Oh. My. Goodness. The passion of our listeners came out in full force last night at Hog's Palace and I was NOT prepared. People saying hello, people drinkin' beers, people sipping drinks, people yelling at me for not getting to spin the wheel, people yelling at me for not winning anything for spinning the wheel, people who loved Anarchy, who loved Hollow Drive, passionate for Spiral Crush, lovin' Throttle Body, and weeping openly of their love for Sponge!! Good grief. It was a madhouse.
I was not ready for the enthusiastic crush of love from the Q106 listeners who came through and for everyone else who just wanted to party no matter who was there. It was a magical night and I've got tons of pictures to prove it. Wow. Thanks guys. You gave me somethin' special last night. Something I'll never forget!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
I Can Feel It
It gets stronger every day. That compulsion inside a man that makes it more difficult to place yourself inside a woman, finish, and be satisfied is now more an obnoxious afterthought than a driving force. The boy in me is giving way to the man he wants to be.
Perhaps I'm talkin' out of my arse since I've never really carnally had a woman, but where once it was fun to fantasize of short-lived passion I find myself yearning still for more. It's like eating a steak without potatoes. A meal without dessert. A challenging videogame with no final boss. A book with no finite ending (DAMN YOU George R. R. Martin!!!). A kiss with no embrace.
Could it be I'm mature enough to need some love with my lust?
I hope not. If so then clearly I've betrayed my id. He, my id, peaked at 13 with many MANY wide-eyed dreamless nights of impure obsessions. He's the stone-faced sweaty-palmed truth of my youth that made it both impossible to talk to girls and impossible to ignore them.
Sixth grade was the apex of spirit-filled recesses and long, hot, fun summers with my neighborhood homies. Seventh grade was the start of morning showers, morning wood, and mourning recess. Girls that wore shorts under long dresses and bland, masculine colors had effortlessly converted to see-through blouses, short skirts, and makeup. It wasn't even a fair fight. Frankly, I don't know how I survived.
But those days are long gone and I want more. The weight of it plays on me like a bucket filling with water at the back of my mind. And with every daily drip I feel the weight all the more. Eventually it will become unbearable and I'll doggedly pursue my one, tender, true. Or I'll bury it all underneath heroine and whores. Whatever comes first.
Perhaps I'm talkin' out of my arse since I've never really carnally had a woman, but where once it was fun to fantasize of short-lived passion I find myself yearning still for more. It's like eating a steak without potatoes. A meal without dessert. A challenging videogame with no final boss. A book with no finite ending (DAMN YOU George R. R. Martin!!!). A kiss with no embrace.
Could it be I'm mature enough to need some love with my lust?
I hope not. If so then clearly I've betrayed my id. He, my id, peaked at 13 with many MANY wide-eyed dreamless nights of impure obsessions. He's the stone-faced sweaty-palmed truth of my youth that made it both impossible to talk to girls and impossible to ignore them.
Sixth grade was the apex of spirit-filled recesses and long, hot, fun summers with my neighborhood homies. Seventh grade was the start of morning showers, morning wood, and mourning recess. Girls that wore shorts under long dresses and bland, masculine colors had effortlessly converted to see-through blouses, short skirts, and makeup. It wasn't even a fair fight. Frankly, I don't know how I survived.
But those days are long gone and I want more. The weight of it plays on me like a bucket filling with water at the back of my mind. And with every daily drip I feel the weight all the more. Eventually it will become unbearable and I'll doggedly pursue my one, tender, true. Or I'll bury it all underneath heroine and whores. Whatever comes first.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Jobs I Worked / Lesson I Learned
Caddy At A Private Golf Club / Never tell the most powerful man at the club that you can't caddy for him because you have to go to church, even if it's true.
File Clerk / Chris Rock said it best: You know what it means when they pay you minimum wage? You know what they're trying to tell you? It's like: "Hey, if I could pay you less, I would. But it's against the law."
Church Janitor / Religious people are just as dirty as non-religious people.
Lettuce Refiller in Dorm Cafeteria / Sorority girls love to put lettuce on their plate. They also love putting most if it in the garbage too.
Videogame Arcade Changer / Changing dollars into quarters for a living is, hands down, the fastest way to learn about how the world really works.
Food Delivery Boy / The service of having food brought to you is getting cheaper and cheaper as the dollar decreases in value. Thank goodness the price of gas is going down. Wait...
Upscale Restaurant Table Busser / The employees are just as delusional and arrogant as the customers. At least we got out of work at 10.
Bartender / The only things separating me from the neighborhood drug dealer were taxes and a uniform.
Crowd Control At A Major Entertainment Venue / Knowing that a mini-mag flashlight is all that protects you from thousands of sod-throwing, mosh-pit slamming hooligans will change your life.
Bouncer / The same girl that dumped you for being "too forward" will whore herself out over a $5 cover charge. Welcome to America.
Strip Club DJ / Girls are just like guys except for when you tell girls they look pretty they show you boobies.
Radio Sales / I'm better at being a ho than a pimp.
File Clerk / Chris Rock said it best: You know what it means when they pay you minimum wage? You know what they're trying to tell you? It's like: "Hey, if I could pay you less, I would. But it's against the law."
Church Janitor / Religious people are just as dirty as non-religious people.
Lettuce Refiller in Dorm Cafeteria / Sorority girls love to put lettuce on their plate. They also love putting most if it in the garbage too.
Videogame Arcade Changer / Changing dollars into quarters for a living is, hands down, the fastest way to learn about how the world really works.
Food Delivery Boy / The service of having food brought to you is getting cheaper and cheaper as the dollar decreases in value. Thank goodness the price of gas is going down. Wait...
Upscale Restaurant Table Busser / The employees are just as delusional and arrogant as the customers. At least we got out of work at 10.
Bartender / The only things separating me from the neighborhood drug dealer were taxes and a uniform.
Crowd Control At A Major Entertainment Venue / Knowing that a mini-mag flashlight is all that protects you from thousands of sod-throwing, mosh-pit slamming hooligans will change your life.
Bouncer / The same girl that dumped you for being "too forward" will whore herself out over a $5 cover charge. Welcome to America.
Strip Club DJ / Girls are just like guys except for when you tell girls they look pretty they show you boobies.
Radio Sales / I'm better at being a ho than a pimp.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Monday's Good Thing That Went Wrong
Kids Entertainment
Breasts. Pert. Firm. Lovely. They didn't sit on her chest so much
as stand, at attention, alert, brown nipples perfectly placed in the
bottom third of the breast, evenly spaced, wonderful. She was
standing on a large rock in front of a waterfall, her face a mask of
innocence, ignorant to the magical effect she was conjuring with her
powerfully sexual visage.
He, like her, was an actor. But in that moment I'm sure that he, like
me, was trapped within his masculinity, impelled to do nothing more
than stare in open-mouthed worship. They co-starred in a film called
"Sheena: Queen of the Jungle", an embarrassingly foolish film*.
The movie was a ludicrously stupid attempt to make a star of Tanya
Roberts and her craze-inducing hotness, but all it really did was make
a man out of me. I was in elementary school when the movie came out
so I didn't know why I liked looking at her since girls my age didn't
look like that. But my body understood.
Childhood is a rehearsal for adulthood. Yes, it's more an adept
simulation since you don't have to pay your own bills or make your own
way (in most cases), but the principles are almost exactly the same
for one and the other:
1) We wake up early, every day, to go go into a place where we will be given a large set of tasks.
2) We will be expected to achieve at the tasks given. The various levels of achievement will determine our social rank.
3) Authorities are placed above us to ensure we work within the system present to adjust our placement and to make sure we find commonality amongst those of similar social rank.
4) We will develop and maintain friendships with people we like and learn
to function socially with those we don't.
5) We will seek out romance within these social circles so as to find
emotional completeness and personal validation.
Nowadays we treat our children like they're morons. "Sheena" was rated PG. Tanya Roberts was naked at LEAST twice and topless once more in the movie. Can you imagine a PG movie with exposed nipples and full bush coming out this summer? PIXAR makes The Incredibles which has NO nudity, NO ONE dies, and NO profanity...but it's rated PG? It's a whole other world for films today.
I remember a movie called The Neverending Story. There are a few deaths, a little profanity (from kids, but still), dark storylines, and the creepiest flying entity that ever existed in fiction, but it was rated PG. Now? It would be branded PG-13 right along with The Dark Knight. With the frightful homicidal menace created by Heath Ledger's Joker does that make sense to you? And remember, The Godfather is only a step up from that. What message do we send to our kids when we baby them with light fare before we inundate them with sex and violence? Is it any wonder our adolescents are so eager to grope for adult responsibilities WELL before they're ready?
Television shows for kids were also more mature then than now. Before the fluorescent blandness of "Saved By The Bell", "Diff'rent Strokes" approached dozens of controversial subjects from racial identity to class discrimination to pedophilia to bulimia and all while making you laugh heartily with their oddball family.
Other shows went just as far, if not further. "All In The Family" virtually bombarded us with racial issues as the main character Archie Bunker dealt with his own negative inclinations towards people of color...and everyone else too.
"The Facts of Life" was another show that used humor to share life lessons. It was about four girls going to boarding school, all coming from different backgrounds. One of the girls dealt with an attempted rape while another lost her virginity.
And "Mr. Belvedere" was about a British manservant that was working for an American family. Sounds like a simple context with no possibility for complexity. "Mr. Belvedere" was the television show was the first to introduce me to AIDS.
I'm not saying we need to dump adult themes and concepts on children as early as possible. I'm only suggesting that their young, but perceptive, intellects need be respected. Denying them the facts on adult responsibilities is an excellent way to ensure that they never learn to manage them properly.
Does that mean we need to throw a nipple or two (dozen) into Harry Potter? I don't know. Is Emma Watson 18 yet?
*I've watched "Sheena: Queen of the Jungle" thirty-two times and I don't even own it...yet.
Breasts. Pert. Firm. Lovely. They didn't sit on her chest so much
as stand, at attention, alert, brown nipples perfectly placed in the
bottom third of the breast, evenly spaced, wonderful. She was
standing on a large rock in front of a waterfall, her face a mask of
innocence, ignorant to the magical effect she was conjuring with her
powerfully sexual visage.
He, like her, was an actor. But in that moment I'm sure that he, like
me, was trapped within his masculinity, impelled to do nothing more
than stare in open-mouthed worship. They co-starred in a film called
"Sheena: Queen of the Jungle", an embarrassingly foolish film*.
The movie was a ludicrously stupid attempt to make a star of Tanya
Roberts and her craze-inducing hotness, but all it really did was make
a man out of me. I was in elementary school when the movie came out
so I didn't know why I liked looking at her since girls my age didn't
look like that. But my body understood.
Childhood is a rehearsal for adulthood. Yes, it's more an adept
simulation since you don't have to pay your own bills or make your own
way (in most cases), but the principles are almost exactly the same
for one and the other:
1) We wake up early, every day, to go go into a place where we will be given a large set of tasks.
2) We will be expected to achieve at the tasks given. The various levels of achievement will determine our social rank.
3) Authorities are placed above us to ensure we work within the system present to adjust our placement and to make sure we find commonality amongst those of similar social rank.
4) We will develop and maintain friendships with people we like and learn
to function socially with those we don't.
5) We will seek out romance within these social circles so as to find
emotional completeness and personal validation.
Nowadays we treat our children like they're morons. "Sheena" was rated PG. Tanya Roberts was naked at LEAST twice and topless once more in the movie. Can you imagine a PG movie with exposed nipples and full bush coming out this summer? PIXAR makes The Incredibles which has NO nudity, NO ONE dies, and NO profanity...but it's rated PG? It's a whole other world for films today.
I remember a movie called The Neverending Story. There are a few deaths, a little profanity (from kids, but still), dark storylines, and the creepiest flying entity that ever existed in fiction, but it was rated PG. Now? It would be branded PG-13 right along with The Dark Knight. With the frightful homicidal menace created by Heath Ledger's Joker does that make sense to you? And remember, The Godfather is only a step up from that. What message do we send to our kids when we baby them with light fare before we inundate them with sex and violence? Is it any wonder our adolescents are so eager to grope for adult responsibilities WELL before they're ready?
Television shows for kids were also more mature then than now. Before the fluorescent blandness of "Saved By The Bell", "Diff'rent Strokes" approached dozens of controversial subjects from racial identity to class discrimination to pedophilia to bulimia and all while making you laugh heartily with their oddball family.
Other shows went just as far, if not further. "All In The Family" virtually bombarded us with racial issues as the main character Archie Bunker dealt with his own negative inclinations towards people of color...and everyone else too.
"The Facts of Life" was another show that used humor to share life lessons. It was about four girls going to boarding school, all coming from different backgrounds. One of the girls dealt with an attempted rape while another lost her virginity.
And "Mr. Belvedere" was about a British manservant that was working for an American family. Sounds like a simple context with no possibility for complexity. "Mr. Belvedere" was the television show was the first to introduce me to AIDS.
I'm not saying we need to dump adult themes and concepts on children as early as possible. I'm only suggesting that their young, but perceptive, intellects need be respected. Denying them the facts on adult responsibilities is an excellent way to ensure that they never learn to manage them properly.
Does that mean we need to throw a nipple or two (dozen) into Harry Potter? I don't know. Is Emma Watson 18 yet?
*I've watched "Sheena: Queen of the Jungle" thirty-two times and I don't even own it...yet.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Just Thinkin' Out Loud
Written two hours after the midnight end of Memorial Day:
Today is a good night to be drunk. As the sun dips below the horizon to lay amongst its heavenly harem the wind picks up. The breeze is relaxed. Strong enough to tickle the trees, making them sway with their subtle chuckles, but light enough to cool your freshly perspired brow of the otherwordly heat brought on by this deliciously delicious liquid fire.
My parents gave me a Macbook out of the blue. I don't know if it was because I'm a good son or because I'm spoiled, but I smile just the same typing on it like I am now. The alcohol makes the worlds of words flow easier. Like a breakdancer trying to seduce a ladyfriend with moves as fluid as the waters of Lake Michigan my mind fires soft synaptical seduction to make my fingers do precisely what it desires.
It's on nights like these that I feel my loneliness hardest. Enjoyment is meant to be shared and I'm having the time of my life. Writing on my porch gives me a piece of mind unlike anything else. The only thing better would be sharing it with someone. A lovely lass, fine as the sands of Hawaii and as lovely as the Rockies during a cloudless sunrise.
It's what we're all meant for really. Love. True love. It's an easy concept to imagine but near impossible to bring about. Someone who loves you for you and wants to help you be better. An ideal that we write songs, books, and movies about to no end should be as easily accessible as a pack of smokes or a greasyass hamburger. But it's not. Makes no sense to me. Do you understand?
Anyway, if you're gonna have a buzz alone make it a strong one. That way your senses aren't acute enough to focus on the lackings. The gaping holes in your heart . The empty hands desirous of the soft, giving flesh of another. Mouth closed, engaging no other minds or lips but those of the cold, dispassionate rocks glass.
Eeeeeyup. Nights like these are made for me. Forgetting my loneliness I can focus on the kid down the street in Spiderman pajamis, still up at this hour, and the parents who ain't watchin' him. The cat lady coughed inside her house. Amongst the several dozen cats she is either caring for or holding captive in her backyard I'm shocked I actually heard it. The car across the street is unfamiliar to me, but the one next to my house isn't. It belongs to the boyfriend of the large-breasted be-spectacled neighbor who is so keen to care for a cat that clearly despises her.
Nights like these are like meditation. A reboot for the mind where one can just sit down and let nature restore all the default settings anew, refreshed, ready for another round of corporate drudgery and minutiae minding. So, for right now, while I have the moment I'll take a deeeeeep breath.
*DEEEEP BREATH*
Aaahhh. So much better. Gimme the invisible touch of nature's hand any day. It's been a longass week and a hardass weekend. Thank God for tonight. Thank God for the breeze. Thank God for this computer. And thank God for the alcohol. I am blessed beyond imagining. Hallelujah. *Amen*
Today is a good night to be drunk. As the sun dips below the horizon to lay amongst its heavenly harem the wind picks up. The breeze is relaxed. Strong enough to tickle the trees, making them sway with their subtle chuckles, but light enough to cool your freshly perspired brow of the otherwordly heat brought on by this deliciously delicious liquid fire.
My parents gave me a Macbook out of the blue. I don't know if it was because I'm a good son or because I'm spoiled, but I smile just the same typing on it like I am now. The alcohol makes the worlds of words flow easier. Like a breakdancer trying to seduce a ladyfriend with moves as fluid as the waters of Lake Michigan my mind fires soft synaptical seduction to make my fingers do precisely what it desires.
It's on nights like these that I feel my loneliness hardest. Enjoyment is meant to be shared and I'm having the time of my life. Writing on my porch gives me a piece of mind unlike anything else. The only thing better would be sharing it with someone. A lovely lass, fine as the sands of Hawaii and as lovely as the Rockies during a cloudless sunrise.
It's what we're all meant for really. Love. True love. It's an easy concept to imagine but near impossible to bring about. Someone who loves you for you and wants to help you be better. An ideal that we write songs, books, and movies about to no end should be as easily accessible as a pack of smokes or a greasyass hamburger. But it's not. Makes no sense to me. Do you understand?
Anyway, if you're gonna have a buzz alone make it a strong one. That way your senses aren't acute enough to focus on the lackings. The gaping holes in your heart . The empty hands desirous of the soft, giving flesh of another. Mouth closed, engaging no other minds or lips but those of the cold, dispassionate rocks glass.
Eeeeeyup. Nights like these are made for me. Forgetting my loneliness I can focus on the kid down the street in Spiderman pajamis, still up at this hour, and the parents who ain't watchin' him. The cat lady coughed inside her house. Amongst the several dozen cats she is either caring for or holding captive in her backyard I'm shocked I actually heard it. The car across the street is unfamiliar to me, but the one next to my house isn't. It belongs to the boyfriend of the large-breasted be-spectacled neighbor who is so keen to care for a cat that clearly despises her.
Nights like these are like meditation. A reboot for the mind where one can just sit down and let nature restore all the default settings anew, refreshed, ready for another round of corporate drudgery and minutiae minding. So, for right now, while I have the moment I'll take a deeeeeep breath.
*DEEEEP BREATH*
Aaahhh. So much better. Gimme the invisible touch of nature's hand any day. It's been a longass week and a hardass weekend. Thank God for tonight. Thank God for the breeze. Thank God for this computer. And thank God for the alcohol. I am blessed beyond imagining. Hallelujah. *Amen*
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Too Young To Get Married
She was one of those young women that get overlooked at first glance: a short and skinny mid-40's housewife, she was 108lbs. of nothing special. Then I looked again.
The diminutive clothing was part-uniform and part-tactical camouflage. Her body wasn't "short and skinny", it was petite and lean. Maintained by either a high metabolism or Sensei-level StairMaster-ing she'd somehow managed to fight off the tricks of nature to retain her fighting form from high school.
She hid the good stuff under a blue apron the grocery required. Her lime green polo underneath it hung loose enough to disguise the bustline, but not the waistline. It was tucked into jeans that hung carefully on her soft, womanly hips but spread too far to reveal anything else. Looking at her sent my mind spinning around hints and allegory, pouring over all her physical details such as to stir fantasies about what she does when that blue apron hits the floor.
I'm lazy so I go grocery shopping every week. Unlike most people who seem to enjoy lugging hundreds of grocery bags into their homes once a month, I prefer to get it done with two or three bags once a week. I'd been at work, but I had some time still before I had to be on air. The grocery store was just across the street and I'd finished all my pre-air responsibilities. Off I went.
I was done in five minutes: Cabbage rolls, Mexican rice, fruits, chicken, soap, toothpaste, and I was walking up to the front to check out. She was waiting for me, all smiles. While she scanned my goods...wow...yeah, while she scanned my goods we spoke general pleasantries.
I wear one silver ring on the middle finger of each hand. I don't know why, but for whatever reason my mind insisted on it one day several years ago and I bought them.
"Oh, on your MIDDLE fingers. Ok. I thought you looked too young to be married!"
*Huh?*
"Ah! Heh heh, thanks!"
She spotted 'em while I was signing the credit card slip. I should have taken it as a compliment, but I couldn't. On the way back to my car I found reason after reason to discredit any favorable intent:
1) Calm down, everybody's nice in that grocery store.
2) Dude, you know she's probably half-blind, right?
3) Did you check behind you? Who knows who was there?
4) Probably a manager. Crowd was kinda thin. Maybe she's trying to increase return customership?
5) Maybe she knows I'm on the radio? I AM a celebrity now.
6) Did you look close? Maybe she had the crazy eyes?
7) Three words: New. Baby. Daddy.
8) You're three times her size. She was probably terrified!
9) Maybe her credit's bad and she needs a co-signer on a new car/new house/new implants?...
It went on and on. Odd thing is, I'm confident in myself and how I look. So why discredit her statement? Why would I care enough to spend so much mental doing so? Plus...I AM a celebrity. Shux, I'm hovering around local superstar now. Why get so peppered over a statement someone said in passing?
What bothers me most though is that I missed out on a PRIME flirting opportunity. Usually it takes some doing to turn my Flirt Switch to the "OFF" position, but somehow this cute little dame caught me without my Juju-Mooshoo. For that I am MOST ashamed.
So...I'm going back next week. Same time. Same place. I'm always good for an adventure.
The diminutive clothing was part-uniform and part-tactical camouflage. Her body wasn't "short and skinny", it was petite and lean. Maintained by either a high metabolism or Sensei-level StairMaster-ing she'd somehow managed to fight off the tricks of nature to retain her fighting form from high school.
She hid the good stuff under a blue apron the grocery required. Her lime green polo underneath it hung loose enough to disguise the bustline, but not the waistline. It was tucked into jeans that hung carefully on her soft, womanly hips but spread too far to reveal anything else. Looking at her sent my mind spinning around hints and allegory, pouring over all her physical details such as to stir fantasies about what she does when that blue apron hits the floor.
I'm lazy so I go grocery shopping every week. Unlike most people who seem to enjoy lugging hundreds of grocery bags into their homes once a month, I prefer to get it done with two or three bags once a week. I'd been at work, but I had some time still before I had to be on air. The grocery store was just across the street and I'd finished all my pre-air responsibilities. Off I went.
I was done in five minutes: Cabbage rolls, Mexican rice, fruits, chicken, soap, toothpaste, and I was walking up to the front to check out. She was waiting for me, all smiles. While she scanned my goods...wow...yeah, while she scanned my goods we spoke general pleasantries.
I wear one silver ring on the middle finger of each hand. I don't know why, but for whatever reason my mind insisted on it one day several years ago and I bought them.
"Oh, on your MIDDLE fingers. Ok. I thought you looked too young to be married!"
*Huh?*
"Ah! Heh heh, thanks!"
She spotted 'em while I was signing the credit card slip. I should have taken it as a compliment, but I couldn't. On the way back to my car I found reason after reason to discredit any favorable intent:
1) Calm down, everybody's nice in that grocery store.
2) Dude, you know she's probably half-blind, right?
3) Did you check behind you? Who knows who was there?
4) Probably a manager. Crowd was kinda thin. Maybe she's trying to increase return customership?
5) Maybe she knows I'm on the radio? I AM a celebrity now.
6) Did you look close? Maybe she had the crazy eyes?
7) Three words: New. Baby. Daddy.
8) You're three times her size. She was probably terrified!
9) Maybe her credit's bad and she needs a co-signer on a new car/new house/new implants?...
It went on and on. Odd thing is, I'm confident in myself and how I look. So why discredit her statement? Why would I care enough to spend so much mental doing so? Plus...I AM a celebrity. Shux, I'm hovering around local superstar now. Why get so peppered over a statement someone said in passing?
What bothers me most though is that I missed out on a PRIME flirting opportunity. Usually it takes some doing to turn my Flirt Switch to the "OFF" position, but somehow this cute little dame caught me without my Juju-Mooshoo. For that I am MOST ashamed.
So...I'm going back next week. Same time. Same place. I'm always good for an adventure.
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