Thursday, February 28, 2008

Nyquil... Awwww Yeaaaah

A few days ago, it snowed. And since the local lawnmower shop hired a complete horse’s ass who fucked up literally over a dozen snow-blowers that had come in for repairs during his short 2 day employment, I had to shovel snow the old fashioned way. No big deal. I’m a healthy, red blooded American male. I shoveled it without a problem, and worked up a decent sweat doing so, which caused me to catch a slight case of germs… terrific

Now, my constitution is quite adequate most of the time so I ignored the warning signs of this upcoming invasion. Nine times out of ten, I can just sleep it off, However, on the morning of the second day, I awoke with the feeling in the back of my sinuses as if there was some congestion between my nose and my throat. I wandered in to the bathroom to brush my teeth, but the only thing on my mind was a childlike anticipation of what this was going to look like. What I snorted out is something that can only be described as a collection of sickly mucus chowder (great name for a band, by the way). It hit the bathroom sink with every bit the attitude of a women’s rights activist. So clearly I need to take care of this. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the Lifetime Network invade my head. I hit the store for a bottle of God’s opium…. that’s right… sweet, sweet NyQuil!

So for the past two days, I’ve been sleeping like it’s my job. The only downside to this is it feels like I’m carrying a sack of bricks and my ass is dragging three feet behind me. I small price to pay for ridding myself of these cursed germs. I’ll be back to 100% in no time.

Sunday, December 02, 2007


So, it's been well over a year since I've written a new blog. I guess that's the way it goes with blogs. You write a whole bunch, thinking it's going to force you to keep your life organized, but then it quickly peters off as you only write when you feel like it. And let me tell you, I've not felt like blogging... until now.

I met a really special chick. The kind of chick that grabs your heart with both hands and lifts you off the ground. The truth is, I'm an artist. At the core of my soul, that's who I am. I know that sounds pretentious. Whenever you hear someone announce they're an artist, there's inevitably a large portion of the crowd that rolls their eyes. However, this is who I am. It's my passion in life to create. I live to express, I live to create, and I live to appreciate the essence of someone's individuality. This girl appeals to this passion within me, and I've only met her three days ago.

I landed a gig on this short film shot in comic shop in Staten Island called Jim Hanley's Universe. Now, for those of you who're into the comic scene (which I was for a portion of my life), their flagship store is located in midtown Manhattan, across the way from the Empire State Building. Being in the comic business for a few years in my youth after high school, I dealt with them quite frequently. Never the less, all coincidences aside, we shot most everything (all my scenes anyway) during one marathon night, 9pm to 8:30am, the Saturday after Thanksgiving into that Sunday. Everything went AMAZING! The chemistry of the cast, and the professionalism of the director made for the perfect creative environment. Even the crew was pleasant which is a rarity, I can tell you.

Fast forward a week later and we're having a wrap party at The Mugg Ale House in Brooklyn. The drinks are flowing and the director, Denny, tells me the girls are coming. The girls being the friends of his who'd let him use their apartment to film a semi-love scene the day before the big shoot at the comic shop. So naturally, I'm like "Yeah, chicks... hell yeah, it's not a party without chicks.". The night carries on a bit, and then they show up. She, and her two roomies. I'm not going to lie, she's beautiful... a work of art to be completely honest with you. If you're asking me to find a fault with her, all I can say so far is that she's a bit skinny which normally I find unattractive, but not with her. She reflects the artist in her perfectly as far as I can see. Now, it would be completely normal of you to think I'm just into her because she's a "hottie", but no. I'm in the entertainment business. The hottie - normal/ uggo ratio is in full favor of the hotties. Plus, I'm not 17 anymore. I'm not in the market for eye candy. I'm a man who requires substance. Entice me with your passion in life, not your ass... that comes later hahaha..

So as the girls show up, the get together is finally in full swing. The drinks are flowing, the stories are being passed around, the girls are giggling, the guys are cursing at each other... ya know, the norm. Well, I can't deny being attracted to her right off the bat. The way she carried herself led me to believe she's more than just a face in the crowd. I started out just observing her. There's a certain level of intimacy you can get from someone by observing them when they don't think anyone is watching. Something you can't get in a one on one situation. You get to see that person unfiltered. Not to mention I'm pretty sure I got a glimpse of her aura. She had a reddish orange glow. It wasn't like seeing it was some sort of epiphany, or some angelic event, or anything like that. It was rather a small hint in the side of my brain telling me to pay attention, and I'm glad I did.

We eventually started talking to each other after a male co-star of the film mentioned to her that I was in the comic business way back when, working for Marvel Comics in one of their distribution warehouse, and apparently she worked for DC Comics. Well we were off and running after that. It turns out she's an artist, and does comics and sketches, and such. She gave me the address of her Deviant Art profile, and drew a cute little doodle of herself at the bottom of the paper. The doodle, by the way, was better by far than anything I could ever hope to draw in my lifetime

The party started winding down, and everyone decided to move on to another bar. It was just past midnight, and I decided to head home so as to not miss the last train back to NJ.... god I hate living in NJ like a socially inept retard. So I announce that I'm heading home and I'm saying my goodbyes when I tell her I'm leaving. She runs up to me and gives me the biggest hug I've had in ages, and says "Am I ever going to hear from you again?". I said, "Oh, absolutely. I have the address of your Deviant Art profile, and I'll talk to you in a day or two"... OK there's example #2 of my mental deficiency. I should have asked for her number but no, I had to grow up under power lines as a kid.

So, after getting the most fantastic hug which lasted an eternity in ecstasy, I head towards the subway to make my way back to Penn Station, and inevitably, my social retardation. I'm walking up Bedford Ave, talking to myself in my own head thinking, "You're a moron. It's just past midnight. The night hasn't even started yet". I get to the subway entrance, I'm standing there at the top of the stairs, and it hit my like a sack of bricks. I was reminded of Good Will Hunting. The scene where Robin Williams is telling the story about him missing the big Red Sox game because he went to meet a girl who ended up being his wife. Now, I'm not saying she's going to be my wife someday, but the fact that this idea shot into my brain causing me to stop in my tracks like someone was yanking me by my hoody was more than enough to give me pause.

I call the director on the phone and tell him I changed my mind. He tells me where they are, and in no time, I'm all caught up again. I find her in the bar, she turns around and I wink at her. I've got a hell of a wink if I do say so myself. I put my forehead against hers and say, "I came back". She just smiled at me in a very alluring way. We sat and had a drink or two, and yes, I did get her number this time. Then the rest of the group decided to hit another bar. She took me by the hand and said "C'mon, we're all going someplace else."

We hopped to another bar and eventually called it a night. She jumped in a cab with her roommates. I wish we could have had our first kiss that night, but we had a little too much "fun" at that point. We'll save that for another day where we can both remember it vividly hahahaha...

But so far she's totally the girl for me, at least the way it stands now. After all, she could have a collection of testicles in her top bureau drawer for all I know. I know I've just met her, but I really hope it turns into something. I've not felt this way about a chick in a long time. Unfortunately, it's far too early to pour my heart out, especially when all I have to go by is instinct. I need a few events to take place before I know for sure if this has a chance.

Here's to hoping...

Thursday, October 19, 2006


So it's been a week since I've posted a blog, and I'm saddened to report NOTHING interesting has happened. I'm in a lull. I hate that. I've got goals and aspirations I need to attain, damn it! I just feel so unenthusiastic lately. I need to pick up a bartending job a few nights a week, I think. Doing background work sucks the soul out of me. Don't get me wrong. I love hanging with my friends and all that, but it's getting me nowhere. I can't stomach being just one of the crowd in this business, and bartending will put me back in the swing of things. I've been a bit too introverted the past couple years, and it's just not me.

I tried getting in touch with an old friend from about 8 years ago, to no avail. I'm disappointed about that. Chris was the first friend I ever made in the entertainment business. When I knew him, he was breaking into stand-up comedy. We'd go to open mic night at The Stress Factory in New Brunswick on Wednesday nights. What a blast we'd have! Then afterwards we'd head over a few blocks down to this bar/tavern type place where they had 10 cent wings. OHHHHH BABY!! Fill your gut full of hot wings and a pint or two for about $10 including tip. Those were the days, I tell ya.

We met on the set of Conspiracy Theory back in 1998. Both of us being from New Jersey, we hit it off pretty well and he actually helped me out quite a bit in the beginning. He turned me on to an acting class taught by Joanna Beckson. She's taught and coached a few famous people and comes highly recommended. Her class changed my life, and, as soon as I can afford it, I'm going to get in touch with her about classes again. I'd done the first year Meisner technique and couldn't afford to go back, so I decided to move to Las Vegas and make a ton of money bartending, and then return to pursue my acting career.

Well, little did I know what hell and high water I'd need to go through just to be able to get a job out there. Between registering with the sheriff's department and the Health Department, and watching stupid assed high school type videos about the importance of washing your hands after you wipe your ass, I was $300 in the hole before I even got started. Not to mention that you have to be in the union to get a bartending job in a casino, and that there were already over 1100 union bartenders out of work before I even got there.

I probably should have looked into that before I left...

So with all that nonsense, the only job I could get was some data entry job that paid twice less than nothing. I couldn't pay the rent, so I decided I needed an education. I went to a computer technical school to scope it out, and found out the school I was interested in had a campus in my home town... *sigh*... so that was it.

"Fuck this!", I thought, "I'm going back home for an education!"

I headed back home to get an education. This also proved to be a bad decision. I settled my shit out there, and caught a plane home from Vegas roughly two weeks before September 11th, which completely fucked me up. I saw quite a few people I'd run into on a fairly regular basis who were now gone forever.

I slipped into a pretty bad depression. I still managed to graduate the computer tech school with a 4.0 gpa, because, depressed or not, I'm a smart motherfucker. Well the economy was well screwed by then with all the uncertainly, especially around here. The only jobs I could get were temporary, and even the nicest of offices were making me miserable. I was trying to get ahead in a business I never really wanted to be in, in the first place. All this bullshit to have something to fall back on when what I should have been doing was going for what I wanted and not giving myself the option to fail.

Well, the years went by and I recently came across Chris's business card in a desk drawer, and decided to look him up. Both numbers were answered by people who didn't know who he was. I can understand his "business" number, but his parent's home number was answered by strangers. I wonder what happened to him. It'd be a shame to lose touch forever. The last I spoke to him, he was planning on moving to Los Angeles with his brother and pursue his career in stand-up, and to get into writing. If only I could get in touch with his parents. I'm going to have to drive by his parents' house the next time I'm in the area, and check it out.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Amusing Anecdotes

The following are random and completely unrelated stories which, upon remembrance, have been making me chuckle all day today:

The Crazy kamikaze Dragon Fly

A few months ago, I decided to grab some Burger King for dinner. A bacon double cheese burger and onion rings are quite the fantastic meal. I'm not one for fast food, but you cannot deny the occasional orgasmic bliss that is the bacon double cheese burger.

It had just rained for what couldn't be more than a minute and a half. When the midday shower passed, all that was left was a steamy, muggy, mess. Disgruntled, I get into my car and zip across town to Burger King. A rather groovy tune is playing on the radio so I sit in the car till the end. Upon completion of said song, I get out of my car, close the door, and
WHAM! I am struck crossways in the right cheek by a kamikaze dragon fly... WTF!... He then buzzes around me and the car in a curious manner, as if I'm the one at fault. NO SIR! You are the one with wings, my friend. Two fucking pair, I might add. It is YOU who are in the wrong. You have your choice of altitude, while I am stuck with my feet firmly on hard earth. I don't know what I'd do if I had two sets of wings, but I assure you hanging around a Burger King parking lot would not be on the list, and neither would ramming myself head-first into someone else's face, I might add.....

The Seinfeld Date

Years ago, I meet this chick while bartending and ask her out. With a smile, she agrees and we make plans to go to Chili's and then back to my place to watch a movie. Conspiracy Theory as a matter of fact... my first background gig. It was a topic of conversation and she was interested in seeing it, which is bonus points if you know what I mean. Man oh man, was I ever in for it...

I size people up by what they present to me, and being a bartender for oh so many years, one tends to hone this ability quite acutely. I'm not one to judge people on what they have or don't have, but the term "rich-bitch" didn't invent itself. Little did I know what I was in store for.

I pick her up in the upper middle class section of her town. I walk up to her door and wait in her "foyer" while she gets her coat. She comes down the stairs and I get this overwhelming feeling like I'm being set up or something. As if I was discussed with someone else and lost the argument before I'd even rung her doorbell. I think nothing of it, as I am prone to feeling insecure about my lack of money and have been my entire life, but her posturing was doing nothing but exacerbating the situation. So, as I'm escorting her to the passenger side of my car, she notices through the hatchback of my Trans Am, that I have a baseball bat.

"Umm, what's the bat for?", she asks nervously with a look on her face as if she's just said goodbye to whomever she had for the last time.

"Uhhh, baseball, why?", I asked with a "How dim is she" feeling about her inquiry

Now, in all fairness it was the middle of winter, but come on... let's not be retarded. I'm not stupid. I know I'm being pegged as some thug, or some runner for the mob or whatever media driven stereotype I'm being sized up as.

"Well why do you need a baseball bat in the middle of winter?"

"There are batting cages, ya know" I said charmingly

And, by the way, the baseball bat was in there for MONTHS. I'd thrown it in there one day and it just gradually became its place. So she just stared at me blankly as if she expected to wake up the next morning with a horse's head on her pillow. Either that, or it was the paisley Smurfs leaping from my ears. So, filled to the brim with comfort and ease, we get into my car and head over to Chili's.

We hit Chili's and take a small booth in the smoking section. Now I'm no longer a smoker, but at the time I was a two pack a dayer at least, and if you're a smoker, I'd like to take the time to tell you that she's the type that holds her cigarette between the tips of her index and middle fingers and the first knuckles. I find this to be snobbish, but human foibles aside, when a woman holds a cigarette in her hand while she's complaining, it's just obnoxious. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The waitress comes over to take our orders. She orders "just a salad", which makes my left eyebrow raise so high, Cap'n Crunch would've been impressed. That is a pet peeve of mine. Never the less, the waitress looks at me and I tell her I want a cheeseburger, medium rare, with mushrooms with fries on the side. I find that if you don't order a burger medium rare, it tends to get dried out. Once your food is cooked, they put it under heat lamps until your waiter/waitress can be bothered to go get it, and I don't eat hamburgers too often, so when I do, I like to enjoy what I have. I'm appreciative like that.

But anyway, my date (whose name escapes me, so let's call her Bitchface) looks at me like I just farted and says, "You're ordering meat?"

At this point I've had just about enough of her. I look her in the face and reply, "You got a problem with meat?"

"Urgh... yeah! It's unhealthy", she snorts... AS SHE LIGHTS UP A CIGARETTE!!

"I don't know," I say sarcastically, "I've yet to see a cow light up a cigarette after taking out of her leather cigarette pack holder" while taking a mouthful of beer and furiously fighting the obvious fat joke. She wasn't fat, but I've yet to meet a woman who'll agree with me about their own weight.

At this point, the waitress looks at me as if to say "Good fuckin luck, pal". Meanwhile, Bitchface is looking at me as if I'm obligated to change my order. I don't fucking think so...

"Anything else?" the waitress asks uncomfortably.

"Not for me, but I'm sure I'll need another beer soon enough." I say with a smartass smirk

The waitress looks at Bitchface and gets only a disgusted head shake in reply. She walks off leaving me with my lovely date who wastes no time rattling off reason upon reason (mostly political, mind you) why it's wrong to eat meat. I sit in silence for what seems like an eternity, nodding my head in, what seems to her to be, agreement. She finally finishes her rant and I say nothing... not a word

Being the type of person that she is, she finally snaps and says, "Well?"

I look her dead in the face and say, "I don't care" LOL

Well I thought she was going to catch a stroke right there in the middle of Chili's. Shortly after this, the waitress comes back with our orders and must have noticed a victorious look on my face, because she gave me what appeared to be an extra happy smile, not to mention it looked like I got more fries than I was supposed to... Let's hear it for passive aggressiveness, right? And whether it was because she was rooting for me inside her head, or if she was having a scream with the rest of the employees over this entire situation, I'll never know. But I don't care. You can't embarrass me. Had I barged in on a secret conversation about my table and the lunacy I was subjected to, I'd have laughed, too.

We finish our meal, I pay the bill, and we leave. Needless to say we don't go back to my apartment. I drive her miserable ass home at damn near the speed of light, and don't even waste my time walking her to the door. She says goodbye and, in an act of blatant transparency, thanks me for dinner. "Ah-huh" I mutter, and she closes the door behind her as she walks back towards her house. I tear off into the night, leaving her and my disgust in the distance, never hearing from her again.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Radio Man... FUCK YOU!!

So, Friday night, I'm watching the Yankee game (don't get me started) and I get a phone call from Amerifilms, at roughly 9pm, asking me if I can be in Manhattan by 1am for the new Will Smith movie 'I Am Legend'. She tells me she doesn't need me, just my car. They pay you for the car, and to have it washed, as they had to spray it down with some effects dust to make it look as if the car had been sitting on the street abandoned for over 5 years. Sure! Sweet!! I, of course, have to be there in case the car needs to me moved or whatever, not to mention I trust no one with my car, but that's' fine. They pay you for your time. I've stated before that I'm not into background work at all, but this was good for some pretty decent scratch. Just about triple what I'd get for walking back and forth over the same 12 square feet of movie set for 8-10 hours, not to mention I can wear whatever the hell I want.

All in all I ended up being on location for over 17 hours. It sounds a lot worse that it was. I actually had a great time, and got to see some friends I haven't seen all summer. It's been really slow. But on the upside, I didn't have to bring anything for wardrobe. Just me, the car, a book, and my pillow. I ended up sleeping in the car. And, by the way, if you ever have the opportunity to sleep in the driver's seat of a Hyundai Sonata, feel free to pass it up. You're not missing anything... Really... Honest Injun

So there I sat all night in my car waiting for the next morning. I slept a bit, and then I finally got up and got a bagel and a soda from the local bodega around 7:30-8am, and wandered a bit.... Talked to Mom on my cell for a short while, and then I met up with my friend Theresa who was also working the movie. I had talked to her on the phone earlier that night, but the production company had the cars split into two groups. I was over by Grand Central Station, and she was further west. She pulls up to the corner and I hop in. As luck would have it, there was a space open in front of my car, so I directed her there. We hung out for the majority of the day, mainly clowning with the rest of our friends, and bullshitting about the business. Good times...

Later on in the day, my friend Sam says, "Hey, Radio Man is here. I just saw him around the corner by Will Smith's trailer".

"Awesome", I said looking over at Theresa, "We'll have to go check it out"

Now, Radio Man is a bit of a New York celebrity amongst the TV/film industry, but more importantly, a bit of an eccentric. I've run into him on different sets here and there. Most recently on a Law & Order: Criminal Intent set. He's always struck me as a little "off", if you know what I mean. Not that it makes any difference, as there is no shortage of eccentricities in Manhattan, but that's the impression he gives me. He's met quite a few famous people though, and has had some lines, and even has his own web page here. In fact, rumor has it that Oprah Winfrey gave him a new bike. Which is pretty sweet, but I digress...

We head out around the corner towards craft services, and end up walking past him as he sat there on the ground with his portable radio around his neck as always. I looked at him and said "Hey, Radio Man... Howya doin?", to which he replied, "Go Fuck Yourself!!"... HA!!

Tell me that's not the greatest thing I've experienced in a month!!!

Theresa, who is walking next to me, pauses a second, then looks me dead in the face with her mouth literally gaped open, but by this time, my face is undoubtedly purple from an explosion of unbridled hysteria. She said, with a dumbfounded look on her face, "Did he just say that?"

"Oh yeah!!", I snorted, "You heard him right!"

So I'm laughing all the way to the corner, across Park Avenue, and into the Starbucks on the corner of 39th Street, and she's just going on and on about how unbelievable this whole thing is... I love my friends

We sat outside Starbucks on the corner bullshitting with some different friends, all of which insisted on hearing the story. We laughed and bullshitted some more about the business, and the union, and our strategies to success and whatnot, when all of a sudden Theresa says, "Hey, there goes radio man peddling away" as I watch him ride down 39th Street.

"Hey Radio Man!!!", I scream across all of New York.

"FUCK YOU!!" his voice echoed between the buildings, as we all fell over ourselves in hysterics. I love New York.

Good times... Good times!

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Play Ball!

It's baseball playoff time. This is my time of year. It's a good year to be a Yankee fan, even though we lost today. Sometimes sports officials become in dire need of shock therapy, especially baseball umpires, and even though the strike zone changed like the integrity of a soap bubble on a windy day, it's no excuse for today's loss. A-Rod had a tremendous opportunity to earn his keep, but failed... AGAIN. I had a feeling we were going to lose after the game got rained out last night. Just one of those feelings, I guess. We never play well in unscheduled day games. It just throws off the whole rhythm. It happens. No biggie. We're not getting knocked out by Detroit. Never the less, when you're the highest paid player in the history of organized sports, you come through in the clutch when the bases are loaded... PERIOD... No excuses.

I'm glad we got Johnny Damon. He's the best addition we've made since Gary Sheffield. Thankfully Hideki Matsui is back to playing regularly. He really broke his wrist badly back in May. You could see on the footage how abrupt it was. They had pins in his wrist and all. He broke it in May but didn't come back till the last week in September and he's a professional athlete. I broke my wrist when I was a kid and I was throwing baseballs in under 6 weeks, and I was the fat kid. Still, it didn't look as bad as when Jeter dislocated his shoulder back in 2003. That was just flat out ugly. He turned purple...

Which brings me to the subject most pressing in my mind. I really hate the Fox network. Between their blatant news bias, their irresponsible local news coverage, and their hiring of ignorant baseball announcers, it really makes me sick. Their national news channel is nothing but republican propaganda, and their local news in the NYC metropolitan area is a tabloid show at best. They've taken every last shred of journalistic integrity and completely wiped their asses with it. But that doesn't bother me as much as it probably should. I just find my news elsewhere.

What really rubs my rhubarb is their baseball coverage. If I were grand emperor of planet earth, I would make it so that Joe Buck would be incessantly tortured 21 hours a day for the next 40 years. He announces both baseball and football, and they need to keep his ass at the football games. Football and baseball are two completely different sports (thank you George Carlin). It's non-stop action. As an announcer, all you have to do is turn your brain off and regurgitate what you see, and he's barely capable of even that. But when he covers baseball games, I wanna set my own hair on fire. He has absolutely NO insight on the game, and even less personality. That fake smile makes me want to knock his fucking teeth in. He's barely capable of regurgitating whatever irrelevant statistic the dipshits in the Fox booth can get their hands on. Which, by the way, are statistics no one gives a good god damn about. No one cares what highschool the rookie went to, outside of the 50 or so hometown "friends" who are watching. And not one single solitary soul gives a fiddler's fuck about what kind of pie is his favorite. It's fake sentiment masked quite poorly as an attempt to care about the average person. It's a marketing ploy used to generate revenue. It's fake, it's transparent, and it's fucking obscene. The network executives have absolutely no interest in the good of the game. Their only concern is how to market other people's passion for our nation's pastime in order to turn a quick and tidy profit. The fact that they chose Joe Buck to spearhead their baseball coverage is more than enough evidence of this. His lack of basic baseball knowledge, common sense, and his ignorance of which plays are important to the future of the ongoing game is sickening. And this plan of attack to market playoff sports is just flat out retarded, anyway. It's playoff sports, for crying out loud! People are going to watch no matter what you do. You couldn't piss away more time and money if you were hyping the second coming of Jesus Christ. In order to profit on sports, all you need to do is hire competent people. That's it...

A few years ago, before Fox had (in their own little moment of fucktardery) decided Buck was the best they could come up with, I used to dislike Tim McCarver's coverage because of his bias against the Yankees. You can't help which teams you like or don't like. You are who you are, and that's great. We need more individuality in society. But I believe, if you're a national baseball announcer, it's your job to look at both sides of the game equally. Obviously if you're employed to cover local teams, you're going to slide a bit more to whoever is paying you. You'd hardly employ a Mets fan to cover Braves games. It's just the way the world works. But these games, and the regular season Saturday games are covered coast to coast. It's your job to be magnanimous.

Tim McCarver just needs to grow a pair. He should fire whoever is in charge of his career and hire someone who can market his potential. I've had mixed feelings about his coverage of baseball throughout my life. I appreciate his playing career, and his knowledge of the game and its strategy, although I do find myself disagreeing with him often, but that's fine. He's a National League player, and I'm an American League fan. This the way it's supposed to be.

When I was a kid, Tim McCarver was covering the Mets, and even though I'm a Yankees fan, I'm also a fan of the sport of baseball. Don Mattingly will always be my favorite player, but it was great to watch players like Mike Schmidt, Gary Carter, and Ozzie Smith. So as I'd watch the Mets, I liked the way McCarver called the games. I learned about the game, and although he's no Mel Alan, or Phil Rizzuto, I appreciated hearing the point of view from a former player. He seemed to genuinely enjoy what he did. Well years go by and times change, and he resurfaced on the Fox network where he appeared reluctant to be there, almost as if he was screwed somewhere down the line by some other network or something. It's just the impression he gave me. He seemed unhappy when covering American League games, almost jealous when the Yankees won their 1996, 1998, 1999, and 2000 World Series championships, and to be perfectly honest, that really doesn't bother me. You can't help the way you feel. And as a lifelong Yankee fan, all you ever hear from the rest of the free world is how much the Yankees "suck". They "sucked" in the 80's when then didn't win ANYTHING, and they "sucked" in the late 90's when they won EVERYTHING. Now they "suck" because they have A-Rod, or Johnny Damon, or Jason Giambi, or whoever. Who cares? I'd just rather listen to someone who at least acts like he wants to be there, but what do I know?

Mr. McCarver needs someone who's willing to work with him, not some retard who's more impressed with the fact that he's announcing an important game than is actually motivated to do it. Not to mention Joe Buck has one of those hour-glass shaped midget heads, as if someone tied a belt around his head at the temples so the top of his skull would take on a mushroom effect.

Just give me a competent announcer when I have no other choice but to watch whatever horse's ass in a shirt and tie you can teach to hold a microphone. Where are the great announcers of today? Jon Miller, Bob Costas Jim Kaat, Vin Scully... These are great announcers. They have a command of the game, and the English language, I might add. Bob Uecker, who was a pretty bad catcher and an even worse hitter that played for the Braves, Phillies, and Cardinals, is a great announcer. He has knowledge of the game, and a personality that makes you want to hear what he has to say. Jack Buck (Joe's father), who announced for The Cardinals since before my parents were born, was one of the greatest announcers of all time. I realize the greats (Jack Buck, Howard Cosell, Mel Allen, etc.) are not only gone forever, but irreplaceable. We need someone who loves the sport they're announcing for. In my opinion, not as a Yankee fan, but as a fan of the sport of baseball, Bob Costas is the best man for the job. He's the only baseball fan in broadcasting who's not covering a game, and that's a crying shame. Someone hire him!

So there you have it. That's the problem with baseball. Joe Buck... lol... but not just Joe Buck. It's every empty head behind Joe Buck and every other announcer like him. I say it's about time for the pendulum to swing the other way

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Sick and Tired, But Still Working

So apparently I've acquired some germs. Not your run of the mill "I want to die" type of germs, but germs none the less. If this were an illness, I'd be content to sleep it off for the next few days. However, this seems to be one of those "We're just going to tire you out and stuff up just one side of your head at a time until the fantasies of taking a turkey baster to each nostril fill your every waking moment" sorts of inconveniences. Not to mention one ear won't pop.

Like I said, I'd be much more content to just be sick. I figure I'm due anyway. Since I've graduated high school well over a decade ago, I've been sick maybe 3-4 times. When, if ever, I'm feeling under the weather, it's just enough so I can live my everyday life the same as always, but with a constant reminder that it could be worse. I have a strong constitution, but this is just a pain in the ass. I'm not nauseous, I'm not feverish, and I'm happy to report my poo is in top notch condition. Never the less, all I want to do is sleep, and only one ear is clogged.

Damn it to hell...

But I'm not cranky. Just exhausted, and an unfulfilled exhaustion at that. I didn't exert myself at all today for fear of really becoming sick. My body just wants to rest and regain its natural fluid balance.

Which brings me to my next thought, "When did cough drops become more valuable than gold?" What the hell? You'd figure when it's not cold and flu season, the price of cough drops would drop in order to clear overhead. Well, you'd be wrong. The cough drop despots of the country have you by the short hairs, and they know it.

But, on the bright side, I have digital cable which means I have a million channels including a thousand HBO's and whatnot, and that's just plain nifty. On Demand rocks the house, not to mention The Science Channel.

I swear to god, this is what television was made for. You can go to the theatre to see drama, or the movies to see heroes blowing shit up. You can turn on the radio for music, and you can go to the local shop and plunk down 35 cents for today's news, but The Science Channel is where it's at. Any time, day or night, there's something awesome on. You wanna learn about what kind of corn they found in ancient Egyptian turds? Well, turn on The Science Channel, my friend! What's going on 7 galaxies away? Hey, switch on The Science Channel, man! Autistics who can calculate infinity, savants who can hear numbers, discussions on all of Einstein's theories, assorted documentaries about the cosmos narrated by Patrick Stewart or William Shatner, and shows with Bill Nye the Science Guy explaining the practical applications of elemetary sciences... You name it.

And.... AND.... AND!! Carl fucking Sagan. Thank you!

And, I watch the other educational channels, like The Biography channel, History International, and the other Discovery channels, but none of them hold my interest like the Science Channel. And don't get me started on the National Geographic Channel. They have some interesting stuff but most of it is shows about Chupacabra, or Bigfoot, or Roswell.... Well, that is if they're not showing a 147 hour Dog Whisperer marathon. I swear to god I wanna smack that guy. I've yet to watch more than 2 full minutes of that show without grinding my teeth. Yeah, your dog isn't the breathing stuffed animal of your dreams. Wonderful. Can you treat your dog like a fucking dog and not like the child you're missing in your life, please? Thank you. I'd like to see something of substance if you don't mind. You'd think a channel named after National Geographic would be something more along the lines of what Animal Planet should be, but you'd be wrong again.

How about running some reruns of Jacques Cousteau?

Or you could make a series explaining the evolution of different dog breeds. How did the Germans breed one dog that's sleek and cunning like the Doberman, and one that's a mountain of muscle like the Rottweiler, and why? Why did the Queen of England decide that the Pembroke Welsh Corgi was her breed of choice? Hell, there are hundreds! There is a breed of dog that's used to hunt jaguar. Who wouldn't want to see that?!!

And what about some more of those documentaries about how the African tribes live their every day lives? A village of hunters running bare ass through the jungle wearing nothing but a Kool-Aid t-shirt from 1977. I love that shit!

But no. Every time I flip to The National Geographic Channel, I'm subjected to two 300 lb nimrods whose lives are turned upside down by a 2 and a half pound Pomeranian. Jesus... But what do I know?

HA! Well I don't know where that all came from, but I do believe it has the making of a 2-3 minute comedic monologue. The life of an artist. I'm always thinking... always thinking. Now it's time to sleep for a good 10 hours.