestering her and her friends, a talent I developed early and have mastered over the years. When I was seventeen, she and her two kids came to live with my parents and I, and she and I got kind of close for the first time. Or so I thought, now looking back it was probably more of a con job on her part. How’s that for a happy memory? This isn’t to bash my brother and sister, I’m as much to blame as they are.
Any relationship is 50/50, I understand that. I also think at least part of the gap between us, stems from the fact that they were both adopted and I wasn’t. Not that my parents played favorites or anything like that. And this isn’t anything that the three of us really ever talked about but, I believe the fact that we don’t look like each other has played a significant role. I have a couple of friends who were also adopted but, I really don’t know all that much about the relationships they have with their siblings. But, maybe there’s a tighter bond when you share DNA. It goes back to that age old nature versus nurture question. We shared some similar experiences since we grew up in the same home but, I don’t think we probably viewed them the same way.
I wish things were different, and maybe some day they will be. I have friends who have what to me, looks like these great relationships with their siblings. One buddy has a little sister who goes to school in Boston. And they’re great friends; he gets completely stoked when he’s going to visit her. I have cousins in LA, who probably don’t see much of each other as much as they could or should. Yet, when I see them together, I see two guys who just know each other. They can needle each other and insult each other like brothers should. They also know each others tastes, my brother and sister would be shocked by 70% of the music on my IPod. So, I envy them and the brothers and sisters in this show. And that was one long friggin' post.
Anyway, the show is fine. This isn’t going to actually be a review. Watch it, don’t watch it. I don’t really care that much. It’s nothing ground breaking and it doesn’t seem to be a water cooler show. But, it did get me thinking. See, in the show there is a rather large family. And in this rather large family, there is something like three boys and three girls. But they aren’t kids, no they are my age. Shit, they are all in their 30’s and 40’s and I just said my age. I am now seriously depressed. Anyway, so we have this big family and it’s far from a perfect family. But, that’s what is supposed to make it a normal family. It’s a perfectly normal dysfunctional family.
And here is what stuck a chord with me. All these brothers and sisters seem to have these cool relationships. Not to where they are each others best friends or some cheese like that. But, they know each other. They know embarrassing stories, accomplishments, and everything in between. What’s so great about that? Nothing, it sounds perfectly normal to me. And that’s what sucks. It’s how it sounds to me, not the experience I have as the youngest of three. For the most part, I don’t really have a relationship with either my brother or sister.
My brother is a great guy, a loving father who is nuts about his two girls and a devoted husband. An amazingly creative guy too. There isn’t an instrument he can’t play and he seriously makes music that can rival anything you hear on the radio. If American Idol came out ten or fifteen years ago, I’m sure he could have won it. But we hardly know each other. And it isn’t that we’ve grown apart, it’s pretty much always been like that. There’s a pretty big age difference, and I think that’s played a large part in our relationship. We weren’t close enough in age to ever fight like some brothers do, and we were so far apart that he didn’t really have any reason to take me under his wing. And to be honest, he had some troubles when I was a kid, and probably wouldn’t have made a great role model. About a year ago he was in town, and he stayed with me, and it went really well. But neither one of us has called much. We simply don’t have all that much in common.
My sister and I, well that’s a whole different sob story. I’ve talked to her for seriously, maybe 15 seconds in the past year and only a handful of times in the past two years. She’s battled a substance abuse problem since Reagan was in office. Holy crap, that’s weird to actually say. I hadn’t ever thought of it like that, till just then when I wrote it. There were times we were pretty close but, it was always different. I’m five years younger but, have felt more like a big brother. As a baby, we shared a room and I guess I used to sing myself to sleep. And in doing so, managed to keep her awake, can’t sing now so I imagine I couldn’t sing then. I also did my share of pestering her and her friends, a talent I developed early and have mastered over the years. When I was seventeen, she and her two kids came to live with my parents and I, and she and I got kind of close for the first time. Or so I thought, now looking back it was probably more of a con job on her part. How’s that for a happy memory? This isn’t to bash my brother and sister, I’m as much to blame as they are.
Any relationship is 50/50, I understand that. I also think at least part of the gap between us, stems from the fact that they were both adopted and I wasn’t. Not that my parents played favorites or anything like that. And this isn’t anything that the three of us really ever talked about but, I believe the fact that we don’t look like each other has played a significant role. I have a couple of friends who were also adopted but, I really don’t know all that much about the relationships they have with their siblings. But, maybe there’s a tighter bond when you share DNA. It goes back to that age old nature versus nurture question. We shared some similar experiences since we grew up in the same home but, I don’t think we probably viewed them the same way.
I wish things were different, and maybe some day they will be. I have friends who have what to me, looks like these great relationships with their siblings. One buddy has a little sister who goes to school in Boston. And they’re great friends; he gets completely stoked when he’s going to visit her. I have cousins in LA, who probably don’t see much of each other as much as they could or should. Yet, when I see them together, I see two guys who just know each other. They can needle each other and insult each other like brothers should. They also know each others tastes, my brother and sister would be shocked by 70% of the music on my IPod. So, I envy them and the brothers and sisters in this show. And that was one long friggin' post.
September 22, 2006
Chuck, John and Hirp
So I haven’t written much of late. I can’t say that I’ve just been so busy that I haven’t had the time. It’s not as if I have kids or a wife, or even a demanding job. I’m not even entirely sure what’s caused the drop off. I think it may have to do with the changing weather. Been a little bit down lately, and again there’s nothing I can really put my finger on as the cause. Although poker the other night sure didn’t help me at all, and I am a little stressed about this trip to Vegas.
For starters, I haven’t saved as much as I wanted. Not that I need a grand or two to have a good time but, it’d be nice to be able to splurge a little without counting the pennies. But more then that, I think I’m worried about my history of a big build up to a disappointment. The trips or times you just can’t wait for but, they never quite live up to expectations.
Okay, I really don’t want some pity party post. Screw doing that. I don’t want to write that and you don’t want to read that. So let’s just move on shall we? I started the new Chuck Klosterman book this week. I’m not far into it but, there’s no let down factor here. It’s already a home run. He has an essay about U2, a group I’ve never really been a big fan of. Mainly because Bono always annoyed the hell out of me but, Klosterman made him tolerable. That’s a tall order in my book. Once I think someone is annoying, there’s usually no coming back from that. He also has an essay about some time he spent with Val Kilmer, another guy who I’ve never really liked much. And there, I ended up feeling I was still right to dislike him but he isn’t as bad as I thought. The highlight thus far has been an interview with Britney Spears. He’s full of insight into why she has absolutely zero insight and how that has made her relevant.
Recently I also picked up the new John Mayer album and I think it’s his best “album” so far. I say that because, I’ve always been a big fan of his but his releases were never as good as the live stuff you could download on limewire. The albums were always way over-produced, and tailored for radio play where as Mayer, is best heard live. I know some people who really dislike his music, that he’s too girlie for lack of a better word. That’s a fair assessment because; he simply isn’t the balls out rock and roller type. He does write about puppy love, crushes and all sorts of sappy stuff. But I always thought he did so in a pretty smart and sarcastic way. This time out, he’s gone a little more political with songs like “Believe,” which seemed to be inspired by Chris Rock’s rant in the movie Dogma about the power of belief. Overall the album has more of a bluesy feel to it rather than the pop feel of his previous albums.
Anyway, it’s Friday. This is very good. I might be going to see a comedian the Uptown Theatre tonight, Brian Reegan or something. Tomorrow I’ll be at a youth league football game and then Sunday should be the Plaza Art Fair. Did I mention only 19 days and 19 hours till Vegas?
For starters, I haven’t saved as much as I wanted. Not that I need a grand or two to have a good time but, it’d be nice to be able to splurge a little without counting the pennies. But more then that, I think I’m worried about my history of a big build up to a disappointment. The trips or times you just can’t wait for but, they never quite live up to expectations.
Okay, I really don’t want some pity party post. Screw doing that. I don’t want to write that and you don’t want to read that. So let’s just move on shall we? I started the new Chuck Klosterman book this week. I’m not far into it but, there’s no let down factor here. It’s already a home run. He has an essay about U2, a group I’ve never really been a big fan of. Mainly because Bono always annoyed the hell out of me but, Klosterman made him tolerable. That’s a tall order in my book. Once I think someone is annoying, there’s usually no coming back from that. He also has an essay about some time he spent with Val Kilmer, another guy who I’ve never really liked much. And there, I ended up feeling I was still right to dislike him but he isn’t as bad as I thought. The highlight thus far has been an interview with Britney Spears. He’s full of insight into why she has absolutely zero insight and how that has made her relevant.
Recently I also picked up the new John Mayer album and I think it’s his best “album” so far. I say that because, I’ve always been a big fan of his but his releases were never as good as the live stuff you could download on limewire. The albums were always way over-produced, and tailored for radio play where as Mayer, is best heard live. I know some people who really dislike his music, that he’s too girlie for lack of a better word. That’s a fair assessment because; he simply isn’t the balls out rock and roller type. He does write about puppy love, crushes and all sorts of sappy stuff. But I always thought he did so in a pretty smart and sarcastic way. This time out, he’s gone a little more political with songs like “Believe,” which seemed to be inspired by Chris Rock’s rant in the movie Dogma about the power of belief. Overall the album has more of a bluesy feel to it rather than the pop feel of his previous albums.
Anyway, it’s Friday. This is very good. I might be going to see a comedian the Uptown Theatre tonight, Brian Reegan or something. Tomorrow I’ll be at a youth league football game and then Sunday should be the Plaza Art Fair. Did I mention only 19 days and 19 hours till Vegas?
September 19, 2006
We Are Saved!
Last night probably felt like a normal Monday night to most. There was Monday Night Football, and the fall television series started. Throughout the country, Americans watched television as if it was business as usual. This channel has a new comedy. That channel has a new suspense thriller and another has some new primetime soap opera. Deal or no deal, it was the same old deal. Old favorites begin making their return, and the clock watching began for a few new shows.
Just like every other September. Only it wasn't. Last night marked the beginning of a new era. Or at least I hope so. See, last night Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip premiered. This isn't just another hyped up show with a cast of quality actors who found out they couldn't make it big in movies. No, this show is more. It's the show that can save television.
I was looking forward to this show from the time I heard that Aaron Sorkin had a new show coming out, through the time I read the impressive cast and continuing throughout the summer. Truth be told, I haven't been this excited for a new show since The Sopranos hit HBO in the late 90's. There have been a few shows I've become a huge fan of but, nothing I anticipated like this. Entourage has become one of my all-time favorites but, its fluff. It's entertaining and creative but it's as shallow as its characters.
Studio 60 is the smartest show since Sorkins' The West Wing, not that it was so long ago. The West Wing gave me hope that just maybe, maybe there were decent politicians. That there could actually be people in Washington that were smart flawed and still wanted to do the right thing most of the time. I know it's fiction but, that's the power of a well written show. Studio 60 has upped the ante. Unlike The West Wing, Studio 60 is part of the institution it reveals to us.
A show based on a show, and those involved in the show are sickened by the overwhelming amount of crap on television. Sorkin has based the show, at least some what on himself and his right hand man, director Thomas Schlamme. In the show, there's a writer and director team (played by Matthew Perry as the writer and Bradley Whitford as the director) who take on an SNL type show after the previous producer, Judd Hirsch, goes completely Network on the air.
So it's Perry and Whitford to the rescue, and as they save the show Sorkin and Schlamme fight to save the entire medium. Both duos are unafraid to ridicule their own network, as well as the viewers at home, whom between them produce and allow "reality" television. It's also shaping up to be a very personal show. Whitford's character has a bit of a history with drugs, as does Sorkin himself. And Matthew Perry's pill addiction which made tabloid headlines is now part of his character.
Television has been in a slump that rivals my romantic life. In the early 90s we were blessed with Seinfeld, and then cursed with shows that wanted to be Seinfeld. A show about nothing ended up changing everything. Then suddenly after the big wigs realized they could match neither the financial success of Seinfeld nor its creativity, we saw a shift to low budget and high profit reality crap.
The Resurrection is here. Who knew it would be TV that came back from the dead to save us?
Just like every other September. Only it wasn't. Last night marked the beginning of a new era. Or at least I hope so. See, last night Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip premiered. This isn't just another hyped up show with a cast of quality actors who found out they couldn't make it big in movies. No, this show is more. It's the show that can save television.
I was looking forward to this show from the time I heard that Aaron Sorkin had a new show coming out, through the time I read the impressive cast and continuing throughout the summer. Truth be told, I haven't been this excited for a new show since The Sopranos hit HBO in the late 90's. There have been a few shows I've become a huge fan of but, nothing I anticipated like this. Entourage has become one of my all-time favorites but, its fluff. It's entertaining and creative but it's as shallow as its characters.
Studio 60 is the smartest show since Sorkins' The West Wing, not that it was so long ago. The West Wing gave me hope that just maybe, maybe there were decent politicians. That there could actually be people in Washington that were smart flawed and still wanted to do the right thing most of the time. I know it's fiction but, that's the power of a well written show. Studio 60 has upped the ante. Unlike The West Wing, Studio 60 is part of the institution it reveals to us.
A show based on a show, and those involved in the show are sickened by the overwhelming amount of crap on television. Sorkin has based the show, at least some what on himself and his right hand man, director Thomas Schlamme. In the show, there's a writer and director team (played by Matthew Perry as the writer and Bradley Whitford as the director) who take on an SNL type show after the previous producer, Judd Hirsch, goes completely Network on the air.
So it's Perry and Whitford to the rescue, and as they save the show Sorkin and Schlamme fight to save the entire medium. Both duos are unafraid to ridicule their own network, as well as the viewers at home, whom between them produce and allow "reality" television. It's also shaping up to be a very personal show. Whitford's character has a bit of a history with drugs, as does Sorkin himself. And Matthew Perry's pill addiction which made tabloid headlines is now part of his character.
Television has been in a slump that rivals my romantic life. In the early 90s we were blessed with Seinfeld, and then cursed with shows that wanted to be Seinfeld. A show about nothing ended up changing everything. Then suddenly after the big wigs realized they could match neither the financial success of Seinfeld nor its creativity, we saw a shift to low budget and high profit reality crap.
The Resurrection is here. Who knew it would be TV that came back from the dead to save us?
September 18, 2006
Pretty IrrHIRPesponsible
I’m a fairly responsible kinda guy. I’ll be honest; sometimes I may not pay a bill on time. I tend to keep movies too long from Blockbuster, thankfully they stopped with the late fee’s. So it’s not as if I think of myself as a Saint of any kind but, I get to work on time and I never call in sick. And I’m pretty dependable as a friend, brother and uncle. When I go out with friends, I’m almost always the designated driver and always by choice.
This weekend however, I came real close to fouling (that’s some TBS editing there) up bad. I attended the wedding of a friend of mine, and I was having a surprisingly good time. That isn’t a slam on anyone it’s just I know myself, and being a formal setting where I know 5% of those in attendance isn’t really in my comfort zone. So, I had a couple or three beers and then started drinking some water because I wasn’t sure what was going on after and I had a bit of a drive home.
Then a buddy asks me to take him to his house which is like 5-7 minutes away to pick up something for the bride and groom, he’s in no shape to drive and I feel fine so I agree. We hit the road, not before I some how ended up getting the garter for which I promise I won’t be the next getting married. Anyway, we’re heading back to the reception and he’s directing me a different way from how I went earlier. It’s Lake Quivira and I don’t know the area at all, so I’m taking my buddies advice. Then we hit this weird turn, we come down Pflumn I think it was, and we want to turn left. There’s an island, with a lane on the left of it that leads to the road we’re turning on to. I didn’t realize, till it was too late, that there was a sign saying “do not enter” because some genius thought it was smart to put a sign on the left side of the road. Anyway, I’m already going when I see it and I don’t see any cars around, so I continue on.
Yadda yadda yadda, there’s a police car behind me as I enter the country club, and his lights are on. Fantastic! Now, I seriously do not feel drunk at all. But, as I said I had a couple or three. And I don’t weigh all that much, so I have no idea what my blood alcohol level is. Needless to say I was about to find out. Mr. Officer-Man asks me if I had any drinks and I said yes. So, now he has me out of the car doing a field sobriety test. This is phenomenal! Follow his finger, check. Walk nine steps, toe to heel and nine steps back. Then I get to stand on my left foot, while holding my right foot up about six inches off the ground while counting until told to stop. I counted to thirty; I dare you to try this while sober. Oh, did I mention we’re on a slight hill? This isn’t helping matters any.
He asks me to go stand in front of his cruiser, I’m nearly soiling myself now. Then he explains my rights as far as blowing into the breathalyzer go. Basically it’s like this, say no and go directly to jail. Say yes, maybe go to jail. I went with yes. My blood alcohol level ends up being (drum roll) .06. Did ya know .08 is legally drunk? Now I have never, not even once, driven if I even thought I might be buzzed. I’m the guy who won’t drink even a single beer if I’m driving. This is literally the first time I’ve ever had a few and gotten behind the wheel. I know guys who drive drunk more often then they drive sober, and they have never been pulled over.
The irony of it all is last weekend; a member of the wedding party was arrested for a DUI while the boys were gone for the bachelor party, and who do you think got the 2:30am call to come to the rescue?
This weekend however, I came real close to fouling (that’s some TBS editing there) up bad. I attended the wedding of a friend of mine, and I was having a surprisingly good time. That isn’t a slam on anyone it’s just I know myself, and being a formal setting where I know 5% of those in attendance isn’t really in my comfort zone. So, I had a couple or three beers and then started drinking some water because I wasn’t sure what was going on after and I had a bit of a drive home.
Then a buddy asks me to take him to his house which is like 5-7 minutes away to pick up something for the bride and groom, he’s in no shape to drive and I feel fine so I agree. We hit the road, not before I some how ended up getting the garter for which I promise I won’t be the next getting married. Anyway, we’re heading back to the reception and he’s directing me a different way from how I went earlier. It’s Lake Quivira and I don’t know the area at all, so I’m taking my buddies advice. Then we hit this weird turn, we come down Pflumn I think it was, and we want to turn left. There’s an island, with a lane on the left of it that leads to the road we’re turning on to. I didn’t realize, till it was too late, that there was a sign saying “do not enter” because some genius thought it was smart to put a sign on the left side of the road. Anyway, I’m already going when I see it and I don’t see any cars around, so I continue on.
Yadda yadda yadda, there’s a police car behind me as I enter the country club, and his lights are on. Fantastic! Now, I seriously do not feel drunk at all. But, as I said I had a couple or three. And I don’t weigh all that much, so I have no idea what my blood alcohol level is. Needless to say I was about to find out. Mr. Officer-Man asks me if I had any drinks and I said yes. So, now he has me out of the car doing a field sobriety test. This is phenomenal! Follow his finger, check. Walk nine steps, toe to heel and nine steps back. Then I get to stand on my left foot, while holding my right foot up about six inches off the ground while counting until told to stop. I counted to thirty; I dare you to try this while sober. Oh, did I mention we’re on a slight hill? This isn’t helping matters any.
He asks me to go stand in front of his cruiser, I’m nearly soiling myself now. Then he explains my rights as far as blowing into the breathalyzer go. Basically it’s like this, say no and go directly to jail. Say yes, maybe go to jail. I went with yes. My blood alcohol level ends up being (drum roll) .06. Did ya know .08 is legally drunk? Now I have never, not even once, driven if I even thought I might be buzzed. I’m the guy who won’t drink even a single beer if I’m driving. This is literally the first time I’ve ever had a few and gotten behind the wheel. I know guys who drive drunk more often then they drive sober, and they have never been pulled over.
The irony of it all is last weekend; a member of the wedding party was arrested for a DUI while the boys were gone for the bachelor party, and who do you think got the 2:30am call to come to the rescue?
September 15, 2006
Wedding Crashirping
This weekend I’m attending a friends wedding, and after talking to him last night the updated polls show that 88% of all married couples feel running off to Vegas to get married is the way to go. Okay, that isn’t really a poll I conducted but, I’m telling you that just about every couple I know has said as much. I didn’t actually do any math. Now the odds saying I probably won’t get married, it’s true they actually have this as something you can bet on in Vegas, and I’m not even sure I want to. And I know posting this will get at least one friend (porqchop) to start with the gay jokes but, that doesn’t scare me.
Every time I see a friend going through what appears to be the most fun experience on earth, that of planning a wedding, I always end up thinking about my own. Not the girly details, that stuff I really could care less about. Really, the one aspect I get hung up on is the whole groomsmen situation. Seems like an impossible chore to me, to pick a best man as well as picking the rest of the party. Who goes in what spot, why this guy over that guy, would so and so even want to be in are just a few of the questions I end up asking myself.
For the record, I know it's stupid to give any thought to any of this but, being smart isn't what I'm known for. If I were to get married, she'd be making all decisons for me from that day on, and well to get married I'd probably need to have a girlfriend first. And to get a girlfriend, I'd probably have to meet some single women or go the mail order route. I over analyze sometimes, it’s true. Now some seem pretty easy, like the one this weekend. All the guys are pretty much college buddies, and the brother of the groom. But my friends aren’t really friends with each other. It’s not as if there are lines drawn or anything, mostly they just don’t know each other. So, it wouldn’t really just be any kind of reunion with a lot of reminiscing going on. Most have met each other at one time or another but, I wouldn’t even suspect they could remember each others names.
I think with a group that knows each other well, it would be easier to assign who goes where. They probably already know if say you are closer with someone else or what have you. Then there are friends that I just assume wouldn’t really want to be in a wedding party, just not their cup of coffee.
See, that’s it. I know it’s a complete waste of time to even give a second thought to, let alone an entire post. But if you were interested in time management, you wouldn’t be reading a blog anyway. Well, time to go and start getting myself all worked up about how to handle whatever the hell they are serving at this shindig tomorrow.
Every time I see a friend going through what appears to be the most fun experience on earth, that of planning a wedding, I always end up thinking about my own. Not the girly details, that stuff I really could care less about. Really, the one aspect I get hung up on is the whole groomsmen situation. Seems like an impossible chore to me, to pick a best man as well as picking the rest of the party. Who goes in what spot, why this guy over that guy, would so and so even want to be in are just a few of the questions I end up asking myself.
For the record, I know it's stupid to give any thought to any of this but, being smart isn't what I'm known for. If I were to get married, she'd be making all decisons for me from that day on, and well to get married I'd probably need to have a girlfriend first. And to get a girlfriend, I'd probably have to meet some single women or go the mail order route. I over analyze sometimes, it’s true. Now some seem pretty easy, like the one this weekend. All the guys are pretty much college buddies, and the brother of the groom. But my friends aren’t really friends with each other. It’s not as if there are lines drawn or anything, mostly they just don’t know each other. So, it wouldn’t really just be any kind of reunion with a lot of reminiscing going on. Most have met each other at one time or another but, I wouldn’t even suspect they could remember each others names.
I think with a group that knows each other well, it would be easier to assign who goes where. They probably already know if say you are closer with someone else or what have you. Then there are friends that I just assume wouldn’t really want to be in a wedding party, just not their cup of coffee.
See, that’s it. I know it’s a complete waste of time to even give a second thought to, let alone an entire post. But if you were interested in time management, you wouldn’t be reading a blog anyway. Well, time to go and start getting myself all worked up about how to handle whatever the hell they are serving at this shindig tomorrow.
September 14, 2006
So last night I was watching the Dateline exclusive interview with Debbie LaFave, she’s the teacher from Florida who was arrested for sleeping with her 14 year old student. Well, sleeping with isn’t totally accurate because, legally she raped the boy. The case is drenched in controversy and I’ll get to my feelings on the case itself shortly but first I wanted to go over my reaction to the interview itself.
I feel pretty confident that I have a bullshit detector that is better then most. If this lady was pulling a fast one, she should run to Hollywood as soon as she is legally able, she’s that good if it was all an act. First, I really don’t see what she would have to gain by telling her side of the story. She can’t write a book about it or make any money, and she isn’t a celebrity doing damage control. Secondly, she didn’t give cop out answers. She even said she feels she should have gone to prison for what she did. She didn’t side step any questions, and to the credit of Matt Lauer, he didn’t shy away from asking tough questions.
I’m fairly certain she didn’t have any kind of handlers, maybe other then a lawyer but, no one with and kid of public relations back ground. There was a time or two that she actually said she felt victimized and at one point assaulted by this 14 year old and that some of his statements weren’t truthful. Now I don’t work in PR but, I’m pretty sure rule #1 in dealing with a rape case in which you admit your guilt includes don’t call the victim a liar and don’t play the victim. Not in the same interview in which you’re saying you should go to prison. And I believe her, this 14 year old was supposedly like six feet tall, wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was stronger then her. Not that it gets her off the hook, even if he did something inappropriate. She was the adult and should have been in control of the situation, a fact she also admits.
After her arrest, she was diagnosed as being bi-polar, and this is probably what kept her from going to prison. Which I think, could be a scary precedent. If I were a gambling man, and I said if, I’d bet most men guilty of statutory rape probably have some sort of mental illness. And as much as I believe she was a victim in some way, and her own rape that she survived had a direct link to her actions, she’s still responsible for her actions. As are all the men NBC likes to show us on their “To Catch A Predator” shows. Most of them were probably victimized as kids, and we watch that show and think they are these awful monsters.
Truth be told, they are monsters and as much as I want them locked up, I always end up feeling badly for these guys. They are sick, sick human beings who are unable to control their urges. They need SERIOUS help. But really, if Debbie LaVave was Derrick LaVave and Derrick were a good looking 23 year old male teacher who had what seemed to be a consensual affair with a 14 year old female student, we’d want him castrated and raped with his own detached penis. I know if it were a niece of mine, I’d want to hold the rusty dull knife and do the honors. Yet, with this case we have a beautiful female who committed the crime and every guy wishes he was the 14 year old. Without a doubt it’s another double standard between the sexes. And if it were a nephew of mine, I really don’t know how I’d react. I’d probably be upset that he was active at such a young age but, I doubt I’d feel the same rage.
Tell ya what though, I call BS on NBC. Last night they first aired an episode of “To Catch A Predator” and followed that up with the interview. They didn’t call it “Interview With A Predator” no, it was “Crossing The Line.” On one show, they basically entrap guys who are looking to do something very bad and then humiliate them before seeing them off to jail. The next show, they help apply make up, check the lighting and let the pretty girl read her poetry and show modeling pictures from when she was a teenager. They couldn’t reinforce this double standard any more even if they tried. But as Debbie said, “sex sells.” And NBC has to get their ratings.
I feel pretty confident that I have a bullshit detector that is better then most. If this lady was pulling a fast one, she should run to Hollywood as soon as she is legally able, she’s that good if it was all an act. First, I really don’t see what she would have to gain by telling her side of the story. She can’t write a book about it or make any money, and she isn’t a celebrity doing damage control. Secondly, she didn’t give cop out answers. She even said she feels she should have gone to prison for what she did. She didn’t side step any questions, and to the credit of Matt Lauer, he didn’t shy away from asking tough questions.
I’m fairly certain she didn’t have any kind of handlers, maybe other then a lawyer but, no one with and kid of public relations back ground. There was a time or two that she actually said she felt victimized and at one point assaulted by this 14 year old and that some of his statements weren’t truthful. Now I don’t work in PR but, I’m pretty sure rule #1 in dealing with a rape case in which you admit your guilt includes don’t call the victim a liar and don’t play the victim. Not in the same interview in which you’re saying you should go to prison. And I believe her, this 14 year old was supposedly like six feet tall, wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was stronger then her. Not that it gets her off the hook, even if he did something inappropriate. She was the adult and should have been in control of the situation, a fact she also admits.
After her arrest, she was diagnosed as being bi-polar, and this is probably what kept her from going to prison. Which I think, could be a scary precedent. If I were a gambling man, and I said if, I’d bet most men guilty of statutory rape probably have some sort of mental illness. And as much as I believe she was a victim in some way, and her own rape that she survived had a direct link to her actions, she’s still responsible for her actions. As are all the men NBC likes to show us on their “To Catch A Predator” shows. Most of them were probably victimized as kids, and we watch that show and think they are these awful monsters.
Truth be told, they are monsters and as much as I want them locked up, I always end up feeling badly for these guys. They are sick, sick human beings who are unable to control their urges. They need SERIOUS help. But really, if Debbie LaVave was Derrick LaVave and Derrick were a good looking 23 year old male teacher who had what seemed to be a consensual affair with a 14 year old female student, we’d want him castrated and raped with his own detached penis. I know if it were a niece of mine, I’d want to hold the rusty dull knife and do the honors. Yet, with this case we have a beautiful female who committed the crime and every guy wishes he was the 14 year old. Without a doubt it’s another double standard between the sexes. And if it were a nephew of mine, I really don’t know how I’d react. I’d probably be upset that he was active at such a young age but, I doubt I’d feel the same rage.
Tell ya what though, I call BS on NBC. Last night they first aired an episode of “To Catch A Predator” and followed that up with the interview. They didn’t call it “Interview With A Predator” no, it was “Crossing The Line.” On one show, they basically entrap guys who are looking to do something very bad and then humiliate them before seeing them off to jail. The next show, they help apply make up, check the lighting and let the pretty girl read her poetry and show modeling pictures from when she was a teenager. They couldn’t reinforce this double standard any more even if they tried. But as Debbie said, “sex sells.” And NBC has to get their ratings.
September 13, 2006
Today marks another sad anniversary. Nothing on the scale of 9/11 but in my world at least, it was a big deal. Ten years ago on this date Tupac Shakur passed away. Now how does a Jewish kid growing up in upper middle class Johnson County end up being such a big Tupac fan? It’s a fair question because; on the surface it just doesn’t seem to make any sense.
It’s fair to say that part of what drew me to his personality was his rebel without a pause attitude. It’s pretty typical for a 14 year old to want to challenge authority. But it was always more then that. On the surface, I was just another kid driving a free car to a Blue Valley school and living in a beautiful house in a safe neighborhood. On the inside, there was and still is a pretty angry kid. Not angry over the same things as Pac per say but, to me it was just as serious. And if Pac knew anything, he knew anger and pain. You don’t have to go through the same situations as someone to understand what they’re going through, or be able to express it.
Cobain didn’t do it for me. He was mad, he was hurting but his voice didn’t seem speak to me or for me. Pac was blunt. And he was complex. One song he’s talking about a young girl Brenda, who was raped and having a baby. Then he was talking tough and gangsta then soon after he was talking about his libido. The chaos of it all was identical to the chaos of 14 year olds hormones.
And most don’t realize the early Tupac wasn’t some super gangster rapper. He was more militant and compassionate. That’s when I became a fan. I heard his first single, “Trapped”, on MTV one day on Yo! MTV Raps after school. And right then I was hooked. What kid hasn’t felt trapped? Then I heard “Brenda’s Got A Baby” just weeks after my sister had her first child and was a single mother, and I ran out to buy his first CD. His next single was “If My Homiez Call” and it was three in a row I felt such a connection to. That was the beginning of Tupac. First there was song about hopelessness, then a song about a tragedy and then a song about loyalty. Fact is his first CD, didn’t have any “gangsta” songs or disrespect women, he was all about righting injustices and speaking up for those who couldn’t speak up for themselves.
Later on he found trouble with the law. And he said something funny, “I never had a record, till I made a record.” It’s true, the guy made some stupid choices. It seemed as if fame and fortune would be his downfall, much like two other “heroes” of mine, Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry. There’s a really interesting documentary VH1 has been airing of late, Tupac: Ressurection. Definitely something you should tivo and check out. One of the reoccurring themes of the people, celebrity or otherwise, has been people who have faults and leave it all out there for us to see. I have the up most respect for anyone who doesn’t just show off his good shiney side but, is just as honest about his or her faults. Someone who puts their good and their bad out on the table and just says this is me and what I’ve done. There are a lot of people out there who just want to put on this façade that puts them in a good light while they keep a lock on their closet, and they want to be admired or looked up to.
His music wasn’t for everyone, and he knew it. He acted, wrote poetry, and even a penned a screen play which is currently in pre-production. And there’s actually been more of his music released since his death. Lots of it was just put out there to make a buck and wasn’t his best work but, it’s still remarkable that he was able to produce so much in such a short period of time. I can’t help but wonder what he would be doing if he were alive today at 35.
It’s fair to say that part of what drew me to his personality was his rebel without a pause attitude. It’s pretty typical for a 14 year old to want to challenge authority. But it was always more then that. On the surface, I was just another kid driving a free car to a Blue Valley school and living in a beautiful house in a safe neighborhood. On the inside, there was and still is a pretty angry kid. Not angry over the same things as Pac per say but, to me it was just as serious. And if Pac knew anything, he knew anger and pain. You don’t have to go through the same situations as someone to understand what they’re going through, or be able to express it.
Cobain didn’t do it for me. He was mad, he was hurting but his voice didn’t seem speak to me or for me. Pac was blunt. And he was complex. One song he’s talking about a young girl Brenda, who was raped and having a baby. Then he was talking tough and gangsta then soon after he was talking about his libido. The chaos of it all was identical to the chaos of 14 year olds hormones.
And most don’t realize the early Tupac wasn’t some super gangster rapper. He was more militant and compassionate. That’s when I became a fan. I heard his first single, “Trapped”, on MTV one day on Yo! MTV Raps after school. And right then I was hooked. What kid hasn’t felt trapped? Then I heard “Brenda’s Got A Baby” just weeks after my sister had her first child and was a single mother, and I ran out to buy his first CD. His next single was “If My Homiez Call” and it was three in a row I felt such a connection to. That was the beginning of Tupac. First there was song about hopelessness, then a song about a tragedy and then a song about loyalty. Fact is his first CD, didn’t have any “gangsta” songs or disrespect women, he was all about righting injustices and speaking up for those who couldn’t speak up for themselves.
Later on he found trouble with the law. And he said something funny, “I never had a record, till I made a record.” It’s true, the guy made some stupid choices. It seemed as if fame and fortune would be his downfall, much like two other “heroes” of mine, Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry. There’s a really interesting documentary VH1 has been airing of late, Tupac: Ressurection. Definitely something you should tivo and check out. One of the reoccurring themes of the people, celebrity or otherwise, has been people who have faults and leave it all out there for us to see. I have the up most respect for anyone who doesn’t just show off his good shiney side but, is just as honest about his or her faults. Someone who puts their good and their bad out on the table and just says this is me and what I’ve done. There are a lot of people out there who just want to put on this façade that puts them in a good light while they keep a lock on their closet, and they want to be admired or looked up to.
His music wasn’t for everyone, and he knew it. He acted, wrote poetry, and even a penned a screen play which is currently in pre-production. And there’s actually been more of his music released since his death. Lots of it was just put out there to make a buck and wasn’t his best work but, it’s still remarkable that he was able to produce so much in such a short period of time. I can’t help but wonder what he would be doing if he were alive today at 35.
September 11, 2006
If you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you knew I’d post about September 11th today. I’ve never really given any post so much thought ahead of time. Going back weeks I started to mull over how I might write about it, which direction to take. I knew I didn’t want to use it to make a political statement, and that’s about all I knew. All weekend long I found myself watching shows about 9/11, actually I’ve been doing that for five years now. Finally, I decided, that as cliché as it might be that I would write about how that day went for me and how I found out.
There’s never been any other moment like it. It was a sucker punch that left us all in a daze till this day. It wasn’t the first moment like it, there was JFK before, D-Day and for my generation there was the Challenger tragedy. But this didn’t just happen to an unfortunate number of our population, although directly it did, it happened to everyone. And I think everyone who has told their story, started it with the same beginning about how it was just another normal day. I’m no different.
I was working at Lenscrafters at the time, and opening the lab alone. Normally opening the lab on a Tuesday would have been my buddy Andrew but, he was out of town for his sisters wedding. Now Andrew and I go back, all the way back to Long Island. Our families were friends, he and my brother were in a bad together, our parents shared gallons of coffee together and his sister baby sat me on a regular basis. She and I have the same birthday, and I even took my first steps at their house (that’s what I’m told, I actually don’t remember EVERYTHING). It was a wedding I had wanted to attend but, couldn’t afford the trip to New York.
Here is my recant of where I was the day the world stopped spinning. I always liked opening the lab alone, I could play whatever music I wanted and it was just kind of peaceful or something. That morning I was listening to some Dave Matthews Band, not at all a surprise to anyone who worked with me. And at about 8:15 central time, the General Manager Genia came in and told me she heard two planes had hit the World Trade Center.
“Two?” I asked. “There’s no way that’s an accident, one plane maybe but no way two.”
First thing I did was pick up the phone to call Andrew. See, not only did his father and sister work in Manhattan at the time but, his fiancé (yes, I said it) worked in the World Trade Center. No idea how but, I actually got through on the first try. He told me his dad and sister were okay but they were unable to get a hold of each other amiss the chaos. Also, they hadn’t yet heard from Matt. He couldn’t keep the phone tied up since he was relaying messages between his dad and sister, while also trying to get in touch with Matt.
Now the last place I want to be is at work. Not that I can do anything to help anyone if I was home but, it just didn’t feel right. How can I worry about making glasses in about an hour right now? I’m thinking they’ll shut down the mall and I’ll go see my parents. I’ll go watch a television to see what’s happening. Rumors were all over the place. I actually hard someone say that Oak Park Mall was a target. Which was the dumbest rumor ever in the history of dumb rumors. The only threat to Oak Park Mall was us idiots that worked there.
I got in touch with my friend Dana, who told me how weird the sky looked with all the planes circling the Kansas City sky waiting to land. I should be with my friends and family, not at work. But I was confident I’d be going home soon. You’ll never believe what happened. We didn’t close the store, or the mall. In fact we were some what busy. People were actually shopping that morning and afternoon. America is under attack, there’s thousands dead for sure and these idiots felt like going shopping. I’ll never understand that.
It couldn’t have just been retail therapy. Not when you go see the eye doctor and browse around over priced frames and sip some cappacuino. And I promise you don’t want an angry, worried Hirp making your glasses. I didn’t want to help anyone see, I felt more like jabbing a temple in every customers’ eye just for being so stupid. How could they not want to just take their kids home and hug them? How were they not calling all their friends and family to check up on them? No, these morons wanted glasses and in about an hour no less.
I finished out my shift and headed home to glue myself to the television. I had a roommate at the time, and we both just sat there in total disbelief. I don’t recall exactly when I found out that Matt was okay. But the wedding went on as scheduled that weekend. And a couple of years ago I was over visiting Andrew when his family was in town for a visit, and for the first time Matt talked about all that he saw that day. It was a lot of the same things I had heard countless times from strangers on TV. And it’s completely different to hear from someone personally.
As I watched yet another special last night I realized something; five years ago last night, 2,973 people had a Monday night just like any other Monday night.
September 08, 2006
TGIDD-Thank God Its Draft Day
I guess I got my swagger back. That’s a line I’m borrowing from Mr. Shawn Carter aka Jay-Z. I’m not sure why but, driving in to work today (much like Arsenio driving in from Cleveland) I could feel a good post forming. So, without further adu, shuffle up and deal!
It’s Red Friday here in Kansas City. For those of you around the country who don’t know what that means I’ll enlighten you. Red Friday is the Friday before the first Chiefs home game of the season. Everyone is encouraged to wear red and all their Chiefs gear. There’s drinking and a big pep rally where Chiefs fans gather, some how hoping this year will be different. As a sports fan, I actually respect the whole thing. For the record, I’m wearing all blue.
For starters, I’m not a Chiefs fan so if I wore red it’d be a lie. Secondly, I’m a Giants fan. They wear blue. I am also wearing a Mets tee shirt, it’s still baseball season for me. And without fail someone will see me in blue, and let me know I stand out like a sore thumb. They’re almost right, just got the wrong finger. Aside from those reasons for wearing blue, it’s a bit of a middle finger to KC from yours truly. No offense, really but, I will not conform to your ways Kansas City. I know I left New York and the entire East Coast at a young age. My loyalty wasn’t put in a box and lost in the move.
I’m also pumped because it’s draft night. Always a good time, no matter what kind of fantasy league you’re in. Through-out middle school and high school, I was in a fantasy football league with some friends from the neighborhood. And in the ultimate act of irony, I return to the same neighborhood tonight for my draft. Sadly that old league folded after a falling out over the money. Stupid kid stuff that I think all involved regret but, what’s done is done. And this league is all guys from the poker league, so it’s almost a fore gone conclusion that there will also be some poker tonight. And there’s a Met game on ESPN tonight, the Sport Gods are loving Hirp today. Well, pre-draft, pre-flop and pre-game they are. Fickle bunch the Sport Gods.
Right now I’m in second place in my fantasy baseball league, and the playoffs just began this week. I had a bye, and next week I should be going up against my old friend Bum. The winner of that will probably face our buddy Mike V in the Championship. What’s cool about this fact is, they are the only two guys in the league I know. Most of the guys are friends of Mikes from North Carolina; good guys from what I can tell but, going up against your friends makes any league that much better. Oh, and the trash talking that goes on, it just makes you happy you have testicles and can enjoy a league like this. Ladies, I suggest you go find the Sports Guy column on his fantasy-celeb-gossip-league suggestion. In the baseball league, aptly named the Balls-n-Sacs league, winner takes home $340 and second place claims $160. This will be determined a week before my trip to Vegas, so I have extra incentive to win.
Vegas, baby. Another Vegas update. As if I wasn’t excited enough about this trip, Bum has joined the trip and we’ve decided to go ahead and stay at New York New York. After mulling over 329 hotels and 8,154 different variables, we settled on the hotel we first talked about some months ago when we began talking about this trip. Needless to say, I am ecstatic about this turn of events.
It’s Red Friday here in Kansas City. For those of you around the country who don’t know what that means I’ll enlighten you. Red Friday is the Friday before the first Chiefs home game of the season. Everyone is encouraged to wear red and all their Chiefs gear. There’s drinking and a big pep rally where Chiefs fans gather, some how hoping this year will be different. As a sports fan, I actually respect the whole thing. For the record, I’m wearing all blue.
For starters, I’m not a Chiefs fan so if I wore red it’d be a lie. Secondly, I’m a Giants fan. They wear blue. I am also wearing a Mets tee shirt, it’s still baseball season for me. And without fail someone will see me in blue, and let me know I stand out like a sore thumb. They’re almost right, just got the wrong finger. Aside from those reasons for wearing blue, it’s a bit of a middle finger to KC from yours truly. No offense, really but, I will not conform to your ways Kansas City. I know I left New York and the entire East Coast at a young age. My loyalty wasn’t put in a box and lost in the move.
I’m also pumped because it’s draft night. Always a good time, no matter what kind of fantasy league you’re in. Through-out middle school and high school, I was in a fantasy football league with some friends from the neighborhood. And in the ultimate act of irony, I return to the same neighborhood tonight for my draft. Sadly that old league folded after a falling out over the money. Stupid kid stuff that I think all involved regret but, what’s done is done. And this league is all guys from the poker league, so it’s almost a fore gone conclusion that there will also be some poker tonight. And there’s a Met game on ESPN tonight, the Sport Gods are loving Hirp today. Well, pre-draft, pre-flop and pre-game they are. Fickle bunch the Sport Gods.
Right now I’m in second place in my fantasy baseball league, and the playoffs just began this week. I had a bye, and next week I should be going up against my old friend Bum. The winner of that will probably face our buddy Mike V in the Championship. What’s cool about this fact is, they are the only two guys in the league I know. Most of the guys are friends of Mikes from North Carolina; good guys from what I can tell but, going up against your friends makes any league that much better. Oh, and the trash talking that goes on, it just makes you happy you have testicles and can enjoy a league like this. Ladies, I suggest you go find the Sports Guy column on his fantasy-celeb-gossip-league suggestion. In the baseball league, aptly named the Balls-n-Sacs league, winner takes home $340 and second place claims $160. This will be determined a week before my trip to Vegas, so I have extra incentive to win.
Vegas, baby. Another Vegas update. As if I wasn’t excited enough about this trip, Bum has joined the trip and we’ve decided to go ahead and stay at New York New York. After mulling over 329 hotels and 8,154 different variables, we settled on the hotel we first talked about some months ago when we began talking about this trip. Needless to say, I am ecstatic about this turn of events.
September 07, 2006
Miami: CSHIT
I just haven’t had anything to say lately. I’ve been completely void of any opinions or observations and no one is more upset about this fact then myself. When it came time to start writing a new entry, I just about shot a blank. We’re talking serious performance anxiety here. I’m not sure if it’s the little side-blog-venture I have with a few other guys that’s causing a horrible case of writers block, or if I have simply run out of non-sense to talk about.
Want to know just how bad it is? I was channel surfing last night and came across CSI: Miami. An awful show that I’ve watched parts of maybe five times. And it was the only thing I could think of today when I wanted to write my post. Not even the show really, just the great David Caruso. That’s right, I said great. There can be no other explanation for anyone who is that bad at what they do. Really, this is what it has come to. A post about how bad Caruso is. So, buckle up cause here we go.
This guy, this friggin guy, has the same delivery no matter what he’s saying. He can be reading the phone book or alerting the next of kin. Maybe he’s ordering lunch or confessing his love for Sipowicz, it doesn’t matter. He’s consistent, I’ll give him that. No matter what, he’s going to remove his sunglasses, avoid eye contact at all costs and look off camera at what I can only imagine is the craft services table.
Now let me talk about his resume. This guy left NYPD Blue after two seasons so he could tackle movies. Quick math, NYPD went on to do 13 seasons and Caruso went on to do these gems: Jade, Kiss of Death and Body Count. To borrow a line from Get Shorty, “I’ve seen better film on teeth.” The year 2004 rolls around and he jumps on board to do another cop show, while NYPD is still on the air mind you. In the time he was gone Sipozicz had roughly 436 different partners. Including Zach Morris from Saved By The Bell and little Ricky Schroder. Read that sentence over again. It’s more believable to see Zach Morris play a cop then it would be to watch David Caruso play a struggling actor.
Michael Jordan walking away from the NBA to try baseball wasn’t nearly big of a career mis-step as Caruso leaving NYPD. The only bigger career gaffe I can see, is whoever actually green lighted Caruso’s’ involvement in CSI. The only thing I can see that could trump that would be Michael Jackson opening a line of day care centers and hiring John Mark Carr as his right hand man.
Want to know just how bad it is? I was channel surfing last night and came across CSI: Miami. An awful show that I’ve watched parts of maybe five times. And it was the only thing I could think of today when I wanted to write my post. Not even the show really, just the great David Caruso. That’s right, I said great. There can be no other explanation for anyone who is that bad at what they do. Really, this is what it has come to. A post about how bad Caruso is. So, buckle up cause here we go.
This guy, this friggin guy, has the same delivery no matter what he’s saying. He can be reading the phone book or alerting the next of kin. Maybe he’s ordering lunch or confessing his love for Sipowicz, it doesn’t matter. He’s consistent, I’ll give him that. No matter what, he’s going to remove his sunglasses, avoid eye contact at all costs and look off camera at what I can only imagine is the craft services table.
Now let me talk about his resume. This guy left NYPD Blue after two seasons so he could tackle movies. Quick math, NYPD went on to do 13 seasons and Caruso went on to do these gems: Jade, Kiss of Death and Body Count. To borrow a line from Get Shorty, “I’ve seen better film on teeth.” The year 2004 rolls around and he jumps on board to do another cop show, while NYPD is still on the air mind you. In the time he was gone Sipozicz had roughly 436 different partners. Including Zach Morris from Saved By The Bell and little Ricky Schroder. Read that sentence over again. It’s more believable to see Zach Morris play a cop then it would be to watch David Caruso play a struggling actor.
Michael Jordan walking away from the NBA to try baseball wasn’t nearly big of a career mis-step as Caruso leaving NYPD. The only bigger career gaffe I can see, is whoever actually green lighted Caruso’s’ involvement in CSI. The only thing I can see that could trump that would be Michael Jackson opening a line of day care centers and hiring John Mark Carr as his right hand man.
September 06, 2006
Not My Best Work
I just haven’t had much to say of late. Nothing has really happened that I felt like commenting on. I had no opinions on any news stories, I haven’t seen any movies and there are new poker stories worth telling. Okay, well I did play at Argosy for three hours the other night. And I was a winner. How much you ask? One dollar, that’s right. Exciting it isn’t but, anytime you leave the casino with as much money as you brought in you should be happy.
But last night I had a conversation with a friend, a conversation we’ve had a few thousand times in the past 10 years. And something I think I’ve mentioned here before. So forgive me if this is a case of de ja vu but, I don’t feel like going back and rereading the previous 180 posts right now.
The debate was on whether or not there was such thing as signs. See, she believes everyone’s in our lives for a reason. That everything happens for a greater reason. And I agree to a point. Everything, of course, has a reason. There’s a cause an effect around every aspect of life. I think the disagreement begins with what we’re calling “reason.” If I pick up some dice and throw them, and it comes up snake eyes, there’s a reason that happened. It has more to do with how I held them, how hard I threw them and what they may have bounced off of. But there is no great lesson or sign from the cosmos. It is completely random. She would try to tell me there’s a greater reason that I may not understand yet.
That’s just a bit silly. I can take whatever lesson I want from any situation, that doesn’t necessarily mean it happened to teach me what I took from it. That’s the choice I make. And that’s why everything in the world happens, choices. Sometimes its our own, sometimes things happen to us as a result of someone else’s choices. We can always learn something from any random situation. What we learn can and hopefully will impact our later choices. So, you can say that’s the “reason” things happen. I don’t believe that it’s part of some master plan, that every event in our lives was destined to happen.
If things like 9/11, Katrina, the Tsunami or American Idol happened for some greater reason then we should all be pretty pissed. But I guess it is 50/50 right?
But last night I had a conversation with a friend, a conversation we’ve had a few thousand times in the past 10 years. And something I think I’ve mentioned here before. So forgive me if this is a case of de ja vu but, I don’t feel like going back and rereading the previous 180 posts right now.
The debate was on whether or not there was such thing as signs. See, she believes everyone’s in our lives for a reason. That everything happens for a greater reason. And I agree to a point. Everything, of course, has a reason. There’s a cause an effect around every aspect of life. I think the disagreement begins with what we’re calling “reason.” If I pick up some dice and throw them, and it comes up snake eyes, there’s a reason that happened. It has more to do with how I held them, how hard I threw them and what they may have bounced off of. But there is no great lesson or sign from the cosmos. It is completely random. She would try to tell me there’s a greater reason that I may not understand yet.
That’s just a bit silly. I can take whatever lesson I want from any situation, that doesn’t necessarily mean it happened to teach me what I took from it. That’s the choice I make. And that’s why everything in the world happens, choices. Sometimes its our own, sometimes things happen to us as a result of someone else’s choices. We can always learn something from any random situation. What we learn can and hopefully will impact our later choices. So, you can say that’s the “reason” things happen. I don’t believe that it’s part of some master plan, that every event in our lives was destined to happen.
If things like 9/11, Katrina, the Tsunami or American Idol happened for some greater reason then we should all be pretty pissed. But I guess it is 50/50 right?
September 02, 2006
Aces, Poker This Time
There's one starting hand every poker player wants. Most have a hand they have some unexplainable affection for, usually stemming from a lucky hand they won once. But that's not smart poker. Only one hand are you hoping for every time you check your hole cards.
Last night I was playing in a 19 man tournament, and I was among the final three. To my left I had Mr. Aggressive, the guy went all-in pre-flop with a chip lead anytime he had a face card. To my right was the chip leader, I was in second, and he kind of just went with his gut feeling on some hands. He played a 2-3 suited against me when I raised. On this particular hand, I was the button. I look down and lift the corners on my two cards. I see one, then the other. Thank you poker gods. It's the dream hand. A-A. American Airlines. Bullets. Pocket aces. So I just call the big blind hoping that one of the other two will raise. I get my wish from Mr. Aggressive. He goes all-in for 55k. Our other player folds and I call immediately and flip over my Aces.
He flips over an Ace-Jack of hearts. Perfect! I have the hand owned right now. Only thing I kind of hoped he didn't have was a pocket pair of his own, then he only needs one card to hit to take the lead. With Ace-Jack, his ace is essentially dead in the water. If an ace hits, I have three of a kind. So, at the very least he needs two cards to get lucky. He could get two jacks, then his three jacks would have the lead. Leaving me with some outs still. Or he needs three running cards to either make a straight, or a flush.
The flop comes, and damn my luck, there's two hearts. I just went from about an 80% favorite to win the hand, to a little over 50%. I'm not liking this. The turn comes. Crap, it's a heart. He made his flush. Now, to make things interesting that card paired the board. Meaning, I still have a chance to win the hand. Just 10% or so but, a six or another ace would give me a full house. And a huge chip lead going heads up for $240. No such luck on the river, it's a complete blank.
The words of Teddy KGB come to mind right away, "Mr son-uv-a-beeech!"
On one hand, I can't really be mad. I played the hand correctly. There is no doubt about it. In poker, you want to get your money in when you have the best hand. You may not always want someone else in the hand but, that's the goal. It's just as Mike McD said in Rounders. But luck does come into play. For me, it was bad luck. For him, it was amazing luck. So on the other hand, I'm furious that I got so un-lucky. I got kicked square in the testies. They are still somewhere in my abdomen, I hope they drop back down soon.
Last night I was playing in a 19 man tournament, and I was among the final three. To my left I had Mr. Aggressive, the guy went all-in pre-flop with a chip lead anytime he had a face card. To my right was the chip leader, I was in second, and he kind of just went with his gut feeling on some hands. He played a 2-3 suited against me when I raised. On this particular hand, I was the button. I look down and lift the corners on my two cards. I see one, then the other. Thank you poker gods. It's the dream hand. A-A. American Airlines. Bullets. Pocket aces. So I just call the big blind hoping that one of the other two will raise. I get my wish from Mr. Aggressive. He goes all-in for 55k. Our other player folds and I call immediately and flip over my Aces.
He flips over an Ace-Jack of hearts. Perfect! I have the hand owned right now. Only thing I kind of hoped he didn't have was a pocket pair of his own, then he only needs one card to hit to take the lead. With Ace-Jack, his ace is essentially dead in the water. If an ace hits, I have three of a kind. So, at the very least he needs two cards to get lucky. He could get two jacks, then his three jacks would have the lead. Leaving me with some outs still. Or he needs three running cards to either make a straight, or a flush.
The flop comes, and damn my luck, there's two hearts. I just went from about an 80% favorite to win the hand, to a little over 50%. I'm not liking this. The turn comes. Crap, it's a heart. He made his flush. Now, to make things interesting that card paired the board. Meaning, I still have a chance to win the hand. Just 10% or so but, a six or another ace would give me a full house. And a huge chip lead going heads up for $240. No such luck on the river, it's a complete blank.
The words of Teddy KGB come to mind right away, "Mr son-uv-a-beeech!"
On one hand, I can't really be mad. I played the hand correctly. There is no doubt about it. In poker, you want to get your money in when you have the best hand. You may not always want someone else in the hand but, that's the goal. It's just as Mike McD said in Rounders. But luck does come into play. For me, it was bad luck. For him, it was amazing luck. So on the other hand, I'm furious that I got so un-lucky. I got kicked square in the testies. They are still somewhere in my abdomen, I hope they drop back down soon.
September 01, 2006
Upsetting News of the Day
I read this, and proceeded to throw up in my mouth:
Federline to Guest Star on 'Entourage'
Britney Spears' husband Kevin Federline has scored another acting role on a hit TV series and will guest star on Entourage. Federline has already shot a guest appearance on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation that will air in October. Now the aspiring rapper has scored another plum part and will appear in three episodes of Entourage -- playing himself.
Federline to Guest Star on 'Entourage'
Britney Spears' husband Kevin Federline has scored another acting role on a hit TV series and will guest star on Entourage. Federline has already shot a guest appearance on CSI: Crime Scene Investigation that will air in October. Now the aspiring rapper has scored another plum part and will appear in three episodes of Entourage -- playing himself.
Aces, and I'm Not Talkin Poker
That was fantastic. Last night I was watching the Mets-Rockies game on ESPN 2, my guys weren’t doing well so I did a little channel surfing during a commercial break. I don’t know, maybe I thought they would sense I was surfing and the idea of me finding something else to watch would inspire them to a win. Well, they didn’t get inspired. And I did find something. It wasn’t that I wanted to stop watching the game, not at all. But I didn’t have a choice. I hit the USA Network and there was excitement in Flushing that had nothing to do with the Mets or baseball.
Andre Agassi was at Center Court of the US Open, his swan song. His last tournament before walking, most likely hunched over, into the Vegas sunset. And the crowd was electric. I had missed most of the match, and he was tied with Marcos Baghadatis, the 8th ranked player in the world, at one game a piece in the 5th set. And I don’t think I’ve really watched any tennis since Jimmy Connors and his 1991 US Open run but, I wasn’t changing the channel. Growing up I watched quite a bit of tennis with my father, he was a big fan and so it was just on a lot. I became interested in the game, learned to play but never very well, and had a few guys I enjoyed watching. Together, he and I loved Jimmy Connors and his run in ’91 was some of the most captivating sports television I’ve ever seen.
Last night, minus some hair, acne and homework, I was 14 again. Here was this 36 year old with no hair, going up against some 21 year old who had long hair and a scruffy face that was eerily similar to the first Agassi-look. And the points, god the points were awesome. There were 27 strokes for this point followed by an ace, then later back-to-back double faults. Agassi some how finding a way to get to balls he had no business getting near with his bad back. Then the young guy begins to cramp up. Un-able to get any help because, he had already had someone work on a thigh strain earlier in the set this kid played amazing tennis on two bad legs. Agassi ran him side to side and Baghadatis could only smile and point to his heart after some how returning the ball. The kid’s got tons of heart.
Tied at four games apiece, and on deuce number eight it began to look more like Ali-Frazier then a gentlemen’s game. They had been playing for over three hours’ and the crowd was simply electric and going no where. Never mind it was midnight on a Thursday and just the second round, it felt more like a Championship match. From what I’ve heard commentators say, there’s been nothing watchable about men’s tennis for some time now. They said the game had some great players but, no great rivalries, too much technology and zero personality. And well, I had no interest so I haven’t watched in a good 10-12 years. But, it’s always fun to watch someone give their farewell performance.
And I always like Agassi. He had a swagger and a style. I never had Air Jordans but I did have a pair of Andre’s Nikes. I wore the spandex shorts under acid wash shorts. And it wasn’t that I liked tennis more then basketball but Andre was cool. And last night, the greatest sport fans in the world, helped inspire him to look like a younger version of himself mixed with a bit of Jimmy Connors. I hope he gets as far as Connors did, so I can be 14 for a few more nights. I might even grow some hair back.
Andre Agassi was at Center Court of the US Open, his swan song. His last tournament before walking, most likely hunched over, into the Vegas sunset. And the crowd was electric. I had missed most of the match, and he was tied with Marcos Baghadatis, the 8th ranked player in the world, at one game a piece in the 5th set. And I don’t think I’ve really watched any tennis since Jimmy Connors and his 1991 US Open run but, I wasn’t changing the channel. Growing up I watched quite a bit of tennis with my father, he was a big fan and so it was just on a lot. I became interested in the game, learned to play but never very well, and had a few guys I enjoyed watching. Together, he and I loved Jimmy Connors and his run in ’91 was some of the most captivating sports television I’ve ever seen.
Last night, minus some hair, acne and homework, I was 14 again. Here was this 36 year old with no hair, going up against some 21 year old who had long hair and a scruffy face that was eerily similar to the first Agassi-look. And the points, god the points were awesome. There were 27 strokes for this point followed by an ace, then later back-to-back double faults. Agassi some how finding a way to get to balls he had no business getting near with his bad back. Then the young guy begins to cramp up. Un-able to get any help because, he had already had someone work on a thigh strain earlier in the set this kid played amazing tennis on two bad legs. Agassi ran him side to side and Baghadatis could only smile and point to his heart after some how returning the ball. The kid’s got tons of heart.
Tied at four games apiece, and on deuce number eight it began to look more like Ali-Frazier then a gentlemen’s game. They had been playing for over three hours’ and the crowd was simply electric and going no where. Never mind it was midnight on a Thursday and just the second round, it felt more like a Championship match. From what I’ve heard commentators say, there’s been nothing watchable about men’s tennis for some time now. They said the game had some great players but, no great rivalries, too much technology and zero personality. And well, I had no interest so I haven’t watched in a good 10-12 years. But, it’s always fun to watch someone give their farewell performance.
And I always like Agassi. He had a swagger and a style. I never had Air Jordans but I did have a pair of Andre’s Nikes. I wore the spandex shorts under acid wash shorts. And it wasn’t that I liked tennis more then basketball but Andre was cool. And last night, the greatest sport fans in the world, helped inspire him to look like a younger version of himself mixed with a bit of Jimmy Connors. I hope he gets as far as Connors did, so I can be 14 for a few more nights. I might even grow some hair back.
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