Onward & Upward

Below is the last of my MySpace blog greatest hits and (mostly) misses. From here on out, everything will be new material. Maybe not fresh, and probably not regular.

Some things worth mentioning...in three or four years' time, I've mellowed a bit with regard to politics. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a junky, but I no longer hate Democrats, and I no longer call myself a Republican. I loath both parties equally, and I long for the day when free thinkers (kind of like the founding fathers) can get into power and right this sinking ship we're in. So to all my lefty friends, if you've read from the beginning, my apologies if I seemed harsh. At the time I was. My meds are on now...and I'm feeling much better!

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

It’s all over but the crying Current mood: bummed Category: News and Politics Well, I'll say this: The Democrats (and Obama) ran one HELLUVA campaign. I've been an observer of politics since I was knee high to a June Bug, and never have I seen such a well organized effort to take a political office. Conversely, the GOP did everything it could to lose this race, and did so in fine fashion. Hats off to you my friends. In 2000 you pushed McCain out of the way because he was too much of the "maverick" (honestly...he looks nothing like Tom Cruise. Tom Skerritt, maybe...but I digress) and pushed "The Shrub" (George W.) into office because he was more aligned with the evangelical, and fundamental religious right (The Moral Majority which is neither, actually, Jerry Fallwell, et al) that preferred to base legislation and governance on the bible and not the Constitution. Then in 2008, when McCain (the maverick) started winning primaries, and it all but appeared that he'd be the party nominee, the GOP brass decided that they had to mold him to fit the far-right and religious right form. What they really succeeded in doing was turning the maverick into the "angry white dude" that turned off so many. Sadly, there are a ton of un- (or under-) educated folks that vote based on soundbytes and images. That's a poor commentary on our nation as a whole, but it's also not the point of this posting. The point is this: REPLUBLICANISM is DEAD! Fin. Kaput. Auf wiedersehen. So long, farewell, goodbye! The only reason McCain got as many votes as he did (46-48% depending on which source you trust) is because there were a HUGE number of people like me who voted not so much for McCain as we voted against Obama. I didn't rally under my GOP flag. Fuck that and fuck their little club. The GOP hasn't represented me and my views since I was in high school and learned to think for myself, and question everything. I'm NOT a Republican, and don't you dare label me as one!!! The only thing the GOP had to keep me on their side was the fact that I had even less in common with the Democratic party. That's it, really. Pretty sad. Now that Republicanism as we know it is dead, perhaps the Conservatives (like me) can take the party back, and inject a little bit of fresh air into it. Change (like the Obama rally cry) is not always bad, and this is coming from an OCD person that abhors change. The right kind of change is a fantastic thing, and since we live in a dynamic world, we need a dynamic party that is willing to adapt to stay alive. Ronald Regan was a great man, and perhaps one of the greatest presidents this nation has ever had. A throwback to some Regan conservatism would not be such a bad idea...as long as it is mingled (and not just casually so) with some adaptability, and flung far, far away for morality-based legislation. To the GOP: So the 8 year experiment went horribly awry. Acknowledge, re-group, and move on. Show me and the rest of the conservative "sinners" how the GOP can become the party of "change" (since everyone likes that word so much). Study the mechanics of the Obama campaign, and learn from them. Compare and contrast their campaign with your own, and learn why theirs was so effective in galvanizing support, and your own was so effective is creating dissent from within. Most importantly, stop thumping your bibles long enough to pick up a magazine and read an article with some *gasp* SCIENCE in it! Embrace the academic and scientific world, and learn to look past your own noses. I understand that a very large portion of the population holds religion (and religious dogma), theology, and morality in such high regard that they become intertwined with politics, but that has to be stopped, or at least tempered to keep people like me from just giving up. KEEP YOUR RELIGION OUT OF MY LIFE! Yes, I know this country was founded on (among other things) religious freedom, but that means I'm just as free to NOT worship your god/cow/great pickle in the sky as you are to do so. My only hope (there's another buzzword...) is that the propaganda about Obama is only partially true. Even if he's a flaming pinko-commie-Marxist there's only so much he can do without the support of congress (the opposite of "progress"...) and the American people. If he goes too deep into the Socialist territory, he'll be gone soon enough. The people of this nation won't stand for it, I believe. Time will tell. Ahh well...it was the outcome I predicted, and perhaps it's the outcome we needed. When the dust settles, we'll still be fighting a global war on terror, the economy will still be in the shitter, foreign policy will still take years to repair, and meanwhile we still fester in our own stupidity here at home. It's gonna take a long time to get out of this handbasket, and I'm not so sure that Obama or the GOP-created FrankenMcCain can do much about it. See yall in 4 years...MAN I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!

Herr'cane Names

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Hurricane Names Current mood: argumentative Here's a brain fart I've been sitting on for a while now. You know what they say about holding farts in, right? You shouldn't do it because then they travel up your spine, into your brain, and that's where shitty ideas come from. That was a joke, people. Shitty ideas come from Congress, not holding farts in. Anyway, now that Hurr'cane Season '08 is (almost) completely behind us, I feel it's safe to speak out on something that's bothered me since...2005, and that's the assignment of human names to potentially deadly weather events. Quite simply, I don't think it should be done, and because this is my blog, I'm going to tell you why, and yes I will show my work. For background info, see the following Wikipedia article that explains the naming of North Atlantic Storms Wiki - Storm Names info. It'll help. So where was I? Oh yeah. Here we go: 1. We don't name any other weather event. Think about it...have you ever heard of a Tornado being referred to by a name? How about Nor' Easters? Tsunamis? Nope. All are capable of causing great destruction and loss of life and property, but none are ever given human names. Why should hurricanes be any different? 2. Giving human names to something that is potentially linked to death and destruction isn't really fair to folks walking among us with the same (or similar) name. Case in point: Katrina. I've known a young lady named Katrina for about a dozen years now, since she was a bratty high school kid with braces. She has since grown into a wonderful young lady, and I don't really think she has a hateful bone in her body. Yet after the events of 2005 her name is now indelibly (and unwittingly) linked to the deaths of over 2000 people, human suffering of epic proportions, and property losses in the hundreds of billions of dollars. After the storm hit she said "Two weeks ago people couldn't even spell my name, and now everyone says 'Oh...like the hurricane.'". She now goes by "Kate". At least they retired the name "Katrina" so she'll never have to face this again, right? Wrong. You see, next year (2009) you'll note that "Kate" is the designated "K" letter. She just can't win. Also, I have a neighbor named Gustav. I didn't know that until my wife made me attend our block's version of "Night Out Against Crime" (which is another rant for another day). He seemed like a nice enough guy. Family man, keeps his house up, doesn't junk up the neighborhood. Well luckily this year Hurricane Gustav was more of a nuisance than anything else to us here in LA, but still, he's now linked in the minds of many to long evacuation trips, expensive hotel stays, crappy shelter conditions, etc. 3. People don't take seriously something so deadly when it's named after the guy that bags your groceries. I'm sorry, but as much of a weather geek as I am, I don't feel any sense of danger from "Hurricane Gabrielle". Sounds like a damn Disney princess. If they want folks to pay attention, and to get that sense of impending danger to they'll take personal responsibility for once and not depend of the guv'mit to drag their sorry asses out of harms way...sorry, I went on a tangent there. Anyway, if they must use names for these storms, why not use something like "Slagador" or "Death Cloud From Hell" or "yo ass is gonna drown if'n you don't get in that '89 Cutlass with the snap-on spinner hub caps you get at the Wal Marts because yo broke ass can't afford real 24" Dubs and git the fuuuuck outta town!". I can tell you this...if the Weather Gnome (Bob Breck) gets on the teevee and starts yelling about "Hurricane Pit Bull", I'm going to take notice. (NB-There is absolutely nothing wrong with or bad about Pit Bulls. I was merely going for the connotative connection, not implying in any way, shape, or form that pit bulls are any more or less dangerous than other dog breeds) So there's 3 reasons. I can provide more, but it's lunch time. In the meantime, be sure to check out the band No Fuego and their awesome song "KKKatrina". No Fuego is one of the (very) few bands I ALWAYS enjoyed working with, and they're even opening up for the Dropkick Murphy's at the HoB in November. "KKKatrina" is probably my favorite song about that damn storm, followed closely by "We've Got Each Other" by The Imagination Movers. Shut up. I like 'em, the boy likes 'em, they're local guys, and it ain't fucking Barney or Elmo. *shudder*

Calm before the storm

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Calm before the storm... Current mood: exhausted ...sort of. I guess you could call us calm. We're too fucking tired to be anything else. It's about 10 minutes to 4pm on Sunday. We've been up for the better part of 2 days prepping for Gustav. The house is as secure as we can make it. Gas is turned off, and everything is unplugged. We started this morning at 2am after about 90 minutes of sleep. Fitfull sleep. Too nervous to sleep, really. We were supposed to leave at 3am, but we ran into a few technical difficulties, and I had to check the locks 3 times, even though I knew I locked them the first time. OCD is a bitch. So anyway, 3:23am was the official departure time. Under normal circumstances it is exactly 180 miles from my front door to the hotel parking lot in Jackson, MS. 3 hours with light traffic. When we evac'd for Katrina, it was a 3.5 hour trip, and that included stopping to feed the 5 month old baby. Not bad considering. the key was we left at 4am, and Contraflow had been implemented for hours at that point. This time, Contraflow didn't start until 4am, and we were to be one of the first to try it out. Bad timing. Overall it took us 6 hours plus or minus a few minutes (we're still kinda fuzzy on what day it is) which still isn't that bad considering some folks have been on the highway for 12 hours or more. Their problem is they are trying to use the major highways to get wherever they are going. I learned a long time ago that you need to have a Louisiana Atlas in your vehicle (or a really cool NAV unit). Fuck traffic. I'll drive 100 miles extra to get where I'm going as opposed to taking a clogged highway to get to point b. The people in the New Orleans area are just married to I-10. We used secondary roads whenever possible, and didn't have many slowdowns. I-55N turned into bumper to bumper for about an hour right before contraflow started, and at that point we covered 5 miles in 1 hour. Again after the end of contraflow, we did another 5 miles in 1 hour, but the remaining 4 hours (including potty breaks) were at times wide open. According to the Tundra, we averaged a speed of 27.9 mph, and I averaged 16.4 mpg on half a tank. Pretty damn impressive for a 6000+ truck loaded down with everything I could fit in it including a big-ass dog and 20 gallons of extra fuel (fuck running out of gas. Be prepared, people. It's the motto of the Boy Scouts). All in all, it's not bad considering all that we've had to battle against just to get here. I've been battling the flu since friday, and functioning in the heat on an empty stomach can get rough. I took more naps than Sean did. I had to. The fever had me on my ass. The hotel where we're staying is the same one we've evac'd to for Ivan in '04 and Katrina in '05. It was kinda dumpy in '04, very dumpy in '05, and an absolute dump in '08. BUT...it's got a bed, relatively cold AC, and a toilet that flushes. The rest are all details. The cats are finally coming out from under the bed. Mac (dog) finally took a shit. Everyone has pooped, so I can rest now. Not really. I can't nap. I'm past the point of short sleep being beneficial, so I need to just stick it out until bed time. The mets are cautiously downgrading Gus...so there may be a light at the end of this tunnel. However, Gustav hasn't been very predictable since Haiti, though, so I won't believe anything until the sonofabitch makes landfall, and I get word that my house is dry. Fingers crossed...

Juggling sucks

Friday, October 05, 2007

From the hills to the hell... Category: Life Since we last shared time, deAr reader, I have managed to make it home on quite possibly the 3rd or 4th worst flight I have ever been on. And I've been on a bunch. Just in case you were wondering, I still hate flying. Never mind the 30 minutes to check in, and the extra hour in line for the security checkpoint. (Note to self...12g stainless steel barbells in one's ear set off the metal detectors) Made it home in one piece, though, on a Friday evening. Since I couldn't get in touch with my ride to let her know I was early, I got to sit around Louis Armstrong International Airport for almost an hour. Sidebar~No one in NOLA calls it Louis Armstrong International Airport. Most of us call it "the airport" and if you're old enough "Moisant Field". And the "International" part is a misnomer because I seriously doubt you could catch a flight going anywhere decent out of that shithole airport. Unless you count anywhere else...since NOLA may as well be our own country, one could argue that every flight is international. End sidebar~ But anyway, the place is a dump. I think the last time they slapped a coat of paint on the place was when Nixon was in office. I swear I saw the set from Laugh In down by the luggage carousel. Saturday was the LSU v Tulane game in the 'Dome, and I got to spend quality time with some important folks in my life. Good times. LSU's offensive line was, at times, offensive, but they showed up in the second half. Sunday...what a day. The day before test day. T-minus 24 hours. At some point in the day I told Sean to stop jumping on the couch because he was gonna fall and I was NOT going to the hospital today. So what did Captain Dumbass do? I cut my hand wide open with a VERY sharp knife while cutting an apple. How do I know it was very sharp? Because I sharpened it earlier that day. I was cutting a plum for Sean and it was a bit dull, so I sharpened it. It's not rocket surgery, folks. 3 stitches and half a pint of blood lost later, I have this: and this: and one final shot of the lovely couple: Sorry I didn't get any gore shots, but I was busy cursing and hollering for Colette to stop worrying about how she looked and get me to the fucking hospital. And one final note for all you kids out there...keep your knives sharp. The difference between 3 stitches in a straight line and 10 in a jagged line is a sharp blade. And stay away from the Henkels 5 star knives. Yeah, they're good (and expensive) but the 4 star series has a better grip. Wustoff has good knives too.

Geez...where ya been?

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Geez...where ya been? Current mood: tired Category: Travel and Places Yes, I know. I haven't posted a blog in like 7 months, and here I go with this drivel. hEY...IT'S MY BLOG. Crap. CAPS LOCK got stuck again. So today began my week-long journey to the east coast to prepare for my exam next monday. What exam? The Customs Broker's Examination I've been studying my ass off for over the last 3 or so months. 3 months of nights and weekends with my nose buried in roughly 35-3600 pages of federal regulations wasn't enough. I have to sign up for a week of intense review. 1200 miles from home. By myself. At least it's on the company dime. So I get on the plane this afternoon, flight 1854 to Charlotte, and the first thing I realize (aside from the fact that the plane is full) is that the plane is full. Of people wearing South Carolina garb. And here's my happy little ass wearing an LSU cap, LSU shirt, and my LSU Crocs because my boots are still wet from the LSU game yesterday...against South Carolina. I'm surrounded by Steve Spurrier look-alikes (folks, the visor fad is over. Please read your memos), in a pressurized metal Tylenol with wings, and who is the only LSU fan on the plane? Yeah. They let me have it. Most were cool about it though, and surprisingly enough, everyone was talking about how good of a time they had, and how great Tiger fans were, etc. Good show, LSU fans! Even more surprising was that so many of the SC folks mentioned how they really didn't LIKE Spurrier...but they wanted wins. Whatever...he's a whore just like Saban. But this isn't a football blog... Anyway, the pilot comes on the intercom, and he's got a Southern drawl. Somehow I always feel better when the pilot has a twang in his voice. Dunno why. But he does, and I relax. For those that don't know, I don't like flying. If man were intended to fly, he would have been born with wings. I'm not afraid to fly...I just don't like it. But it beats driving a full day each way. Take off, land, nothing special. Southern boy comes over the intercom..."Welcome to Charlotte, North Carolina, local time is ... and current temp is 93 degrees with a humidity around 80-85%". Wait. What? I chose this destination in the mountains to get away from oppressive heat and humidity, not make my eardrums pop for an hour and forty-five minutes to get more of the same! Oh well... Get into the hotel room, unpack, and go on a beer hunt. There's a Kwik-E-Mart down the hill (they have hills here...it's the derndest thing) that sells beer on sundays (yay!) and half a dozen restaurants/food joints, including where I ate dinner tonite, Chili's (boo!). At least I got a Guinness. Granted, at $6 a beer, I shoulda skipped the food and gotten a drink at the gentlemen's club next door. The sights would have been a lot better than the Sunday night waitress crew at Chili's. One would hope anyway. Too bad I don't like strip clubs... Back to my room, and time for nite-nite. I'm tired, and I have a long day tomorrow. Gotta get used to this hour time change. It's fucking up my program. I miss my son. And my wife, but mostly my son. And the dog. Tomorrow will be easier...I'm sure.

60 Second album review-Cry Mortal

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

60 second album review-CRY MORTAL Current mood: working Category: Music Yeah, right. Like I can do ANYTHING that quickly. OK, well there is that ONE thing, but my wife assures me that it happens to all guys. All joking aside, I felt like banging the drum for a local band. Cry Mortal's "think" is my new all-time favorite album of the week. For those of you who may or may not know, I occasionally dust my mixing fingers off for bands I like, or at least ones that are willing to pay me lotsa money. Cry Mortal is one of the former. I have regretfully only mixed these guys one time, but I was hooked from that point on. What got me initially was the slightly offbeat email demeanor of Will Jaeger, the band's drummer. He has a rather dry wit about him, and just like my martinis, I appreciate my humor dry, thank you very much. Once that first gig at The Bar was over after an extended late-night set, there was no turning back. I flat out DIG these guys' music. Live, they are a thrill to watch and listen to, so I was quite happy when I found out they were almost finished producing their full length release "think". That was way back in mid-summer of 2006. I got my copy of the disc last Friday, in early February. Worth the wait, lemme tell ya. The album is a VERY adequate reproduction of the live experience, minus a lot of sweat and some technical issues that seem to plague Kenny Phillips' bass rig quite often. And beer, but you can certainly crack open a cold one and listen to this disc. The album is one of the most consistent I have listened to in a very long time. The songs stand out from each other as individuals, but all have a very common something that makes them similar. For instance, the guitar tone rarely changes from start to finish. This is not a problem or even an annoyance to me, though, as the songs can change gears with lightning-fast speed, so it's nice to have that common thread holding everything together. That's sort of a hallmark of Progressive Rock, of which I am a big fan, and is one reason I consider Cry Mortal to be among the leaders of the "Neo-Prog" wave I'm trying to foster. I may have just invented yet another sub-genre of music… Carroll Trull's vocal stylings are at times acute, but are always melodic enough to stay in check with the overall song. It's quite obvious that he's got a great voice, and knows how to use it judiciously. For you metal-head purists out there, the screams are there, but you've got to listen for them. It's refreshing to not hear Cookie Monster deep throat the mic for 65 minutes. Lyrics are spouted in a sometimes staccato fashion, and other times they just roll off Carroll's tongue, but they are never forced. The backups from Kenny and Will add a tremendous depth to the vocals overall. As a trio, it's always a chore to fill out a sound the same way a 4 or 5 piece group can. This is where Kenny's bass lines fill the bill. In fact, my biggest complaint about the whole album is that I can't hear the bass lines clearly enough. However, I haven't evaluated this disc on anything more than my truck stereo, and my PC at work, and I'm admittedly biased towards bass, as it is the instrument I play the most. Kenny's tones are at times warm and mellow, and then growling as the song changes demand, and his fretwork is phenomenal as evidenced on track 9, "This Foot Did Slip". Never, though, is it pretentious or over-the-top. Carroll's guitar is front-and-center throughout the whole album. As with the bass, though, it's never too flashy, or show-offey (yes, I know that isn't a real word). The whole band is extremely talented, and the songs are, in typical progressive fashion, very technical. I wouldn't say there as detailed as Emerson Lake & Palmer, Dream Theater, or Rush, but the songs can certainly hold their own here. Having seen these guys live, and witnessed the tendons and muscles in Carroll's & Kenny's arms tighten up by mid-set, I can certainly say as a musician that these are by no means three chord chumps. These guys are tighter than a virgin on prom night, which directly lends itself to their full sound. Will knows when to play a killer fill, and when to hold back to just keep the rhythm alive with Kenny. With all the hairpin turns in the songs, he goes from death metal-esque hi-hat/snare gallops to a swing beat effortlessly, and never misses on any of the odd (as in not-so-common) time signatures that predominate the sonic landscape of this album. I have noticed that the band mentions "The Dark Tower" from time to time on their website and MySpace. I don't read Stephen King so I'm not sure what it's all about, or if it even relates to the lyrics in any way. Apologies in advance to whomever wrote the lyrics, as I really didn't pay any attention to them. One day I'll sit down to analyze and critique them, but that's another blog for another year. All in all, this is an excellent CD. The recording is high quality, which is a breath of fresh air after getting all the "homebrew" demos that I sort through on a regular basis. With technology advancing the way it has, everyone can record a good sounding disc for very little money, but there's something to be said for a professional helping the process. Sonically, this is about as good as you're gonna get without spending Metallica money and 9 months and three therapists in a studio. Whatever Cry Mortal spent on production and pressing of this album was worth it. So long story short, check out NOLA's own Cry Mortal. Tell 'em I sent ya. Feb 23rd they'll be at the House of Blues Parish Room along with another favorite local band of mine, Runoft (who take technicality to a new level themselves), and a band I haven't seen in over 2 years, People on the Side. If you look very hard, you just may even find me in the crowd.

MISSING: One brain, slightly used

Monday, November 13, 2006

MISSING: One brain, slightly used Current mood: sad Yeah, I'm an idiot. I admit it. I did something stupid. Here goes... We went to the LSU/Alabama game on Saturday. Got up there a little later than I wanted, but still found a parking spot right where we set up. The weather was PERFECT football weather...cold and windy. Some other tailgaters that we hung with a few years ago were there again after a year's absence, and we joined forces. I had the TV and they had the vennison sauce picante. Made with back straps, not the roasts. Damn good. It melted in your mouth. Oh, and boudin balls too. Can't forget those. Afterwards, wen traffic died down enough, we headed off campus. Flat tire. I made it 10 feet and the "oh shit" alarm goes off in my head. No big deal...I've changed more tires in my life than I can count. I was just REALLY looking forward to getting on the road. Tired, mostly sober, and tired. This was an unacceptable delay. While I'm fighting the damn "security" lugnut that is supposed to keep people from stealing your tires (when in reality, anyone with $7 can go to Auto Zone and buy the damn thing) I had to take off my wedding ring. I didn't want to damage it. I do that when I'm working with my hands. Always. I love that ring and I don't want to mess it up in any way. Whenever it comes off my finger, it always gets snapped on my keychain. HOWEVER...we were in Colette's car, and I didn't have my keys. No keys, no keychain to snap it onto. Because I was working fast trying to get out of the cold, I slipped it off, and set it on the hood. I'm a dumbass, I know. I didn't realize until we were at the Spillway that I forgot to retrieve the ring from the hood of the car. By now it's past midnight, and I'm almost home. Too late to turn around. I tell Colette and curse for about 10 minutes. My brain is going apeshit at this point. Saturday night (which was actually Sunday morning) I didin't sleep well. I kept re-playing the whole scene over again in my head. I kept telling myself how stupid I was for doing something like that. As soon as I saw daybreak, I got up and started trying to figure out if it was worth the tank of gas to go back up there and hunt for the needle in the haystack. It's Sunday, and my only day to get things done around the house. I was doubtfull that it would still be there, but it was gnawing at my gut. My wife finally made the decision for me. We scoop the boy from my mother's house and head BACK to Baton Rouge for the almost certainly futile task of searching for my ring. Somewhere arround the Sorrento exit I realize that this will be my son's first trip (ex-utero, anyway) to LSU. This is not how it was supposed to be. His first trip to LSU was supposed to be in his little football player outfit with tailgating, and food, and music, and football, and watching the band walk down the hill, and sliding down the Indian Mounds on a piece of cardboard box, and seeing Mike the Tiger, and LSU beating a quality SEC opponent on Saturday night in Death Valley! That's how I had it planned in my head since the day I found out Colette was pregnant. Yeah, not so much. His first trip was on a Sunday afternoon when the campus was still recovering from the game last night. Instead of playing catch with the little stuffed football, he sat in my arms while I kicked up leaves. Instead of watching the early games on TV, he watched daddy and mommy walk up and down the street avoiding oncoming cars. At least he didn't know any better. After 90 minutes of this, my already slim hopes have gone completely flat. I'd love to tell you that this is the part where I saw a glimmer in the sunlight way off in the distance and that was my ring. I'd also love to hear my wife say, "Hey, she's pretty. Let's have a threesome!". But neither of those things happened. Here's the kicker. Colette keeps telling me to stop beating myself up over it. That it was an honest mistake. I don't make mistakes like that though. I take care of my stuff. I work hard for what I've got, and I make sure to protect it so it'll last forever. And even worse, I know for a fact that if the situation were reversed, I would be madder than a dog shitting tacks. I spent my Christmas bonus on her ring, and bought a diamond that I thought was the best I could afford. More than I could afford, actually. Not the biggest one out there, but certainly a high quality rock, nonetheless. Had she lost her ring, I would look down at her and tell her how dissappointed I was in her. I'd hold it against her and tell her how irresponsible she was. But she won't do that to me. She won't get mad at me, and tell me how I made a bonehead mistake. Her exact words are "What will that solve?". Aside form the fact that she's right, it would make me feel a little bit better about the whole situation. Long story short (too late) my wife is a better person than I am, and I am damn lucky to have her. So if anyone is on the LSU campus around the Geoscience complex, and you run across a white gold ring with Celtic knots inscribed on it, please pick it up, and get in touch with me. It's worth more than what was paid for it 2 years ago. More than anyone can imagine.

BACON!!!

Friday, October 13, 2006

BACON!!! Current mood: hungry Category: Romance and Relationships OK...I claim no originality on this one. I'm sure someone else has posted these thoughts before, be it on a blog, or a stand-up comedian(ienne), or even a bad sitcom. This is just something that poped into my head a few minutes ago. But first some background... You all (may or may not) know that I am extremely spoiled in my job. Not only is the pay great, but the benefits of working for a small family-run business are fantastic. Specific to this blog is the "free lunch" benefit. Mrs. Madeline comes in every day around 9AM to fix us lunch. She's an old Sicilian lady who used to run her own restaurant until she retired. Now she works part time for us so we don't have to leave the office every day to scavenge lunch at whatever restaurant/fast food joint. Very convenient, and Lawdy Miss Claudy, Have Mercy Mister Percy can that woman cook! Which brings me to... I was sitting in an office down the hall from mine, very far from the kitchen. We have the windows open because of the good weather. All of a sudden, our little bull session stops mid-sentence because everyone smells bacon. I immediately start drooling. I'm like the dog in the commercial...BACON, BACON, BACON, BACON, BACON, I SMELL BACON!!!!!!!!!! The breeze flowing through the building carried the scent of heaven all the way from the kitchen to the office we were in. I head to the kitchen to refill my coffee jug (64oz of black love, baybee!) and Mrs. Mad slips me a couple of slices of the crispy goodness. She loves me and takes care of me. What can I say??? I'm a hit with the over 60 crowd. So I'm munching down and sipping my coffee and Mrs. Mad says to me, "There's nothing like the smell of bacon". Naturally, I agree with her. Then I thought... Why don't they make a bacon-scented perfume for women? I mean, what man (aside from Moby...but is he really a man anyway???) DOESN'T love the smell of bacon? I can't say that I particularly enjoy the smell of perfume. Cheap or expensive, I don't really like it. It makes my allergies act up, and I can't ever recall it having an aphrodesiacal (is that a real word?) effect on me. But rub some bacon on your neck, and I'll buy you the Hope Diamond. Some say men think with our dicks. This is probably true, but the stomach bone must be connected to the penis bone for this to be true. I think I missed that day in A/P class. I'm not saying bacon makes me horny, but given the choice of Heidi Klum wearing Channel #5 and Heidi Klum wearing bacon earrings (all else being equal) I'd boink the one with bacon. So there it is, ladies. A little insight to the (very simple) male mind. Toss out your expensive smells-good. You're not impressing us any. Instead rus a few slabs of dead pig belly on your tender parts and watch us follow you through the gates of hell. FYI- This works on ugly people too. I don't care if you've got a face like a foot...smell like bacon, and I'm your all-night man! Yes, I'm bored.

How do you answer this one?

Friday, September 01, 2006

How do you answer this one? Current mood: confused So I go to pick up my son at playschool the other day, and one of the little girls there says to me in the most innocent of voices, "Why you got two eawings (ear rings)?" Obviously at the tender age of two she's already figured out (or been taught) the societal norm of men not having ear rings. Well I've got two. Both 12g stainless barbells in my left earlobe. I'm not exactly Jonny Depp in Pirates of the Carribean (by the way...that's the LAST time I watch a movie based on a theme park ride) but it's not like they're subtle either. How does one answer that question to a 2 year old? Do I tell her that society is backwards in its thinking and that it is perfectly acceptable for men to have ear rings? Do I tell her that I have two now, but I used to have six and I want to go back to five? Do I tell her about the rush I get for that brief moment when they stick the probe through my skin for the first time? No...at her age it's best to keep things simple. I told her I wanted them and quickly moved on to grabbing my son's stuff and saying goodbye. Which brings me to my next point. Why does it not bother me in the slightest when an adult asks me about my piercings, but when a child asks I think about it for days on end...constantly replaying the conversation in my head? Adult men and women either accept who I am with metal and all, or shake their heads and walk away. I'm perfectly fine with that. I could give two tugs of a dead dog's dick. But an innocent? A 2 year old? Practically keeps me up at night. Hence the blog. I figure if I write it out, it'll stop bothering me so much. FYI- I'm pierced because I like it. I like the way it looks. It doesn't "mean" anything, and it doesn't get me into the "cool" crowd. It's not sexual. It makes me a little bit more of an individual, just like adding pinstripes or fuzzy dice to your car. You may drive a '93 Tercel, but I bet it's the only one with the snap-on spinning rims and the $3000 spoiler on the back end. I want more too. I want to go all the way back up my left ear and venture back into my right ear again. Ahh well...there are worse things.

Vegas, baby

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Vegas, baby Current mood: tired Category: Travel and Places I don't take vacations. I'd rather work. If I do take time off of work (rarely) I'd rather work around the house, or spend time with the boy (which is work, believe me). So in an effort to placate the wife, I agreed to go on a vacation. Being a former flight attendant, she's not used to being in one place for a long time, seeing the same thing day in and day out. Repetition bores her. I, on the flipside, thrive on repetition. My addictive/OCD personality DEMANDS repetition and order. So the million dollar question is: Where do we go? Since I didn't really want to go away, I left it up to her to decide. Naturally, she chose a beach resort somewhere in the Caribbean. Not my idea of fun. I hate the beach (sand specifically), and the price was higher than I would have liked (I'm a tight-wad at times...deal). Not to mention that we would be out of the country with a 15 month old left behind. Should something have happened (accident/hurricane/etc.) we would have been severely limited in our means to get back to NOLA. Not the most endearing of notions to an over-protective father. So I suggested Vegas. She loves Vegas, and I had never been. So it was settled. Vegas it was to be. Colette chose Mandalay Bay on the south end of the strip because it was the most like a beach resort, and it had the pool and other amenities that she wanted. Who was I to argue, as I had never been. So we booked the room and the flights. So much for a cheap vacation. Sean was to stay home, and Colette's parents would stay at our house with him and the animals. They live across the street from us, so it wasn't exactly a huge burden on them, and they LOVE spending time with the boy. "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step" ~Chinese proverb Our journey began with several arguments over how long it was taking for certain members of the travel group (there were only the two of us...you do the math) to get ready. This is nothing new, as we have the same arguments just about every time we go anywhere. We get to the airport, check in, go through security, eat a quick bite, and board Delta flight whatever to Atlanta. The flight was rather uneventful, other than my renewed hatred of flying. Get to ATL, hit the mini-bar, and wait for the flight to Vegas. Boarding. Boring. Over-packed flight. Not a spare seat to be found. My long legs were not happy. Ahh well...can't change things. The 3 and a half hour flight was supposed to be uneventful, but apparently our pilot liked roller coasters. I knew I should have been worried when I saw him, AND his seeing-eye dog, get on board. The last 90 minutes of the flight (over BEAUTIFUL desert and mountain landscape) felt like he was flying by braile. Did I mention that I hate flying? We bounced all the way to Gate 46B (which is a bra size I hope to never encounter) and when we finally stopped, the passengers gave the pilot a standing ovation. I wasn't as appreciative, but Colette assured me that planes hit turbulence all the time, and were designed to handle the bouncing. I was more concerned about the wing that was being duct-taped on just previous to our departure. Nonetheless, we were in VEGAS, baby! (Sorry about the repeated Swingers quote, but it's either that or Vegas Vacation quotes-"put a dollar in, get a car") We land in balmy 103 degree heat ("but it's a DRY heat"...bullshit...it's fucking hot), take the shuttle to the hotel and check in. The place is gorgeous. Palatial. Marble and granite everywhere, and the detail work involved in this place must have kept a thousand workers up at night. We found the elevators to get to our rooms (no easy task, as the signs for everything are deliberately vague, and all take you through a section of casino) and wait with the 50 or so other people trying to cram into the elevators. I decided then that we would use the elevators only when we had to, as battling these crowds would be a pain. Our room. Nothing spectacular. Very nice, but just your basic, upscale hotel room. We requested a king size bed, and there were 2 doubles. Not a huge deal, as we sleep on a double at home. There are worse things. The bathroom was strange, though, as it was a handicapped bathroom, meaning I would have to bend at the waist to fit into the shower, and any chance of me getting my hair wet involved me executing moves akin to Cirque du Soleil. I'm not as limber as I once was. So Colette called down to see if they could give us another room with a strip-view, a king size bed, and a bathroom for people over 5'4". After 5 minutes on hold, the manager, Mark, told her that unfortunately they were out of rooms with all of those features, but he could put us in a room with a pool view. Did I mention that it was a PENTHOUSE SUITE with a pool view? Our new room. We got the keys to the new room. The polite bellman (everyone was polite, which made me suspicious) informed us that we would have to go down to the lobby again, and look for the PRIVATE elevators that bring guests up to the Penthouse levels. Sweet. No waiting with the throngs of people that visit Vegas. We were moving on up...to the east side...to a DE-LUX suite with a pool view! As we opened the door to the new room, both of us lost our breath. This suite was nicer than we expected. Overstuffed couches, big-screen TV, furniture that looked like it didn't belong in a hotel room, and all of that was in the front room. The half-bath and wet-bar were to the left next to the coat closet. The master bedroom featured another big screen TV, a king size bed, his and hers closets, and more furniture that rivaled anything you would find in a nice store. I think I might like Vegas. The master bathroom was bigger than our master BEDROOM at home. The jacuzzi tub was big enough for me to park my truck in. The his and her sinks and vanities were complete with exquisite marble work, and adorned with (as I later discovered) highly expensive soaps, cremes, shampoos, and such. All of which smelled like a French hooker to me, but I was assured by my wife that they smelled good. Who am I to doubt her tastes? Oh yeah...she married me. So we unpack in our new home for the week, and head downstairs to get some food. We decided to stay relatively simple for the first night. No need to dress up or anything. We ended up at The Burger Bar. It's in Mandalay Bay, and features dozens of gourmet burgers, and beers from around the world. Right up my alley. Meat and beer. I like the simpler things in life...done with a bit of style. I got a black and tan and ordered a lamb burger with provolone and sautéed mushrooms. A 3/4 pound lamb burger. Tummy happy after that. I think I really like Vegas. Of course, I ate airport and airplane food all day, so the comparison is lacking some quality on one end of the food spectrum. Casino. After gorging on the monster burger, fries, and another pint, we decided to move around before we fell asleep on the bar. Naturally, we walked through the casino floor for a while, and naturally my casino-rat wife wanted to play the slots. We each picked a machine and sat down. I put a $10 in my machine, and not knowing what the fuck I was doing hit a few buttons. The screen flashes, things on it whiz around, and a little furry creature (of indeterminate origin or species) starts making all these squeaky noises. Being tired and slightly buzzing, I had trouble concentrating on the whole scene. Next thing I knew, all these lights and buzzing sounds are going off, and I am thinking "HOLY SHIT! I BROKE THE FUCKING THING!" Colette looks over, and tells me that I won a big pile of money. On my first pull on my first machine on my first night in Vegas. I cashed out, put the money in my pocket, kissed her good night and went up to the room. She didn't understand this concept. Apparently, the casino people like you to put whatever winnings back into their machines. I'm cheap. Deal. So after a few minutes she came up to the room to meet me. We soaked in the tub and relaxed for a bit, and then hit the bed, ready to explore Vegas in the daylight tomorrow. Tuesday. Woke early (they are 2 hours behind NOLA) and hit the breffix buffet. It was the best $45 I ever spent on a morning meal. Naturally I ate too much, but they give you a whole pot of coffee, so I had the go-go juice I needed. I decided then that you don't go to Vegas on a diet. We hit the streets, and Colette started showing me all of the casinos (inside and out). We walked all over. New York New York, Paris, Caesar's, Monte Carlo, Bellagio, Venetian, Luxor, Excalibur (a dump by the way), and on and on. I decided to try to find the $1.99 prime rib and 99 cent shrimp cocktail that I had always heard about. They don't exist in this Vegas. I learned that Vegas has two distinct tourist areas. The Strip, with all the mega-resorts and properties, and Downtown, the Vegas of lore. The Strip is designed for people of all ages to come and spend their tourist dollars. There's more than just gambling here...the resorts see to that. Downtown, on the other hand, is there for one reason...gambling. Tuesday night we had tickets for Blue Man Group at the Venetian. If you have never seen these guys, do it. Take a trip to New York, Chicago, Vegas, London, Toronto, or wherever they perform and see them. We laughed to the point of tears, and being a musician, I totally dug the percussion and music portions. EVERYONE can enjoy a Blue Man Group show. Old, young, musically inclined, tone deaf. Everyone. After that we walked around a bit, played some more slots (I really didn't...I watched Colette), went back to the hotel, and hit the bed. Wednesday. More sight-seeing. Colette dragged my ass from one end of Vegas to the other. That afternoon, I forced her to give me some down time, so we went down to one of the 5 pools that Mandalay Bay has where I read and sunned a bit while she relaxed in the wave pool. Dinner that night was at a little Italian place inside NY, NY. Very fancy, very upscale, very expensive. But it was comped, so I didn't care. 2 glasses of Chianti, a large Italian-esque meal (and a couple of bad Hannibal Lecter impersonations) later, we were off to the Mirage to see Danny Gans, the impressionist. We had heard from everyone that this was the show to see. After seeing Blue Man Group the night before and being 100mpressed with the theatrics and production values, we had even higher hopes for Danny Gans. Not so much. His show was good, don't get me wrong, but I was the youngest person in there by a couple of decades. The show catered to the mid-western, middle-age and blue-hairs. His song selection was rather weak, and his impressions, while good, weren't great. Good time, nonetheless, but for the 100 bones per seat, we would have rather seen a Cirque du Soleil show. But you live and learn... More light gambling followed, and then we made our way back to Mandalay with a slight detour at the Bellagio to see the fountain show. What a sight that was...I would sooner spend $100 bucks a person to see that than Danny Gans again...but thankfully, the fountain show is free. Every 20 minutes...a different show. I like Vegas. Thursday. Woke up and decided to play tourist again. Big breakfast, and then some shopping at the art gallery. Didn't buy anything. I need more wall space for art. Hit the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Bellagio. We wanted to go to the Gugenheim gallery at the Venetian, but didn't have time. Ansel Adams would have to do. After that we met up with one of Colette's clients who lives part-time in Vegas. He picked us up, and we went back to his condo for dinner with his family. After chit-chat and 2 bottles of wine, we changed and he dropped us off at the Monte Carlo for the Lance Burton show. You may not know, but in my youth, I was into magic, and Lance Burton was the "up-and-coming" guy who was to replace Copperfield. Not so much. Again...production values were sub-par, and from our cheap (they were free...) seats, we could see how everything was done. Having a magical background, I knew how the illusions were done, but Colette not knowing what the hell to look for found the wires and levers and such. All around a big disappointment, but hey...they were free seats. You get what you pay for. Shoulda gone to Cirque du Soleil. After that, we went back to Mandalay, had a few drinks and played a little more. I played the same $20 for about 2 hours and three cocktail waitresses. When that was gone, I dropped one more fiver in a nickel machine, and won $100. Naturally, I cashed out and went up to bed. I left Colette down on the casino floor three nights in a row. We were either rich and she wasn't telling me, or on the verge of bankruptcy. I still don't know, and I ain't asking. Friday. Our last day. We had a noon flight, and security takes a long time in the Vegas airport. Didn't do much besides pack and do some last minute souvenir shopping. Flew home, and pulled in the driveway at just before midnight. The boy was sleeping, but I figured Mac would come greet us. He sniffed me quickly, and then ran to Colette. He missed his mommy. Figures. He's supposed to be MY dog, but he'd step on me if he had to choose between me or Colette. Go figure...I missed him as much as I missed the boy, but he missed Colette. Such is life... So that ends my tale of sinning in Las Vegas. All in all a fun trip, but it's definitely good to be home. At 108 degrees in the shade and no humidity, you don't feel the fact that you're sweating your ass off. Low humidity was nice, but my sinuses dried up so much I had to battle nosebleeds and cracked skin. Nothing a trip to the Walgreen's couldn't handle. As for everything else, though, well...that stays in Vegas.

No thanks, I'll speak for myself

Thursday, June 08, 2006

No thanks, I'll speak for myself Current mood: pissed off Category: News and Politics Most of you that know me know that I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Republican. I said Republican, not fundamentalist Christian. The two are not the same. One is a political ideology and the other is fodder for late-night talk show hosts. However intertwined the two have become of late, I am still a right-wing leaning person. That being said, I also think for myself. I don't toe the party line on anything in my life. Below is a repost of a bulletin a friend posted. It set me off something fierce... Bob Dole - divorced the mother of his child, who had nursed him through the long recovery from his war wounds. Newt Gingrich - divorced his wife who was dying of cancer. Dick Armey - House Majority Leader - divorced Sen. Phil Gramm of Texas - divorced Gov. John Engler of Michigan - divorced Gov. Pete Wilson of California - divorced George Will - divorced Sen. Lauch Faircloth - divorced Rush Limbaugh - Rush and his current wife Marta have six marriages and four divorces between them. Rep. Bob Barr of Georgia - Barr, not yet 50 years old, has been married three times. Barr had the audacity to author and push the "Defense of Marriage Act." The current joke making the rounds on Capitol Hill is "Bob Barr...WHICH marriage are you defending?!? Sen. Alfonse D'Amato of New York - divorced Sen. John Warner of Virginia - divorced (once married to Liz Taylor.) Gov. George Allen of Virginia - divorced Ronald Reagan - divorced the mother of two of his children to marry Nancy Reagan, who bore him a daughter only 7 months after the marriage. Henry Kissinger - divorced Rep. Helen Chenoweth of Idaho - divorced Sen. John McCain of Arizonia - divorced Rep. John Kasich of Ohio - divorced Rep. Susan Molinari of New York - Republican National Convention Keynote Speaker - divorced So.......homosexuals are going to destroy the institution of marriage? Wait a minute, it seems the Christian Heterosexual Republicans are doing a fine job without anyone's help! If you agree, like I do, that hypocricy and bigotry must end, repost this. My response to this is below: Do as they say, not as they do. Don't you know that once one is elected to office the "rules" no longer apply??? Beloved LA Sen. Vitter spoke out on the gay marriage ban that was squashed yesterday. He mentioned something to the tune of how this was the most important issue facing people today. http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/06/06/same.sex.marriage/index.html I voted for this man. I think I'm ashamed to admit that now. If he thinks the most important issue that people are facing in America right now is gay marriage, then he obviously hasn't driven through New Orleans or the Gulf Coast recently. Ask the shrimper in Biloxi what the most important issue in America is. Ask the family in Chalmette living in a FEMA trailer what the most important issue in America is. Ask my in-laws whose house took on 9 feet of water FOR A FUCKING MONTH what the most important issue in America is. I don't think gay marriage is high on their lists. Sorry...don't mean to get off on a rant there. Politics has always been a hobby...I grew up in the middle of it. It just pisses me off when some schmuck decides to speak for everyone on a matter that has nothing to do with the price of tea in China. I am happily married. I was happy before I got married, but now my life is all the more better. Why would I deny someone else of this feeling all based on where he wants to stick his ho-ho-diddle? Where would the porn world be without lesbians? Sexuality is about 1% of who I am. It has no bearing on 99% of how I choose to live my life, be a husband to my wife, or raise my son. Long email short, Sen. Vitter can kiss my ass if he thinks this is the most important issue in America today. Get me some fucking floodwalls that weren't designed by the Three Stooges, THEN maybe I'll worry about gay marriage. Phew...I feel like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation... "Haleleuia! HOLY SHIT! Where's the Tylenol?" So who's with me on this? Send Sen. Vitter a note and remind him that this may be the most important issue in HIS life, but I've got better shit to worry about. Like how the fuck am I supposed to live now that my in-laws bought the house next to me. Everybody Loves Raymond??? Worse. We have a gate connecting our back yards. This is punishment for something. Maybe it's punishment for me being OK with gay marriage. One more thing...I know a shitload of married HETERO couples who shouldn't be married...let alone procreate. A loving home (not a house...a house is a place...a HOME is more than just a place) has NOTHING to do with playing hide the salami with another salami packing person. For the record, I'm only opposed to gay marriage in prison. Next issue?

Rant, Rant, Rant

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Rant, Rant, Rant Category: Blogging This is my blog, and it's my god-given right - or Tom-given right, as the case may be - to be as pissy as I wanna be. Here's a short (yeah, right) list of things on my mind this easter Saturday: 1. The prick behind me in line at the grocery store. We're in the 15 items or less line. I had: 10 jars of baby food (just in case), a jar of salsa, a tomato, a bottle of dish liquid, and a 4-pack of Beamish. Now let me preface by pointing out that I didn't have a cart. Not even one of those little carry-baskets. Just everything in my arms to make the event go more quickly. I ran in the store on the way home from work to pick up dish soap, because I knew we were almost out. While I was there, I grabbed a few more jars of food for the boy (one can never have enough), a tomato for tonite's salad, and a jar of salsa (because we have about 4 bags of chips left over from the last party, and I totally forgot we have the industrial-sized 55 gallon drum of salsa from Sam's still unopened). As an impulse purchase, I grabbed a 4-pack of beamish (that's a beer similar to Guinness for those of you unfamiliar with my beer-snob tastes). Total items, 14.This waste of sperm decides he wants to chat. Those of you who know me know that I'm not the most out-going person in the world. Very shy, very reserved...that is until I warm up to the group. Bobby Bigmouth behind me starts babbling about how unfair it is that the stores allow people with too many items in the express checkouts. How there ought to be someone there policing the lines making sure that no one sneaks in the under 20 item line with 23 items. I smile, make brief eye contact, nod and turn around hoping he'll leave me alone and get the hint that I really don't want to discuss life-altering maters with him. Nope. Not today. He then taps me on the shoulder and points out that I have too many items to be in the 15 item line. I quietly tell him otherwise, and again turn around, place my 14 items on the belt, and proceed to check out. Dudley Dipshit then starts talking even more loudly, to anyone who will listen, about how I cheated the system and snuck in line with too many items. I have a short fuse. Always have. I turn around, and raise MY voice now, and point out that the only way I have more than 15 items is if I count EACH BEER individually. He seems to think that's the way it should be. I retort with "Well, I pay for all 4 as one item...see? All 4 cans scan as 1 item". This was like throwing jet fuel on a brush fire. He starts screaming for the manager. The poor sap checking me out looks at me like "Why did you start a holy war with an idiot?'. I think that's what his look meant...I'm not too sure, as I don't read minds. On second thought, not sure how swift he could have been. After all, he looked like the type that got drool on his employment application. But I digress... I took my 14 items and left, shaking my head all the way to the truck. 2. My dog is not feeling well. Not sure what the problem is. He didn't eat all day yesterday, and was off his food again this morning. Wife got up the last 2 nights to let him out in the middle of the night. He NEVER gets up like that. This morning he had the trots...so I gave him some oatmeal with his kibble. He only ate half. I see big vet bills in my future. 3. Took the boy to the zoo yesterday. Spent some quality daddy time with him. Just the 2 of us. Mommy was at work, so the boys hung together all day. We had a great time, but I forgot sunscreen, so his right arm and cheeks are a little red. You'd think I took him to a strip-club. My mother-in-law lit into me about how he's gonna get skin cancer now, and it's all my fault. (As a sidenote, my in-laws live across the street from me now...as their house took on 9 feet of water for three weeks). Long story short, I am in the doghouse because I forgot one thing. 4. I'm fighting off a cold. That gets me pissy. My damn nose is running like a faucet, and I'm sneezing. Started when we went to the petting zoo. I'm allergic to everything living, and should have known better, but there's something about letting the boy play with a farm animal. He enjoys it. The sad of it is, I had to take an allergy pill. I hate taking medicine. makes me droopy. So I got my ass chewed by moms-in-law while seeing her with 3 heads. 5. Democrats. They just piss me off. In general, and in principle. 6. Tom doesn't have a spell checker on any of his features. That sucks. I blame any type-o's on him. ADDENDUM-6.17.06--The above-mentioned guy in line at the Save-A-Center just happened to be the paranoid-schitzophrenic Vietnam Vet who blocked himself in his mother's house on Alexander Street in Metairie and had a 2 day standoff with SWAT this past week. Turns out he was found dead with a bullet to the head at around 5am on Friday, June 16th. Read the newspaper for more details. They didn't mention anything about how he liked to harass people in line while they make groceries. I'm writing a letter to the editor to rectify that situation right now. That's not right...making light of mental illness. I've been down that road myself.

Punctuations in life

Sunday, December 18, 2005

punctuations in life Current mood: exhausted Ok, so I'm tipsy and remeniscing (check spelling) about old times in the NOLA music scene. I got to thinking about how much "Vulgar Display of Power" changed my life. I soon realized, that it was not he first album to change my life. There have been so many, and for various reasons. Here's a short list in no particular order: 1. Led Zeppelin (untitled 4th album)-Greatest band ever. Hands down. This album saved my life. 2. Black Sabbath-Black Sabbath - What more needs to be said? Geezer rocks on NIB, Tony Iomi has done more with missing fingers than most guitarist with a full set. Bill Ward, well, he's a drummer and they're easy to find. OZZY... 3. Pantera-VDOP - Introduced a young and impressionable catholic high school boy to the local scene. By the time this came out, I was already a freelance pharmacist. I used to sneak into Zeppelin's with the bands just to see the shows. Thank god Forbidden Glory filled in a last minute slot that Acid Bath bailed on. Because of Forbidden Glory, I got to see soooo many groups that I normally couldn't have seen due to the age limit. Shit...saw Acid Bath 1000 times, Pantera, Crowbar, Soilent Green, TUNGSTEN (Al, where are you??) and soo many more. The way Dime shredded on lead was totally unheard of at that time. Opened up my eyes, I guess. 4. Type O Negative-Bloody Kisses - Kinda found Type O by accident. Fell in love with the sound. Begged and begged my cousin in CA to talk to Rikki Rachtman about getting them on Headbanger's Ball. When Pete finally got on, Rikki made an ass of himself. The album itself led to some of the best sex of my life. Been a huge fan ever since...Saw them live more times than I care to admit. 5. Fat Boy Slim-Better Living Through Chemistry - Made me start spinning again. This white boy from Brighton, England took techno and made House cool again. Plus, I'm a sucker for a remix...and a Who remix at that... 6. Who-pick any album - Pete Townshend is a genius. Flat. I can listen to any Who LP and get lost. Tommy (soundtrack, not the album) turned my interest back to piano for a while. 7. Pink Floyd-The Wall - The only time I've watched The Wall and have it make sense is when I dropped acid for the first time. I don't do drugs anymore, but if I ever win the lottery, my wife has been instructed to lock me in a tiny padded room with 10 pads of paper and a bunch of pens and pump this album in over and over. 8. Motorhead-Hellraiser - What can I say...Lemmy is god. nottheir best album by far, but this one woke me up. 9. Alice in Chains-anything - If you know me at all, you know I HAAAATE Seattle. the music, coffe, and weather suck. the only good things to come out of Seattle were Jimi Hendrix, AIC, Soundgarden (one album only), and that's about it. AIC intro'd me to "alternative" that didn't sound like Nirvana or Pearl jam, both of whom turned my tummy. 10. Tool-Undertow - I was young and impressionable. The videos sucked me in, OK? 11. Primus-Sailing the Seas of Cheese - So I played bass, and Les Claypool did things that couldn't be done on bass. funky lyrics to boot. 12. Sepultura-Arise - Sophomore in high school...played this for a priest and got 3 days detention. Well worth it. Saw them open for Ozzy on the "No More Tours" tour. Best show I ever saw. 13. Morbid Angel-Altars of Madness - Discovered them accidentally while on spring break at the tender age of 15. Ft. Lauderdale, FL. Mom and dad thought I was staying with friends and studying for finals. I was on the beach popping any kind of pill and chatting up any kind of chick I could find. Set the stage for later solo vacations (ie-Europe). All of the above have changed my life (or at least defined a moment of my life) in one way or another. There are many more, but I figure 13 is a good number with which to stop. Don't tease me too much about Fat Boy Slim. I haven't even broached the subject of Hip Hop (Run DMC, Grandmaster Flash, etc) yet. that's another rant for another night I can't sleep.

Misc Friday afternoon ramblings/Post-Katrina rant

Friday, December 16, 2005

Miscellaneous Friday afternoon ramblings/Post Katrina rant Current mood: working So it's Friday afternoon and I'm still at the office. Since we're a small but successful company, everyone does a shit-ton of work normally. When 2 people are out all day, that just means more work for everyone else. Then, one of the boss' mother died, so he was out all day, one of the warehouse guys is sick and therefore useless, and the other wants to leave early to go hunting. So outof a 7 person business, we're down to me and a sick forklift rat. I promptly sent him home early. Can't afford to get sick. Still trying to get the wife and son healthy. Gotten a positive response to all of the new pictures on my profile. What started out as a profile for my Saturday night gig as a sound engineer has turned into more of a regular, personal thing. I guess that's not a bad thing. Plus, as one can tell, I adore my son. I hate to make up another site...one for sound and one for personal. What does the world think I should do? Since I'm still new to this whole MySpace thing, forgive me if my manners aren't what they should be. I'm a fast study...I promise I'll get it sooner or later. So, as many of my friends know, I'm a politics junky. Mom was a lobbiest (spell check please) for years during my youth, so I was practically reared in the capitol building. I made my mom cry when I registered republican. My poor liberal mother gave birth to a dyed-in-the-wool conservative. Too bad for her, but I like to think for myself. But I digress...since Katrina and Rita came through and turned Louisiana and Mississippi into a Mongolian Cluster Fuck, politics as usual in this state have gone from bad to worse. I can sit here and complain, but I won't get into details. The long and the short of it is...if Louisiana doesn't get its collective head out of its collective ass, we are going down faster than a $2 whore on a corn dog. Not even Superman can save us from ourselves...although there's not much he could do from a wheelchair anyway. For the first time in my life, I have found myself wishing that LA politicos would be more like their counterparts in MS. Not that there's anything wrong with Mississippi...my mom was raised there in a house that is not there any more right off the beach in Waveland. My family had a summer home there for over 100 years. Notice I say had...like a fart in a strong wind, it ain't dere no more. But I digress...the folks in MS have gathered around each other and pulled themselves up by the bootstraps, and started to rebuild. The fuckwads in charge here are too busy pointing fingers, mugging for air time, or jockying for position for pictures in the paper. Meanwhile 70f the population is homeless or displaced, waiting for answers to questions that no one wants to take on. The few people around with enough sense (ie-Sugar Ray Nagin) get their ideas shot down. Rather than come up with their own ideas, people just want to sit back and criticize hizzonner's ideas. SHIT! You don't like his plan, FINE! Come up with something better! We have a saying around this business...don't bring me problems without bringing solutions. Maybe the guv'ment should be run more like a business than a government. Now that I've railed on that topic, what's the deal with the people of New Orleans and the surrounding areas bitching and moaning?? Seems like an awful lot of people are sitting around waiting for handouts while a few others are trying to rebuild without assistance. I personally know too many people who are milking the FEMA vacation teet for as long as possible and pissing and moaning about how it's unfair that they flooded. My grandfather who had a 4th grade education told me when I was young...if anyone tells you life is fair, they are trying to sell you something. Yeah, it's unfortunate that 80f the city flooded, but not unfair. I got lucky. My house did well. My in-laws had 9 feet for 4 weeks. They aren't waiting for handouts or lawsuits...they're working like dogs every day trying to make a bad situation good again. They are upset, but they don't cry foul. They cry, but at the same time, it's a re-birth for them. Handouts are great, but handouts don't build cities. Bush the younger finally got off his duff and promised a couple of billion to repair and build up the levees. Almost too little too late, but we'll take what we can get. New Orleans gets in your blood. It's the ONLY city in the world that you can HATE with a passion, and at the same time LOVE with all your heart, and still live there and accept all that goes on. We have a word for everything in South Louisiana. It's a way of life. Different than any other place in the world. I have travelled all over the globe. There are great cities in great countries, but NONE are like NOLA. We're different here. Not better, just different. Maybe worse, just different. Shit...time to go home. I feel better now. Got a long weekend of work to do. Anyone in the Fat City area Saturday night feel free to drop by The Bar. We'll be rocking, I'm sure.

gawd hates me...

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

god hates me... Current mood: cranky God hates me! He really, really hates me! I used to think that god would punish me by giving me twin daughters. Face it...I know nothing about women. Sure...I was raised by them, and trained by them my entire life, but I don't understand them. They have different plumbing, different ways of thinking (no means yes, yes means no...), and a strange fascination with shoes. What the hell would I do with a daughter...much greater so, TWIN daughters??!? So you can imagine my joy when the doctor told my wife and I that we were expecting a son. The Myposian Dance of Joy doesn't even come close to what I did in the ultrasound room. All of my happiness distracted me from my initial punishment ideas from the almighty. Who can think about a good smiting in that situation anyway? Well, it all came back to me yesterday. The Italian grandmother who cooks lunch for us every day at the office (yeah, I'm spoiled) likes to listen to the radio while she works. My office is close to the kitchen, so I can usually hear her radio over my phone, and whatever else I'm listening to at the time. Not a problem, as she likes talk radio, specifically conservative talk radio, and since the only thing I hate more than sobriety is a liberal, there's no reason for me to complain. However, since yesterday, she found the local radio station that deems it necessary to broadcast CHRISTMAS MUSIC 24/7. Local radio in New Orleans sucks. It has for at least 10 years now. Especially if you like anything resembling rock. Not that whiney, self-absorbed complaint shit you hear, or "I'm mad at mom and dad because they wouldn't buy me a Jansport, so I'll write a song and tell the world how I feel, and scream a lot" crap that passes for rock. You can hear that occasionally. Since Katrina, there is no real rock station on the air (not that 106.7 was "the shit") either. So, as I said, local radio sucks. Unfortunately, it got worse. Some marketing genius decided to blare Christmas carols all day every day from Thanksgiving until the big day. The only thing I hate more than Christmas is Christmas music. Now I'm forced to listen to it while Mrs. Madeline cooks me excellent lunch every day. I could easily ask her to change the station, but she's such a nice old lady, and she likes me enough to give me extra garlic bread for my lasagne, so I don't want to piss her off by asking her to can Bing Crosby. This is where I come to the realization that the great pickle in the sky is a genius. He gave me a son (and a handsome one at that) to lull me with a false sense of security. My real punishment for all the evil I have done in my life is to be forced to listen to sappy music for 34 days. Ugh...the Catholic church is wrong. Purgatory is not where you go after you die...it's an every day occurrance.

Where ya been, man?

OK, I created this thing over a year ago, and haven't used it yet. I'm going to start copying shit over here from my old MySpace blog as time permits, and then original content will start again once I get the time or the spirit moves me so.

Happy reading...

~A