Author Archive for David C

22
May
13

“Families are about love overcoming emotional torture.” Matt Groening

I swore I was going to try and do something productive, but apparently that’s not happening….er…..yet.

Whilst at Half Price Books the other day, there was an unauthorized book about The Simpsons that I got for $3.00. While at points in time I was a super-fan (we’ll get to that), I had always wondered how the whole transition to prime-time actually occurred. The book is actually explaining all that, so I’l tell my personal story about how I started watching. 

Back in the 80′s, mid way or so, I lived in New Zealand, and one of the TV shows that showed there was The Tracey Ullman show. It wasn’t too odd seeing Tracey Ullman as she was pretty big in NZ around that time if I recall, due to one of her other shows, Three of a Kind. However, that was my first experience with The Simpsons. Crude, and really funny. After those shorts had aired, my mother brought me a book called “School is Hell”, which after I think started picking up the other LIfe in Hell series books. 

Very shortly after, we moved back to the US. While this was a time where I would still go hang out with my parents, we caught the 2nd Animation Celebration which had some of the Simpson clips in it. 

Then, even more shortly thereafter, I was a sophomore in High School and I found out that The Simpsons was coming to prime time. I couldn’t believe it! I was telling the guy that sat next to me (or behind me) in homeroom, and he said, “That’s so dumb, that will never last”. (This being possibly the only reason that I will ever go to a high school reunion. To give a Nelson-esque “Ha-Ha!” as an I-told-you-so)

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The Christmas special was a hit (as we all know), and history was made. The marketing frenzy was pretty outrageous. I didn’t ever own a Bart Simpson T-shirt, but I thoroughly remember the furor over the attitudes presented in the show. Meanwhile I was finding that the local Houston Public News was running Life in Hell, which I still love. 

In fact, I had gotten a “School in Hell” T-shirt that I was made to wear inside out at school when I was unceremoniously busted by the High School Band teacher. I didn’t think anything of it, it wasn’t a statement, it was a matter of fact.

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One of the things that I did unearth in my brain as a result of the book was an old (treasure?) that I haven’t ever seen anywhere else. I was part of the “Life in Hell” fanclub, I think, and had ordered it waaaaayyyyy back when. Sorry, I threw away the old newsletters (one of which i remember had a lesson on how to draw Bart). 

Much like Mark Hamill in Amazing Stories, here is a piece of glassware that managed to survive some 25-odd years…..wonder what it’s worth now? (Not for Sale)

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18
May
13

“I know this all sounds weird, but this is the way the world works.” Robert Boyd

It’s a small weird world I suppose.

Thanks to Google Reader (which is going to disappear at some point) I happened upon the blog of an interesting guy whose name rang a bell - Mark Evanier.

I like substantitive blogs, and Mark’s a great writer. I don’t often use the work prolific, but Mark is writing ALL the TIME. He’s got a lot of cool stories about people he’s met doing his writing (sitcoms/cartoons/stuff) and things that he’s done over the years. Totally recommend his blog.

His name jumped out at me because he worked with Sergio Aragones on Groo the Wanderer which was one of my favorite comics when I was a 13 or 14. Or youthful, or whatever.

That led me to another jolting memory, my name actually made it into an issue of Groo! I’m proud to say that my name appeared on the letters page in issue #11. I can’t find a copy of it which I’m sure I had a few, but they’re lost in the ether of adulthood. Each issue of Groo had a hidden message in it, and my name was one of the ones used to compose the message in that issue.  It’s a day for memories for sure.

18
May
13

“Cooper would always kid me about my hats. He’d tell me I should get a bigger hat.” Clint Walker

Wow, was digging through some old stuff and found an old catalog that brought back some memories.  I first ran into an ad for the Nicholas James Group in an issue of Juxtapoz I think. *Edit* Actually, I know it wasn’t Juxtapoz, it had to have been Hypno Magazine, which doesn’t exist any more. *End Edit* The image that caught my eye was the rather (now) iconic devil/wrenches that Chris Cooper (Coop) is known for.

I ordered my first hat (which I still have, although it’s awfully beat up now) for $26.00. $26.00? Was I a millionaire?

No2011

The catalog is label 1994, which must be a little after I already had the hat. I think I had planned on getting another ballcap, but the company folded soon thereafter.

njg_2004

To me this is notable because it possibly was the genesis of my descent into hot rods, twangy guitars, devil girls and rockabilly.  I still have a Butthole Surfers T-Shirt that I bought solely because it had the COOP “Ground Control to Major Hard-On” image on it. This was in the early 90′s when devilish imagery (or large breasted alien girls) was hard to find – especially in Texas.

It’s been a while.  Thanks NJG and Coop for sullying my soul!

16
May
13

“Yeah, I know I’m ugly… I said to a bartender, ‘Make me a zombie.’ He said ‘God beat me to it.’” Rodney Dangerfield

To break of the monotony of not posting anything, here’s a freaking great piece I just got done by God-Awful -

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It’s gonna take a while for me to get back into blogging-gear. I turned on two-step authentication which delays blogging by just one more step.

Although I do have some pretty exciting news that I’m sure I’m going to blog about in the next month or so. So there’s that….

11
May
13

“If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you’re a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.” Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Have been unbelievably busy lately. Since my last entry, I had the back fence replaced which temporarily turned by backyard into a cat haven. I had no less than five stray cats all asking me for food. I quit feeding even the one cool cat and they’ve all more or less disappeared.

Since my backyard has somehow become the focus for 2013 (again),  I’m in the middle of trying to build my bat house (finally). I posted the plans [HERE], still trying to figure out if I need vents or not.  Because I’ve become a blogger without a blog (relatively speaking) I didn’t take any pictures, but it took about five hours to score all the boards and my body is about ready to give up on me.

Bartender! Bartender? Yes, an Old Fashioned please?

Lastly in other backyard related news, I think I’m about to put a beehive in my yard. Make my own honey, candles, and bee stings.

Pictures to follow….maybe?

20
Mar
13

“Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.” Zen Proverb

gone_baby_gone

Extremely derelict in blogging duty. No matter.  I finally got that tree chopped down that I have been bitching about for years.  All that’s left is a pile of wood chips. In other news, there’s a huge hole in my rear fence that the dogs back there pushed through. The cats have scattered (in fear, rightly so) and now I find myself at the rather discomforting quandry that I must contact the actual owners of the house behind me and propose that we go half on the fence. Otherwise the damn dogs are going to push through every day (like they have for the last two).

Hooooommmmeeee ownership. Yeah.

 

19
Feb
13

“We’ve hit a little bump, and we’re going full speed ahead.” Chuck Amato

Holy whackadoodle. Time flies….and then it crawls.

I’m not sure what kind of trouble I’m getting into, but it definitely seems like the kind that keeps me from blogging.

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I managed to fire up Pro Tools again, and determined that it’s so complex that I’ll never know what the hell I’m doing, but simultaneously user-friendly enough that it won’t matter. Got what I needed to get done, and now there’s a folk song (slash) limerick that I’ll be recording soon enough. Who needs three chords when you can play just two?

~?~

There’s been a warp in the space-employment-time-flux-thingamagjig. I’m more or less a “dead man walking” at work which is quite the curious feeling.  It’s a lot like knowing the exact date of your death, but everyone else around knows it too and tries to pretend that they don’t. Some (I’m sure) will be glad to get rid of me and my half baked theories that manage to hold up long enough to prove them wrong (or myself right) and resolve the issue. They’ll breathe a sigh of relief knowing that it’s only a matter of time. No matter

~?~

I did something nice for someone on Valentines day, I bought some flowers.  The weird part is that I had my keys in my hand with my car alarm remote and ended up accidentally dropping them into the bucket of flower water. Those inside the flower tent were roundly greeted with a choice expletive from my mouth-hole. My alarm unit has held up so far, but I fear internal corrosion now. It’s a hard life. Sometimes bad decisions require nothing more than a firm hand and a blast on the gas pedal.

~?~

I’m not quite sure why this has turned into such a brain expanding year, but it continues to be.

23
Jan
13

“Charlie Brown is the one person I identify with. C.B. is such a loser. He wasn’t even the star of his own Halloween special.” Chris Rock

Holy crap, you people got lucky. I just realized that about 60 posts that I had imported from another blogging service were still public/visible. I took care of that, you won’t have to go back and read those. Not that anyone is ever really digging into my blog any earlier than 2009 anyway….

But these were pretty bad. Stories of defeat, alcohol, guitars, death, depression, overcoming the hurdles and then finally redemption. Redemption, or at least the very least my blog posts became readable and I started taking it semi-seriously.  I left a few posts here and there, but starting here, you can work your way forward.  Not worth clicking, but you can see the progression.  Lookit me now, custom header and everything. Big time. Thanks Abe Lincoln.

***///***

As I was looking through some of the old blog pictures, I ran across some of my teen pictures. And wow, do I really feel old now.  That stuff about feeling better when you get older, “I’ve never felt better in my life!” is a bunch of deluded crap. Or boomers trying to convince themselves it’s true.  The only reason I feel better is because I work out now instead of letting my youthful metabolism do all the work.  Shoot. This is getting depressing. Let’s try something else.

***///***

Since I’ve been unusually quiet about guitar related matters, I’ll should note that my buddy let me try his copy of Rocksmith.  This is the guitar-hero type game that you plug in your own guitar and play along to. He kept telling me how much he was playing, like hours a day. Anything that gets a guitar into your hands for hours a day is freaking great as far as I’m concerned.  So I tried it out. Since I’ve (depressingly) been playing since the 80′s, I managed to barrel through a few of the songs in his game until it adjusted the difficulty mid-song. Seeing a C#7 chord get thrown in out of the blue (a chord I don’t think I’ve played in YEARS) was pretty crazy. It ramped up the speed and chord/single note difficulty on me until I just jacked the entire song up. Then it backed the speed down until I could just keep up. I liked that, although the main reason I ended up picking up the game was for the technique drills and scale practice. So far I’ve had the guitar in my hands for stretches up to two hours. It’s a really nice practice tool – even for players like me who have been playing for years (and admittedly have some rough spots technique wise). I’m getting a little lag on my system which is throwing me off a bit, but it’s still working out okay.

DSC01148-001Rock on Peoples!

19
Jan
13

“You stay alive, baby. Do it for Van Gogh.” ~ Frank Booth

Wake up, bleary eyed. Dried out from the alcohol, grab a pint glass of water. Slug that down and turn the espresso machine on. Lie down.

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Get up, shake off some of the haze, drink some more water. Make espresso (dripped for 22 seconds, getting better). Foam some milk, add to espresso. Sit down at the computer. Remember a conversation from last night that reminded me of some great songs on SuperUnknown. Check MediaMonkey and realize that my library got all jacked up when I was rearranging everything (making backups of important stuff – when’s the last time YOU did that?). Grab the CD, pop it in, re-rip it at the insane quality bit-rate setting. Start to play it.  Realize that I’ve never EVER heard the quality and separation this good before. I used to listen to it on cassette on the crappiest car stereos in the world. At my desk, my Alesis monitoring speakers are crystal clear. Nice.

Sip the black elixir. Try to recall what it was that I committed myself to. Wait. Crap.

CRAAAAAAAP.

It’s becoming clear. I committed myself to performing in the next Boylesque show. WhatHowWhy?  Ouch. Time for some more espresso.

I slowly shake my head with a mix of wonderment and maybe lingering regret. Well, many, MANY of the manly burlesque guys are already going to be performing in the first show.  I heard through the grapevine that it was happening and someone said, “Aww, dude, you should do it!” Apparently that wasn’t enough of an arm twisting. I forgot all about it. Then the show lineup got posted. Wow. That’s a lotta guys. Somehow I got skipped out in the first round draft. I figured out why, it’s because I’m generally in the background, I still don’t get to as many shows as I used to. I still feel tied to everything because I post the shows but I still walk around a lot of the shows with Office-Standard-Avoidance-TI4 mode. You know, the “I kinda know you, but don’t really know you so I’m not going to make eye contact or say anything to you even though we both know each other but not well enough to strike up a conversation.” Don’t blame me, blame society.

society

So I tried to spread myself around a little last night (wait, which part of the night was I showcasing my particular moves?) and ran into the producer and started discussing the Boylesque.  After my initial reaction of seeing the flyer I was like, “Well, what song would I dance to? First off the top of my head was Rumble by Link Wray.

Cerebrally, I have to imagine that all these guys are thinking about all the normal things that women burlesque dancers think about – anxiety, body issues, performance ideas…etc.

This should be interesting.

The producer already has some ideas for me. *Sigh*

hopper

14
Jan
13

“We learned a lot and lost a lot of sleep.” Mabel Smith

Becoming a less-screwed up version of yourself is hard work. Actually, it’s really kind of exhausting.

Old dog, new….yeah.

This also reminds me why reading is so hard. Books aren’t back lit.

Question Mark

Don’t kindlekindlekindlekindle me, I don’t need one of those. Relatively speaking, by the time I get my hands on a tablet PC, people will have microwave chips beaming the internet directly into their brains.

I really need to relax. The meditation route never really works for me – it’s a LOT of work to keep still. Perhaps I need to investigate taking yoga again. It’s relaxing to the Nth degree and also affords flexibility. Unfortunately, my twerpy ankle is still wincing. It’s been a few years now, and the only thing that manages to make it feel better is intense exercise.

I’m sure that a little over half of my blog followers were following because of guitar related content. Sorry, not much going on there. My buddy built me a small pedal board and I’ve been sporadically picking up my Robin here and there.  My self-improvement doesn’t involve much guitar playing….at least not right now anyway.

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I talked it over with that guitar tech, and turns out I gotta find some nitrocellulose lacquer to go over those rough spots. After I sand them down. Such an odd shaped guitar, but what a sweet player!

Back to the book! *sigh*

12
Jan
13

“Ms. Currie, in her grand jury testimony, had a fuzzy memory,” Asa Hutchinson

I’ve got a pretty bad habit of remembering things.  Not entirely intentional, I read somewhere that Albert Einstein once said, “Never memorize something that you can look up.” Recently I’ve used this as a justification for my forgetfulness, but throughout my life I’ve let things slip, much to the dismay of various wives, girlfriends and daughters (not all my own).

The other night, my own personal haziness came into sharp relief.  I was in a bar discussion (as I am wont to do).

After I had professed my daughter’s age, I was then prompted for how long I was married. And then I was asked how old I was.  Rather than letting them off the hook, I asked them to do some boozy math.

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During the requisite pause, I did some thinking on it. Like some weird algebraic equation x+y-c did not equal z.  I started rethinking it – double checking my work if you will.
I couldn’t figure out where I went wrong until I determined that I was quoting an incorrect age when I was actually (previously) married.  How or why would I have done this? Strange?

My initial stance was that I was married at age 25. After I checked my numbers (carry the two), I realized that I had gotten married at 23.  Young, YOUNG marriage.  When people that age tell me now that they’re going to get married, I immediately think, “Oh wow, too young”. But I never apply my own personal experience to that. Obviously I don’t even remember that I got married that young. Perhaps fatherhood wipes some memories clean? Or was that a part of the raucous 90′s that I was just too…..altered….to remember?  (Amid the nose ring and tattoos?)

At my nephew’s birthday party the other day, I was talking to one of my brother’s friends and she said, “Yeah, I’m glad to have gotten to have fun before having all our children”, which I guess I can’t relate to on some level. I was married young, but I don’t feel like I consciously “missed out” on my 20′s.  If any thing, my early 20′s were a mishmash of bad decisions as it was, so I’m lucky to have survived most of them.

My father always carried around index cards with lists of things he needed to remember. We would meet up, and he’d whip out an index card and discuss all the things on the list that he NEEDED to cover, then once we’d finished, he put them away.  As of late, I almost feel like I should be doing that. But, of course, I have a smart phone. So I let Google Calendar take care of most of the heavy lifting. I refuse to let “The Big Blue F” handle birthday reminders. In fact, in one of my periodic disconnects from that site, I deleted my birthday.

FreeVector-Facebook-Birthday

Sure enough, my birthday rolled around and there were NO well wishers clogging up my page with birthday status updates. I thought it was curious rather than disturbing. I don’t think any less of my close friends for not remembering since I can hardly remember those things myself (see above for lifelong habit of).  But curious nonetheless.  I’ve taken to sending cards to some of my friends – something I rebelled against for the longest time as something that was “expected” of you rather than doing it just because it’s a nice thing to do.

Still working on that.

11
Jan
13

“A horrid alcoholic explosion scatters all my good intentions like bits of limbs and clothes over the doorsteps and into the saloon bars of the tawdriest pubs” Dylan Thomas

Two thousand thirteen is either going to be the year I transform myself into a new human being or end up in a fiery wreck at the bottom of a chasm.

Here’s to hopin’

08
Jan
13

“That’s a tough one to lose. It was a great game that no one deserved to lose.” Ellen Bridgewater

As last weekend rolled into the second day, I woke up late thanks to some bad decisions that I had made shortly after I had gotten my hair cut. It’s one thing to feel like a million bucks, it’s quite another to throw caution to the wind and be a man-about-town. I completely give myself credit for keeping my wits about me for getting my ex-brother-in-law safely home at errr…..ahem…three a.m. On the other hand, poor decision-making caused me to lose a pair of sunglasses and him losing his phone.  I liked those sunglasses a lot, kind of a bummer.

the_hung

Oddly enough, each time someone nods out while I’m driving them home, I start getting REALLY nervous. Visions of Jimi Hendrix and Bonn Scott float through my head when their head starts bobbing – I’ve got one eye on the road, the other on them. Silly boy, it’s not like you can check their breathing at 60 miles per hour!

Hendrix mateus rose

Sure enough he was fine. I made sure he could stagger into the house and put him to bed.

 

So, as to my other post, I have to say it’s tough to come to a realization about your life that’s life changing and not be able to really do anything about it……I mean, of course I’m talking about more cat pictures:

cats-in-sink

 

08
Jan
13

“I still grump and grumble, but I’ve really opened up to opening up.” ~ Liz Phair

Wow. As much as I complain about the internet in general, scattered throughout the detritus, there are many nuggets of value. Someone that I’m peripherally friends with on FB, (which henceforth I will call, “the big blue F”) posted something that really hit home. Really, REALLY hit home. I’m going to be intentionally and irritatingly vague here, sorry. But it was one of those things that kind of stops you in your tracks and makes you reexamine a few things. I also managed to have a rather mindexpanding conversation at dinner last night with someone some of you might know as theBlowPhish. Maybe 2013 is just going to be that kind of year?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Duh, it was a cat picture obviously.)

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06
Jan
13

“Innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.” Graham Greene

After the first evening of a rather self-destructive (and yet somehow productive) weekend, I went and got my hair cut on Saturday. As I walked in, my notable barber was discussing one of the things that I’ve never found that enjoyable – camping out. Several times I have been camping, and not just because I am a city-boy, the experiences I had never seemed to live up to the golden glory of the Great-American-Campout™.

Since my barber is a rather self-sufficient kind of guy, he’s got deer antlers and pictures of himself with giant catfish all over the walls of his, uh, barber shack. Really cool guy, we had a great discussion about his pecan trees all over his lot when it was my turn.

Anyway, the discussion of the campouts reminded me of some of my out-of-country time. In the local rivers there, there  were such things as fresh water eels. This could not have been more freaky for a city-boy like myself. The waters were typically crystal clear mountain snow run0ff, and while it was generally cold, the swimming was great, and the rivers full of huge boulders and rocks. BUT, around these rocks hid these freshwater eels. I’ve noted our local swimming “hole” with an asterisk. You can see more or less where my old house was (marked with the ever-present Google Maps Point “A” )

MerrilandsDomain

So when people are at the beach imagining sharks mere inches below them, the same was happening when we would swim in these icy clear swimming holes.  Sometimes you would forget about them, but there would usually be dark overhangs of brush, and you sure as hell wasn’t going to swim in there!  One time we went out on a school sponsored trip and some of the guys fished for eels and caught some. They caught the first one (I think the guy’s name was Chad if I remember) and laid him along the bank.  Chad was contemplating his next catch and started tapping his foot. Right on the head of the eel.  Chad was wearing the sandals that our boy’s school typically wore in the summertime. Nothing but a small flap of leather between his foot and this eel who was obviously not happy being out of the water.  In a very typical lord-of-the-flies ritual, I recall them beating the eel in the head until it was dead. I also recall someone skinning it and cooking it, so I guess while it was a little barbaric, it wasn’t completely senseless violence.

Either way, those buggers are creeepy man, very creepy.

That almost dovetails the time my brother was nearly attacked by a sea-snake, but I’ll leave that for another time.

25
Dec
12

“A bumper of good liquor will end a contest quicker Than justice, judge, or vicar” Richard Brinsley Sheridan

In a weird twist, a major chain of liquor stores have declared bankruptcy here lately.

I live in a dry town, which means that we have to go outside city limits for booze. Yesterday Rod and I realized we were short some bottles. We headed down to the local store, part of the chain, and there was no hard liquor at all. At ALL. It was all wine. There’s about six other stores in the vicinity of this one store, but guess what? They’re all owned by the same company!

So I asked the guy where the closest non-Centennial owned store was, and he pointed us down the road.

We headed in that direction, and what should I behold as we come around the bend? A Spec’s. SPEC’s people! SPEC’S!!!!

A Houston import, but I didn’t realize they’d opened one so close to my house. A sign on the door read “Pardon our Construction” but they were set to sell. Yes indeed.

Really weird how SPEC’s was right there….and the other stores are now bankrupt. Weird indeed.

In another bizarre twist, it’s snowing here today.  It’s quickly turning into slush, but whatever.

snew

20
Dec
12

“Sorry, miss. I was giving myself an oil-job.” Robby the Robot

I sometimes get his name mixed up, sometimes I call him Robby, sometimes it’s Robbie. Either way, got some absolutely killer art from Brad McGinty – he of the Predator/Alien prints (of which I have one as well.)  I had to steal the image from Brad’s Instagram page since the actual picture is too big for my scanner.

rob_pin

Muchas Gracias to TokenBlackGirls.com for getting this artist on my radar! And super  thanks to Brad for a great job!

09
Dec
12

“Last week the candle factory burned down. Everyone just stood around and sang Happy Birthday.” Stephen Wright

07
Dec
12

“You silly twisted boy.” Spike Milligan

So, PBR and Advil – bad idea?

My TMJ is killing me. Thanks to a hellaciously stressful week at work, my jawbone muscles are sore and aching. Rather than do my facial exercises (yes, they do look as goofy as you’re imagining right now), I’m opting for the beer and Advil relaxation method. Maybe I’ll call it PBAdvil. Or Advipbr.

I don’t really feel like detailing my boring work. Let’s just boil it down to: Troubleshooting.

After five days of solving severe, severe problems, (well, severe in my line of business anyway) I took a long lunch and went to Guitar Center.  Managed to get my hands on a doublecut Gibson that I’d been curious about the neck on.

tv2_doublecut

Ole Yeller

I’m not a fan of doublecuts. At all. I was interested in the neck, and the P90. (PBR90?) The P90 sounded cool, but was missing some bottom end. *DING* The lightbulb goes on over my head.  That’s what the bass guitar is for. Duhhh.  For some reason I’ve had it in my head that some of that bass *thunk* should be pushed out of whatever guitar I’ve been playing. Duh (again). Sometimes I don’t know why my brain works that way, I swear. I would borrow the kiddo’s bass, but it’s a lefty. Last time I faked some bass I used one of my guitars and an octave pedal. Bleah.

Some of my recording equipment has made it out near the amps; I’ve now realized that I’m never going to practice enough that I feel comfortable recording – so I might as well practice while I’m writing songs and recording.
So here is my pet peeve for today: Removable Trailer Hitches

If you live anywhere in the Southern States, you’re likely to see them on the backs of big trucks. Also to be found on cars of People-who-need-to-get-stuff-done™.

hitch_tha_bitch

Here’s my problem with them. They’re REMOVABLE. So why the HELL doesn’t anyone remove them??

When I was in my slight fender bender a while back,  the truck that hit the car that hit me had one. There was a mid-size SUV behind him, impaled onto his trailer hitch.  I vividly remember him jamming on the accelerator dragging her car with him (dangerous) while she had her wheels screaming in reverse (unsafe). He was obviously a working dude, so I’m not going to fault his hitch-ness.  When I’m driving home, however, I have to consciously think about the truck in front of me – whether I need to possibly plan for a 6-8 inch metal spear that may pierce my radiator should I happen to rear end anyone.  There was also a time at one of my old apartments where a dude in huge truck had backed up to the mailboxes, and I caught his (removable) hitch with my shin.

You know pain, right? The blinding, cripping, I’m-not-moving and unable to even cry out in pain kind of pain?

My shin had that pain. Boy oh boy did I have that pain. Luckily I was a nice guy and swore under my breath. I’m pretty sure I blamed myself for running into it.  I should have….uh….ok, I’m not posting that on the internet.

My point is that there is only a small percentage of people who use trailer hitches on a daily basis. Just take the damn things off your trucks if you’re a weekend warrior or something. You really need to leave it on 24/7? Are you going to lose it if you take it off? You must have bigger problems.

06
Dec
12

“Ecstasy is a glassful of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.” Alexander Pushkin

I was going to write a post about what a bizarre, bizarre week it has been at work but at the last-minute I got lazy. Here we go.

When I was a kid, as I have mentioned before, my mother was very strict on sugar. Back in the 70′s, they hadn’t started diagnosing kids with ADD or ADHD (as far as I know).  I’d had some behavioral problems at school (acting out, talking back, fights, etc) and my mother was cleanly convinced that sugar was a culprit. Either that, or she was trying to counteract my poor diet (no fault of my own) by limiting sugar around the house.

As we know now, limiting yourself from anything is a bad idea; it makes your body crave it more.

So I became a sugar fiend. Massive massive sugar fiend. If I had money, we would walk down to Cunningham Pharmacy (where the giant Kroger is now) and buy lots and lots of candy – that I obviously wasn’t supposed to be eating.

One of the side effects of the embargo on sugary substances was that none of the trashy, sugary, immensely bad for you cereals made their way in. Sure, occasionally they’d throw me a bone. I clearly remember getting a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur skeleton out of a box of Fruity Pebbles (my cereal-crack of choice) and hiding out in the closet with it.

But somehow, some way, I was tricked into thinking that I liked Kix.

Yes, Kix. (Vintage box because I couldn’t find an 80′s version)

Kix_box

I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t like it at some point.  I can’t imagine how that even satiated my sugar craving (it didn’t). I do recall Pele appearing on a Kix box at one point, and I can’t be sure, but at some point I decided to play soccer.  Probably peer pressure from all the jocks at my school that I was mysteriously forced to hang around. Not sure how that worked.

My parents dutifully got me a pair of cleats and I played my first and last game of soccer.

Turns out there’s a lot of running.

 

28
Nov
12

“It is a very windy, wet and wild part of the world.” Mike Sanderson

I don’t live in a particularly rough neighborhood.  I don’t think, anyway. Maybe I’m oblivious.
On the far right is an example of a .38 caliber bullet. To the immediate left is a 9mm bullet. Just to the left of that is a .38 special bullet. And finally on the left is a .44.

The three on the right I scammed off of my friend when he was showing me the differences between calibers. We had been drinking, and if there’s one thing I’m sorely lacking, it’s weapon knowledge. Suffice it to say that my daughter has been to gun ranges more than I have.

The tricky part is the .44. I was grocery shopping yesterday (near the organic aisle) and I hear somebody walking behind me. Ka-ching-Kaching!! Something bounces off the floor as he passes, skitters between my legs and rests in front of me.  I look down, and reach for it. It looks like a bullet! So I pick it up and sure enough it is. At the same time, I look up and the person who was behind me is dressed in the store color – and is heading right into the back room. The timing was such that I didn’t get to say anything. What WOULD you say? “Hey buddy, you dropped this really large caliber bullet? While on duty?”  At first I thought it was one of those bullet keychains. Nope.

So I pocketed it. Paid for my stuff and left.

11
Nov
12

“A good cook is a certain slow poisoner, if you are not temperate” Voltaire

Yesterday I finally successfully cooked something out of one of the Bitchin’ Kitchen cookbooks.  ”Rockin’ Roast Beef”.  Since it would be kind of crappy to post the whole recipe, I’ll walk you through how the whole planning and execution went.

Two Weeks Ago:

I invite friends over indicating that they have cooked for me often, and I would like to repay in kind……in two weeks.   Upon making this announcement, I am immediately stricken with the thought that I might not be able to pull it off.  Thinking quickly, I squash this thought in case it might turn out to be true – not giving myself any room to say, “I told you so” after the fact.

A week ago: 

Realizing that I need to start buying ingredients, I start putting a list together and planning on what things I need to buy last minute (meat and probably vegetables). All other (unique) items I start hunting immediately. There was a lot of driving over the week, looking for some of the oddly specialized ingredients.  I went to Kroger, Tom Thumb (Safeway), Sprouts, Whole Foods, and finally Central Market. The offending items that took the longest? Honeycup Mustard (found at Central Market) and prepared purple horseradish (never found).  I guess we’re just big on creamed horseradish here in the South. Plenty of that everywhere.  So, heading into the week, even more stressful was the realization that I need to ALSO clean my house in prep for visitors. Not that it’s ever truly horrible, but it stands to be cleaned with definitely more effort than I normally put into it.

Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. One of those cleaning situations where you clean something, then out of the corner of your eye you spy something else that needs to be cleaned. Then as you’re cleaning that, you spy something else…. yeah. So a lot of over the week cleaning done.

Friday: 

So I’ve gotten all the ingredients that I need (exception being the purple horseradish) and I’m ready to pick the meat up tomorrow and get all the vegetables.  Checked the liquor stash and realized I have no “entertaining” vodka and I’m dangerously low on Cognac.  Lunchtime at work I headed for the liquor store, one of the smaller ones near-ish the office. (Don’t get me started on “dry” counties OR the “blue law“). I was somewhat disappointed that their vodka selection wasn’t huge – since I’m always on the lookout for some weird bottle shapes. In terms of taste, most vodkas are the same for me, so buying goofy looking bottles is fun. I did buy some Conjure cognac. Oops, didn’t realize this was a rapper-endorsed brand. Oh well, it’s got a nice bottle and tastes good.

Saturday: 

Head to Whole Foods and pick up some boneless beef rump and a pint of Voodoo beer.  Start preparations around 1pm for a 5-6pm dinner.

Step 1. Open the beer. Pour a glass. Realize this beer is the equivalent of chicory coffee to regular coffee. Drink.

Step 2. Google what I’m supposed to do with pearl onions. (Do I just wash them? Throw them in the pan?) A: Boil them for three minutes then ice them. Cut off the end at the bulb and then just squeeze them out of their skins.

Step 3. Wash potatoes.

Step 4. Rinse Mushrooms.

Step 5. Pour another glass of beer. Realize that you haven’t eaten much today. Good times.

Step 5.5 – put the honeycup and salt/pepper on beef to marinate. (2:00pm)

At this point, my stress level is low, but slowly rising. The beer is helping as a topical anesthetic…so far.

Step 6. Combine most of the ingredients for the Teriyaki sauce. Realize that buying two huge hunks of ginger was probably a waste.  Slice ginger into a lot of tiny slivers. Get halfway through that, realize that this is actually a lot of work. Simultaneously realize that my knife skills have a long way to go. Keep going.  Combine ginger and garlic into the other ingredients and start to boil.

Step 7. Start making the chipotle mayo. Realized I was buzzing a little when the teriyaki sauce started to boil and I rushed getting the mayo into the processor and spilled a little. Oops.

Step 8. Drop the heat on the teriaki sauce, finish getting mayo INTO the processor and add the salt/pepper and chipotle peppers. Blend. Taste. Realize that’s pretty spicy. But tastes good. Scoop it into a bowl and put in the refrigerator. I think it was about 3:30 by this point.

Step 9. Get a coffee filter and strain the teriyaki sauce – don’t want all the chunks of ginger and garlic.

Step 10. Pour the last of the beer into the glass.

At this point, I’m done with the mayo, the vegetables are prepped, the teriyaki sauce is straining.

NOW, NOW is when I started getting paranoid about cook time. The googling I had done indicated that the vegetables didn’t cook as fast as the meat. As I’d consumed a whole pint of hardcore stout beer, I really started second guessing when I was going to put the meat in the oven.  I had about an hour of “known” cook time, then add vegetables and cook until the meat reaches a certain temp.  Then I had to think, “I don’t want them walking through the door and have to sit down immediately!”

My original start cook time of 4:00pm I let slide until about 4:45pm.  Played some Zynga poker to kill time while occasionally glancing into the kitchen realizing that I might actually pull it off.  Played until about 4:45 and panicked – “I need to get this in the oven!”  Put it in the oven, realized I have no beer. Make myself a vieux carre.  Get mellow and play some more poker.

So around, 5:45pm, I add the vegetables. I get a call from the friends that they’re running late. I start to really stress out, and lower the temp on the oven as the meat thermometer is creeping toward the expected temp.

They arrive around 6:30 or so, and I immediately talk them into a vieux carre – which will blunt any expectation of “fine dining”.

Well, sure enough, the meat was ready to be pulled, the onions and mushrooms were fine. I did have to put the potatoes in the microwave, but I got stellar raves for the meat. I blame/give credit to the Honeycup Mustard for that.

I didn’t bother taking a picture of the final product since my blog has long since been past the point of documenting EVERYTHING visually.  The meat gets put on a cutting board and surrounded by the mushrooms, onions, and potatoes. The teriyaki and chipotle mayo, and some cranberry horseradish sauce that I found as a substitute on the side.  Dig in.

All in all, very successful.  I don’t have any closing thoughts.  Gold star to you if you made it this far though. ;-)

04
Nov
12

“The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture” Alfred Hitchcock

First, was the knife.  Then it was the keytags. Followed closely by my Mp3 player. Okay, okay, it was an old 2nd generation iPod, but still.

I work in a decent sized company, essentially a cube farm,  surrounded by what I think are fine upstanding individuals.  Still, I believe that. I also believe that one of them is a raging kleptomaniac.

Last week was a hellaciously busy week for me.  Small amounts of sleep, large amounts of work. I’d arrive and throw all the extra junk in my pockets next to my lunch box.

Apparently that was a mistake.

Swwwwwooooooossssssshhhhh. Away they went.

I didn’t bother dog paddling through all five stages of grief, I’m already at “Acceptance”. So, I need to buy a new knife, start collecting stupid shopper key tabs again, and get myself another ipod.

More interesting to me is my “go forward” plan.  Do I bait my cube and plant a motion sensitive webcam? For sure, I’m not leaving my sunglasses alone, undefended. Have to be a little more careful from now on.

Lastly, I need to thank Tokenblackgirls.com for pointing out that Louis CK’s hosting stint on Saturday Night Live last night will surely bring more Abraham Lincoln fans to my blog.  I can’t explain why, but Abe Lincoln is a pretty popular guy.

28
Oct
12

“Hustlers of the world, there is one Mark you cannot beat: the Mark Inside.” William S. Burroughs

I just lost $11.50 playing pool, and I really enjoyed it.

Was hanging around a local bar waiting for a friend and started making conversation with a guy and his date.

He made a quality shot. Like super quality. Like, the “I shouldn’t be showing this shot for guys who are watching me” shot. So I said, “Nice shot man.”

He said, “Well, we’re playing for $3000.”

I responded, “W0w, I need to get in on that action.”

A little later, my coin-table was taken over by some frat boys whom I had hopes of beating senselessly, but the guy I talked to earlier was like, “Hey, wanna play? $20?”

I got him down to $10 – because that’s all the cash I had on me, but I was just fooling around.  I lost initially,and paid up, but had some fun. It’s easy to recognize someone who can really play, even if they’re really trying to hide it. So I asked him what pool hall he hung out in. He played it off, but then he realized I wasn’t a real target, so he told me that he had a table at his house.

I lost, we played for fun then went to $.50 a game. Just for fun. We had some kicks giving each other some crap, but we were laughing and having fun. It was nice to have some real competition. His date was ready to go, but we ended up trying to bank the 8 on the last game….so he was a good guy.

Need to be doing that more often. With less losing. :-)

20
Oct
12

“Cock your hat – angles are attitudes.” Frank Sinatra

Since I’ve been tremendously busy, I don’t really have anything worthwhile to add to my blog other than my “Presidential Headgear Series”, I present, “George Washington’s Fedora”:

Not to say that this is even worthwhile.

01
Oct
12

“Tell me what you brag about and I’ll tell you what you lack” Spanish Proverb

So was at a party the other day, and I complimented this girl on her Ramones shirt.  It was a pretty off-handed comment, but the crowd that populated this party was definitely not the type of crowd that listened to The Ramones. She said, “Thank you” and went on her way.

A little later, my friend and I were kicking back under the awning when that same girl said (un-prompted), “You know, I really do like the Ramones.” My response was a sincere, “Very cool, rock on.”

She continued, “Well, you know that some people just like the logo, but I’m really into their music.”

I nodded, and again voiced a positive response, albeit a little less enthusiastically.

Again, she soldiered on, “I just picked up their first album………….. on vinyl………… at Waterloo Records ………in Austin.” (Yes, she paused for some kind of dramatic effect)

Rather unwisely I said, “Oh really, gee, yeah, I just can’t get into vinyl – I can’t stand another format change”

My friend said, “Yeah, they’re not really portable.”

She continued, almost oblivious, “Yeah, I totally have my dad’s vintage hi-fi. While I was at Waterloo, in Austin, I picked up a bootleg Nirvana, a Queen album, and a Pixies album”.

Me, “Yep, totally classics”

At this point, I’m pretty much out.

The conversation wound down quickly as my friend and I quickly agreed (before any MORE discussion could be had) that vinyl is superior in audio quality.

The kicker was that this girl was all of about eleven or twelve years old. Is this where hipsters are hatched? I’m trying to remember if her black Wayfarer frames had glass in them.

26
Sep
12

Reblogged from Doktor Snake:

I too have let myself down recently, and need to heed the warning signs.
16
Sep
12

“Home is just some other place, with a door and a lock, where you keep your stuff.” J Yuenger

So those bushes don’t self maintain? The trees need trimming? Who knew?

There’s some pros and cons to owning a home. (And I loosely use the term “own” since the bank technically owns my house until I finish paying them). People who grew up with parents that enjoyed working in the yard have a good idea what it takes to maintain a full size spread outdoors. My early yard work experiences typically involved desperation (money) and time (summer) so I never really thought that much about it. I do remember my dad finally giving in to having a yard crew come in and paying them to take care of it all. Once you get your own home, ya gotta think about this stuff. Apartment living is pretty easy when you think about it.

I wrestle with jobbing out my lawn care myself – as I hump it outside clipping bushes that I hate, or trying to coax my lawn back to life. In my neighborhood, lawn/grass care is more or less at the homeowner’s discretion – since we don’t have a HOA.  My neighbors are nice, and we only have one house that has an engine block in the yard, but even they keep the lawn more or less neat.  It’s always interesting watching the reaction of people who drive by while I’m working in the yard.

But some of the things that some people think about (like how their lawn looks) is second nature. I suppose it might help if had an HOA because then I’d have an idea about what I needed to work on next. “Weeds too high” – time to mow!  My neighbors to either side of me and myself – we’re probably the worst on our half block at keeping our yards neat.  It ends up being a sort of backwards competition – who can let their yards get the worst without looking TRULY horrendous, and mainly who will be the last person to mow.

I’ve only lost this competition once or twice. My neighbors seem to be less interested than even I am at mowing. When I mow, I think that’s their bat-signal. “Geez, if HE mowed, I guess I’d better mow, because my house looks horrible next to his!”

Worse, for me, is that doing yard work reminds me of the rest of the house that needs work. The roof. The garage. The back patio. The lawn.

My dad shingled my old home himself. It was a two story house. Wow. I’m still in awe of that.  He had a full time job too, and worked on a patch at a time. He hated heights (and I do too) so I remember climbing out onto the very top part of the roof and checking it all out.

 

13
Sep
12

“The first human who hurled an insult instead of a stone was the founder of civilization.” Sigmund Freud

I’m calmly sipping a Vieux Carre, or at least a semblance of one (no Benedictine), having been enveloped in a haze of nostalgia.

My car was pelted by hailstones a few months ago, incurring a few (or many) divots in the process. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it – I’d just let it ride then take a bath when I eventually got rid of the car.  One of the guys at work kept peer pressuring me into doing something about it and I filed a claim with my insurance company. (Gee, can’t imagine why my rates just went up)

I rolled it into the shop and picked up my rental. My rental (no great shakes, a Chevy Cruze) has XM radio.  I can’t figure out how to plug my mp3 player into the car, so I was stuck. This car had 7 miles on it when I got it so I had to program the radio. I found 80′s at 8 and 90′s at 9.

Gawd, what a trip back to my early teens.

My former 80′s nostalgia was firmly based in the things that I missed, or the music I really liked. My haze today was prompted by all the things I remembered.  All the bouncy 80′s pop…..minimal guitars.  It’s a wonder how I ever started playing guitar much less keeping with it for any length of time. Each weirdo, bouncy, drum machine led tunes pinged my brain with memories of a lot of different things.  It was weird associating such a random assortment of songs with my life. Not the ones I jammed to (air guitar), but the ones that played in the background of my post-childhood.

I don’t have much else to add. Except I really want a ’63 Buick Riviera.

12
Sep
12

Affentittengeil

Reblogged from davewaugh:

Click to visit the original post

03
Sep
12

“Some people know how to teach, and some know how to do.” Linda Pierce

One of the things that I’ve been meaning to do for a long time was write a little recognition for my high school English teacher – Mrs Garcia.

In one of the last attempts to make good citizens out of us idiot high schoolers, she prepped the last senior semester by having us write a college-level paper in which we were to compare two things and correctly annotate and structure the paper as you would in a college level class. We were given the task of comparing something British against something American in different time frames. The task seemed daunting, but really it was only scary if you over-thought it.  This was possibly the most important class that I’ve ever had. And of course, didn’t realize it at the time.

I can’t tell you the actual name of the type of paper that it’s called, but I can sleepwalk through writing papers now. In fact, I didn’t even realize what I was learning at the time. Napping was high on my agenda when she gave us time in class. (Too many late nights at the poolhall).  Writing content really was never my problem, but the organization of the content became key.

Among the things I learned were that it didn’t really matter what your content was, or even your opinion, as long as you could back it up using other sources.

My paper? Comparing the Beatles to AC/DC. In my strong headed stubbornness, I chose something that I would at least be interested in concentrating on. Halfway through, I got the feeling that it had been a very, very bad choice. But I was in too deep, so I had to continue.

Much to my surprise, I got an A on the paper. No topic is too dumb (even for a high schooler) if your sources and organization are right.

Unfortunately, my blogging has never really seen any benefit from anything I learned then, but I used the skills I learned throughout college and consistently received A’s for my papers. In all classes. Teachers seemed to enjoy reading papers that were well constructed.

So anyway, much thanks to Mrs Garcia – this is one student who greatly benefited from the lesson she taught.

02
Sep
12

“The fox condemns the trap, not himself.” William Blake

My suspicious have been confirmed.

A guy was in front of me (speeding) and I kept hearing my radar detector chirping. I could see the lawman parked in a turn lane (as he sometimes does) pointing his radar gun down towards me. The guy ahead of me speeds all the way up to the officer until he sees him, and jams on his brakes. Meanwhile, my radar detector keeps chirping every few seconds.

He was targeting me. I was pulling a steady 40, so he didn’t have any reason to pull me over (yet), but he’s gonna keep trying.

***///***

Almost labor day.  Yesterday was the Invasion Car Show in Deep Ellum. Another rad assortment of hot rods – I hung around for almost two hours and got some good pics of a few cars that caught my eye.  I won’t bother posting them here, but here’s a link – Invasion 2012.

***///***

Almost Labor Day (part II). Tomorrow I’m going to fry up some crawfish and try my hand at a traditional Remoulade sauce for some po-boys. Sure, traditionally it should be a BBQ day. (In Texas, every weekend is prime BBQ territory.) Facebook is flooding with brisket preparations. Mmmm……brisket. Anyway, wish me luck!

24
Aug
12

“Stupidity, like virtue, is its own reward.” Bill Davidsen

Since I’ve been pretty busy I haven’t had time to update with a lot of things that have been on my mind so I’ll cheat and tell you about another brush with the law.

It was about 1993 or so, I was taking my girlfriend and her friend (and her friend’s baby) to Austin.  We were going out 290 (why 290? Well, see, both my ex-girlfriend and her friend were total bitches, so they gave me an approximate destination and I started driving toward it.)  We were speeding rather excessively since I really didn’t know where I was going, and I came over the crest of the hill probably doing 95 miles an hour. (I’m guessing it was a 65 or 70 mph zone). So here I am in my light blue 1991 Acura Integra, speeding like a madman, and immediately I see a cop and he flashes his lights and starts tailing.

Up until that point, I don’t think I’d ever been pulled over for speeding. I was a pretty safe/sneaky driver.  That and I had a decent Cobra radar detector.

So, the cop walks up to the car, and says, “Is there a reason you were going so fast?”

Here’s the part I can’t believe. In my impatience, and frustration at these women I say, “Because I was in a hurry!”

Peripherally I can see my girlfriend’s eyes getting big, and from the back I can almost hear her friend’s eyes popping out of their sockets.

“License and Insurance please”

I hand both to the police officer, he walks away, and it’s dead silent.

I have a very, very deep sinking feeling that I’m in trouble.

The officer walks back to the car, hands me my license and says, “You need to slow down and be more careful……..and put that baby in a baby seat too.”

I stutter, “Yes sir officer”.

And off he went.

Now, I’m not sure exactly what happened. The picture on my license is the same as it was below (priestly) and I had totally forgotten about it.

My girlfriend was flabbergasted. That’s the only word I can use. They’re both like, “How the hell did you get away with that??”

I showed them the license and they were appropriately astonished and amused.

I think I’ve only got one more good “get out of jail” story. I’ll save that one until next time.

08
Aug
12

“There’s a line in the picture where he snarls, ‘Nobody tells me what to do.’ That’s exactly how I’ve felt all my life.” ~ Marlon Brando

In a follow up, the officer of the law definitely has his eye on me. I’ve passed by him twice now – he’s been hiding next to the volleyball court again. And he’s staring me down when I pass by.

******//////******

In another follow up, I didn’t really think much of the robbing/mugging at the time, I survived, and let it pass.  About six or seven years later, I realized how much it freaked me out. I went to a drive through ATM over off San Felipe and as I was getting my card back, something flashed out of the corner of my eye. It was totally something peripheral, but I flung my wallet to the floor (or so I thought) and then sped away. My heart was racing, I was freaking out.

A week or so later, I got my wallet back in the mail. I guess in my panic, I threw it out the window! Of course, there wasn’t any cash in it (hence the need to go to the ATM) but I did get my license back. Which was nice. And also probably the cause of getting it mailed back to begin with.

04
Aug
12

“That is the behavior people take under the pressure of survival, … This is misconstrued as looting, as thievery.” Benigno Aguirre

One of the things that I don’t think I’ve ever written (or blogged) or committed to paper is getting mugged….or robbed….when I was a teen. Pretty much I wonder each time I think about it, was I really mugged? I mean, I know I was robbed, but was I mugged AND robbed? Or just robbed?

The literal definitions:

Mugged: to assault or menace, especially with the intention of robbery.

Robbed: to take something from (someone) by unlawful force or threat of violence; steal from.

I remember seeing my father after he was mugged. It was the mid 90′s and if I remember correctly a dude on PCP tried to steal his girlfriend’s purse. That dude beat the HELL out of my dad. His face was all bruised up. My father apparently punched the guy in the nuts repeatedly – which had no effect (PCP) but that is what I would call a mugging.

My story was different.


It was 1989 or 1990? It was about 5pm – full daylight.  Wing Stop was a bank. Little Caesars was at the end of the strip, where the liquor store is now. I parked in spot A (when it was a spot to park), the ATM is at point B. The timing was pretty crazy.  I took out twenty or forty bucks out of the ATM. Right as I’m heading back to my car, out of the corner of my eye, a car pulls up to spot C and some dudes get out. One of them drops something that kind of goes “clank”. I’m naive and don’t think anything about it.

As I’m reaching to put my wallet in my back pocket (left pocket), I feel something at the back of my head.  My first thought is “Uh, what?” as I (slow motion) look to my left, there’s  a guy immediately next to me with his arm behind my head – and he says, “Give it up.”  With the hand not holding a gun, he motions for my wallet and my keys. Let me tell you, what they say about adrenaline, etc, I dropped my wallet into my lap. I froze. You tend to do that when you’ve got a gun to your head.

He took my keys, and my wallet. Then he and his lookout sauntered back past the ATM (past a completely oblivious guy taking money out) and drove off.

So, I was pretty freaked out. Um, so was my date. Oooops. It was going to be pretty much our first date. Don’t ask me why I didn’t go get cash before the date. I am an idiot.

We got out of the car (since it obviously wasn’t going anywhere when those dudes took my keys).  The guy who finished getting his money as the robbers drove away, turned. I said, “We just got robbed!” He looked surprised, and not knowing what to do just hightailed it out of there. So, we went to Little Caesars and called the police.

The police were nice, took my statement (I think. I don’t actually remember now). He dropped us off right down the street at Barney’s Billiards (one of my old haunts).  The bartender offered me a shot of whiskey to calm my nerves. I didn’t take it.

Nobody was around my house, so I called my friend Brian.  We decided since we had nothing else to do, we were going to go find something to eat.
Welllll, he needed cash. So. Uh. We went back to the ATM.

 

……

 

Okay, so my car is sitting there, (locked) and he gets his cash and we go eat.  I think we went to BIBAS (One’s a Meal) – back when it was on Memorial.  A few hours later my dad and I picked up the car with the spare key.  I have to retell my idiot story several times.  Everyone at my Toy Store job thought I was nuts (and we had to change all the locks). The police came to the Toy Store a few days later to ID the alleged/possible gunman.

Looking at a lineup of pics, I couldn’t ID the guy to save my life, but they said afterwards that they know who the driver of the car was (who didn’t happen to be the guy who actually robbed me).  And that was pretty much the end of it. Never heard anything ever again.

 

28
Jul
12

“Some people say that cats are sneaky, evil, and cruel. True, and they have many other fine qualities as well.” Missy Dizick

I think the local officer of the law is onto me.

Randomly on mornings that I drive to work there’s a police officer with a radar gun scoping people out and ticketing them for speeding.

Yesterday he was parked next to the local indoor volleyball court.  This in itself isn’t odd – but since I’ve got a radar detector I can tell he was hiding behind their electric eye. The eye will trigger your radar detector whether he’s there or not.

I’m pretty careful, not because I have a radar detector but because I’ve almost gotten ticketed twice.  He’s seen my detector hanging down enough times, I think he’s trying to get me. Pretty trick move. *Much respect for officers of the law, they do a job I could never do.

******//////******

I had to take a small break from updating my personal guitar playing history since Patrick Sims, the guy who has not returned my guitar, made an appearance on one of the guitar forums that I frequent. There was a point to be made (apparently) that he’s persecuted without cause. Which is interesting, since he still hasn’t responded to my e-mail about where my guitar is.  As you can see, the guy got his guitar back (albeit in the wrong color).

******//////******

My ankle didn’t suffer, we went rollerblading a week or two ago. Haven’t done that in about….uh….fifteen years. My K2 roller blades didn’t survive. The plastic was too old and sheared off in the same place on both boots before we started skating.  So, I got some rental hockey skates that had no stop bumper. Fun, and I didn’t kill myself. Good exercise if you want to roll around too.

15
Jul
12

“Like a thunderbolt in your Cheerios, son.” – David Lee Roth

Dang it, I couldn’t find the video I was looking for.

Where was I? So in 1996 or so, I was working at the aforementioned movie theater and The Great White Hype was playing. This was a bad movie. Just overall bad. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY came to see it. The theater that it was playing in was consistently empty so I’d wander in there from time to time to see if anyone was actually watching it.

I walked in one time and Brian Setzer had a cameo appearance playing “Danny Boy” all Brian Setzer styled, and things are starting to percolate in my brain. A bartender at one of the poolhalls I frequented said, “Dude, I just saw this movie that is so YOU.”

That movie was Swingers.

So I’m really getting it all together, and realizing that this kind of music is what I should be playing on guitar. The whole vibe and scene was just too cool – it was what I dug all along. Hot rods, low-brow, twangy guitars…..the works. I picked up the guitar again. It had been a few (ahem) years since I played it with any regularity in high school and many MANY years since the time I played it seriously.  So I set to work. It sounds stupid to “realize” it, but a lot of my guitar playing years were stunted because of my ear.

I’ve got a good ear. I can hear something, match the key and then usually fake along (depending on how much I’ve been practicing lately).  In elementary school, I played cornet. I couldn’t read music so they just sang the note to me and I played it. While it’s nice to have a good ear, ultimately I think it made me lazier. Especially on guitar. While it makes it easier to jump in, you don’t work as hard so you don’t retain as much information.

But my daughter was born in 1997 so while she was a baby I actually had PLENTY of time to practice. And practice I did.  I tracked my original guitar teacher (in Houston) and started meeting up with him to start getting this rockabilly stuff down.  I learned a lot of finger picking. I spent a lot of time running scales and learning songs.  I was using my long-time guitar my Ibanez Destroyer (!).

Found a pic of one (although mine didn’t have the cherries).

Since I was familiar with the wide fretboard it was great to be pushing through on, but I ended up pickup up my first “rockabilly machine” Gretsch in 1997.  It was a factory second out at Parker Music on I-45 (Houston).

After a while, I felt pretty confident in my playing. Over confident really. I set up to meet with this guy who played stand up bass. What a disaster. The guy was what I/we call a “purist“. He played the rockabilly records on a turntable (only). He preached the rockabilly superior. Original rockabilly artists only, etc, etc. He turned his nose up at my Gretsch (not a rockabilly guitar?!?) but oddly enough approved of the leopard print strap I had on it? He knocked me off-balance so badly that I couldn’t remember the chords to Blue Suede shoes (!) It was bad. It knocked me back for quite a while. Such a defeat. Now I realize he was just a…..jerk…..but back then I really took it to heart that I wasn’t a good guitar player.

–to be continued–

14
Jul
12

“Life has its music; let us seek a way – not to jangle the chords whereon we play”

Whaaa? Why did I pick that title? Jangle is what it’s all ABOUT!!

I spent the last hour or so annoying the house finally putting fingers to fretboard to figure out the licks in the General Cinema trailer:

As I’ve mentioned before, it was one of my favorite ever jobs…General Cinema.  I heard that freaking bumper a million times too. I finally goofed it out. Took me about 20 minutes to where I thought the ending slides should start from, but I’m pretty happy with it.  Finally, I can rest easy, knowing that I can play air guitar absolutely correctly in regards to fretboard placement when I imagine this stupid bumper playing in my head. As it so often does.

Since I started playing guitar in the late 80′s, I’ve always been a guitar based music kind of guy. One of my favorite songs *younger than guitar playin’ years* that really really struck me was Stray Cat Strut. Right around 1995-1996, I caught Brian Setzer playing on Letterman.  (Check out that jacket!)  I was like, “Hey, that’s the dude that did Stray Cat Strut! One of my favorite songs evar!” *Note: We didn’t talk like that in the 90′s. It’s a recent phenom.

So I set about hunting down a big band version of Stray Cat Strut.  Right about this time, I was also working at the movie theater, and kept hearing the echo drenched rockabilly flavored bumper (above) over and over again. I’m trying to find some clips…

….to be continued…

14
Jul
12

“Some weasel took the cork out of my lunch.” W. C. Fields

I managed to break a cork off inside the bottle of Merlot that I opened last night. 

It hasn’t happened in years, but it took me back to a time when I worked food service and we served those dinky little bottles of wine. Looking at them, I was never impressed with how people ordered them at a pizza joint or a greasy diner. Of course, those dinky ones wouldn’t have a cork, so I’m trying to remember how it was that I served someone a nice glass of Chardonnay or Zinfadel with bits of cork floating in it?

While my memory is foggy regarding exactly where I was, I do recall my manager being dumbfounded (rightly so) that I would not even notice little bits of cork in the glass. What can I say, I’m an idiot. 

But there’s something to be said for life experience teaching you stuff. Your boss asks you, “Have you ever sliced onions?”, and you answer in the negative because you don’t want to lie. Boss looks astonished and says, “Well, okay, here ya go” and demonstrates.

Some people are naturally good at food service – I am not one of them. By “good”, I really reference the amount of thought that it takes to perform a given task. I over think a lot of things including slicing onions. So I was never that great at it.

08
Jul
12

“Skill and confidence are an unconquered army.” George Herbert

I’ve been slowly….very slowly….working my way back into practicing my guitar. 

For no apparent reason, I listened to the Guitar Zero audiobook a week or two ago. I think I caught a few interesting points, but since I haven’t been a “beginner” in about 20 or so years, a lot of it I couldn’t relate to. I did pick up on the notion that as you age, learning is easier to absorb in smaller bite-sized-chunks. I can relate to that. 

I picked up a DVD a few weeks ago that has a bunch of licks played out. I’m extremely lucky in the sense that it really doesn’t take me long to pick up the lick (good ear) and I usually just skip past the slow version of the lick – my issues always fit into, “How can I push this lick into a solo when I’m jamming with somebody?”. That part I’ve never been very good at.

As my time is definitely more constrained (amazing how yard and house work can eat up spare time), sitting down and learning a solo note-for-note isn’t that appealing. Every once in a while I get a hair up my ass and do it anyway. 

The first time I met Unknown Hinson, I asked him what I needed to do to be a better guitar player. He said, “Play an hour a day. Hyeah, hyeah.”  The inner me would LOVE to play an hour a day, although I need to find a teacher that can correctly guide me.

My noodling is just that, noodling. There’s something to be said for concentrated, focused practice. 

Although, noodling has been good for coming up for some riffs for recording. Time to get back into that groove. 

04
Jul
12

“Ever since dying came into fashion, life hasn’t been safe.” Proverb

Hoppy July 4th. So far, I have the day off. This could change at any moment.

I’m going through all my bookmarks – yes, those things that occasionally save your place on the internet. Usually, they’re all pointing to dead links, etc. So I’m looking at some of them and determining if they still exist. If not, “ Baleeted.”

Some of the links go to some really cool T-shirt websites. You know the ones, the ones that have such cool designs you never thought you’d see in a million years. It makes you feel like a kid – picking out the coolest design.

Unfortunately, there are very few of these t-shirts that don’t make you look like an oversized kid. Or, rather, a middle-aged balding gentleman who can’t seem to grow up. While anybody can buy those shirts, it doesn’t mean they should. I’m all for geek chic, within the proper age range. Much like the Twilight Zone episode I just glanced at, with Cliff Robertson – I thought, “Boy, that top hat looks great!”


However I’m realistic enough that I know that I can’t rock a top hat. Very few people can.

Slash.


Ummm. And Charles DeMarr.

And……uh…..Abraham Lincoln.

That’s it. The only three people who can rock a top hat.

I guess that’s about it. For me Steampunk is cool in limited doses, but walking around Texas in a top hat and tails in the middle of summer not only looks foolish, you’re severely risking heatstroke.

Speaking of inappropriate – how many older white guys out there are wearing white tennis shoes? As a rule I don’t purchase white anything, but since it was pointed out to me I notice it a lot more. Guys out there, look in the mirror before you go out. Shirt? Check. Pants? Check. White tennis shoes? Turn around, try again. If all you own is white shoes, save one pair for yard work and buy something else.

30
Jun
12

“Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.” Paul Valery

I’m killing time before we head out to the “company picnic”. Great idea, although the loner in me tried to avoid committing to it for as long as possible. Avoidance for good reason, while they wisely moved the start time from 4pm to 6pm, it’s still looking to be about 98 degrees when we get there. Ouch.

So, not only do I get to be sociable while sweating, I have to lose about 6 hours of my day attending this thing.

Hence, I’m just killing time.

I got one of my guitars worked on last week and picked it up today. It’s my first/oldest and it had been playing very badly for a while now. So badly that I’ve been considering cutting it loose if I couldn’t get it to “act right”.

Image

I’m pretty spoiled (okay, very spoiled) but my previous guitar techs would do the work for about $25 while I would wait. This was a new guy that I’m not sure I trust yet. The end result cost twice as much as I thought it would. It plays tremendously better (saved from the block!) but I’m not sure that it really required that much work.

I know the ins and outs of setups, I’m just not good with truss rod adjustment so that’s primarily what I figured the problem was. It got a nice polish and he oiled the fretboard – but I can do that myself. I just didn’t want to fight the guitar every time I played it.

There’s a new show on Discovery called “Fast and Loud” that’s based on a shop here in Dallas. They put together some cool rides, and for sure it makes me miss my old ’69 Camaro. I’ve been hunting up Craigslist and found some really nice Chevelles (cheap). I’ve come to my senses for the most part. My current money pit (house) trumps a new money pit (classic car). Since I’m a dude, I can pretty much justify sticking a classic in the garage for future restoration, but as much fun as it is planning a restoration…..it’s freaking hard work. And expensive. Hard to justify sheet metal repair, but I guess that’s the trick. Find the good bodied cars that just need the engine work – which is relatively easy.

Soo…that about wraps it up for me right now. Pretty quiet.

28
Jun
12

VernTown Soundtrack: Part II

Reblogged from Tasty Crumbs:

At some point in time, my parents bought me and my brother a little, red plastic record player, that I recall looking like a toy, and for all intents and purposes it probably was a toy, but it really played records.  Which means it was a record player.  It's main function was to play the records that came along with our "G.I.

Read more… 624 more words

There were lots of similarities. I think my record player was blue. The two "good" records that were mine were "Meet the Beatles" (which I listened to endlessly as the sun hugged closer to the horizon and the cicadas droned on and on in waves) and a Beach Boys "Surfin USA" which I again, marveled at the sad melancholy of "In My Room" contrasted with all the other peppy surf songs. The other two house albums that I snaked from my mother's "collection" were Blood, Sweat and Tears first album (Spinnin' Wheel) and the soundtrack to Hair (the 60's version). The rest of my parent's albums mostly included classical which I couldn't wrap my head around at the age of five. I had my own little weird collection of Batman records, the definitive Jungle Book soundtrack - which I admit I also had no idea I was listening to Louis Prima et al. I still remember the Vultures barbershop harmony on "We're your friends". Big Bad Voodoo Daddy covered "I Wanna Be Like You" a while back, and it was okay, but hard to beat the original. In later years, we also graduated to a stereo with a record player, which we were told to take special care of - mainly because they didn't want to buy another one. My dad would go to the library and check out tapes and records for us. I listened to a LOT of 50's covers. Like the NOW CD's, it would gather a huge amount of 50's material onto one tape. I listened to those endlessly. After writing this I have to realize that I need to give my father (a civil engineer) a lot more credit for furthering my interest in music rather than my mother (an actual musician). I spent a lot of time listening to music thanks to him. Thanks Dad!
19
Jun
12

“It’s time to reappreciate the original software: paper.” Dale Dauten

I’m really getting to the point where I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything because I spend so much time on the computer. The hourly watching statistics for TV in the American household could apply to the Internet in my case. Sad.

But, I do want to relay a few things.

* My abs hurt like hell. For father’s day, I decided my daughter and I should go bungee jumping (first time ever). Whoo. It was interesting.  She decided that she was only going to do one ride. The Skyscraper. As we were buying our tickets, they told us the Skyscraper was out-of-order. I climbed up the seven story tower to bungee jump and waited as they got all the equipment ready. While I waited, there was a guy fixing the Skyscraper. I’m not sure what was scarier – the fact that I bungee jumped, or the fact that we went on the Skyscraper right after they had fixed it.

Here’s a video of the Skyscraper (note, this is neither me or my daughter):

As to the bungee jump, it was scary (I won’t lie). Throwing yourself off a seven story scaffolding is scary enough. I closed my eyes halfway down.
I’d do it again though. I think it was the Skyscraper harness that made me tighten up my abs. Ouchy. Fun ride though.

(I hate heights)

I wouldn’t suggest that bungee jumping cured my fear of heights, but it made me look at it differently. I’m looking forward to going again to see what it’s like the second time and see how I get more comfortable with it.

* The lady next door whose dog barks a lot is having a hard time. There’s some cats in heat that have found that her side of the fence is a safe lovin’ zone, and dog free. They start yowling, the dog goes nuts and she has to start banging on her window to distract them. We can’t stop laughing when we hear it.

* I don’t have a third point but it always feels like I should include one.

 

19
Jun
12

Letter to Emily White at NPR All Songs Considered.

Reblogged from The Trichordist:

Click to visit the original post

Recently Emily White, an intern at NPR All Songs Considered and GM of what appears to be her college radio station, wrote a post on the NPR blog in which she acknowledged that while she had 11,000 songs in her music library, she's only paid for 15 CDs in her life. Our intention is not to embarrass or shame her. We believe young people like Emily White who are fully engaged in the music scene are the artist's biggest allies.

Read more… 4,305 more words

Brilliant piece by David Lowery of Camper Van Beethoven/Cracker.
18
Jun
12

“My husband said ‘show me your boobs’ and I had to pull up my skirt… so it was time to get them done!” Dolly Parton

Another fantastic commission – by Melissa Ballesteros

16
Jun
12

“It really all started with New Orleans.” Ginny Bishop

Since I actually don’t get out much, I’m pleased to say that thanks to the burlesquers, they introduced me to a really cool dive/not dive bar that I really like out in Deep Ellum.

The Black Swan Saloon outwardly is a non-descript end of one of the strips, across from Trees and next to La Grange. The first time I went in, I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place. No signage! (Obviously stolen image from google, since there’s a watermark right in the middle. I digress)

Once you get inside and see the containers of fruit soaking in booze behind the bar, you pretty quickly realize that this isn’t a normal bar. The vibe is cool and Gabe, the owner, is really set on making some really fresh and unique drinks. I’ve read a lot about the cocktail culture in Houston (ala Anvil) And actually, the only reason I thought to write about it was that he introduced me to a new cocktail last time. The Vieux Carre, which translated is “Old Square”.

Gabe suggested it after I had ordered a Sazerac – which historically is considered the USA’s first cocktail.  I was really impressed that he had the actual Herbsaint absinthe as called for in an “authentic” recipe. The Vieux Carre is a lot like a Manhattan, but a little sweeter. A typical Manhattan has a weird tinge for me, but the Vieux Carre (pronounced “Voo-Car-Ay”) was a lot  smoother and a great sipping drink.

The other thing I usually drink there is a Pecan infusion – which is bourbon that has had pecans soaking in it. Good stuff.  The atmosphere is really laid back, and I’ve found myself talking to random people who aren’t in my “scene” and generally had a great time.

Check it out if you’re down in Deep Ellum.

13
Jun
12

GPOYW

Reebok Hi Tops? Check

Fake Ray Bans? Check

Mullet? Check

Stolen-from-Ty Rockin’ Robin T-Shirt? Double Check

During an “on the road” show for Company Onstage. Tom Walsh is in the hammock……or whatever it is.

05
Jun
12

“The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it.” – Roald Dahl

Earlier this week I was reflecting on some of my early influences. It had something to do with how I predicted Lane was going to kill himself.  That, and there’s jubilee that I keep hearing about.  I’m not sure how I started down such a twisted path to British behaviorism knowledge, but I suspect that the prime reason was Roald Dahl.

I think I’ve mentioned before, he wrote the original, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” and then “Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator”. That was my starting point. After I started collecting more and more of his work, I think I picked up a lot of dark twisted humor that he managed to inject into all his writing. We took a trip to London in the early 80′s that really impacted how I understood the British. While I like to think I absorbed a lot of things, my dry sense of humor was muchly affected.

A lot of his work was Twilight Zone/Alfred Hitchcock worthy, and they even did a series for a while with shows based on his short stories, “Tales of the Unexpected”. Reading the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was actually pretty dark. It seems like Burton tried to get some of the darkness in there, but truly dry British humor (or humour) is an art in itself. Surely there are plenty of Monty Python fans out there who can attest to the irreverent and witty Brit-slap-stick.

After Dahl, I moved onward to Hitchcock and then onward further to horror. I don’t think, however, that the twisted makeup of my childhood DNA really could have been any more impacted by any one author more than Dahl.  Ignore what you’ve seen (even he disowned the first Willy Wonka movie, and he wrote the screenplay!) Get the books. Ask me, I’ve still got a few I could loan you.

03
Jun
12

“Booze, broads, and bullshit. If you got all that, what else do you need?” Harry Caray

We made it out to The Kessler last night – time for some Unknown Hinson!

Got some excellent seats (yes, this is a seating venue). Makes for a pretty motionless crowd although there were some people dancing on the sides.

The only downside to the evening – instead of a traditional “opener”, a few episodes of Squidbillies played before the show. My complaint: I’ve got the DVD’s, why would I want to watch entire episodes? First it was novel, then it was like, “C’mon, let’s get it started….”

Unknown puttin’ some smackdown on the crowd while uber-fan is crouched at the front of the stage.

Duuck face? Naw, it’s rawk-face, man!

Faster’n greezed-lightnin’

Another great show.




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