Ah, the rock-n-roll look. Kind of a young man - or woman's game really. I mean we all get older, God willing, and things change along the way. It's natural, unless maybe you're part of the Hollywood elite and a-listers who have plastic surgeons on speed dial - then again, in this day and age, isn't everyone on speed dial?
The rock-n-roll look is an odd pursuit, for some, it may be more effort than it should be - but I don't wanna judge anyone. When I played in rock bands, I didn't put much effort into the look, but I knew guys - and girls, who did. I just wanted to play music. I can't speak for others. A woman who sang in a band that was a large part of the Akron music scene had a quote years afterward that struck me:
I want to play folk music at this point on - because you can age gracefully.
I'm neither agreeing with that statement, or arguing it. I say that because music itself is probably the one thing that ages gracefully, and that doesn't have much to do with the genre of it. I say that because music I like is timeless. When I like it, and listen to it - and I do a lot of this, I don't give a rat's ass how old the song is. I couldn't stop this if I wanted to - and I don't. I can say that I do give thought to just when I might want to stop it - will I still listen to the Replacements if I hit 80? Should I? Pardon my proverbial French here people, but if I make it to 80 and I still have the hearing for it, I think I should listen to whatever the fuck I want to hear. Don't be an F-bomb hater, sometimes it's appropriate.
The look of rock-n-roll doesn't come easy from 40 on - and that's what seems a bit ridiculous. I'm not judging anyone, I'm just saying that from 40 on, it's a rather serious effort. Cool doesn't come easy in middle age, particularly looking cool. Perhaps one of the best illustrations of how ridiculous rock-n-roll can look from around 40 and on, is a movie that Sean Penn starred in, This Must Be The Place. Nails it - better than I can describe it. When I think of a later photo of a glam rocker that I won't name, Penn's performance is even stronger.
The look of rock-n-roll becomes unnatural at some point. I hate to bring color into it, but there does seem to be something unnatural about a guy having more highlights and color in his hair - or what's left of it, than women do. Are any of us, rock-n-rollers or any other walk of people, immune from hair turning gray? Doubtful. I mean at some point, trying to banish gray in favor of hair color of youthful adults, would seem to become a bit like trying to make a sunny day using heat lamps. There's bound to be nooks and crannies that are keeping a much cooler temperature. Fine, as long as they're not exposed. At some point the carpet and the drapes....well, you know.
Never mind appearances for the moment - let's talk comfort. I'll start at the bottom - shoes. I don't buy cheap shoes, and I don't like uncomfortable shoes, and comfort is vital these days when it comes to shoes. Let me just say that shoes that any of us who have passed certain mile markers in life once wore in younger days, are not so comfortable now. I mean seriously not comfortable now. Here is one example of my own experience that I'll offer up:
The Onitsuka Tiger Corsair athletic shoe. As a younger man in my 20's, I owned probably half a dozen pairs of this particular model of shoe. Loved 'em. Onitsuka became Asics and they stopped making the Corsair. Earlier this Summer, I found this beloved shoe of my youth, available online. Hot damn....wait a minute, they changed the color scheme of the stripes. Small matter, these were my shoes, I wanted another pair - so I bought 'em. They're not the same. They look different due to the color scheme of the stripes, and while I can live with that, my feet hurt when I wear them for extended periods of time - and I wore them to this show. Bad call for my tootsies. I lived, but bad call.
My point? Comfort. I'll admit I need some sole on my shoes these days - and I'll say that I can't be the only person who has passed certain mile markers to feel that way. Some of those rock-n-roll shoes are cruel. Cruel shoes. Self-inflicted footwear punishment. When it comes to footwear, most of us are at least a little masochistic sometimes. Women take top prize here, because they've been sacrificing comfort for visual appeal for eons - and there's no end in sight. They're not just doing it for us males, and please don't try to argue this point, okay? Just recognize it and accept it.
Socks are inconsequential - having little bearing on overall comfort. There isn't a sock made that can compensate for a poor choice in footwear. No one, rock star or normal person, will say something like, "you know these cool shoes normally hurt my feet like a motherfucker, but with these socks, I can wear 'em all day and not feel any pain." Never mind socks.
Pants. I never enlisted in the military - or so I thought. Somewhere around the 30 or 40 mile marker on the highway of life, I find out that I did enlist in the battle of the bulge. Waistline. Oh you can pack, or suck that shit in - but it's far from effortless. There's no halfway point here people - you do one of two things in this battle: a) Fight or b) Give up. I'm not judging, I'm just saying. It's up to you - no one can make that call for you. Bitch all you want, fight or don't fight. Winning means you have to keep fighting, and fighting is not involuntary, like breathing or blinking. You gotta work that shit, there is no won and done. Beer guts have to be beaten into submission - stop and they win. You make the call. What do I mean? Jeezus, figure it out would ya? Skinny, tight, and God forbid, leather pants are uncomfortable from 40 on. "Hey, Bono looks fucking cool in those leather khakis." - Said no one EVER. "Those leopardskin khakis look great on you." - Also said by no one EVER. I'm not judging. I'm just saying.
Do we need to talk about shirts? Not really. Shirts basically get a pass here. Mind you, I'm leaving out any type of girdle, or girdle-like device that makes anyone look as if they've never done battle with their waistline. That's none of my business, but I can tell you from experience that even a moderate beer gut is a beast that can't be restrained for long periods of time. Sooner or later that horse needs outta the stall. Somewhere there's a price to pay. Just saying.
Sport coats and leather jackets - all very well and good. They can defer attention from the beer gut I just talked about - but part of hunting is spotting what you're hunting for when it's trying to hide. Figure that out. I guess I should've mentioned sleeveless shirts and aged tattoos. I have neither. I've had really thin arms my entire life. Sleeveless doesn't bode well for arms like mine. My wrists are so non-substantial that there are probably women's watches that would look like a flippin' alarm clock on my wrist. I'm over it. Tattos? Let's assume I could think of something I'd want inked on my thin arms. I don't have a lot of options. By options, I mean room. Space. Very narrow blank canvas. A pencil maybe, rope perhaps, string...or thread maybe...sure, but how cool is any of that? Dig:
Friend: Dude! Did you get inked?
Me: Hell yeah I did!
Friend: Where?
Me: On my arm...
At this point, I roll up my sleeve to expose an expertly rendered #2 pencil, which starts on my upper arm at shoulder level, traveling down past my elbow and stopping in a perfectly sharpened, ready for an exam point, just shy of my wrist - because that's about how my forearm tapers down, but only when I'm working out regularly. What's really fucking cool about this tattoo, and makes it rock so fucking hard, is that when I bend my elbow, my tattoo artist has replicated a pencil break right at my elbow! Wonder how all that would look after more years than I wanna count? Been an ectomorph all of my life. Still am, but I have a stomach that wants to be an endomorph and fights relentlessly for me to let it do that. It kicks my ass after breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. No matter what I do from this point in life on, this fucking bully will never leave me the fuck alone. I'm working on banishing it to a six pack, but even if I succeed, the bully will follow me around and lay in wait for me to let my guard down. This bully will find me alone at some point, for the rest of my days I'll have to live with that fact. I can hit the gym every day from now until the end of time, this asshole has nothing better to do than follow me and wait....
My point is, if I let my guard down, my stomach is the only real place there would be ample room for cool tattoo artwork. I don't even wanna think about that for numerous reasons. Don't make me spell that out. Beer goes well with rock-n-roll, beer guts do not.
Now we're up the neck. Get it? Hair...dyes, colors, styles. I have very limited options when it comes to hair. If hairs on my head were neighbors that I wanted to have anything to do with, most of them have moved and they don't stay in touch. Thanks? I once walked by a table of women that were all within the 40 to 50 mile markers. I overheard one of them say she had zero gray in her hair, it was all still her natural color. The words barely made it out of her mouth and the other women at the table started adding their me too....as my buddy Oscar would say, "My BALLS." In other words, bullshit. I'm not judging, I'm just saying. Look, I once dated a woman whose mother owned a hair salon. She told me once that for every gray hair I pulled out, two would grow back. Fuckin'-A - that's a great deal for a guy with my hairline. That was years ago by the way, and I thought that deal was too good to be true. It was. If natural hair color were gas mileage, eventually even a car with the highest mileage is going to need to hit a gas station. Can I get a witness?
No, I haven't said shit about the Bon Jovi or Justin Bieber sightings at the show, nor have I said much about the music, the band or the show itself yet. Why? Because I'm still leading up to all that with illustrations, metaphors, analogies and the like, to illustrate, among other things, my own frustration with the fact that rock-n-roll can look ridiculous from 40 on. At some point a classic old car will look hideous coming out of the garage without some body work and a paint job. I'm not judging. I'm just saying. Next up, I'll talk a bit about jewelry...and I might just get to the Bon Jovi & Justin Bieber sightings and the music, the band, the show itself. Until then...rock on, good people, rock on.
Sarcasm spoken here
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Monday, October 28, 2013
Rock-n-roll can look ridiculous from 40 on...Part 3, We're in - let's eat
So my drum geek dilemma was solved. Had to see Steve Jordan. On with it. We went to the reception, which started at 6. Hors d' oeuvres and a bar in the lobby. The magnificent lobby - and I'm not kidding there. So not kidding. You walk into a setting like that and you're out for an evening, make no mistake about it. I dressed in relative obscurity - and without any intention of doing so. It hit me, like a ton of bricks, I don't get out much these days - I mean, I do, but I work out.
You couldn't help but notice the place was crawling with hipsters, and would be hipsters. I dunno, for me, just being there and knowing what I'm about to take in, is hip enough. I'm sure there were some who came out not really caring much about that, wouldn't know Turd On The Run if it were blasting out of the speakers. Fine. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less who sees me in this place, I'm not in for the scene, the hang, the food and the drinks - I'm here for the music.
Mind you there was nothing wrong with the hang. I was here with my parents and my sister. Someone made mention of the food supposedly being tied in with the music of the evening, but I'm not so sure about that. What do skewered shrimp, mini blackbean burgers, turkey Wellington (fail) and butternut squash confit have to do with rock-n-roll and the Rolling Stones? Pick me, I know this one! Nothing. The rules are simple at cocktail hors d'oeuvres functions:
But before we eat, note that hors d' oeuvres parties, statistically speaking, are the functions where more party fouls take place than any other social setting. Fun fact.
a) Obtain food items on small plate - small, dignified portions - food skoshes, so to speak/as it were, of which the temperature is falling quickly. By the time it hits your tastebuds, it will be exactly ten degrees minus room temp - if you're doing it right.
b) One plate at a time people - you can have more once your finished. Don't be a social clod and try holding three paper plates in your hand like you're holding cards, there's no dignity in that and you're simply defeating the purpose of the small portions parameters. Hungry? High, perhaps? Fine - be an embarrassment and take more than one. How much food can you get on one 4" diameter paper plate?
Here's a tip: If you're holding your plate halfway up your torso and the level of food reaches shirt pocket level, you've got too much - best not to be more of a spectacle than the event you're attending. Do what you will free food over-achievers, I'm just saying.
c) Find semi-discreet location to consume tiny amounts of food - once it has reached the appropriate temperature. Consume - such functions are not acceptable places to eat as if you're headed to the electric chair, for there are often photographers at such events. You should, for the sake of safety and vanity, have in your hand, a napkin - if said napkin is linen, it is not yours to keep as a fucking souvenir, so remember that. If all that is available for napkins are paper cocktail napkins, you should have a stack of 'em no thicker than the sole of your shoes - wearing platform shoes? Discretion is the better part of valor. Check it, yo.
d) Disposal of tiny paper plates - with, or without food items on the plate. Not all the food at these functions is good - sometimes none of it is. I found out - by accident mind you, that the black linen napkin provided for me, actually tasted better than the mini-black bean burgers they were serving. I also found out that two jumbo shrimp on a 1/2" skewer are a bitch to remove from...hey, now I get the food/music tie-in! Rolling Stones - Bitch....
Feeling hungry, can't see the reason
Just had a horsemeat pie
Also a bitch, is rotating between your drink and your small plate of food. It's up to you to decide which of the two is more important. Also up to you to find your own damn spot to rest your plate or glass on while you rotate between the two. Don't look for help - we're not breaking bread here people, we're socializing.
The worst thing you can do at an event like this is to show up hungry - if you do, don't expect that to end well. Just saying. Go ahead, try and fill up - just don't make the mistake of thinking that everyone else at this function won't notice, because they will notice and you will be fodder for amusing conversation/observation - some people may even point - and laugh at you. Deal with that, Hungry, Hungry Hippo. Ain't nobody look good standing there with a plastic wine glass in one hand, shit piling up and falling off a 4" paper plate in the other. Is that you? Party Foul numero uno.
What was I talking about? Oh yes, disposal. Perhaps more opportunity/risk of party foul here than at any other point. One is always far away from a trash can, and too many things can happen once you're done, insert air quote here, eating - and here. In the case of this event, I saw perhaps the grand prize winner of the party foul contest, and I'ma tell you about it - right now. Dude looks around for a trash can - and mind you he's of the social clod elite, holding a double-decker stack of plates piled with the 9 inch long skewers (enough for fireplace kindling actually), linen napkin, various & sundry other food that he piled high on his plate(s) thinking he'd be keen on.
Guy waits for the exact moment someone he was talking to turned away, and finds a ledge the exact width of the paper plates for all intents and purposes. Puts his stack on the ledge, turns his back to it and kind of backs in, I guess to make sure it stayed there and no one saw him doing this. As he sees it, his plan worked perfectly. I saw it another way, because while he was backing up and trying to discretely get rid of his trash, the top plate upended into the back of his blazer. Oops. Hello Turkey Wellington spot on the back of a sport coat, thanks Poetic Justice Man!
Look, I'm not saying I haven't tried to be so discrete at disposing of a paper plate at this kind of function, that you'd think I was planting a bomb....but really? Look around the next time you're at this kind of event, I bet you'll see half a dozen people thinking they're being slick in stashing this kind of trash. Man up, good people - you're not.
Score more party foul points if you see someone working the event you're attending coming towards you with an empty platter - and you assume that platter is a bus tray. Score more party foul points if you see one of these event workers coming at you with a tray piled seriously high with empty plates and other items that he or she is disposing of, and you stick your trash on top of it knowing the whole time that you're at serious risk of toppling the whole mess. I bet you suck at Jenga, don't you?
Next post, I'll get to the good stuff, y'know, the Bon Jovi and Justin Bieber sightings that took place during the after "dinner" cocktail hour. Cheers.
You couldn't help but notice the place was crawling with hipsters, and would be hipsters. I dunno, for me, just being there and knowing what I'm about to take in, is hip enough. I'm sure there were some who came out not really caring much about that, wouldn't know Turd On The Run if it were blasting out of the speakers. Fine. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less who sees me in this place, I'm not in for the scene, the hang, the food and the drinks - I'm here for the music.
Mind you there was nothing wrong with the hang. I was here with my parents and my sister. Someone made mention of the food supposedly being tied in with the music of the evening, but I'm not so sure about that. What do skewered shrimp, mini blackbean burgers, turkey Wellington (fail) and butternut squash confit have to do with rock-n-roll and the Rolling Stones? Pick me, I know this one! Nothing. The rules are simple at cocktail hors d'oeuvres functions:
But before we eat, note that hors d' oeuvres parties, statistically speaking, are the functions where more party fouls take place than any other social setting. Fun fact.
a) Obtain food items on small plate - small, dignified portions - food skoshes, so to speak/as it were, of which the temperature is falling quickly. By the time it hits your tastebuds, it will be exactly ten degrees minus room temp - if you're doing it right.
b) One plate at a time people - you can have more once your finished. Don't be a social clod and try holding three paper plates in your hand like you're holding cards, there's no dignity in that and you're simply defeating the purpose of the small portions parameters. Hungry? High, perhaps? Fine - be an embarrassment and take more than one. How much food can you get on one 4" diameter paper plate?
Here's a tip: If you're holding your plate halfway up your torso and the level of food reaches shirt pocket level, you've got too much - best not to be more of a spectacle than the event you're attending. Do what you will free food over-achievers, I'm just saying.
c) Find semi-discreet location to consume tiny amounts of food - once it has reached the appropriate temperature. Consume - such functions are not acceptable places to eat as if you're headed to the electric chair, for there are often photographers at such events. You should, for the sake of safety and vanity, have in your hand, a napkin - if said napkin is linen, it is not yours to keep as a fucking souvenir, so remember that. If all that is available for napkins are paper cocktail napkins, you should have a stack of 'em no thicker than the sole of your shoes - wearing platform shoes? Discretion is the better part of valor. Check it, yo.
d) Disposal of tiny paper plates - with, or without food items on the plate. Not all the food at these functions is good - sometimes none of it is. I found out - by accident mind you, that the black linen napkin provided for me, actually tasted better than the mini-black bean burgers they were serving. I also found out that two jumbo shrimp on a 1/2" skewer are a bitch to remove from...hey, now I get the food/music tie-in! Rolling Stones - Bitch....
Feeling hungry, can't see the reason
Just had a horsemeat pie
Also a bitch, is rotating between your drink and your small plate of food. It's up to you to decide which of the two is more important. Also up to you to find your own damn spot to rest your plate or glass on while you rotate between the two. Don't look for help - we're not breaking bread here people, we're socializing.
The worst thing you can do at an event like this is to show up hungry - if you do, don't expect that to end well. Just saying. Go ahead, try and fill up - just don't make the mistake of thinking that everyone else at this function won't notice, because they will notice and you will be fodder for amusing conversation/observation - some people may even point - and laugh at you. Deal with that, Hungry, Hungry Hippo. Ain't nobody look good standing there with a plastic wine glass in one hand, shit piling up and falling off a 4" paper plate in the other. Is that you? Party Foul numero uno.
What was I talking about? Oh yes, disposal. Perhaps more opportunity/risk of party foul here than at any other point. One is always far away from a trash can, and too many things can happen once you're done, insert air quote here, eating - and here. In the case of this event, I saw perhaps the grand prize winner of the party foul contest, and I'ma tell you about it - right now. Dude looks around for a trash can - and mind you he's of the social clod elite, holding a double-decker stack of plates piled with the 9 inch long skewers (enough for fireplace kindling actually), linen napkin, various & sundry other food that he piled high on his plate(s) thinking he'd be keen on.
Guy waits for the exact moment someone he was talking to turned away, and finds a ledge the exact width of the paper plates for all intents and purposes. Puts his stack on the ledge, turns his back to it and kind of backs in, I guess to make sure it stayed there and no one saw him doing this. As he sees it, his plan worked perfectly. I saw it another way, because while he was backing up and trying to discretely get rid of his trash, the top plate upended into the back of his blazer. Oops. Hello Turkey Wellington spot on the back of a sport coat, thanks Poetic Justice Man!
Look, I'm not saying I haven't tried to be so discrete at disposing of a paper plate at this kind of function, that you'd think I was planting a bomb....but really? Look around the next time you're at this kind of event, I bet you'll see half a dozen people thinking they're being slick in stashing this kind of trash. Man up, good people - you're not.
Score more party foul points if you see someone working the event you're attending coming towards you with an empty platter - and you assume that platter is a bus tray. Score more party foul points if you see one of these event workers coming at you with a tray piled seriously high with empty plates and other items that he or she is disposing of, and you stick your trash on top of it knowing the whole time that you're at serious risk of toppling the whole mess. I bet you suck at Jenga, don't you?
Next post, I'll get to the good stuff, y'know, the Bon Jovi and Justin Bieber sightings that took place during the after "dinner" cocktail hour. Cheers.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Rock-n-Roll can look ridiculous from about 40 on...Part Two, Meat & Potatoes
I was too amped up (some pun intended) when I got home from last night's show to really say much about the evening, the show itself and how I anguished over deciding which show I'd go to on a rare Saturday night off. Actually, that's not a bad problem to have - particularly when you know that you're not going to be disappointed either way. I have my reasons for deciding which show I had to see.
A few weeks ago, my mom called me and asked me if I wanted to go to this year's Masters of Music Series show put on by the Rock Hall. When she told me the date, I thought I remembered something about that night...oh yes, I was planning on going to see The Tubes that night. Here's something a bit ridiculous looking from 40 on - when you're booking even a lightly busy social calendar like mine, you need to get that shit on a hard drive somewhere. By hard drive, I mean write it down, log it in your phone calendar....something, lest you end up saying things like, crap! That was TONIGHT?? Surprising even me, I was on it this time.
My mom said she wasn't sure who was going to be there & to let her know if I was interested in going - suggested I check the Rock Hall website to see who was on the bill. When I did, one name made my decision immediately: Steve Jordan, Drummer/Musical Director. A bit of back story on me: Drummer, music listener/lover/song addict/geek/keeper of useless music trivia. Worked in a large drum shop back in the 90's, worked for a drum company after that. Point is, I've had the luxury/privilege of seeing a lot of my favorite drummers, and I've met a few of 'em too. There are a lot of drummers I greatly admire, but there are only a handful that can, and will, reduce this grown man to a starstruck kid, a kid who stands there in wonder and wants an autograph and/or a picture with them.
As a kid, I was into sports for a bit, and athletes were Gods to me then. Way up on a pedestal. My interest in sports pretty much left me in my late teens. Not so for the music stuff. So not so. I got nothin' to say for myself really - having passed two major mile markers on the highway of life, I couldn't stop my love of music, songs and the art that is all of that if I wanted to - but I don't, so I gave up even thinking about trying. I guess starstruck would be the word, but the best way to explain it, is to say that it's like the feeling I had when I got a pro football player's autograph when I was a kid. There aren't any professional athletes that make me feel that way now - none. There aren't many famous musicians that reduce me to that now, but there are a handful of 'em - and Steve Jordan is one.
And so, he did. Now you have some insight on the rock-n-roll dilemma I was facing with both of these shows on the same night. Next time I'll shed more light on the events of last night, just how rock-n-roll can look ridiculous from 40 on, Bon Jovi and Justin Bieber sightings, the magnificent Palace theatre, the crowd, the show itself....and things not to do at a concert.
A few weeks ago, my mom called me and asked me if I wanted to go to this year's Masters of Music Series show put on by the Rock Hall. When she told me the date, I thought I remembered something about that night...oh yes, I was planning on going to see The Tubes that night. Here's something a bit ridiculous looking from 40 on - when you're booking even a lightly busy social calendar like mine, you need to get that shit on a hard drive somewhere. By hard drive, I mean write it down, log it in your phone calendar....something, lest you end up saying things like, crap! That was TONIGHT?? Surprising even me, I was on it this time.
My mom said she wasn't sure who was going to be there & to let her know if I was interested in going - suggested I check the Rock Hall website to see who was on the bill. When I did, one name made my decision immediately: Steve Jordan, Drummer/Musical Director. A bit of back story on me: Drummer, music listener/lover/song addict/geek/keeper of useless music trivia. Worked in a large drum shop back in the 90's, worked for a drum company after that. Point is, I've had the luxury/privilege of seeing a lot of my favorite drummers, and I've met a few of 'em too. There are a lot of drummers I greatly admire, but there are only a handful that can, and will, reduce this grown man to a starstruck kid, a kid who stands there in wonder and wants an autograph and/or a picture with them.
As a kid, I was into sports for a bit, and athletes were Gods to me then. Way up on a pedestal. My interest in sports pretty much left me in my late teens. Not so for the music stuff. So not so. I got nothin' to say for myself really - having passed two major mile markers on the highway of life, I couldn't stop my love of music, songs and the art that is all of that if I wanted to - but I don't, so I gave up even thinking about trying. I guess starstruck would be the word, but the best way to explain it, is to say that it's like the feeling I had when I got a pro football player's autograph when I was a kid. There aren't any professional athletes that make me feel that way now - none. There aren't many famous musicians that reduce me to that now, but there are a handful of 'em - and Steve Jordan is one.
And so, he did. Now you have some insight on the rock-n-roll dilemma I was facing with both of these shows on the same night. Next time I'll shed more light on the events of last night, just how rock-n-roll can look ridiculous from 40 on, Bon Jovi and Justin Bieber sightings, the magnificent Palace theatre, the crowd, the show itself....and things not to do at a concert.
Rock-n-Roll can look ridiculous from about 40 on...Part One
First off, I don't mean that as negatively as it's bound to come out to many who may read this. Number one, I flippin' love rock-n-roll - and I've passed the 40 mile marker on the highway of life, like it or not...and I do. Truth be told, Rock-n-Roll isn't the only thing that can look ridiculous from about 40 on. I bring up rock because tonight I took a rare Saturday night off and went to a Masters of Music concert put on by the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame. The show celebrated 50 years of The Rolling Stones - and love 'em or hate 'em, if they're not the greatest rock-n-roll band ever, they're certainly one of 'em.
I had every intention of going to another show tonight - The Tubes. I was a maybe on that show until I found out that their original drummer, Prairie Prince, was definitely going to be playing on the band's two dates close to where I live. Small venue + one of my favorite bands + one of my favorite drummers = one happy, geek-ed out music drummer/fan/snob. The venue that they were playing, Tangier, in Akron, is the closest you can actually get to being dropped inside the bottle on I Dream of Jeanie- I'm pretty sure that was the set for all the scenes they did in Jeanie's bottle actually.
I was going to go see The Tubes tonight. Saw them twice before - once, as my friend and former employer, Brad Buchanan said, was nearly billed as just their original sound man. Slight exaggeration, and a very humorous one, but damn near accurate because all it featured from the original lineup, was the guitar player and bassist. It was a train wreck that I felt ripped off by - and I talked Brad into going. No Fee Waybill, no Prairie Prince - who is one of my favorite drummers. The second time was a couple years ago at a funky small club in Mentor-on-the lake. While Fee was in the house that night, I think I may have been permanently scarred by eating my steak under a black light at this venue. Incidentally, there is no food that looks good under black light - even a higher dollar menu item like steak. It was a little bit like taking your dinner to the back of a Spencer Gifts store, where they have all the black light posters displayed under said lightning - so you can see just how cool your poster will look on the walls of your bedroom that is off limits to everyone, including your parents, who own the house your 16 year old ass both lives in and bitches about being misunderstood in. Hungry? Stay out of my room! Again, I digress - jeezus, so much sometimes that I should've named this blog exactly that.
That second Tubes show was great, even without Prairie. Ah well...I did get to see Prairie on Todd Rundgren's Second Wind tour around '92, and he was great - even from a few rows out, I was glad to get to see him, but I really wanted to see him in a close up setting. Not seeing him at the show was a bummer. It was a fun evening - I went with a fellow music fan, neither of us knew how much of The Tubes we would get, and there was a dude who seemed to be a bit of an overzealous fan who saw fit to advise me on the member's names and instruments. Outside I was all like, oh...really? Cool, because this place looked a little like it wanted to be a punch palace, but inside I was all, "dude...really? Shut the fuck UP - I know every member's name and what instrument they play and why I like this band - and I love every fucking song they put on vinyl, and they're not my favorite band....blah, blah,blah" - he also told me that Roger Steen was the guitar player and he was "fucking great" (Knew that too)...so great that "He signed my old lady's tits man!" No one signs tits being a slouch - I know that much no matter what.
So yeah, I was going to go see The Tubes tonight...but a couple of weeks ago, my mom threw a monkey wrench into those plans and presented me with an option I couldn't pass up - and that good people, is what I'll tell you about in my next post. Right now it's late, my ears are still shot from tonight's show and I'm gathering my memories from it. Good night and stay tuned....
I had every intention of going to another show tonight - The Tubes. I was a maybe on that show until I found out that their original drummer, Prairie Prince, was definitely going to be playing on the band's two dates close to where I live. Small venue + one of my favorite bands + one of my favorite drummers = one happy, geek-ed out music drummer/fan/snob. The venue that they were playing, Tangier, in Akron, is the closest you can actually get to being dropped inside the bottle on I Dream of Jeanie- I'm pretty sure that was the set for all the scenes they did in Jeanie's bottle actually.
I was going to go see The Tubes tonight. Saw them twice before - once, as my friend and former employer, Brad Buchanan said, was nearly billed as just their original sound man. Slight exaggeration, and a very humorous one, but damn near accurate because all it featured from the original lineup, was the guitar player and bassist. It was a train wreck that I felt ripped off by - and I talked Brad into going. No Fee Waybill, no Prairie Prince - who is one of my favorite drummers. The second time was a couple years ago at a funky small club in Mentor-on-the lake. While Fee was in the house that night, I think I may have been permanently scarred by eating my steak under a black light at this venue. Incidentally, there is no food that looks good under black light - even a higher dollar menu item like steak. It was a little bit like taking your dinner to the back of a Spencer Gifts store, where they have all the black light posters displayed under said lightning - so you can see just how cool your poster will look on the walls of your bedroom that is off limits to everyone, including your parents, who own the house your 16 year old ass both lives in and bitches about being misunderstood in. Hungry? Stay out of my room! Again, I digress - jeezus, so much sometimes that I should've named this blog exactly that.
That second Tubes show was great, even without Prairie. Ah well...I did get to see Prairie on Todd Rundgren's Second Wind tour around '92, and he was great - even from a few rows out, I was glad to get to see him, but I really wanted to see him in a close up setting. Not seeing him at the show was a bummer. It was a fun evening - I went with a fellow music fan, neither of us knew how much of The Tubes we would get, and there was a dude who seemed to be a bit of an overzealous fan who saw fit to advise me on the member's names and instruments. Outside I was all like, oh...really? Cool, because this place looked a little like it wanted to be a punch palace, but inside I was all, "dude...really? Shut the fuck UP - I know every member's name and what instrument they play and why I like this band - and I love every fucking song they put on vinyl, and they're not my favorite band....blah, blah,blah" - he also told me that Roger Steen was the guitar player and he was "fucking great" (Knew that too)...so great that "He signed my old lady's tits man!" No one signs tits being a slouch - I know that much no matter what.
So yeah, I was going to go see The Tubes tonight...but a couple of weeks ago, my mom threw a monkey wrench into those plans and presented me with an option I couldn't pass up - and that good people, is what I'll tell you about in my next post. Right now it's late, my ears are still shot from tonight's show and I'm gathering my memories from it. Good night and stay tuned....
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Angry?
I'm not really an angry person. In my younger years - and no, I'm not saying just how many of those back I'm talking about, I had a bit of a temper. The more I used it, the lower my IQ seemed to go. Thankfully, I noticed the drop before others did most of the time - and once I calmed down, the levels replenished themselves back to the same high...well, reasonably high, numbers. Didn't take a nuclear physicist or a rocket scientist to figure out that not controlling my temper was just straight up stupid - and lucky for me, otherwise I'd still be getting pissed at the drop of a hat.
I can't speak for anyone but me, but losing my temper was never worth it - ever. No one looked worse for me losing my temper than I did - and believe me, I did some pretty stupid shit in the name of being pissed.
At home, at work - or any place in between, losing my temper could never be my best look. In my opinion it's not anyone's best look - but my temper is the only one I have control over. I also think that a flaring temper just feeds into negative mindsets, and that's not a place I like to go to. For me it's better to acknowledge what's making me feel angry and not let it control me. Might not always be so easy to do that, but it's worth the effort.
I work the kind of job where my attitude and my mood need to be good. It's not an option, and really, why would I want it to be? I consider it my responsibility to come into work in a good mood and do everything I can to stay that way throughout the day. It's better for the people I work with and for, it's better for our customers, and it's certainly better for me. Win/win at every turn.
I'm lucky that I work in places that offer up so many things to enjoy - good food, spirits, laughter...basically the kinds of things that bode well for being in a great mood. There are a lot of things worth observing in the work I do, and more than a few of my friends have said that I should write a book. Maybe - I'll admit that I've seen quite a few things in my experiences. I tend to focus on the amusement factor. A couple of friends suggested I check out two humorous pages on the blue and white that are filled with humorous posts from the business I work in - they said I'd love it. Always on the lookout for things that are amusing, I took their suggestions. But....
The two pages in question both have titles that bug me:
a) Why Bartenders and servers hate people
b) The angry bartender
Really? I'll admit that there are a few things on these pages that I found mildly amusing. Mildly. Some of them are very accurate - things I've seen many times in my own experience. What bugs me, is the negativity that festers on the walls of both of these pages. I just don't feel that kind of thing is worth hanging on to, nor do I feel it's good for me to do that.
For starters, I don't hate people. I'd suggest that if any of you out there do hate people, and you're working in the same business that I do, maybe you should find something else to do - because people make things in this business wonderful, and for all the pomp and circumstance of great food, great drinks/wine and a nice place to work in, it's people who make it all come together and it's people who make it enjoyable. Yes, there will be some people who can suck the enjoyment right out of things - but you know what? Those people can suck another thing or two as well. For every person that tries to make things difficult and nearly impossible to enjoy, there are always more people that make the overall experience of this business an enjoyable one. Always.
I'm fully aware that I work in a sales driven environment and yes, I work for tips. I run with the theory that if I focus on what I should be doing while I'm at work, the money will work out. Some days are better than others, but you gotta take the good with the bad - otherwise you won't know the flippin' difference. That's one of the many reasons I like working with certain people, particularly on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. We don't really talk about money until the end of the night, maybe a mention of it, briefly in going about the night here and there, but not much at all. It's understood that we're there to make money, and yes, we all want to do that. The way I see it, you're working in this business - why would you want to put such a negative spin on things and how that will help you have a better night, is beyond me.
Nope, I don't hate people.
Angry? Once again, not my best look. I'm not angry - nor am I looking to get angry. I like how this guy finished one post: stay angry.
Really? Stay angry if you want, if that's your bag. See where that gets you.
Sorry folks - I've got loads of amusing stories I could (and just might) share from this business. Even the worst of it isn't worth being angry about for long and hatred isn't worth feeding into. There's room for all of us. Look, I could sit here and piss and moan about what I do to pay the bills - and there are some who will throw age in my face, knowing the whole time that I still have some moves left in me. There is nothing I can do about my age, but for putting in the effort to be the best me that I can be in this journey. I have had desk jobs, they didn't prove high on the enjoyment scale - and for numerous reasons. Should I have a desk job at my age? Maybe, but I don't. There are things I like, no...love about the jobs I have. Say what you will about my stature, or the lack thereof, I'm going to embrace the things I love about what I do and be thankful for them.
Yes, there are times when I get flustered at work - that happens to everyone. There are times when the enjoyment factor is challenged - that also happens to everyone. But there are so many more things to like about the work I do, and as long as I am doing it, I'm going to focus on those things - because those things really are wonderful most of the time. Bam. Gotcha there.
I can't speak for anyone but me, but losing my temper was never worth it - ever. No one looked worse for me losing my temper than I did - and believe me, I did some pretty stupid shit in the name of being pissed.
At home, at work - or any place in between, losing my temper could never be my best look. In my opinion it's not anyone's best look - but my temper is the only one I have control over. I also think that a flaring temper just feeds into negative mindsets, and that's not a place I like to go to. For me it's better to acknowledge what's making me feel angry and not let it control me. Might not always be so easy to do that, but it's worth the effort.
I work the kind of job where my attitude and my mood need to be good. It's not an option, and really, why would I want it to be? I consider it my responsibility to come into work in a good mood and do everything I can to stay that way throughout the day. It's better for the people I work with and for, it's better for our customers, and it's certainly better for me. Win/win at every turn.
I'm lucky that I work in places that offer up so many things to enjoy - good food, spirits, laughter...basically the kinds of things that bode well for being in a great mood. There are a lot of things worth observing in the work I do, and more than a few of my friends have said that I should write a book. Maybe - I'll admit that I've seen quite a few things in my experiences. I tend to focus on the amusement factor. A couple of friends suggested I check out two humorous pages on the blue and white that are filled with humorous posts from the business I work in - they said I'd love it. Always on the lookout for things that are amusing, I took their suggestions. But....
The two pages in question both have titles that bug me:
a) Why Bartenders and servers hate people
b) The angry bartender
Really? I'll admit that there are a few things on these pages that I found mildly amusing. Mildly. Some of them are very accurate - things I've seen many times in my own experience. What bugs me, is the negativity that festers on the walls of both of these pages. I just don't feel that kind of thing is worth hanging on to, nor do I feel it's good for me to do that.
For starters, I don't hate people. I'd suggest that if any of you out there do hate people, and you're working in the same business that I do, maybe you should find something else to do - because people make things in this business wonderful, and for all the pomp and circumstance of great food, great drinks/wine and a nice place to work in, it's people who make it all come together and it's people who make it enjoyable. Yes, there will be some people who can suck the enjoyment right out of things - but you know what? Those people can suck another thing or two as well. For every person that tries to make things difficult and nearly impossible to enjoy, there are always more people that make the overall experience of this business an enjoyable one. Always.
I'm fully aware that I work in a sales driven environment and yes, I work for tips. I run with the theory that if I focus on what I should be doing while I'm at work, the money will work out. Some days are better than others, but you gotta take the good with the bad - otherwise you won't know the flippin' difference. That's one of the many reasons I like working with certain people, particularly on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. We don't really talk about money until the end of the night, maybe a mention of it, briefly in going about the night here and there, but not much at all. It's understood that we're there to make money, and yes, we all want to do that. The way I see it, you're working in this business - why would you want to put such a negative spin on things and how that will help you have a better night, is beyond me.
Nope, I don't hate people.
Angry? Once again, not my best look. I'm not angry - nor am I looking to get angry. I like how this guy finished one post: stay angry.
Really? Stay angry if you want, if that's your bag. See where that gets you.
Sorry folks - I've got loads of amusing stories I could (and just might) share from this business. Even the worst of it isn't worth being angry about for long and hatred isn't worth feeding into. There's room for all of us. Look, I could sit here and piss and moan about what I do to pay the bills - and there are some who will throw age in my face, knowing the whole time that I still have some moves left in me. There is nothing I can do about my age, but for putting in the effort to be the best me that I can be in this journey. I have had desk jobs, they didn't prove high on the enjoyment scale - and for numerous reasons. Should I have a desk job at my age? Maybe, but I don't. There are things I like, no...love about the jobs I have. Say what you will about my stature, or the lack thereof, I'm going to embrace the things I love about what I do and be thankful for them.
Yes, there are times when I get flustered at work - that happens to everyone. There are times when the enjoyment factor is challenged - that also happens to everyone. But there are so many more things to like about the work I do, and as long as I am doing it, I'm going to focus on those things - because those things really are wonderful most of the time. Bam. Gotcha there.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Gratitude
Maybe this is a post better suited for my little brother blog, y'know, the one about 5 things to be grateful for today - I dunno. Before I actually started this blog, there was another one that didn't get off to a good start really. I didn't really know why I was doing it, so I stopped it.
The more I thought about things when I launched this one, the more I realized that this blog had one main purpose - to get and keep me writing. Never mind the content, at least for the moment, and consider the fact that I've pretty much always written, and I can write. How well? Meh, that's probably not for me to say. Better than some, worse than others. Perhaps not as well as I'd like to, or need to - but I like to write. Sometimes I bore the living crap outta myself with things I write, sometimes I like what I write - sometimes even quite a bit. There are times when good ideas go nowhere - and fast. There are times when ideas come out of nowhere and seem to take on a life of their own and turn into something that I like, and that others like too.
There are two opposite ends of a spectrum here that I'm grateful for - and both ends were unexpected. On one end is a friend who I would've thought, after a few years of friendship, knows me well enough to get me - and how my dry, sarcastic and smart-ass mind works. On the other end is a friend who doesn't know me all that well, certainly not in terms of time. My point here is not to ramble and compare one over the other, but rather to notice/appreciate that inspiration and the meaningful lessons that can come from it, often come from people and places we don't expect them.
So, I have this friend who along with being a coworker, is also a writer. I'm old enough to be this friend's dad - just saying, there's a gap here people. The inspiration I get from this particular friend is that it's important to be brave, just do it, put yourself out there, don't hide, and for the love of God, don't worry about things like whether or not someone else likes it, is it good, is it bad, etc, etc...don't talk yourself out of it for fear of failure or anyone else not liking it.
That notion of being brave is important to have in damn near anything - but it's particularly important to have in any art form. There is something wonderful in the doing, the very experience of that - the doing. Without the doing, there is only the longing to do, and the wondering of what could come of it. Nothing will come of it if you don't try - nothing but regret. We find our way by doing, and to let any critic stop us and make us head in the opposite direction is not something I want to play a part in.
The more thought I give to critics, the more I tend to wonder what would come of any of them spending the same amount of time they spend ripping things to pieces, talking about something they like. In the post I wrote yesterday, I talked about something I didn't like - but what I did like about the whole experience, was the ability to see how something that was created to be easier and more efficient, is often quite the opposite. I'm here in this particular arena to practice something I know how to do reasonably well. Believe me, there are turds that go up here that even I recognize as such, but my goal here is the same: To get me writing, and to keep me writing. So to my friend, and now former coworker - thank you - for the laughs at work, for the stories, and most of all for showing me that it's important to be brave and just do the things one wants to do.
There's a Sean Penn quote from a Rolling Stone interview that I love: Fail all you want - but fucking try.
Maybe I've failed a lot here on these pages, but I try. And on my worst days - which this is not one of, I have not failed in doing what I set out to do with this blog - write. I know why some people like this blog, because they tell me. I know why some people don't - because they also tell me. Why they keep reading when they expect not to like what they read...that may always be a mystery. Thanks Emelie - and good luck in your move, which is very brave. Peace out, good people, I got shit to do.
The more I thought about things when I launched this one, the more I realized that this blog had one main purpose - to get and keep me writing. Never mind the content, at least for the moment, and consider the fact that I've pretty much always written, and I can write. How well? Meh, that's probably not for me to say. Better than some, worse than others. Perhaps not as well as I'd like to, or need to - but I like to write. Sometimes I bore the living crap outta myself with things I write, sometimes I like what I write - sometimes even quite a bit. There are times when good ideas go nowhere - and fast. There are times when ideas come out of nowhere and seem to take on a life of their own and turn into something that I like, and that others like too.
There are two opposite ends of a spectrum here that I'm grateful for - and both ends were unexpected. On one end is a friend who I would've thought, after a few years of friendship, knows me well enough to get me - and how my dry, sarcastic and smart-ass mind works. On the other end is a friend who doesn't know me all that well, certainly not in terms of time. My point here is not to ramble and compare one over the other, but rather to notice/appreciate that inspiration and the meaningful lessons that can come from it, often come from people and places we don't expect them.
So, I have this friend who along with being a coworker, is also a writer. I'm old enough to be this friend's dad - just saying, there's a gap here people. The inspiration I get from this particular friend is that it's important to be brave, just do it, put yourself out there, don't hide, and for the love of God, don't worry about things like whether or not someone else likes it, is it good, is it bad, etc, etc...don't talk yourself out of it for fear of failure or anyone else not liking it.
That notion of being brave is important to have in damn near anything - but it's particularly important to have in any art form. There is something wonderful in the doing, the very experience of that - the doing. Without the doing, there is only the longing to do, and the wondering of what could come of it. Nothing will come of it if you don't try - nothing but regret. We find our way by doing, and to let any critic stop us and make us head in the opposite direction is not something I want to play a part in.
The more thought I give to critics, the more I tend to wonder what would come of any of them spending the same amount of time they spend ripping things to pieces, talking about something they like. In the post I wrote yesterday, I talked about something I didn't like - but what I did like about the whole experience, was the ability to see how something that was created to be easier and more efficient, is often quite the opposite. I'm here in this particular arena to practice something I know how to do reasonably well. Believe me, there are turds that go up here that even I recognize as such, but my goal here is the same: To get me writing, and to keep me writing. So to my friend, and now former coworker - thank you - for the laughs at work, for the stories, and most of all for showing me that it's important to be brave and just do the things one wants to do.
There's a Sean Penn quote from a Rolling Stone interview that I love: Fail all you want - but fucking try.
Maybe I've failed a lot here on these pages, but I try. And on my worst days - which this is not one of, I have not failed in doing what I set out to do with this blog - write. I know why some people like this blog, because they tell me. I know why some people don't - because they also tell me. Why they keep reading when they expect not to like what they read...that may always be a mystery. Thanks Emelie - and good luck in your move, which is very brave. Peace out, good people, I got shit to do.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Customer Service?
I just spent 27 minutes on hold trying to address a late fee that was put on my account due to an oversight - I'll man up and admit that yes, I did miss the actual payment date - though not by much. The offense should be forgiven, at least in my opinion, because I've made double payments the entire time that I've had an account with these boneheads. I refer to them as boneheads because it was their f-up, not mine, that had them not even send me a statement for the first two months my account existed with them. Instead, they started calling me and leaving messages saying my account was in default. When I finally spoke to someone, they admitted the error and reversed two months of late fees - the least they could do, since it was their own incompetence that was responsible for my never getting a statement - and not being able to access my account online.
In today's world, automated customer service systems are in place to work flawlessly on behalf of us, the consumers, the people who put money in the pockets of businesses....oh wait, they're not in place to work flawlessly on behalf of consumers, but rather the companies who use them. Fuckers. I drop an f-bomb here because these systems rob you of something you can never get back: TIME.
Fuckers.
I jump through hoops on this company website every month just to give them money. I thought the whole notion of a website set up to take payments, was to make it easier than ripping off the invoice and writing a check, putting both pieces of paper in an envelope and putting a stamp on it and dropping it into a mailbox - and mailboxes will stick around longer than cockroaches after the end of time, because where else will businesses get rid of their paper trash but in the mailboxes of the people. Here, take this paper information about shit that I want to sell you - and either come buy shit from me or throw this away for me - I'm done with it. Fuckers.
I get asked every question on the website twice. Every question. Twice. FUCKERS. When I finally access my account, it was just as I thought it would be, double payments every month. The electronic age and the websites set up to make things easy for the consumer, are a ploy. In the old days, when you actually mailed a payment, there was a grace period that allowed for delays given that the Pony Express took a bit of time. The electronic way to pay shortens those delays and often makes it easier for them to zap you with a hefty late fee. Fuckers.
For the record, I think if someone is being a deadbeat in their obligations to any financial agreement they may have entered into, then that individual should understandably be charged a fee in fair accordance set up by the congressional committee to protect the rights of party A from party B in the arrangement of said agreement.
In other words, miss a month, two or more - bend 'em over, most def. Miss by a couple of hours, maybe days, but still pay twice what they're saying you should...I will not bend even slightly. Make me answer the same questions twice, reset my password because I missed the second time you hit me with that question because I thought we'd moved on to the next question - which incidentally, I set up on my account, then make me go through your jerky-robotic-voiced automated system in the following manner:
Auto-Voice-Robot: Thank you for calling Blahblahblah-blah-blah please say, or enter your name or your 93 digit account number using your touch-tone phone now.
Me: Raul Gonzalez (not my real name)
Auto-Voice-Robot: Thank you. RAW.OOL.GONE. ZA-LEZ. Please say, or enter your 93 digit account number, followed by the pound key and two expletives now.
Me: Seventy-billion, eight-hundred sixty three million thousand, blah,blah,blahbitty. Shit. Shit.
Auto-Voice-Robot: I'm sorry RAW.OOL.GONE. ZA-LEZ, You entered one expletive twice. Our automated system does not allow for repetition in expletives. Please say, or enter your two expletives using your touch-tone phone now, followed by the star key, a mandatory F-bomb followed by the pound key, now:
Yeah, it's like that. Nearly half an hour later, after walking around listening to your God-forsaken loop, your chunky automated voice responses on speaker phone - and mind you there is no correct volume on speaker phone that will alleviate the unpleasant sound of distorted automated voice and so-called music coming from a cell phone speaker, and I get to talk to a human being. I'd feel relieved if I could only make out the one language I've spoken my entire life, and understand you. I'd also feel better if I didn't have to tell this actual human that yes, it's me, the fucking account holder calling, not just to ask you if I can get an unreasonable late fee removed, but also to point out, that I have nothing but history of paying twice the required amount - and pardon more f-bomb dropping, but I think that kind of history shows that I'm not fucking around with this shit.
There is also nothing I can do in my daily tasks, because you best believe that I don't want to risk so much as a sip of coffee being taken and nearly drowning me when an actual human being comes on the phone and I get a shitfuckdamn across my lips before I take my phone off of the speaker phone function and ready myself to do battle with an actual person. But I digress.
In broken English, the guy tells me he will see what he can do. Yes, we'll both see what you can do. Fuckers. Then he tells me that while they do not normally do this, he will remove the late charge from my account - provided I can tell him why I missed this month's payment - and get this, gives me a short multiple choice in my answer:
a) Was it just an oversight?
b) Did you not get your statement?
c) Did you not realize that you can make payments for free online?
d) Did you not realize that you can also make payments for free using your telephone?
Fuckers.
Here go my answers:
a) Yes - it really is as simple as that - an oversight.
b) I got your statement right here buddy.
c) Can I make payments online for free? Free? To coin the college freshman girl vernacular, Amazeballs.
d) Did you not realize that I'm on the phone with you now?
I'd like to assess these boneheads a fee for the time that I can never get back, all in the name of convenience. One more time, say it with me - fuckers.
In today's world, automated customer service systems are in place to work flawlessly on behalf of us, the consumers, the people who put money in the pockets of businesses....oh wait, they're not in place to work flawlessly on behalf of consumers, but rather the companies who use them. Fuckers. I drop an f-bomb here because these systems rob you of something you can never get back: TIME.
Fuckers.
I jump through hoops on this company website every month just to give them money. I thought the whole notion of a website set up to take payments, was to make it easier than ripping off the invoice and writing a check, putting both pieces of paper in an envelope and putting a stamp on it and dropping it into a mailbox - and mailboxes will stick around longer than cockroaches after the end of time, because where else will businesses get rid of their paper trash but in the mailboxes of the people. Here, take this paper information about shit that I want to sell you - and either come buy shit from me or throw this away for me - I'm done with it. Fuckers.
I get asked every question on the website twice. Every question. Twice. FUCKERS. When I finally access my account, it was just as I thought it would be, double payments every month. The electronic age and the websites set up to make things easy for the consumer, are a ploy. In the old days, when you actually mailed a payment, there was a grace period that allowed for delays given that the Pony Express took a bit of time. The electronic way to pay shortens those delays and often makes it easier for them to zap you with a hefty late fee. Fuckers.
For the record, I think if someone is being a deadbeat in their obligations to any financial agreement they may have entered into, then that individual should understandably be charged a fee in fair accordance set up by the congressional committee to protect the rights of party A from party B in the arrangement of said agreement.
In other words, miss a month, two or more - bend 'em over, most def. Miss by a couple of hours, maybe days, but still pay twice what they're saying you should...I will not bend even slightly. Make me answer the same questions twice, reset my password because I missed the second time you hit me with that question because I thought we'd moved on to the next question - which incidentally, I set up on my account, then make me go through your jerky-robotic-voiced automated system in the following manner:
Auto-Voice-Robot: Thank you for calling Blahblahblah-blah-blah please say, or enter your name or your 93 digit account number using your touch-tone phone now.
Me: Raul Gonzalez (not my real name)
Auto-Voice-Robot: Thank you. RAW.OOL.GONE. ZA-LEZ. Please say, or enter your 93 digit account number, followed by the pound key and two expletives now.
Me: Seventy-billion, eight-hundred sixty three million thousand, blah,blah,blahbitty. Shit. Shit.
Auto-Voice-Robot: I'm sorry RAW.OOL.GONE. ZA-LEZ, You entered one expletive twice. Our automated system does not allow for repetition in expletives. Please say, or enter your two expletives using your touch-tone phone now, followed by the star key, a mandatory F-bomb followed by the pound key, now:
Yeah, it's like that. Nearly half an hour later, after walking around listening to your God-forsaken loop, your chunky automated voice responses on speaker phone - and mind you there is no correct volume on speaker phone that will alleviate the unpleasant sound of distorted automated voice and so-called music coming from a cell phone speaker, and I get to talk to a human being. I'd feel relieved if I could only make out the one language I've spoken my entire life, and understand you. I'd also feel better if I didn't have to tell this actual human that yes, it's me, the fucking account holder calling, not just to ask you if I can get an unreasonable late fee removed, but also to point out, that I have nothing but history of paying twice the required amount - and pardon more f-bomb dropping, but I think that kind of history shows that I'm not fucking around with this shit.
There is also nothing I can do in my daily tasks, because you best believe that I don't want to risk so much as a sip of coffee being taken and nearly drowning me when an actual human being comes on the phone and I get a shitfuckdamn across my lips before I take my phone off of the speaker phone function and ready myself to do battle with an actual person. But I digress.
In broken English, the guy tells me he will see what he can do. Yes, we'll both see what you can do. Fuckers. Then he tells me that while they do not normally do this, he will remove the late charge from my account - provided I can tell him why I missed this month's payment - and get this, gives me a short multiple choice in my answer:
a) Was it just an oversight?
b) Did you not get your statement?
c) Did you not realize that you can make payments for free online?
d) Did you not realize that you can also make payments for free using your telephone?
Fuckers.
Here go my answers:
a) Yes - it really is as simple as that - an oversight.
b) I got your statement right here buddy.
c) Can I make payments online for free? Free? To coin the college freshman girl vernacular, Amazeballs.
d) Did you not realize that I'm on the phone with you now?
I'd like to assess these boneheads a fee for the time that I can never get back, all in the name of convenience. One more time, say it with me - fuckers.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
It finds me
I was talking with a coworker a couple of days ago about music I like to listen to, and she said she never heard of most of the artists I talked about. It got me thinking about how at the drop of a hat, I could easily rattle off names of artists that most people aren't familiar with. Someone else asked me, "How do you find this stuff?" - the short answer, is that I think it finds me.
There are various sources that lead me to good music, but you can throw commercial radio right out the window - none of it comes from there. Other than Little Steven's Underground Garage, I don't listen to commercial radio. Pandora radio is a much better bet - at least for me. I could question a few of the selections, but things pretty much go the way I like for my ears there - and if they're not going well, changing to another station that I created solves that problem.
Then there's the multitude of radio choices in iTunes - but the one I haven't been able to get past there, is Boot Liquor Radio on Soma FM. That station stands alone in terms of pure Americana stuff that almost never disappoints me. The moniker is easier to wrap my head around too - as opposed to country. Meh, no matter - I've never really been much for labels when it comes to music anyway.
Commercial radio hasn't worked very well for me since I was a kid. Ah, there really was a time when I could hear Frank Zappa's I'm the Slime - and that was a good thing, because I may not have heard that tune, or worse yet, never turned an ear to the genius that is/was Frank Zappa for far too many years. That may be the best example I can offer up for taking something good away from commercial radio.
Those days are gone for me, and age be damned, for a very good reason. How can I put this...let's see...well, I hate to use a zoo for an analogy, but let's say you go to the zoo - but you only look at the lions, monkeys and the alligators. Fine if that's what you want - but isn't it worth considering all the other things there are to take in? That's kind of how I feel when people are so unwilling to give so much music a fair chance. I mean, sure there are times when you just want what you want and the whole build up of getting/having it adds to the pleasurable experience. I just feel that it's worth it to consider more. Expanding one's horizons usually means expanding the number of experiences that are good - even if some of those experiences are on a smaller scale.
I'm almost never swayed by a review. I'm a bit skeptical that they're even written objectively most of the time. Comparison isn't always good. If I'm hungry for pizza and you compare it to Mexican food, Mexican food could suck - and I love Mexican food. But I'm not talking about food right now - I'm talking about music. Take for example, two Van Morrison albums that I love - Moondance and Days Like This. Two albums with a 25 year gap in between them. I love 'em both. One isn't better than the other unless I'm specifically in the mood for it, and even then, I don't hold grudges. Sometimes music can take me back, but mostly it just sounds good - and that has a way of taking time out of the equation.
If I were forced to choose, it's a catch 22 of not being disappointed and being disappointed. I dunno, I'm glad I don't have to choose one over the other - because to do so would be a shame.
Stuff finds me. If I hear it and it appeals to me, then I want more of it. You gotta want it - and I do. If stuff is gonna find you, you have to be willing to let it, and by let it, I mean you need to throw out the notion of comparison, familiar, popular and you need to just surrender to possibility. Possibility that you might just like a song, a band, an artist as much as you like what you're already familiar with. Let a song move you, and for whatever reasons it may do so....a guitar line, a bass line, drums (or "drooms", as Ringo might say) lyrics...and know that for whatever reason you like it is okay. If you can do that, surrender your ears and allow the song to take you, then you'll be pleasantly surprised quite a bit.
I dunno, I grew up basically being force fed music. It left a mark on me and while I may have thought it burned a penchant for b-sides into my soul as a child, what it really did was instill a love for songs into my soul like a tattoo on it. It's forever - at least in this journey. Good music finds me. Let it find you. Here's a thought - and I welcome feedback/suggestions on this topic: A friend suggested I start a segment on this blog & maybe call it, The best music you've probably never heard. Do I think I have the hippest taste in music? Nope, but it's mine. Do I think I'm an expert on music, cool or otherwise? Nope, but I know what I like - and what I like about that , is that I like a lot of songs, a lot of bands, a lot of artists....so maybe.....
Discuss:
There are various sources that lead me to good music, but you can throw commercial radio right out the window - none of it comes from there. Other than Little Steven's Underground Garage, I don't listen to commercial radio. Pandora radio is a much better bet - at least for me. I could question a few of the selections, but things pretty much go the way I like for my ears there - and if they're not going well, changing to another station that I created solves that problem.
Then there's the multitude of radio choices in iTunes - but the one I haven't been able to get past there, is Boot Liquor Radio on Soma FM. That station stands alone in terms of pure Americana stuff that almost never disappoints me. The moniker is easier to wrap my head around too - as opposed to country. Meh, no matter - I've never really been much for labels when it comes to music anyway.
Commercial radio hasn't worked very well for me since I was a kid. Ah, there really was a time when I could hear Frank Zappa's I'm the Slime - and that was a good thing, because I may not have heard that tune, or worse yet, never turned an ear to the genius that is/was Frank Zappa for far too many years. That may be the best example I can offer up for taking something good away from commercial radio.
Those days are gone for me, and age be damned, for a very good reason. How can I put this...let's see...well, I hate to use a zoo for an analogy, but let's say you go to the zoo - but you only look at the lions, monkeys and the alligators. Fine if that's what you want - but isn't it worth considering all the other things there are to take in? That's kind of how I feel when people are so unwilling to give so much music a fair chance. I mean, sure there are times when you just want what you want and the whole build up of getting/having it adds to the pleasurable experience. I just feel that it's worth it to consider more. Expanding one's horizons usually means expanding the number of experiences that are good - even if some of those experiences are on a smaller scale.
I'm almost never swayed by a review. I'm a bit skeptical that they're even written objectively most of the time. Comparison isn't always good. If I'm hungry for pizza and you compare it to Mexican food, Mexican food could suck - and I love Mexican food. But I'm not talking about food right now - I'm talking about music. Take for example, two Van Morrison albums that I love - Moondance and Days Like This. Two albums with a 25 year gap in between them. I love 'em both. One isn't better than the other unless I'm specifically in the mood for it, and even then, I don't hold grudges. Sometimes music can take me back, but mostly it just sounds good - and that has a way of taking time out of the equation.
If I were forced to choose, it's a catch 22 of not being disappointed and being disappointed. I dunno, I'm glad I don't have to choose one over the other - because to do so would be a shame.
Stuff finds me. If I hear it and it appeals to me, then I want more of it. You gotta want it - and I do. If stuff is gonna find you, you have to be willing to let it, and by let it, I mean you need to throw out the notion of comparison, familiar, popular and you need to just surrender to possibility. Possibility that you might just like a song, a band, an artist as much as you like what you're already familiar with. Let a song move you, and for whatever reasons it may do so....a guitar line, a bass line, drums (or "drooms", as Ringo might say) lyrics...and know that for whatever reason you like it is okay. If you can do that, surrender your ears and allow the song to take you, then you'll be pleasantly surprised quite a bit.
I dunno, I grew up basically being force fed music. It left a mark on me and while I may have thought it burned a penchant for b-sides into my soul as a child, what it really did was instill a love for songs into my soul like a tattoo on it. It's forever - at least in this journey. Good music finds me. Let it find you. Here's a thought - and I welcome feedback/suggestions on this topic: A friend suggested I start a segment on this blog & maybe call it, The best music you've probably never heard. Do I think I have the hippest taste in music? Nope, but it's mine. Do I think I'm an expert on music, cool or otherwise? Nope, but I know what I like - and what I like about that , is that I like a lot of songs, a lot of bands, a lot of artists....so maybe.....
Discuss:
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Big Brother Advertising Inc.
It's funny how ads pop up on my blog. The whole notion of the ads being there isn't working to my benefit so far. It might be better if I were able to choose which ads appeared on the blog, as opposed to Big Bro just finding a key word and running with an assumption. You know what they say happens when you assume.
Take my last post as an example - and look at the content that rents space. Wrong pool dude, but hey, nice try. And what about that christian dating site? Really? No, seriously...really? Look, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with any of this stuff here...well, maybe just a little wrong, given my love of practically all things sarcastic. It just reminds me of the bit Patton Oswalt did about Tivo being a bit like a retarded brother in assuming things.
What if I just write down things I like? Here are ten things I like:
1. Tequila - and not just any garbage tequila mind you, I prefer to have decent tequila when I have it, which of course I do in moderation, and most certainly never when I'm driving or operating heavy machinery...Milagro is fine, Don Julio, Patron. Not today though...not feeling it.
2. Music...lots and lots of music, playing at loud, or semi-loud volume from any of the following sources: a) Onkyo stereo, b) Apple computer c) Car stereo
3.) Juicers - I like fruit & vegetable juices, combined in crazy combinations. Some people think I'm flippin' nuts w/this sh*t, other people get it
4.) eMusic - hot damn! Do I ever love me some eMusic
5.) Dogs - I'm a dog person.
6.) Mexican food - love it
7.) Italian food - that too.
8.) Sushi - it's so much more than raw fish, and I can prove it.
9.) Humor...I'll find humor in most situations like it's my job - try me.
10.) Women
There you go, big bro. There are a few things that took no effort for me to rattle off. I wanna see if you're paying attention, because honestly bro, I think you can do better. For the record, I have never visited a christian dating website. Hey....wait a minute - I think I have a great idea for a money making venture. I'm gonna start a drinking dating website. It'll be all the rage - stay tuned, but meanwhile let's see what pops up in the margins after this one. Peace.
Take my last post as an example - and look at the content that rents space. Wrong pool dude, but hey, nice try. And what about that christian dating site? Really? No, seriously...really? Look, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with any of this stuff here...well, maybe just a little wrong, given my love of practically all things sarcastic. It just reminds me of the bit Patton Oswalt did about Tivo being a bit like a retarded brother in assuming things.
What if I just write down things I like? Here are ten things I like:
1. Tequila - and not just any garbage tequila mind you, I prefer to have decent tequila when I have it, which of course I do in moderation, and most certainly never when I'm driving or operating heavy machinery...Milagro is fine, Don Julio, Patron. Not today though...not feeling it.
2. Music...lots and lots of music, playing at loud, or semi-loud volume from any of the following sources: a) Onkyo stereo, b) Apple computer c) Car stereo
3.) Juicers - I like fruit & vegetable juices, combined in crazy combinations. Some people think I'm flippin' nuts w/this sh*t, other people get it
4.) eMusic - hot damn! Do I ever love me some eMusic
5.) Dogs - I'm a dog person.
6.) Mexican food - love it
7.) Italian food - that too.
8.) Sushi - it's so much more than raw fish, and I can prove it.
9.) Humor...I'll find humor in most situations like it's my job - try me.
10.) Women
There you go, big bro. There are a few things that took no effort for me to rattle off. I wanna see if you're paying attention, because honestly bro, I think you can do better. For the record, I have never visited a christian dating website. Hey....wait a minute - I think I have a great idea for a money making venture. I'm gonna start a drinking dating website. It'll be all the rage - stay tuned, but meanwhile let's see what pops up in the margins after this one. Peace.
Friday, October 4, 2013
You - Outta the pool!
I don't remember exactly when I said that my job is a bit like being a lifeguard sometimes. I'm speaking metaphorically when I say that, but the metaphor works pretty well. So well that other words like, swim/swimer/swimming, beach, pool, water all seem practically interchangeable. So I'll run with it. If you've ever been swimming - or drinking, you'll get it. Stay with me good people, stay with me.
My job is indeed a bit like being a lifeguard, and sometimes I just have to say, "YOU - Outta the pool!" For the record, that's not something I like to do. No one really takes it well, especially if all the people they're swimming with are still allowed to remain in the water. I'm fortunate to work in the kinds of places where I don't have to jump in and save swimmers very often - but the reality of it is, I have to be on the watch and ready for it. That's part of my job as a lifeguard, and taking that lightly can have some very unpleasant consequences. There's more to this gig than sitting high up in my lifeguard chair, working on my tan and checking out girls in bathing suits - not that there's anything wrong with that. I can't have anyone going under on my watch.
You gotta know how to swim if you're gonna stay in the water. Ultimately, you know when to get out of the water yourself, without anyone else having to tell you. Not everyone does. It's those who stay in way too long that usually overestimate their swimming abilities. They can get pretty defensive when their swimming abilities are called into question. All of a sudden, a good lifeguard turns into an a-hole. Who the hell am I to question someone's swimming abilities and why the hell am I telling anyone that they've had enough swimming for the day?
Look, I've got Irish...I mean, swimmer's blood in my veins folks, it's not like I can't/don't drink...errr...swim, believe me. But when I'm up in my chair, metaphorically speaking, of course, my vantage point is better than swimmers, particularly those who are about to go under. I've had a few customers over the years that I'd swear probably got their first D.U.I.'s at Safety Town - when they were young enough to think that it would be fun to ride in a car with the flashy red and blue lights on top. Not as an adult, thanks. Here's a few things that will catch a lifeguard's eye and get a swimmer beached - and yes folks, I've actually seen all of these kinds of things - and more than once:
1) Someone introduces themselves to me (or anyone) and they have trouble saying their own one syllable name. YOU - Outta the pool!
2) You're trying to light your cigarette and you're ignoring two rather important points: a) You're in a non-smoking environment. b) You're trying, and really, really hard, to light said cigarette with an electronic candle, repeatedly telling me, "I got it". YOU - Outta the pool!
3) I place your check in front of you. It has two, maybe three drinks on it - all at happy hour prices. Three times happy hour prices is math that a four year old can do. I'm not even good at math and I can do it all day long - yet to you, it may as well be advanced calculus and trigonometry. Stops you cold in your tracks. Oh shit, I wasn't ready for this. You might even ask me for a calculator - in which case you'll see my lousy poker face. YOU - Outta the pool!
4) When you get your check, you fill it out as if I ran your credit card and gave you your voucher, thank me and start to swim away - yet you haven't even pulled out your wallet yet. You're surprised.(???) YOU- Outta the pool!
5) I give you your check and you're a step ahead of me - you've got your own pen! That's flippin' awesome...I mean, it would be, but you're using your own pen to fill out our email list because you think that's your credit card voucher. YOU - Outta the pool!
I'm fully aware that some of these points are after the fact - and I use them to point out that these are the kinds of things that happen and swimmers still think they're fine and I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about. What? I'm fine, I'm a good swimmer. Uh, no...you're not.
I've driven people home. I've arranged rides for people. I've followed people home when they refused any and all offers to get them not to drive. I've had people in my face pissed at my even suggesting any such thing. My employer has driven people home. My employer's wife has driven people home - and one time, while she was doing this, a guy that she's doing a major favor for, tells her that he doesn't like her husband....because he never talks to him. Really? No, seriously....fucking REALLY? Would that I could, in that very moment, zap that swimmer into a Scrooge-like dream where he goes through every possible bad scenario that could've happened had we let the guy drive himself out of our parking lot. He'd wake up a changed man.
I'm glad I work in the type of place where this kind of thing doesn't happen as often as it does in other places. I want people to come in, swim, have a good time. So does my employer. So do my managers. So do my coworkers. None of us want to see anyone go under, that's all I'm saying folks.
My job is indeed a bit like being a lifeguard, and sometimes I just have to say, "YOU - Outta the pool!" For the record, that's not something I like to do. No one really takes it well, especially if all the people they're swimming with are still allowed to remain in the water. I'm fortunate to work in the kinds of places where I don't have to jump in and save swimmers very often - but the reality of it is, I have to be on the watch and ready for it. That's part of my job as a lifeguard, and taking that lightly can have some very unpleasant consequences. There's more to this gig than sitting high up in my lifeguard chair, working on my tan and checking out girls in bathing suits - not that there's anything wrong with that. I can't have anyone going under on my watch.
You gotta know how to swim if you're gonna stay in the water. Ultimately, you know when to get out of the water yourself, without anyone else having to tell you. Not everyone does. It's those who stay in way too long that usually overestimate their swimming abilities. They can get pretty defensive when their swimming abilities are called into question. All of a sudden, a good lifeguard turns into an a-hole. Who the hell am I to question someone's swimming abilities and why the hell am I telling anyone that they've had enough swimming for the day?
Look, I've got Irish...I mean, swimmer's blood in my veins folks, it's not like I can't/don't drink...errr...swim, believe me. But when I'm up in my chair, metaphorically speaking, of course, my vantage point is better than swimmers, particularly those who are about to go under. I've had a few customers over the years that I'd swear probably got their first D.U.I.'s at Safety Town - when they were young enough to think that it would be fun to ride in a car with the flashy red and blue lights on top. Not as an adult, thanks. Here's a few things that will catch a lifeguard's eye and get a swimmer beached - and yes folks, I've actually seen all of these kinds of things - and more than once:
1) Someone introduces themselves to me (or anyone) and they have trouble saying their own one syllable name. YOU - Outta the pool!
2) You're trying to light your cigarette and you're ignoring two rather important points: a) You're in a non-smoking environment. b) You're trying, and really, really hard, to light said cigarette with an electronic candle, repeatedly telling me, "I got it". YOU - Outta the pool!
3) I place your check in front of you. It has two, maybe three drinks on it - all at happy hour prices. Three times happy hour prices is math that a four year old can do. I'm not even good at math and I can do it all day long - yet to you, it may as well be advanced calculus and trigonometry. Stops you cold in your tracks. Oh shit, I wasn't ready for this. You might even ask me for a calculator - in which case you'll see my lousy poker face. YOU - Outta the pool!
4) When you get your check, you fill it out as if I ran your credit card and gave you your voucher, thank me and start to swim away - yet you haven't even pulled out your wallet yet. You're surprised.(???) YOU- Outta the pool!
5) I give you your check and you're a step ahead of me - you've got your own pen! That's flippin' awesome...I mean, it would be, but you're using your own pen to fill out our email list because you think that's your credit card voucher. YOU - Outta the pool!
I'm fully aware that some of these points are after the fact - and I use them to point out that these are the kinds of things that happen and swimmers still think they're fine and I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about. What? I'm fine, I'm a good swimmer. Uh, no...you're not.
I've driven people home. I've arranged rides for people. I've followed people home when they refused any and all offers to get them not to drive. I've had people in my face pissed at my even suggesting any such thing. My employer has driven people home. My employer's wife has driven people home - and one time, while she was doing this, a guy that she's doing a major favor for, tells her that he doesn't like her husband....because he never talks to him. Really? No, seriously....fucking REALLY? Would that I could, in that very moment, zap that swimmer into a Scrooge-like dream where he goes through every possible bad scenario that could've happened had we let the guy drive himself out of our parking lot. He'd wake up a changed man.
I'm glad I work in the type of place where this kind of thing doesn't happen as often as it does in other places. I want people to come in, swim, have a good time. So does my employer. So do my managers. So do my coworkers. None of us want to see anyone go under, that's all I'm saying folks.
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