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When life gets too busy or I have nothing to complain about, I just reach back and find something I wrote earlier but never posted (usually because it was uninteresting or poorly written…or maybe even both). This is one of those stories.
Over the weekend I had a particularly embarrassing incident. I woke up in the middle of the night to take a tinkle. I’ve been living in this house for three years; peeing in the same bathroom for three years. I haven’t moved any furniture since the day I got here and am pretty capable of wandering around in the dark. I made my way to the bathroom and started to go…only to discover the toilet seat cover was down. Call me unsivilzed if you want, but I live alone so I never bother putting the cover down. That’s why I didn’t bother to check before I went. In retrospect, I probably should’ve–but it was dark, I was tired, and we’re talking about three years of conditioning here. The sound immediately told me something was wrong so I put the brakes on and assessed the situation. The toilet seat cover was down and I missed like no man had . . . . .
As someone who works in the entertainment business, I find it amusing how many fans care more about our media than us–the folks who produce it. When we canceled a program a few months back we were bombard by emails and phone calls from angry viewers who were horrified their show was no longer on the air. You should see some of the letters we received–folks were talking like they lost their only reason to live. The ironic part is no one who works at our station ever bothered even watching the show.
Employees of the station act like we’re performing some service to the community and publicly emphasizes our quality and importance. But everyone–from the cameramen on the floor to the directors in the booth to the talent we have on screen–we all know it’s kind of a joke. To all of us, it’s just a paycheck; to some viewers, it’s a daily ritual.
I know this expands far beyond my little podunk television station. I listen to podcasts and radio shows were the host clearly doesn’t know as much about their show as I do. I can think of one podcast in particular. It’s only about 20 minutes . . . . .
When life gets too busy or I have nothing to complain about, I just reach back and find something I wrote earlier but never posted (usually because it was uninteresting or poorly written…or maybe even both). This is one of those stories.
I don’t mean to be a troublemaker–things just sorta happen to me. I think the reason why is because I’m a fighter–I simply don’t lay down when unjust situations arise. I don’t wanna inflate my own ego here, but I believe strongly in my convictions and I’m never going to back down. Some might call it stubborn, but I prefer ‘determined’–it puts a positive spin on things.
The Girlfriend and I went to Jack in the Box because she was craving one of their fruit smoothies. “Should I buy the small one for $2.69 or the large for 3.39,” she asked after studying the menu.
“Go with the small,” I told her. She rarely finished drinks like that and it didn’t make sense to spend the extra 70 cents on something she wasn’t going to drink. We went through the drive-thru and ordered the smoothie. The cashier didn’t tell us a total–only to pull up to the window.
. . . . .
Now there’s gonna be a new “Ghostbusters”?!?!?!? When will this stop? Just once–once!–I’d like to see the studios come up with a fresh idea for a movie. But that would require a time machine and a trip back to 1955. Hey, that’s an idea–why not a “Back To the Future” sequel?
Or should I say ‘reboot?’
That’s the latest buzzword in Hollywood. Studios are no longer making sequels–they’re ‘rebooting’ franchises. After the critical and commercial success of “Casino Royale” and “Batman Begins,” Hollywood is looking to reboot any franchise that had a successful run. Marvel felt compelled to reboot the Hulk a mere three years after the first one was considered a bust (proof that there’s justice in the world: the 2008 edition made just as much money as the 2005 version).
Hollywood thinks moviegoers are suckers. The suits believe if they attach the world ‘reboot’ to a franchise, they’ll get people to flock to a tired franchise no one cares about. But it takes more than calling a film a reboot to make a franchise relevant again. The reason “Batman Begins” was successful was because it was a good movie. I say this being a well-known Batman basher (I . . . . .
I graduated from college in 2003 and my last two or three years were pretty easy. Once I decided to major in English, the only homework I ever had to do was read. The only questions I had to answer were in essay form. This might sound like a nightmare to some people but not me. I love to read and saw nothing wrong with spending my evening perusing the greatest works of American literature (even though the majority of it sucked). As for essays, I loved essays. I’m a bullshitter–I could easily squeeze four or five hundred words out of nothing (which any of my readers could testify to). Hell, I’m much rather answer one question in essay form than take a 100-question, multiple-choice test. With a multiple-choice test, I have a one-in-four chance of getting it right–that’s a 75 percent failure rate. Multiply that by a hundred questions and it’s a no-brainer: I’ll take my chances on conning someone into believe I knew what I was talking about with an essay question.
That being said, I haven’t had to answer many fill-in-the-blank homework assignments since probably around the year 2000. Like I said–English majors only dealt with essay . . . . .
I don’t like to tell stories other people told me because it’s gossip and I generally don’t like being involved in such innuendo. One the important things to remember when telling someone else’s story is that you never know how truthful it is. That’s not to say people lie (some do). But when you’re telling someone else’s story you’re only hearing one side of it. Different things can be interpreted different ways. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s there’s always two sides to every story. That being said, I hafta share a story someone told me today. I heard this from a coworker.
A while back, my employer purchased a bunch of computers from a small, privately-owned computer store. We bought eight computers at around $500 each. The store was very eager to work with us in hopes of having more business with the station in the future. Even though the little store was in a different county, the owner offered to drop the computers off at our offices just to show how eager he was.
That is a fact ’cause I saw it firsthand when the computers arrived. But the next part of this tale is . . . . .
Things were different a hundred years ago. Blacks couldn’t vote (or run for president). Women couldn’t vote (or run for vice president). I don’t know what the price of gas was, but I’m sure it was cheaper than today. Even marriage was different. Back then, a wedding consisted of a guy, gal, her dad, and a shotgun. It was so much simpler. A modern wedding includes all of those things–plus numerous forms, fees, and other unnecessary bureaucracies.
The Girlfriend and I had to apply for a marriage license. Who needs a license to get married? Can that license get revoked? Why do we need the government’s permission to get married? It’s not like the state has any right to deny anyone marriage. Not anymore. Assuming were dealing with two human beings, everyone has the right to get married in California.
Applying for a marriage license isn’t that hard–the hardest part is come up with the 60 bucks required to get a license. Unfortunately, marriage licenses aren’t granted online or over the phone so we had to trek down to the courthouse to get our license. What a sight that was. You see it in television and movies all the time, . . . . .
A coworker was telling me about his experience meeting Fergie (who–thanks to The Girlfriend–I recently learned is a musician and not an English aristocrat). He talked about her bodyguards, fancy cars, and massive, obviously expensive jewelry. “That girl is rolling in cash,” he said.
I’m tired of making other people rich. Actors, singers, sports stars, CEOs–all of them are getting rich on our dime. Every movie we see and every CD we buy makes the rich richer. We don’t think about it when we go shopping–we just buy stuff because as Americans we love buying stuff. But the entertainers we make rich are already loaded. They have more money than they could every possibly spend (well, except MC Hammer). Imagine what it’s like being Fergie. She doesn’t hafta worry about $4-a-gallon gas. She doesn’t complain about rising food costs or worry about whether or not her boss will give her a raise. That girl is rolling in cash.
Must be nice.
Meanwhile the rest of us–people who live in the real world–struggle to make ends meet. I don’t wanna get all communist here, but it’s a load of garbage. At some point is there ever enough? No one needs that . . . . .
During a baseball broadcast, I heard a promo specifically encouraging Dodger fans to vote. Yeah, that’s what American needs: Dodger fans determining how the country is run. Not every uneducated literate with a criminal record deserves a voice. It’s this sorta propaganda that pisses me off. I hate voting season.
I’m not completely helpless. The Girlfriend might think I am, but there are plenty of things I can do on my own–one of which is basic car maintenance. I took a year of auto shop in high school. I like working with tools. I wouldn’t call myself a man’s man–but I can perform rudimentary vehicle maintenance like replacing air filters, changing spark plugs, and jump-starting a battery.
One of the things I won’t do is change my own oil. Sure, I could do it–but it’s just too darn messy…especially when I can take my car somewhere and get the oil changed by a professional for 20 bucks. It seems like money well-spent.
I needed an oil change and opted to go to Jip-U-Lube. It’s right near work and I had a coupon for a $20 oil change. It was for the deluxe package that includes the 14-point inspection. Personally, I . . . . .
The Olympics start this week…but does anyone really care? Do you know anybody who actually gets excited about the Olympics? I don’t know anyone who watches. Outside the big-name events (men’s basketball and Michael Phelps) I don’t know anyone who cares. I certainly don’t care. There’s no fun in watching someone run around a track. There’s only so many times I can watch a person swim in a pool (zero). There are very few mainstream events in our society that are as past their prime as the Olympics. I truly believe no one gives a crud…other than the athletes involved. If the world were to somehow skip an Olympics, do you think anyone would even notice? I don’t.
Recently I was sitting outside a very rich and classy hotel. It was one of those expensive joints–the kinda place where two nights cost more than I pay in month for rent. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead near such an establishment, but an assignment for work put me at the hotel’s entrance for a few hours. Since my job isn’t challenging, I had little to do other than watch numerous cars come to the valet and wait to get parked. It . . . . .
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