You can now check out full songs of Shrimp Attack! on MySpace.
Click here to go the the Shrimp Attack! MySpace page.
If you are into such things, you can become a friend and spread the word!
Shrimp Attack! on MySpace
You can now check out full songs of Shrimp Attack! on MySpace.
Click here to go the the Shrimp Attack! MySpace page.
If you are into such things, you can become a friend and spread the word!
cratousum
I have been trying to involve my readers in my life and besides being stalked, I have failed. Or succeeded depending on how you look at it.
Here’s my newest attempt to attain some dialogue between you and me.
I want you to make up a word of between six and twelve letters. My definition of “make up” means that Google cannot come up with for a match for it. It should look and sound like it could be a real word. For example.
Put your word in the comments below. I would like you to then provide a definition for the cratousum. Or leave it blank and I will make one up.
In a week or two, I’ll write up a story with those words.
One of those words is cratousum, which now means “a word that didn’t exist until right now.”
Well? What are you waiting for? Get your speelishers in gear!
Here’s my newest attempt to attain some dialogue between you and me.
I want you to make up a word of between six and twelve letters. My definition of “make up” means that Google cannot come up with for a match for it. It should look and sound like it could be a real word. For example.
Put your word in the comments below. I would like you to then provide a definition for the cratousum. Or leave it blank and I will make one up.
In a week or two, I’ll write up a story with those words.
One of those words is cratousum, which now means “a word that didn’t exist until right now.”
Well? What are you waiting for? Get your speelishers in gear!
The White House plan on how the US can break even in Iraq
(Click to enlarge or move face really close to screen and squint.)
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419 Scammer UPDATE
A few weeks ago I posted a series of e-mails between myself and a 419 Scammer. I said I'd update if he replied. And guess what!!!
My 419 Scammer replied to my last message with what seems to be a last message of his own. My last message to him was:
To: allan grooves
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2007 22:34:14 -0400
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
His reply:
From: allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Sent: Sun 4/15/07 5:50 PM
i think you are so mad and a joker of the century.
I think he finally caught on. I’ll miss you, Allan Grooves. Dick.
My 419 Scammer replied to my last message with what seems to be a last message of his own. My last message to him was:
To: allan grooves
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2007 22:34:14 -0400
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
His reply:
From: allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Sent: Sun 4/15/07 5:50 PM
i think you are so mad and a joker of the century.
I think he finally caught on. I’ll miss you, Allan Grooves. Dick.
Erlina Kim Photography - The Proofs
I must be going through some very odd emotional stage. I feel like a ceiling fan that is missing two blades, turned up on high.
I spent the entire week listening to Shrimp Attack! and Dust of Retreat. I’ve been completely flippant with my boss and with our clients. It’s a case of To The Death Determination mixed in with I Don’t Give A Shit.
Erlina uploaded the proofs from the photo shoot on her Lifestyles website. Click here to see a larger selection of photos. At the bottom of the lifestyles page, click on the number one circle to load our portfolio.
They are amazing. I got all teary at work watching the slideshow of the photos. Spent an hour “during my lunch break” going through all of them.
I only look gay in half the photos and fat in eighty-five percent. There is only so much an artist can do with photoshop.
Once again… if you have any photography needs, give Erlina Kim a call.
I spent the entire week listening to Shrimp Attack! and Dust of Retreat. I’ve been completely flippant with my boss and with our clients. It’s a case of To The Death Determination mixed in with I Don’t Give A Shit.
Erlina uploaded the proofs from the photo shoot on her Lifestyles website. Click here to see a larger selection of photos. At the bottom of the lifestyles page, click on the number one circle to load our portfolio.
They are amazing. I got all teary at work watching the slideshow of the photos. Spent an hour “during my lunch break” going through all of them.
I only look gay in half the photos and fat in eighty-five percent. There is only so much an artist can do with photoshop.
Once again… if you have any photography needs, give Erlina Kim a call.
Shrimp Attack!
I am passionate about few things. And most of those things hover around debauchery and immorality. But the new album, Shrimp Attack! from Stuart Hyatt and the Shrimp Attack Collective has got a firm grip somewhere in my chest, where there still hides a ragged suggestion of a soul. I’m not sure where it’s pulling or pushing, but it feels good.
I marginalize people on a daily basis. It makes life much easier. Push away the unwanted, the mentally disabled and anyone else whom I might have to spend a few extra minutes of my life understanding. Shrimp Attack! nudges my inhumanity and asks for a second chance.
This album isn’t a morality trip. It’s a simple request.
Since I have no talent for such things, here is a description of the album from the Team Records website:
“Shrimp Attack is a fifty-member collective of artists and musicians. The first album, the eponymous Shrimp Attack, is an orchestral pop epic that tells the story of marginalized souls fighting for love and acceptance. The initial limited edition pressing comes packaged in unique hand-made cardboard binders. To coincide with the album's release, the artist collective created an outdoor sculpture installation, designed a clothing line and accessories, and hosted a giant shrimp boil. All proceeds from the initial release helped to fund the programs at Creative Clay, a non-profit arts center that allows artists with developmental disabilities create and exhibit their work.
Shrimp Attack has been re-released by innova recordings, the label of The American Composers Forum. This special limited edition release comes in handmade packages, featuring drawings and text by the member artists of Creative Clay, assembled with ninja tree seeds in a U.S. army canteen pouch used in the Vietnam War era.”
And from innova recordings, the distributor’s website:
“For his second release on innova, Stuart Hyatt has assembled a most unusual group of performers. The new album, Shrimp Attack, chronicles Hyatt’s extended musical collaboration with the member artists of Creative Clay, a non-profit arts center that allows adults with developmental disabilities to create and exhibit their work. These artists have never been recorded before; their heartbreaking lyrics and powerful voices cast a stunning light onto Hyatt’s lo-fi orchestral pop arrangements.
The resulting nine tracks loosely follow an epic wartime narrative. Each song also manages to reflect the engaging spirit of marginalized people finally having their voices heard. On the song Good, Mike, who only says a few words ever (Good…good stuff…big hot dog….yummy), becomes the inspiration for a rousing call and response rock song. On another, March, Mark plays the role of The Shrimp Commander, announcing his plans for domination, but falls into a spiritual stupor. Another song, Ben’s House, features lead vocals by a man who never speaks at all. Hyatt describes the song’s germination: “Ben lives in a mysterious world…but seemed excited to participate…he doesn’t really hear or speak… I put the headphones on and turned the beat up REALLY loud…and Ben began to tap his chest and hum…the result is really beautiful.”
The voices on the album are haunting. The lyrics are sometimes garbled and incoherent, but their meaning is not lost. I found myself digging though the liner notes to make sure I heard what I heard. The music is very enjoyable with both simple instrumentation and complex arrangements. I cannot seem to get this CD out of my player. Or my iTunes. Or my head.
Hyatt has taken on a very complex and difficult issue. And the making of the album, the process, is the answer to that issue. You do not need to give these people a voice, they have one. Give them an opportunity to speak and listen to what they say. They want what we all want. Life. Love. Simple respect.
I cannot promise you that I will go out tomorrow and change the world. I’ll still be the same son of a bitch. But I will see others in a different light. Not with pity or artificial benevolence. Just with simple humanity.
If you have the opportunity, check out the Team Records website and listen to some snippets of the album. If you like what you hear, head over to innova and buy the album. When it wins a Grammy for best packaging, you’ll feel special.
Plus, the album comes with Ninja Tree seeds. No one should be without a Ninja Tree.
I marginalize people on a daily basis. It makes life much easier. Push away the unwanted, the mentally disabled and anyone else whom I might have to spend a few extra minutes of my life understanding. Shrimp Attack! nudges my inhumanity and asks for a second chance.
This album isn’t a morality trip. It’s a simple request.
Since I have no talent for such things, here is a description of the album from the Team Records website:
“Shrimp Attack is a fifty-member collective of artists and musicians. The first album, the eponymous Shrimp Attack, is an orchestral pop epic that tells the story of marginalized souls fighting for love and acceptance. The initial limited edition pressing comes packaged in unique hand-made cardboard binders. To coincide with the album's release, the artist collective created an outdoor sculpture installation, designed a clothing line and accessories, and hosted a giant shrimp boil. All proceeds from the initial release helped to fund the programs at Creative Clay, a non-profit arts center that allows artists with developmental disabilities create and exhibit their work.
Shrimp Attack has been re-released by innova recordings, the label of The American Composers Forum. This special limited edition release comes in handmade packages, featuring drawings and text by the member artists of Creative Clay, assembled with ninja tree seeds in a U.S. army canteen pouch used in the Vietnam War era.”
And from innova recordings, the distributor’s website:
“For his second release on innova, Stuart Hyatt has assembled a most unusual group of performers. The new album, Shrimp Attack, chronicles Hyatt’s extended musical collaboration with the member artists of Creative Clay, a non-profit arts center that allows adults with developmental disabilities to create and exhibit their work. These artists have never been recorded before; their heartbreaking lyrics and powerful voices cast a stunning light onto Hyatt’s lo-fi orchestral pop arrangements.
The resulting nine tracks loosely follow an epic wartime narrative. Each song also manages to reflect the engaging spirit of marginalized people finally having their voices heard. On the song Good, Mike, who only says a few words ever (Good…good stuff…big hot dog….yummy), becomes the inspiration for a rousing call and response rock song. On another, March, Mark plays the role of The Shrimp Commander, announcing his plans for domination, but falls into a spiritual stupor. Another song, Ben’s House, features lead vocals by a man who never speaks at all. Hyatt describes the song’s germination: “Ben lives in a mysterious world…but seemed excited to participate…he doesn’t really hear or speak… I put the headphones on and turned the beat up REALLY loud…and Ben began to tap his chest and hum…the result is really beautiful.”
The voices on the album are haunting. The lyrics are sometimes garbled and incoherent, but their meaning is not lost. I found myself digging though the liner notes to make sure I heard what I heard. The music is very enjoyable with both simple instrumentation and complex arrangements. I cannot seem to get this CD out of my player. Or my iTunes. Or my head.
Hyatt has taken on a very complex and difficult issue. And the making of the album, the process, is the answer to that issue. You do not need to give these people a voice, they have one. Give them an opportunity to speak and listen to what they say. They want what we all want. Life. Love. Simple respect.
I cannot promise you that I will go out tomorrow and change the world. I’ll still be the same son of a bitch. But I will see others in a different light. Not with pity or artificial benevolence. Just with simple humanity.
If you have the opportunity, check out the Team Records website and listen to some snippets of the album. If you like what you hear, head over to innova and buy the album. When it wins a Grammy for best packaging, you’ll feel special.
Plus, the album comes with Ninja Tree seeds. No one should be without a Ninja Tree.
Erlina Kim Photography
Erlina and Young Kim with Erlina Kim Photography came over today to do a family photo shoot. The last time they were over was when Greg was five months old.
If you live in Central Ohio and need some family photography or wedding photography done, I HIGHLY recommend them. Their photos are incredible.
My theory has always been that anyone can take a good photo, given enough time and film. I can take 1,000 photos and of those, 100 would be decent and 2 would be incredible. The problem is that when you have a four year old and a seven month old, you are limited on time.
Erlina and Young are professional and have a brilliant eye for photography. They can capture in a few clicks what would take me hours.
I cannot wait to see the results. What she showed us on the digital screen of her camera looked brilliant. It may have to do with my children’s incredible beauty, but some of it may also be their skill with the camera.
Erlina Kim Photography - Check them out!
If you live in Central Ohio and need some family photography or wedding photography done, I HIGHLY recommend them. Their photos are incredible.
My theory has always been that anyone can take a good photo, given enough time and film. I can take 1,000 photos and of those, 100 would be decent and 2 would be incredible. The problem is that when you have a four year old and a seven month old, you are limited on time.
Erlina and Young are professional and have a brilliant eye for photography. They can capture in a few clicks what would take me hours.
I cannot wait to see the results. What she showed us on the digital screen of her camera looked brilliant. It may have to do with my children’s incredible beauty, but some of it may also be their skill with the camera.
Erlina Kim Photography - Check them out!
Obvious
Kit, John and I went to Ohio University to see Margot and the Nuclear So and So's concert. There are two parts to this story which I will call Part One and Part Two. Part One is titled, “How to Spend Nine Hours with Two Men” and Part Two is titled, “You Can’t Go Home Again, but You Can Drink a Beer There and Pay with a Credit Card.”
How to Spend Nine Hours with Two Men
About two months ago, I made a mark on my calendar at work on April 14th. The mark said, “OU.” Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s were playing a concert at Baker Center in Athens, OH and I was going no matter what. I wanted a friend to come along and of all my lame ass friends, Kit was the only one to step up with a commit. I don’t blame my other friends for not going. Their lives are filled with families and commitments without the luxury to purchase alcohol by the glass in a bar two hours away from Columbus and staying the night in a sex stained hotel room in a town filled with women whose average age is three years over the legal driving limit. Fags.
I reserved a hotel room and I marked the days off on the calendar.
On Thursday the 12th, John said he was enlisting for the trip. This changed everything. John does not drink and thus would drive us down and back again. This would save us from having to get a hotel room because Kit and I planned to get our drink on and would be in no condition to drive.
We left John’s condo at 6:00pm, a full hour after I promised we would. (I just decided I would switch to a copy cat, pseudo “24” version of story telling.)
6:00pm
We leave John’s condo a full hour after I promised we would leave. I was at Carl and Toni’s son’s 1st birthday party and just couldn’t find my way out the door.
6:09pm
We see this car. Someone failed Parking 102 or Driving 210.
7:30pm
We make awesome time and park Uptown.
7:40pm
Kit buys a round of aquariums at the Pub. John gets a glass of Hocking River’s finest.
7:45pm
We ask about food. The kitchen closed at 7:00pm. No Pub Burgers for us.
8:ish
We take photos of ourselves getting absolutely crazy at OU. About this time, John makes the comment that “we really don’t look that old.” We drink more.
8:45pm
We try and head over to Baker Center to check on the place and make sure we know where we are going. After driving around South Green for seven minutes of not knowing where we were going, we stop and I jump out and ask a cop directions. I try to talk out the side of my mouth so that my stinky beer breath. His directions are good and we find the place.
9:00pm
Inside Baker Center we hear music coming out of the coffee house and head in. Two girls are playing music for a crowd of about 20 people. We head out to get something to eat.
9:20pm
We trudge through the rain and order food at what used to be the largest Taco Bell in the world. The upstairs had been a seating area, but someone got wise and turned it into apartments. We ordered and ate.
10:15pm
We trudge again and head back into Baker Center. Another band is finishing up. Margot is scheduled to start at 10:30pm. There is now a crowd of six people and three of them are us. (One of them was a chick with this tattoo.)
This is very disappointing. I apologized to Kit and John. I knew Margot had a bigger following than this.
10:25pm
The next band is setting up and they look nothing like Margot. I ask the sound guy when Margot is coming on. He says that Margot is actually playing the Baker Theatre two floors down.
10:25:10pm
We make haste.
10:27pm
We get into the theatre, just as Margot is stating to play. Read about that HERE.
11:45pm
Awesome show.
(I’ll speed this up.)
12:00pm – 1:15am)
Trudge and head to the CI. Line to get in so go to the Junction. Drink two drinks and go back to CI. See fire trucks. Drink two more drinks. Head home.
3:00am
Wake up in John’s car at John’s condo. Drive home. Sleep.
7:00am
Wake up not in a hotel room and get back to those pesky and beloved commitments.
You Can’t Go Home Again, but You Can Drink a Beer There and Pay with a Credit Card
I should have thought about it ahead of time, but I was so excited to go back to Ohio University that I didn’t remember that I would now be an outsider. It was very surreal because the bars were structurally the same. Same neon signs. Same posters with chicks. Same looking bartenders and guys checking IDs. It should have been obvious.
The four big differences were: smoke, cell phones, credit cards, and I’m old.
Smoke- It is now illegal in Ohio to smoke in public places, bars included. This means that the overwhelming stench of old beer and vomit in the bars is no longer masked by the heavy cloud of cigarette smoke. I think there were still peanut shells on the poster frames in the CI that I stuck there 15 years ago. They should hose those places out in the morning. And at around 10:00pm.
Cell Phones- It was very odd to see people talking on cell phones in Athens’ bars. I got over it quickly, but it was still out of place.
Credit Cards- Yes, there were credit cards when I went to OU, but not many bars accepted them. That night, people were running tabs and buying rounds and rounds of shots and drinks. At the Pub, Kit did not have to leave his ID at the bar when he bought the aquariums because he was running a tab with his credit card.
I’m Old – “Zombie” by the Cranberries came on the jukebox at the Junction and everyone, except us, sang it. They sang it like we sang “Cecelia” when we were in college. I didn’t get it and then I realized that I was out of place. I did not belong there anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to go back to OU with a group of friends from college and get drunk and reminisce. But we could do that anywhere. I can go to a shitty OSU bar here in Columbus and have beer spilled on me by a 19 year old chick with HUGE CLEAVAGE. (That’s another bit that has changed. In 1992, chicks were wearing flannel shirts or turtle necks. Now a days… holy shit! Boobs!)
In the end, it was a fun trip. It was nice to see the OU campus. It was fun to sit on the ledge at the CI and people watch. Kit and John took a piss in the alley that, 14 years ago, I stripped down in to go streaking. But all in all it was fun because of the company, not the location.
And damnit. We didn’t get a burrito from the Burrito Buggy. Guess we’ll have to can’t go home again, home again.
Cecilia - Simon and Garfunkel
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home
Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom (making love)
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed
Someone’s taken my place
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I laughing,
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I laughing
How to Spend Nine Hours with Two Men
About two months ago, I made a mark on my calendar at work on April 14th. The mark said, “OU.” Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s were playing a concert at Baker Center in Athens, OH and I was going no matter what. I wanted a friend to come along and of all my lame ass friends, Kit was the only one to step up with a commit. I don’t blame my other friends for not going. Their lives are filled with families and commitments without the luxury to purchase alcohol by the glass in a bar two hours away from Columbus and staying the night in a sex stained hotel room in a town filled with women whose average age is three years over the legal driving limit. Fags.
I reserved a hotel room and I marked the days off on the calendar.
On Thursday the 12th, John said he was enlisting for the trip. This changed everything. John does not drink and thus would drive us down and back again. This would save us from having to get a hotel room because Kit and I planned to get our drink on and would be in no condition to drive.
We left John’s condo at 6:00pm, a full hour after I promised we would. (I just decided I would switch to a copy cat, pseudo “24” version of story telling.)
6:00pm
We leave John’s condo a full hour after I promised we would leave. I was at Carl and Toni’s son’s 1st birthday party and just couldn’t find my way out the door.
6:09pm
We see this car. Someone failed Parking 102 or Driving 210.
7:30pm
We make awesome time and park Uptown.
7:40pm
Kit buys a round of aquariums at the Pub. John gets a glass of Hocking River’s finest.
7:45pm
We ask about food. The kitchen closed at 7:00pm. No Pub Burgers for us.
8:ish
We take photos of ourselves getting absolutely crazy at OU. About this time, John makes the comment that “we really don’t look that old.” We drink more.
8:45pm
We try and head over to Baker Center to check on the place and make sure we know where we are going. After driving around South Green for seven minutes of not knowing where we were going, we stop and I jump out and ask a cop directions. I try to talk out the side of my mouth so that my stinky beer breath. His directions are good and we find the place.
9:00pm
Inside Baker Center we hear music coming out of the coffee house and head in. Two girls are playing music for a crowd of about 20 people. We head out to get something to eat.
9:20pm
We trudge through the rain and order food at what used to be the largest Taco Bell in the world. The upstairs had been a seating area, but someone got wise and turned it into apartments. We ordered and ate.
10:15pm
We trudge again and head back into Baker Center. Another band is finishing up. Margot is scheduled to start at 10:30pm. There is now a crowd of six people and three of them are us. (One of them was a chick with this tattoo.)
This is very disappointing. I apologized to Kit and John. I knew Margot had a bigger following than this.
10:25pm
The next band is setting up and they look nothing like Margot. I ask the sound guy when Margot is coming on. He says that Margot is actually playing the Baker Theatre two floors down.
10:25:10pm
We make haste.
10:27pm
We get into the theatre, just as Margot is stating to play. Read about that HERE.
11:45pm
Awesome show.
(I’ll speed this up.)
12:00pm – 1:15am)
Trudge and head to the CI. Line to get in so go to the Junction. Drink two drinks and go back to CI. See fire trucks. Drink two more drinks. Head home.
3:00am
Wake up in John’s car at John’s condo. Drive home. Sleep.
7:00am
Wake up not in a hotel room and get back to those pesky and beloved commitments.
You Can’t Go Home Again, but You Can Drink a Beer There and Pay with a Credit Card
I should have thought about it ahead of time, but I was so excited to go back to Ohio University that I didn’t remember that I would now be an outsider. It was very surreal because the bars were structurally the same. Same neon signs. Same posters with chicks. Same looking bartenders and guys checking IDs. It should have been obvious.
The four big differences were: smoke, cell phones, credit cards, and I’m old.
Smoke- It is now illegal in Ohio to smoke in public places, bars included. This means that the overwhelming stench of old beer and vomit in the bars is no longer masked by the heavy cloud of cigarette smoke. I think there were still peanut shells on the poster frames in the CI that I stuck there 15 years ago. They should hose those places out in the morning. And at around 10:00pm.
Cell Phones- It was very odd to see people talking on cell phones in Athens’ bars. I got over it quickly, but it was still out of place.
Credit Cards- Yes, there were credit cards when I went to OU, but not many bars accepted them. That night, people were running tabs and buying rounds and rounds of shots and drinks. At the Pub, Kit did not have to leave his ID at the bar when he bought the aquariums because he was running a tab with his credit card.
I’m Old – “Zombie” by the Cranberries came on the jukebox at the Junction and everyone, except us, sang it. They sang it like we sang “Cecelia” when we were in college. I didn’t get it and then I realized that I was out of place. I did not belong there anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to go back to OU with a group of friends from college and get drunk and reminisce. But we could do that anywhere. I can go to a shitty OSU bar here in Columbus and have beer spilled on me by a 19 year old chick with HUGE CLEAVAGE. (That’s another bit that has changed. In 1992, chicks were wearing flannel shirts or turtle necks. Now a days… holy shit! Boobs!)
In the end, it was a fun trip. It was nice to see the OU campus. It was fun to sit on the ledge at the CI and people watch. Kit and John took a piss in the alley that, 14 years ago, I stripped down in to go streaking. But all in all it was fun because of the company, not the location.
And damnit. We didn’t get a burrito from the Burrito Buggy. Guess we’ll have to can’t go home again, home again.
Cecilia - Simon and Garfunkel
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home
Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia
Up in my bedroom (making love)
I got up to wash my face
When I come back to bed
Someone’s taken my place
Celia, you’re breaking my heart
You’re shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I’m down on my knees
I’m begging you please to come home
Come on home
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I laughing,
Jubilation, she loves me again,
I fall on the floor and I laughing
Hide a Dollar
Would you like to play a game? I call it, Hide a Dollar.
I’ve hidden a dollar in a very accessible place. I wrote www.holyjuan.com on it so that you would know that it is mine. I took a photo so it would be easier to locate.
Now, before I tell you where to look, I would like you to do the same. Take a dollar and write your name or screen name or stage name on it and then write www.holyjuan.com on it and hide it somewhere. Then take a picture of where it is hidden. Send the photo to me atholyjuan@gmail.com along with the general location of where it is at and I will post it for others to find. For example:
A coffee shop in Grandview Heights, OH.
If you find this dollar, let me know. A photo of the dollar would be awesome. A photo of you and the dollar would be awesomer. Bonus: finders keepers!
What are you waiting for?
I’ve hidden a dollar in a very accessible place. I wrote www.holyjuan.com on it so that you would know that it is mine. I took a photo so it would be easier to locate.
Now, before I tell you where to look, I would like you to do the same. Take a dollar and write your name or screen name or stage name on it and then write www.holyjuan.com on it and hide it somewhere. Then take a picture of where it is hidden. Send the photo to me at
A coffee shop in Grandview Heights, OH.
If you find this dollar, let me know. A photo of the dollar would be awesome. A photo of you and the dollar would be awesomer. Bonus: finders keepers!
What are you waiting for?
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s at Ohio University
{Editor’s Note: This really isn’t a review except to say that Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s is a group worth listening to. The views expressed by HolyJuan are ramblings and incorrect assumptions about people whose full names I had to look up on the internet. I am not a reviewer. I am just a consumer.}
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s played the Baker Theater on Ohio University’s campus in Athens, Ohio in the Spring of Richard Edward’s 23rd year.
They sounded great. Richard Edwards was a prick. And I loved it.
Lead singer Edwards is dark and funny, kinda like a dyslectic cat’s third suicide note. At the outset of the concert he non-verbally dismissed the crowd and seemingly sang to himself for the first few songs. I don't blame him, the crowd seemed tentative. But, the lackluster crowd fed upon his annoyance and lack of interest and by the fifth song, everyone had come around and the show really started to kick.
Margot played the team favorites from The Dust of Retreat album and a few songs that I didn’t know and must assume are from the new album or from some other shadowy place in Edward’s past.
I tell you, I like this fucker. He’s dark. He digs the Tennenbaums. At one point in the show, he began to diatribe about the new album and that Margot’s music is what it is rather than the bullshit, chamber pop they’ve been painted into a corner with. The group is compared, by some, to Arcade Fire which drew the ire of Edwards. The best line of the night was, “our next album is going to make Arcade Fire look like a bunch of pussies." Brilliant.
They encored four songs and I loved every one. Kudos to Erik Kang on the violin and the stringed, country music instrument that sits in your lap and makes you want to drink whisky out of a jug. Emily Watkins is always an audience pleaser on the keyboards and the three dudes at the front of the stage had no fucking chance with her. Her Playskool recorder didn’t seem to work though. Really. Fortunately, I was at the far end of the stage and didn’t get to see Casey Tennis dance around like a loon. He came in for the very last encore song and somehow silently played the tambourine. I give the guy shit, but he’s got character and sometimes that’s all you need. Everyone else in the band sounded great and I'm sorry I don't your names. I'm not good with names.
I love this band. I can only hope they succeed. And then break up. And then write some darker shit. Love the darker shit.
Oh, and allow me to apologize to Margot for the lack of hot, depressed, horny chicks that I thought would be up front and center. Instead, OU provided three guys with messy hair, juvenile beer guts and two day stubble wrapped in collared shirts. Again, sorry.
Check out Margot in several places:
Web site
MySpace
iTunes
Support this band, assholes. They’ve got a new album coming out soon. If you hurry, you can buy Dust of Retreat and finally claim you knew a band before they hit it big.
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s played the Baker Theater on Ohio University’s campus in Athens, Ohio in the Spring of Richard Edward’s 23rd year.
They sounded great. Richard Edwards was a prick. And I loved it.
Lead singer Edwards is dark and funny, kinda like a dyslectic cat’s third suicide note. At the outset of the concert he non-verbally dismissed the crowd and seemingly sang to himself for the first few songs. I don't blame him, the crowd seemed tentative. But, the lackluster crowd fed upon his annoyance and lack of interest and by the fifth song, everyone had come around and the show really started to kick.
Margot played the team favorites from The Dust of Retreat album and a few songs that I didn’t know and must assume are from the new album or from some other shadowy place in Edward’s past.
I tell you, I like this fucker. He’s dark. He digs the Tennenbaums. At one point in the show, he began to diatribe about the new album and that Margot’s music is what it is rather than the bullshit, chamber pop they’ve been painted into a corner with. The group is compared, by some, to Arcade Fire which drew the ire of Edwards. The best line of the night was, “our next album is going to make Arcade Fire look like a bunch of pussies." Brilliant.
They encored four songs and I loved every one. Kudos to Erik Kang on the violin and the stringed, country music instrument that sits in your lap and makes you want to drink whisky out of a jug. Emily Watkins is always an audience pleaser on the keyboards and the three dudes at the front of the stage had no fucking chance with her. Her Playskool recorder didn’t seem to work though. Really. Fortunately, I was at the far end of the stage and didn’t get to see Casey Tennis dance around like a loon. He came in for the very last encore song and somehow silently played the tambourine. I give the guy shit, but he’s got character and sometimes that’s all you need. Everyone else in the band sounded great and I'm sorry I don't your names. I'm not good with names.
I love this band. I can only hope they succeed. And then break up. And then write some darker shit. Love the darker shit.
Oh, and allow me to apologize to Margot for the lack of hot, depressed, horny chicks that I thought would be up front and center. Instead, OU provided three guys with messy hair, juvenile beer guts and two day stubble wrapped in collared shirts. Again, sorry.
Check out Margot in several places:
Web site
MySpace
iTunes
Support this band, assholes. They’ve got a new album coming out soon. If you hurry, you can buy Dust of Retreat and finally claim you knew a band before they hit it big.
Where did you lose your virginity?
EDITOR'S NOTE: Sadly, this website no longer works. I'll have to find a new one and try this experiment again. Thanks for the fun!
MAJOR SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENT!
(kind of)
Please utilize this link to my Google map on www.mapservices.org to mark where you lost your virginity. Add you icon and any additional details if you wish.
Click here to map where you lost your virginity!
Mine was in Lancaster, OH at a house that a friend of a friend was house sitting. I tried to get out of it by saying that I didn't have a condom. She brought her own. Why she brought more than one was beyond me.
Two birds. One stone.
MAJOR SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENT!
(kind of)
Please utilize this link to my Google map on www.mapservices.org to mark where you lost your virginity. Add you icon and any additional details if you wish.
Click here to map where you lost your virginity!
Mine was in Lancaster, OH at a house that a friend of a friend was house sitting. I tried to get out of it by saying that I didn't have a condom. She brought her own. Why she brought more than one was beyond me.
Two birds. One stone.
Return to Sender
Someone in my office put this letter in the outbox. I looked at it for almost a full five seconds before I realized what the amiss was.
So, do you think that if it gets "RETURN TO SENDER'd" that it will end up on Liberty Island?
Innova.mu Awesome Customer Service
I am the smartest man alive, but I do dumb things to make up for it. Luckily, there are people and companies out there that compensate for my stupidity.
Stu’s record Shrimp Attack was re-released at the beginning of April. I went to Innova.mu and ordered a copy. Their purchasing system suggested it would be on my doorstep around April 4th.
April 4th dragged out into April 12th and I decided to call their customer service. They had a very positive message on their machine so I left a very positive message of my own with my order number and a very subtle hint of pissed-offishedness. Me being me, I couldn’t wait to yell at these guys for screwing up my order.
I got a call back in twenty minutes. The dude whose name I forget, but might have been Chris, was very cool and had my order pulled up. He asked me if the billing address and the ship to address should have been different.
Um, no. We had moved six months ago. Oh… I had placed an order with them before and my old address was in the system and I didn’t double check the large SHIP TO print on my order before I clicked the “MAKE SURE ALL THE ABOVE INFORMATION IS CORRECT BEFORE YOU CLICK THIS BUTTON” button. Nor did I look at the information on the order confirmation page.
I blew it.
So I told the guy, “Well, it will either find its way here or when it gets back to you, please forward it to me.”
And he said, “We’ll put another one in the mail for you today.”
No freaking way. A completely un-dick move.
So, thanks, Innova. In an otherwise corporate world, you made my day.
Thanks!
Innova.mu Check out their site and while you are there, buy Shrimp Attack. And double check your shipping address while you are at it.
Stu’s record Shrimp Attack was re-released at the beginning of April. I went to Innova.mu and ordered a copy. Their purchasing system suggested it would be on my doorstep around April 4th.
April 4th dragged out into April 12th and I decided to call their customer service. They had a very positive message on their machine so I left a very positive message of my own with my order number and a very subtle hint of pissed-offishedness. Me being me, I couldn’t wait to yell at these guys for screwing up my order.
I got a call back in twenty minutes. The dude whose name I forget, but might have been Chris, was very cool and had my order pulled up. He asked me if the billing address and the ship to address should have been different.
Um, no. We had moved six months ago. Oh… I had placed an order with them before and my old address was in the system and I didn’t double check the large SHIP TO print on my order before I clicked the “MAKE SURE ALL THE ABOVE INFORMATION IS CORRECT BEFORE YOU CLICK THIS BUTTON” button. Nor did I look at the information on the order confirmation page.
I blew it.
So I told the guy, “Well, it will either find its way here or when it gets back to you, please forward it to me.”
And he said, “We’ll put another one in the mail for you today.”
No freaking way. A completely un-dick move.
So, thanks, Innova. In an otherwise corporate world, you made my day.
Thanks!
Innova.mu Check out their site and while you are there, buy Shrimp Attack. And double check your shipping address while you are at it.
Palmerfest 2007
{Update- I have no proof, but I think Palmerfest 2007 is going to be Saturday, May 12th. I will not be there. See why HERE
}
Hi! Do you know when PalmerFest is this year? I plan on going back for the 16 1/2th year anniversary* to take pictures and to see if my house key for 19 Palmer Street still works.
If you know the exact date, please comment below or e-mail me at myHolyJuan e-mail address.
See you there, Mr. Fee! (Update - Mr. Fee doesn't live on Palmer Street anymore and the warmest shitter in town was torn down to build apartments.)
*The first PalmerFest was unofficially in the fall of 1990.
}
Hi! Do you know when PalmerFest is this year? I plan on going back for the 16 1/2th year anniversary* to take pictures and to see if my house key for 19 Palmer Street still works.
If you know the exact date, please comment below or e-mail me at my
See you there, Mr. Fee! (Update - Mr. Fee doesn't live on Palmer Street anymore and the warmest shitter in town was torn down to build apartments.)
*The first PalmerFest was unofficially in the fall of 1990.
A letter to Helen Skor
Hello Helen Skor,
My name is Doug and I write stuff. I also read stuff. I happened upon your blog and got to read your article “I'm Looking For A Few Good Men.”
I am a married dude, so I’m not looking for love. But I do write a lot of made up stuff about relationships and was very interested in reading what you were looking for in a man and what perks you had to offer him.
The first half of the article is wonderful. I suggest that every girl have this type of list in her pocket so that we can cut out the two weeks of fake, relationship chit chat. Your list is clever, straight forward and would quickly weed out the schmucks at the local bar or book store. (Guys don’t carry a list because to be a list, it needs to have more than one thing on it.)
It’s the perks section that I think you need to rehash. I feel like I am qualified to review and edit your “perks” as 1) I am a dude and 2) I have a keen sense of what dudes look for in a chick besides banging her and then, possibly, her friend.
Please do not read this as a critique, but rather some subtle suggestions. I mean really, what the hell do I know anyways?
• Massages – I love to give massages . . . your back, your arms and hands, your legs, even your face. Making you happy makes me happy.
Guys like massages, so you’ve got some bonus points there. Just as long as the massage is followed up by “additional attention.” Guys are trained to get a massage and then “get a massage.”
But the phrase, “Making you happy makes me happy” is creeping me and most other men out. Perhaps the guy you are looking for would not get frazzled at that statement and he is a much better man that I will ever be.
I see the phrase “Making you happy makes me happy” being said by a wide-eyed woman holding a dead rabbit. RUN!!!
• Home-Cooked Meals – Whether it’s in the kitchen or on the grill, I love to cook for you, and I’m pretty darned good at it.
Guys like to eat. If you can cook, awesome. I am the grill person in the family. Oh yeah, I’m also the cook person, too. I do like to cook, but a chick who can run a grill gets points in my book.
• Intelligence – I don’t claim to be Mensa smart, but I can hold my own with most people. That means that you won’t have to be worried about me saying something utterly embarrassing at your company Christmas party.
I do not like women that are smarter than me because they can see through all my bullshit. Miss Sally is a lot smarter than me, but she has learned several non-verbal techniques to shut me up without embarrassing me.
I like a girl who will beat me at Scrabble, but not mention it at the Christmas party.
• Wit - I will make you laugh. I promise.
I cannot really comment on this because I am the funny guy in my relationship and my wife never laughs at my jokes. You think that would be a problem, but it only makes me try harder.
If you are always making a man laugh, he is just trying to get you in the sack. Find a man who will criticize your humor and make you do re-writes of your material.
BUT! The "I promise" part is, once again, creepy. Again with the wide eyes and rabbit. I WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH!!! It doesn't sound desperate, but it hints at it.
• Fortitude – I’m tough. I don’t need you to kill bugs, trap mice, build fires, or hang pictures. I can do all these things myself. But I WILL let you do them for me if I know it makes you happy.
Don’t ever suggests to a guy that he is doing something for you that you could take care of yourself, but you are letting him do it to make him feel manly. Unless you are genuinely scared of a picture falling off the wall, starting a fire and releasing a hoard of termites from the frame, don’t pretend like you are in a tower with really long hair. Guys like to do stuff for girls, but don’t patronize us.
• Age – I’m 31, which means that a very important period of my life is right around the corner. I’ve got two words for you, Mister: Sexual Prime. I’m about to hit my stride, so now’s a good time to get in on the action (pun intended).
Men could easily mistake that important time around the corner as “my biological clock is ticking.” I would just ditch the AGE and replace it with SEX – I like to fuck.
• Loyalty - I don't cheat. If we get to the point in our relationship that I feel like I need to be with somebody else, I'm going to end things with you first, because there are obviously larger issues in our relationship. One of the worst things you can do to another person is violate their trust. I'm fiercely loyal to my lovers, my friends, and my family.
For some reason, I like to hear that a chick would dump me as soon as she starts to dislike me. I like to know that you would not try to fix my faults. Too many bad relationships get worse because of enablers. I like the “dump the chump” attitude.
• Smelly – I have the world’s sweetest dog. And although she needs a lot of attention, she also has a lot of love to give.
It’s tough to bring a dog into a relationship. They are like two year old stepkids. With a name like Smelly… good luck!
There’s my two cents. Good luck in your search for a man. In my opinion, I think you would be best to just love Smelly and get laid on the weekends.
Signed,
Doug (HolyJuan)
My name is Doug and I write stuff. I also read stuff. I happened upon your blog and got to read your article “I'm Looking For A Few Good Men.”
I am a married dude, so I’m not looking for love. But I do write a lot of made up stuff about relationships and was very interested in reading what you were looking for in a man and what perks you had to offer him.
The first half of the article is wonderful. I suggest that every girl have this type of list in her pocket so that we can cut out the two weeks of fake, relationship chit chat. Your list is clever, straight forward and would quickly weed out the schmucks at the local bar or book store. (Guys don’t carry a list because to be a list, it needs to have more than one thing on it.)
It’s the perks section that I think you need to rehash. I feel like I am qualified to review and edit your “perks” as 1) I am a dude and 2) I have a keen sense of what dudes look for in a chick besides banging her and then, possibly, her friend.
Please do not read this as a critique, but rather some subtle suggestions. I mean really, what the hell do I know anyways?
• Massages – I love to give massages . . . your back, your arms and hands, your legs, even your face. Making you happy makes me happy.
Guys like massages, so you’ve got some bonus points there. Just as long as the massage is followed up by “additional attention.” Guys are trained to get a massage and then “get a massage.”
But the phrase, “Making you happy makes me happy” is creeping me and most other men out. Perhaps the guy you are looking for would not get frazzled at that statement and he is a much better man that I will ever be.
I see the phrase “Making you happy makes me happy” being said by a wide-eyed woman holding a dead rabbit. RUN!!!
• Home-Cooked Meals – Whether it’s in the kitchen or on the grill, I love to cook for you, and I’m pretty darned good at it.
Guys like to eat. If you can cook, awesome. I am the grill person in the family. Oh yeah, I’m also the cook person, too. I do like to cook, but a chick who can run a grill gets points in my book.
• Intelligence – I don’t claim to be Mensa smart, but I can hold my own with most people. That means that you won’t have to be worried about me saying something utterly embarrassing at your company Christmas party.
I do not like women that are smarter than me because they can see through all my bullshit. Miss Sally is a lot smarter than me, but she has learned several non-verbal techniques to shut me up without embarrassing me.
I like a girl who will beat me at Scrabble, but not mention it at the Christmas party.
• Wit - I will make you laugh. I promise.
I cannot really comment on this because I am the funny guy in my relationship and my wife never laughs at my jokes. You think that would be a problem, but it only makes me try harder.
If you are always making a man laugh, he is just trying to get you in the sack. Find a man who will criticize your humor and make you do re-writes of your material.
BUT! The "I promise" part is, once again, creepy. Again with the wide eyes and rabbit. I WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH!!! It doesn't sound desperate, but it hints at it.
• Fortitude – I’m tough. I don’t need you to kill bugs, trap mice, build fires, or hang pictures. I can do all these things myself. But I WILL let you do them for me if I know it makes you happy.
Don’t ever suggests to a guy that he is doing something for you that you could take care of yourself, but you are letting him do it to make him feel manly. Unless you are genuinely scared of a picture falling off the wall, starting a fire and releasing a hoard of termites from the frame, don’t pretend like you are in a tower with really long hair. Guys like to do stuff for girls, but don’t patronize us.
• Age – I’m 31, which means that a very important period of my life is right around the corner. I’ve got two words for you, Mister: Sexual Prime. I’m about to hit my stride, so now’s a good time to get in on the action (pun intended).
Men could easily mistake that important time around the corner as “my biological clock is ticking.” I would just ditch the AGE and replace it with SEX – I like to fuck.
• Loyalty - I don't cheat. If we get to the point in our relationship that I feel like I need to be with somebody else, I'm going to end things with you first, because there are obviously larger issues in our relationship. One of the worst things you can do to another person is violate their trust. I'm fiercely loyal to my lovers, my friends, and my family.
For some reason, I like to hear that a chick would dump me as soon as she starts to dislike me. I like to know that you would not try to fix my faults. Too many bad relationships get worse because of enablers. I like the “dump the chump” attitude.
• Smelly – I have the world’s sweetest dog. And although she needs a lot of attention, she also has a lot of love to give.
It’s tough to bring a dog into a relationship. They are like two year old stepkids. With a name like Smelly… good luck!
There’s my two cents. Good luck in your search for a man. In my opinion, I think you would be best to just love Smelly and get laid on the weekends.
Signed,
Doug (HolyJuan)
Stripper Pole Easter Bunnies
Orlando, Beth, Lori and I went to lunch at Bob Evans Tuesday. I was tired and/or hungover from the Ohio State loss to Florida. The second such hangover this year.
On our way in, we noticed that the walls were papered with crayon colored Easter Bunnies. Some were colored A+ and some looked like a preschooler colored them. I was then reminded that many of them were colored by preschoolers and I quit with the criticism.
I did notice that this particular Bob Evans ran out of the supplied Easter Bunny coloring pages and had to make duplicates on their crappy fax/printer/copier that is covered in grease back in the Assistant Manager’s cubbie.
The crappy copies have dark lines down the left side.
But I’d rather like to think that the lines aren’t lines, but rather a stripper pole. Take it off, Easter Bunny. Bawk, bawk.
That could make me rise from the dead.
On our way in, we noticed that the walls were papered with crayon colored Easter Bunnies. Some were colored A+ and some looked like a preschooler colored them. I was then reminded that many of them were colored by preschoolers and I quit with the criticism.
I did notice that this particular Bob Evans ran out of the supplied Easter Bunny coloring pages and had to make duplicates on their crappy fax/printer/copier that is covered in grease back in the Assistant Manager’s cubbie.
The crappy copies have dark lines down the left side.
But I’d rather like to think that the lines aren’t lines, but rather a stripper pole. Take it off, Easter Bunny. Bawk, bawk.
That could make me rise from the dead.
Word(s) of the Day
I started a list at work a few months ago of poorly spelled words that our guys would send in on their reports and e-mails. One day at work, I was talking to a client and said the word “visceral” over the phone. Angie remarked that she was surprised I used the word or that I even knew the meaning of it.
So we started a list of the best word that was used in the office that day. What it has turned into is a diary of sorts where we can look at a word and remember what was happening on that wretched day when that certain word was uttered.
2/7/07’s altercation came from one of our guys interacting with a store manager in a most unprofessional manner.
The 2/8/07 word made both lists. The guy was trying to say pursue as in “pursue a lawsuit” and said peruse instead. A misspelling and a word(s) of the day… bonus!
On 2/20/07 Angie said “kick ass” when I was taking a client to task on their project management abilities. That also caused the list to be renamed from “Word of the day” to “Word(s) of the day.”
Hopefully on the next sheet we’ll see words like “raise,” “bonus,” or “in the black.”
So we started a list of the best word that was used in the office that day. What it has turned into is a diary of sorts where we can look at a word and remember what was happening on that wretched day when that certain word was uttered.
2/7/07’s altercation came from one of our guys interacting with a store manager in a most unprofessional manner.
The 2/8/07 word made both lists. The guy was trying to say pursue as in “pursue a lawsuit” and said peruse instead. A misspelling and a word(s) of the day… bonus!
On 2/20/07 Angie said “kick ass” when I was taking a client to task on their project management abilities. That also caused the list to be renamed from “Word of the day” to “Word(s) of the day.”
Hopefully on the next sheet we’ll see words like “raise,” “bonus,” or “in the black.”
The Secret Amy's Secret Story
Thanks to my sister, Amy, my mother now knows about this site and pretty soon all the sex and drugs and bestiality I’ve written about will be brought up at Christmas and during the uncomfortable silence after my dad makes the remark about how hard it was to kill those sneaky bastard Koreans during the war.
So, to thank her, I’m writing this tale from our college years. You can decide whether or not to believe it. I know I all ready do.
Amy was never afraid of anything except perhaps getting caught. During high school she played every sport and, unlike most girls, considered 84% of her classmates friends. She had only one best friend and seemingly endless boyfriends and admirers. She was crowned Miss LHS in 1987 and turned down the opportunity to be the Dairy Princess at the Fairfield County Fair. Always Amy.
Amy left Ohio forever to go to school in Missouri and she never looked back.
Except once…
I was a freshman in college. Or the 13th grade as many of the people who were stuck at the Ohio University – Lancaster Branch called it. By looking out the lounge windows, we could see our high school. If you couldn’t find a window to look out, you could be reminded by listening to the LHS band practice in the afternoon. I attended because a scholarship I earned forced recipients to save money by going to a school that had no dorms and one microwave.
It was Spring. Winter had finally been kicked to the curb and love was in the air. None of my friends wanted to spend such a glorious Saturday night in Lancaster with the possibility of drunkenly hooking up with a relative. So we went to the real Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. We had friends in the dorms and didn’t have a problem finding a place to stay. We did have a problem finding beer. The 12 pack that was split between the five of us was gone in less than an hour and none of us had a fake ID at the time. We decided to try our luck at the Greenery, an 18+ dance bar that was pretty loose with the liquor. The gods smiled upon us on that Spring night and our oldest looking friend was able to buy pitchers of BrainSlammers or MindMelters or CerebellumBreakers or whatever the blue drink of the day was. We drank and danced and tried to hook up with real college girls. We failed, but had fun trying.
We were drunk well before closing and staggered out of the bar yelling stuff that drunk 18 year old men yell when full of watered down rum and unused hormones. Russ, who is rarely the ladies man, decided to try his luck out on a few chicks walking drunkenly the opposite way. I think they saw his OU-Lancaster keychain, immediately made him cease to exist and without breaking stride, walked right through him.
Our next target was a chick sitting on the curb. For some reason, women feel compelled to sit on curbs when they are drunk. Their knees up with elbows pressed against their inner thighs to support their heavy, drunken head. Men go straight for the vertical position in the gutter. Dave, the hopeless and clumsy romantic, asked if the poor girl needed any help. She looked up… it was Amy.
Holy shit. All the way from Missouri Amy.
I guess the most positive part of this story is that Amy went from really, really drunk and sad to extremely excited, happy drunk. She jumped up and hugged me and we fell backwards.
Amy was living in Missouri, but missing Ohio. She tried to assimilate and failed at heart. But she wouldn’t let anyone know. She had a southern accent within six months and started dating several Baptist boys to try and fit in. To nibble off the homesickness, she kept in touch with an ex-boyfriend. He was a year older and going to school in Cincinnati. He flew her in so that they could spend the weekend together. Boys would do that for Amy. This was a top secret trip as Amy had not been home since Christmas and summer before that. If my folks knew she was in a 200 mile radius of Lancaster, they would be a little upset that she did not come home. So mom and dad could not find out.
In the middle of their weekend of love, the dude broke it to Amy that he and his buddies and she were going to Ohio University for a last minute party. They piled into a Blazer and drove to Athens. Amy was a bit concerned because she had to be at the Cincy airport at 10:00am Sunday morning. No problem, he promised.
Six hours later, there was a problem. Turns out that he drank a lot more when he was around his college buddies and that his college buddies also made him a complete prick. He did some heavy prick stuff and she walked out of the party, sat on the curb and unknowingly waited for me to show up.
She didn’t think there was any way in hell that the prick was going to head back to Cincy that night and there was no way that she was going to make her flight. Her bags were back in the Blazer and she was shit out of luck until we showed up.
To cut to the chase, she made her flight. And here’s how.
We all went back to the prick’s party. He and his prick friends were not there, but the Blazer was. Russ, who stopped ceasing to exist, picked up a cement block and bashed out the back passenger side window. We grabbed Amy’s bags and headed back to the dorm.
We snuck Amy into the boy’s dorm and slept for a few hours. At 6:00am, Amy and I awoke, tiptoed though the testosterone and took Russ’ Nissan wagon to Cincinnati. I dropped her off at the airport at 9:45am.
“Please do not ever tell mom or dad about this. Doug... promise.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
And so, mother dear, as you read this please thank your daughter Amy for sharing with you that there is a little corner of the internet where your son writes lies and tells truths and sometimes both at the same time.
The drive back to OU was the longest drive ever.
So, to thank her, I’m writing this tale from our college years. You can decide whether or not to believe it. I know I all ready do.
Amy was never afraid of anything except perhaps getting caught. During high school she played every sport and, unlike most girls, considered 84% of her classmates friends. She had only one best friend and seemingly endless boyfriends and admirers. She was crowned Miss LHS in 1987 and turned down the opportunity to be the Dairy Princess at the Fairfield County Fair. Always Amy.
Amy left Ohio forever to go to school in Missouri and she never looked back.
Except once…
I was a freshman in college. Or the 13th grade as many of the people who were stuck at the Ohio University – Lancaster Branch called it. By looking out the lounge windows, we could see our high school. If you couldn’t find a window to look out, you could be reminded by listening to the LHS band practice in the afternoon. I attended because a scholarship I earned forced recipients to save money by going to a school that had no dorms and one microwave.
It was Spring. Winter had finally been kicked to the curb and love was in the air. None of my friends wanted to spend such a glorious Saturday night in Lancaster with the possibility of drunkenly hooking up with a relative. So we went to the real Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. We had friends in the dorms and didn’t have a problem finding a place to stay. We did have a problem finding beer. The 12 pack that was split between the five of us was gone in less than an hour and none of us had a fake ID at the time. We decided to try our luck at the Greenery, an 18+ dance bar that was pretty loose with the liquor. The gods smiled upon us on that Spring night and our oldest looking friend was able to buy pitchers of BrainSlammers or MindMelters or CerebellumBreakers or whatever the blue drink of the day was. We drank and danced and tried to hook up with real college girls. We failed, but had fun trying.
We were drunk well before closing and staggered out of the bar yelling stuff that drunk 18 year old men yell when full of watered down rum and unused hormones. Russ, who is rarely the ladies man, decided to try his luck out on a few chicks walking drunkenly the opposite way. I think they saw his OU-Lancaster keychain, immediately made him cease to exist and without breaking stride, walked right through him.
Our next target was a chick sitting on the curb. For some reason, women feel compelled to sit on curbs when they are drunk. Their knees up with elbows pressed against their inner thighs to support their heavy, drunken head. Men go straight for the vertical position in the gutter. Dave, the hopeless and clumsy romantic, asked if the poor girl needed any help. She looked up… it was Amy.
Holy shit. All the way from Missouri Amy.
I guess the most positive part of this story is that Amy went from really, really drunk and sad to extremely excited, happy drunk. She jumped up and hugged me and we fell backwards.
Amy was living in Missouri, but missing Ohio. She tried to assimilate and failed at heart. But she wouldn’t let anyone know. She had a southern accent within six months and started dating several Baptist boys to try and fit in. To nibble off the homesickness, she kept in touch with an ex-boyfriend. He was a year older and going to school in Cincinnati. He flew her in so that they could spend the weekend together. Boys would do that for Amy. This was a top secret trip as Amy had not been home since Christmas and summer before that. If my folks knew she was in a 200 mile radius of Lancaster, they would be a little upset that she did not come home. So mom and dad could not find out.
In the middle of their weekend of love, the dude broke it to Amy that he and his buddies and she were going to Ohio University for a last minute party. They piled into a Blazer and drove to Athens. Amy was a bit concerned because she had to be at the Cincy airport at 10:00am Sunday morning. No problem, he promised.
Six hours later, there was a problem. Turns out that he drank a lot more when he was around his college buddies and that his college buddies also made him a complete prick. He did some heavy prick stuff and she walked out of the party, sat on the curb and unknowingly waited for me to show up.
She didn’t think there was any way in hell that the prick was going to head back to Cincy that night and there was no way that she was going to make her flight. Her bags were back in the Blazer and she was shit out of luck until we showed up.
To cut to the chase, she made her flight. And here’s how.
We all went back to the prick’s party. He and his prick friends were not there, but the Blazer was. Russ, who stopped ceasing to exist, picked up a cement block and bashed out the back passenger side window. We grabbed Amy’s bags and headed back to the dorm.
We snuck Amy into the boy’s dorm and slept for a few hours. At 6:00am, Amy and I awoke, tiptoed though the testosterone and took Russ’ Nissan wagon to Cincinnati. I dropped her off at the airport at 9:45am.
“Please do not ever tell mom or dad about this. Doug... promise.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
And so, mother dear, as you read this please thank your daughter Amy for sharing with you that there is a little corner of the internet where your son writes lies and tells truths and sometimes both at the same time.
The drive back to OU was the longest drive ever.
Scam Baiting
I decided to try a bit of scam baiting. This is the attempt to waste a 419 scammer’s time by having him think you are an easy mark, thus keeping his attention from some church secretary in Omaha. Check out some much better examples of scam baiting at 419 Eater.
This poor fellow found me through my frankenstein hotmail address. It was the third of fourth one I had recieved and thought this might be fun. I decided to go with the reverse-con, bi-polar approach. The e-mails go back and forth between the scammer (Allan Grooves) and me (Frank Chocfactory) and are separated by the dashed lines. {Editor's notes are in these brackets.}
From: "allan_grooves"
Subject: ATTENTION
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2007 08:54:22 -0800
My Beloved,
Greetings:
My name is Mr. Allan Grooves, I work as an accountant in a bank; I contacted you to work together with me in claiming my late client's estate. Unfortunately he died without a registered next of kin and as such the funds now have anopen beneficiary status. You could be made the beneficiary since you share the same last name with him. This has officially transferred the right to you, as no other person from his family knows anything about this fund with our bank, if you are interested in working with me. Please get back to me as quickly as possible so that I will give you the details of what we are to do. I wait for your prompt response so that I can give you more briefing of what you need to and how to do it Thanks for your co-operation.
Best regards, Allan.
-------------
Dear Allan,
Oh my God! This is bad and good news together. Is this about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? PLease let me know more details. I want to make sure this is not a scam.
Thanks, Frank Chocfactory
-----------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
My Dear,
Greetings!
Thanks for your response to my mail. My deceased client died in the year 2001 and his name was Dean Irwin Stein. Since you share the same last name with him hence I contacted you to help in repatriating the funds left behind to any account of your choice. I got your address from the Internet in my search for a reliable person that would help me in this transaction. The amount of funds left behind was 8.6 million United States Dollars only and I would want us to share it 50/50 after we have successfully transferred it into your nominated bank account. It is now very obvious that he died interstate, as I have already made further inquiry to ascertain this. And this is where and why I contacted you, as the money is now marked unclaimed with my bank. Normally After six fiscal years and nobody comes up to claim the funds it would be marked dormant and reverted back to the bank's general coffers and shared among the directors. This I do not want to happen. I now solicit your sincere cooperation so that we can work together to get the funds out of the bank before it goes back to the bank. After we might have talked I would send you a text of application instructing you on how to apply to the bank for the funds release. I will like you to provide me with the following.
a, Your telephone number
b,Yourcomplete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
Hope to hear from you soonest.
You can call me at +44 (0)7926586043
Best regards, Allan
-------------
Allan,
Dean Irwin Stein? Are you sure you don’t mean Charlie Andy Chocfactory?
Please let me know if you find out anything about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? I know he passed recently, but I do not know how to get ahold of his money. Please let me know of your research.
Thank you Allen and God bless,
Frank Chocfactory
----------------------
From: "allan_grooves" allan_grooves@canada.com
Subject: RE: ATTENTION Date: Wed, 21
Feb 2007 15:12:40 -0800
I had told you that the name of my client a while ago and you actually have the same name with him. I only needed you to help me with this transaction and that is all. I will never force you to help me okay but this would be beneficial to you.
Thank you.
-------------------
Listen here Allen...
My last name is not Stein. It is Chocfactory. I do know that I have a great uncle who had a lot of money and he died with it. These funds have missing for two years. Please ask your contacts if they know of a Charlie Andy Chocfactory. His mother's maiden name was Stein. Perhaps this is the connection????
Let me know!!!
Signed, Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
It is possible he lodged the money with his mum's maiden name. I have told you the one i have and it was never a mistake okay. Please if you want to assist, fine but otherwise stop sending me emails okay. The transaction is not such that i have to beg you for okay.
Thank you
---------------
Allan.
If there is something in it for me, I can help you. I did some research and found a D. Stein in my family history.
Praise be if this is the man you represented at the Bank. How can I be of service?
Please let me know.
Thanks!
Frank
---------------------
{He sends me the exact same e-mail with }
a, Your telephone number
b,Your complete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
--------------
Allan,
I can be reached at 1-202-331-8590
{Editors note: this is the number to the NATIONAL FRAUD INFORMATION CENTER & INTERNET FRAUD WATCH in Washington DC.}
My full names is Frank E Chocfactory
Mailing address is in Washington, but I will hold that back for now to ensure this is not a scam.
My Job is with an auto repair shop right outside of Washington in Virginia. I repair mainly BMWs and VWs.
Please let me know how I can help with the splitting of the funds!
Thanks, Frank
--------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 09:28:02 -0800
I think you are being unserious here. You gave me a number which had been disconnected. I do not know what you are doing concerning these funds. If you are not interested, please let me know or you call me on +44 7926586043.
thank you.
--------------------
Allan,
I just tried to call your number and no one is answering. Is this correct?
I am beginning to think that you are trying to steal money from me. Fortunately, I just got a $2000 bonus from my work!! See, hard work can pay off.
Why do you contact me and then not follow up? I am beginning to think that you have found someone else to help you.
If this is so, I am sorry that we could not work out an agreement.
Best of luck to you Mr. Groves.
Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2007 15:16:58 -0800
Dear Mr.Frank,
I had been trying to reach you on the number which you had provided but all to no avail. i have not found anyone to do this business with and still believe that you would be able to assist me in all respect.
My number is +44 7926586043,+ 447909833952. you would be able to reach me on those numbers anytime. Please supply me with the information that i requested from you and this process of application would start and we would have enough at our disposal.
Expecting your feedback.
Thank you
Sincerely
Grooves
--------------------------
Hello Allen,
I am bored with all this.
Please just tell me what address to send the money that you need so that you can release the larger funds.
Please check off the following reasons why you need the money and how much you need:
1. International Transfer Fee
2. Notary Public Fee
3. Rebel Alliance Fee
4. National Transfer Fee
Just add up the amounts of money you need and make sure is isn't more than $2,000. I can either send you a cheque or wire transfer.
Please, my good friend. Let's just get this over with so that I can go back to my normal life.
Thank you,
Frank
-------------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 09:43:32 -0800
I dont understand what you are talking about. for now have a nice day.
----------------
Allan,
Listen, I know how this works:
1. I send you money to pay the tax or fees.
2. Once the fees are paid, you send me the larger sum of money.
3. We both end up happy and RICH!!!!!!!
Come on... I know there is some fee or something.
Just tell me what I have to pay and when I can get my hands on the BIG MONEY!
Thanks, Frank
----------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 14:54:36 -0800
I think you had been into the wrong thing before. I would never be contacting you if it was not for someone who would be reliable and not run away with these funds. I do not
honestly know what you are talking about.
I know that i dont require you to pay me any amount of money
okay.
Thank you
------------------
Allan,
OK. I feel like we have gone in the wrong direction here.
I want to help you if it will help me. And I want me to help you.
Please let me know what information you need.
Thank you,
Frank
----------------------
allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
i am still waiting for your information to continu okay.
----------------------
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
{That was the letter I sent tonight. I had not heard from Allan in a while and I assume he moved on to bigger and better things. I really think he grew tired of my bi-polar shit.}
This poor fellow found me through my frankenstein hotmail address. It was the third of fourth one I had recieved and thought this might be fun. I decided to go with the reverse-con, bi-polar approach. The e-mails go back and forth between the scammer (Allan Grooves) and me (Frank Chocfactory) and are separated by the dashed lines. {Editor's notes are in these brackets.}
From: "allan_grooves"
Subject: ATTENTION
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2007 08:54:22 -0800
My Beloved,
Greetings:
My name is Mr. Allan Grooves, I work as an accountant in a bank; I contacted you to work together with me in claiming my late client's estate. Unfortunately he died without a registered next of kin and as such the funds now have anopen beneficiary status. You could be made the beneficiary since you share the same last name with him. This has officially transferred the right to you, as no other person from his family knows anything about this fund with our bank, if you are interested in working with me. Please get back to me as quickly as possible so that I will give you the details of what we are to do. I wait for your prompt response so that I can give you more briefing of what you need to and how to do it Thanks for your co-operation.
Best regards, Allan.
-------------
Dear Allan,
Oh my God! This is bad and good news together. Is this about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? PLease let me know more details. I want to make sure this is not a scam.
Thanks, Frank Chocfactory
-----------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
My Dear,
Greetings!
Thanks for your response to my mail. My deceased client died in the year 2001 and his name was Dean Irwin Stein. Since you share the same last name with him hence I contacted you to help in repatriating the funds left behind to any account of your choice. I got your address from the Internet in my search for a reliable person that would help me in this transaction. The amount of funds left behind was 8.6 million United States Dollars only and I would want us to share it 50/50 after we have successfully transferred it into your nominated bank account. It is now very obvious that he died interstate, as I have already made further inquiry to ascertain this. And this is where and why I contacted you, as the money is now marked unclaimed with my bank. Normally After six fiscal years and nobody comes up to claim the funds it would be marked dormant and reverted back to the bank's general coffers and shared among the directors. This I do not want to happen. I now solicit your sincere cooperation so that we can work together to get the funds out of the bank before it goes back to the bank. After we might have talked I would send you a text of application instructing you on how to apply to the bank for the funds release. I will like you to provide me with the following.
a, Your telephone number
b,Yourcomplete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
Hope to hear from you soonest.
You can call me at +44 (0)7926586043
Best regards, Allan
-------------
Allan,
Dean Irwin Stein? Are you sure you don’t mean Charlie Andy Chocfactory?
Please let me know if you find out anything about my great uncle Charlie Andy Chocfactory? I know he passed recently, but I do not know how to get ahold of his money. Please let me know of your research.
Thank you Allen and God bless,
Frank Chocfactory
----------------------
From: "allan_grooves" allan_grooves@canada.com
Subject: RE: ATTENTION Date: Wed, 21
Feb 2007 15:12:40 -0800
I had told you that the name of my client a while ago and you actually have the same name with him. I only needed you to help me with this transaction and that is all. I will never force you to help me okay but this would be beneficial to you.
Thank you.
-------------------
Listen here Allen...
My last name is not Stein. It is Chocfactory. I do know that I have a great uncle who had a lot of money and he died with it. These funds have missing for two years. Please ask your contacts if they know of a Charlie Andy Chocfactory. His mother's maiden name was Stein. Perhaps this is the connection????
Let me know!!!
Signed, Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
It is possible he lodged the money with his mum's maiden name. I have told you the one i have and it was never a mistake okay. Please if you want to assist, fine but otherwise stop sending me emails okay. The transaction is not such that i have to beg you for okay.
Thank you
---------------
Allan.
If there is something in it for me, I can help you. I did some research and found a D. Stein in my family history.
Praise be if this is the man you represented at the Bank. How can I be of service?
Please let me know.
Thanks!
Frank
---------------------
{He sends me the exact same e-mail with }
a, Your telephone number
b,Your complete names
c,Your mailing address
d,Your Occupation
--------------
Allan,
I can be reached at 1-202-331-8590
{Editors note: this is the number to the NATIONAL FRAUD INFORMATION CENTER & INTERNET FRAUD WATCH in Washington DC.}
My full names is Frank E Chocfactory
Mailing address is in Washington, but I will hold that back for now to ensure this is not a scam.
My Job is with an auto repair shop right outside of Washington in Virginia. I repair mainly BMWs and VWs.
Please let me know how I can help with the splitting of the funds!
Thanks, Frank
--------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 09:28:02 -0800
I think you are being unserious here. You gave me a number which had been disconnected. I do not know what you are doing concerning these funds. If you are not interested, please let me know or you call me on +44 7926586043.
thank you.
--------------------
Allan,
I just tried to call your number and no one is answering. Is this correct?
I am beginning to think that you are trying to steal money from me. Fortunately, I just got a $2000 bonus from my work!! See, hard work can pay off.
Why do you contact me and then not follow up? I am beginning to think that you have found someone else to help you.
If this is so, I am sorry that we could not work out an agreement.
Best of luck to you Mr. Groves.
Frank
-------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2007 15:16:58 -0800
Dear Mr.Frank,
I had been trying to reach you on the number which you had provided but all to no avail. i have not found anyone to do this business with and still believe that you would be able to assist me in all respect.
My number is +44 7926586043,+ 447909833952. you would be able to reach me on those numbers anytime. Please supply me with the information that i requested from you and this process of application would start and we would have enough at our disposal.
Expecting your feedback.
Thank you
Sincerely
Grooves
--------------------------
Hello Allen,
I am bored with all this.
Please just tell me what address to send the money that you need so that you can release the larger funds.
Please check off the following reasons why you need the money and how much you need:
1. International Transfer Fee
2. Notary Public Fee
3. Rebel Alliance Fee
4. National Transfer Fee
Just add up the amounts of money you need and make sure is isn't more than $2,000. I can either send you a cheque or wire transfer.
Please, my good friend. Let's just get this over with so that I can go back to my normal life.
Thank you,
Frank
-------------------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 09:43:32 -0800
I dont understand what you are talking about. for now have a nice day.
----------------
Allan,
Listen, I know how this works:
1. I send you money to pay the tax or fees.
2. Once the fees are paid, you send me the larger sum of money.
3. We both end up happy and RICH!!!!!!!
Come on... I know there is some fee or something.
Just tell me what I have to pay and when I can get my hands on the BIG MONEY!
Thanks, Frank
----------------
From: "allan_grooves"
Date: Tue, 27 Feb 2007 14:54:36 -0800
I think you had been into the wrong thing before. I would never be contacting you if it was not for someone who would be reliable and not run away with these funds. I do not
honestly know what you are talking about.
I know that i dont require you to pay me any amount of money
okay.
Thank you
------------------
Allan,
OK. I feel like we have gone in the wrong direction here.
I want to help you if it will help me. And I want me to help you.
Please let me know what information you need.
Thank you,
Frank
----------------------
allan grooves (allan_grooves@canada.com)
Subject: RE: ATTENTION
i am still waiting for your information to continu okay.
----------------------
Well Allan?
WHERE IS MY MONEY!
I SENT YOU THE MONEY ORDER!!!!!!
WHERE IS MY MONEY!!!!!
{That was the letter I sent tonight. I had not heard from Allan in a while and I assume he moved on to bigger and better things. I really think he grew tired of my bi-polar shit.}
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s at Ohio University on April 14th
Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s is playing at OU on April 14th. I think it is a free show, but I can’t be sure because I lost my secret college free concert sense back in 94’. Oddly enough that is also when I lost my Fish Called Wanda movie poster.
Here is my plan: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. You’ll have to drive your own car and stay in your own hotel, but I’ll be at the show around 8:00pm and then I’ll be at the C.I. from 11:30pm until closing. I’ll be the old guy. Buy me a beer in a can.
Here is my plan B: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. Here’s the pinch - this might be the weekend of Palmerfest as well. If this is so, I will need to sneak out of the house a few hours earlier to attend and I will need your assistance. At 1:00pm on Saturday, we’ll be heading out the door to go to a good friend’s kid’s birthday party. I really want to go to the birthday party, but if you drive by and kidnap me in front of my wife, I will have no choice but to go wherever it is that you take me. If that happens to be Palmerfest than so be it. I’ll split gas cost with you to Athens and back. Just duct tape my mouth and hands before you dump me back off at my house Sunday morning. More than likely, I will have forgotten everything anyways from the alcohol. Your secret is safe with me.
See you at the show. Doors open at 6:00pm. Bring duct tape.
Here is my plan: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. You’ll have to drive your own car and stay in your own hotel, but I’ll be at the show around 8:00pm and then I’ll be at the C.I. from 11:30pm until closing. I’ll be the old guy. Buy me a beer in a can.
Here is my plan B: I am going to this show no matter what and I want you to come with me. Here’s the pinch - this might be the weekend of Palmerfest as well. If this is so, I will need to sneak out of the house a few hours earlier to attend and I will need your assistance. At 1:00pm on Saturday, we’ll be heading out the door to go to a good friend’s kid’s birthday party. I really want to go to the birthday party, but if you drive by and kidnap me in front of my wife, I will have no choice but to go wherever it is that you take me. If that happens to be Palmerfest than so be it. I’ll split gas cost with you to Athens and back. Just duct tape my mouth and hands before you dump me back off at my house Sunday morning. More than likely, I will have forgotten everything anyways from the alcohol. Your secret is safe with me.
See you at the show. Doors open at 6:00pm. Bring duct tape.
Neighbors
"Love your neighbor, but build fences." -Something my dad would always say
We live in a great house in a great neighborhood with great neighbors. It took us ten years, but we’ve finally got it right. We haven’t always had bad neighbors. Actually, I think we were the bad neighbors for the eight years in our first home. We were always friendly, but never interactive. Our cats were always pooping in the neighbors’ mulch and we’d pretend we didn’t notice. We kept to ourselves mainly because we were a newlywed couple, while they were families with 2 – 3 kids. I’m sure we could have been more involved, but we just had other things to do.
When we lived in an apartment during those first two frosting years, we did not have neighbors, we had “people downstairs.” Then we moved to a quad of duplex apartments and we had “the freaks next door.”
The freaks next door moved in over a week long period, one rusted vanload at a time. At 6:00am on Saturday, we were made aware that their alarm clock was moved in. It kept on its electronic droning through the paper thin walls for three hours. Obviously they had plugged it in, set it and they had not been there to turn it off. Finally, it stopped ringing. We assumed that it automatically turned off after a certain amount of time and we tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. But the alarm started sounding again six minutes later. Then it went silent. Then we heard voices. The neighbors had slept through their own alarm for three hours and one snooze. An alarm so freaking loud that it woke us up.
And this was not the last time.
Every morning their alarm clock would sound at 6:00am and would not get turned off for 2 – 3 hours. We were usually out the door on the way to work with their alarm still ringing. We tried pounding on the wall, but they could not or would not hear the pounding over the alarm.
I made an interesting connection the day I came home and found a flier on the door handle. It was for a home cleaning service. I looked up from the flier and saw that the neighbor’s rusty van was full of cleaning supplies. I took a closer look inside the van and saw piles of the fliers in the dirty van. (A dirty cleaning van?) I formulated a plan and took the flier upstairs and into the bedroom.
The next morning at 6:00am their alarm sounded. I grabber the flier and the phone and called the number after dialing *67 (selective call blocking.) The phone next door began to ring. The alarm turned off and a sleepy voice answered the phone. I hung up and we went back to sleep.
I did this EVERY morning for a week. On one occasion, I had to call twice when they reset the alarm. They had to be going crazy. Fortunately they were not smart enough to realize what was happening. Unfortunately, I was too dumb to remember to hit *67 one morning and they called me back.
“Hello?”
“Who is this? Why do you keep calling?”
(Pissed off but sheepish) “Um…you aren’t turning your alarm off in the morning for hours at a time. “
“What?”
“We can hear your alarm through the wall!”
“Well, you could of just told us.”
And she was right. We could have told them, but we did not want any interaction with these people. It wasn’t just the dirty cleaning van or the alarm or the cigarette smoke that permeated the wall. It was also the sex.
Hours of sex. It seemed like hours and was actually only 40 minutes, but their bed squeaked with every thrust, she was very orgasmic and when he finally came (thank God) he’s let out a disappointing, one second grunt that Miss Sally and I still make fun of to this day. You’d think after all that banging that he would scream out for 30 seconds. But instead, “Unngh.”
We ended up moving our bedroom to the smaller, second bedroom. All our weekend guests then got to wake up at six in the morning after not being able to fall asleep for 40 minutes the night before.
So in the end, we avoided them. They avoided us. Life goes on.
Then one night, the cops showed up at our door. We were both asleep in the smaller bedroom and we were awoken by the doorbell and knocking. I stuck my head out the old bedroom window and saw a cop car and officers below at the door. Oh shit. My first thought that my parents had been killed. I ran down stairs and opened the doors.
The cops were right to the point.
“Good evening sir. Are you alone?”
“No, my girlfriend is upstairs.”
“Can you get her?”
Oh shit, Sally’s parents were dead.
Sally was at the top of the stairs and was tentatively coming down.
“Yes?”
“Miss, can you come here so we can see you?”
She came and stood next to me. He asked her if everything was all right and if there was any trouble. She said no. He asked if we had been fighting. I said no and that we had been asleep. They said we are talking to her. I shut up. Sally said the same, nervously laughing. No, we had gone to bed an hour ago.
The cop said there had been a report that there was a domestic assault in progress. They seemed to believe us. We asked who made the report and they said they were not allowed to tell. Nice.
A month later, in the middle of the night, the cops were back. This time with a social worker. When I answered the door this time, I knew why. So I said, “Are you here because someone reported hearing fighting?” I said this thinking that I was giving the cops some useful information. Little did I know that it sounded like I knew why they were there because I was guilty. I tried to tell them it was the second time it had happened, but they were only interested in talking to Sally. She was asked to come downstairs. I was made to sit on the couch as they interviewed Sally and she reassured them everything was all right.
When we finally had them convinced that all was well, we impressed upon them that we were tired of the false reports and if anything could be done. They said they would look into it. Thanks.
One week later, Sally was opening the front door on her way home from work when the hard of hearing, orgasmic neighbor lady popped out her door and asked if she could talk to her. She then asked Sally if her husband was home. Sally said no and explained we were only just engaged. The lady was a bit surprised, but then said that she understood what Sally was going through as she was a survivor of an abusive relationship. Now Sally was confused. Sally laughed and said that I was not abusive. Next door lady said she heard the beatings and the fighting. Sally said that was impossible and dismissed her. Neighbor lady left Sally, thinking she was in denial.
When I came home, Sally told me about the conversation. Almost at the same time we both realized what was happening. The stairs that go up to the bedrooms double back before they got to the top. The freaky neighbors were hearing someone get the shit beat out of them… but it was the people living in the duplex on the OTHER side of them. They had their left and right screwed up. Idiots!
We moved out a few months later.
The bad thing is that poor woman who was getting the shit beat out of her never had the cops show up at her door.
The good thing about this was that we later realized that the freaky neighbors must have thought it was the other neighbors who had called them in the morning to wake them up when their alarm couldn’t. Suckers!
We live in a great house in a great neighborhood with great neighbors. It took us ten years, but we’ve finally got it right. We haven’t always had bad neighbors. Actually, I think we were the bad neighbors for the eight years in our first home. We were always friendly, but never interactive. Our cats were always pooping in the neighbors’ mulch and we’d pretend we didn’t notice. We kept to ourselves mainly because we were a newlywed couple, while they were families with 2 – 3 kids. I’m sure we could have been more involved, but we just had other things to do.
When we lived in an apartment during those first two frosting years, we did not have neighbors, we had “people downstairs.” Then we moved to a quad of duplex apartments and we had “the freaks next door.”
The freaks next door moved in over a week long period, one rusted vanload at a time. At 6:00am on Saturday, we were made aware that their alarm clock was moved in. It kept on its electronic droning through the paper thin walls for three hours. Obviously they had plugged it in, set it and they had not been there to turn it off. Finally, it stopped ringing. We assumed that it automatically turned off after a certain amount of time and we tried to snatch a few more minutes of sleep. But the alarm started sounding again six minutes later. Then it went silent. Then we heard voices. The neighbors had slept through their own alarm for three hours and one snooze. An alarm so freaking loud that it woke us up.
And this was not the last time.
Every morning their alarm clock would sound at 6:00am and would not get turned off for 2 – 3 hours. We were usually out the door on the way to work with their alarm still ringing. We tried pounding on the wall, but they could not or would not hear the pounding over the alarm.
I made an interesting connection the day I came home and found a flier on the door handle. It was for a home cleaning service. I looked up from the flier and saw that the neighbor’s rusty van was full of cleaning supplies. I took a closer look inside the van and saw piles of the fliers in the dirty van. (A dirty cleaning van?) I formulated a plan and took the flier upstairs and into the bedroom.
The next morning at 6:00am their alarm sounded. I grabber the flier and the phone and called the number after dialing *67 (selective call blocking.) The phone next door began to ring. The alarm turned off and a sleepy voice answered the phone. I hung up and we went back to sleep.
I did this EVERY morning for a week. On one occasion, I had to call twice when they reset the alarm. They had to be going crazy. Fortunately they were not smart enough to realize what was happening. Unfortunately, I was too dumb to remember to hit *67 one morning and they called me back.
“Hello?”
“Who is this? Why do you keep calling?”
(Pissed off but sheepish) “Um…you aren’t turning your alarm off in the morning for hours at a time. “
“What?”
“We can hear your alarm through the wall!”
“Well, you could of just told us.”
And she was right. We could have told them, but we did not want any interaction with these people. It wasn’t just the dirty cleaning van or the alarm or the cigarette smoke that permeated the wall. It was also the sex.
Hours of sex. It seemed like hours and was actually only 40 minutes, but their bed squeaked with every thrust, she was very orgasmic and when he finally came (thank God) he’s let out a disappointing, one second grunt that Miss Sally and I still make fun of to this day. You’d think after all that banging that he would scream out for 30 seconds. But instead, “Unngh.”
We ended up moving our bedroom to the smaller, second bedroom. All our weekend guests then got to wake up at six in the morning after not being able to fall asleep for 40 minutes the night before.
So in the end, we avoided them. They avoided us. Life goes on.
Then one night, the cops showed up at our door. We were both asleep in the smaller bedroom and we were awoken by the doorbell and knocking. I stuck my head out the old bedroom window and saw a cop car and officers below at the door. Oh shit. My first thought that my parents had been killed. I ran down stairs and opened the doors.
The cops were right to the point.
“Good evening sir. Are you alone?”
“No, my girlfriend is upstairs.”
“Can you get her?”
Oh shit, Sally’s parents were dead.
Sally was at the top of the stairs and was tentatively coming down.
“Yes?”
“Miss, can you come here so we can see you?”
She came and stood next to me. He asked her if everything was all right and if there was any trouble. She said no. He asked if we had been fighting. I said no and that we had been asleep. They said we are talking to her. I shut up. Sally said the same, nervously laughing. No, we had gone to bed an hour ago.
The cop said there had been a report that there was a domestic assault in progress. They seemed to believe us. We asked who made the report and they said they were not allowed to tell. Nice.
A month later, in the middle of the night, the cops were back. This time with a social worker. When I answered the door this time, I knew why. So I said, “Are you here because someone reported hearing fighting?” I said this thinking that I was giving the cops some useful information. Little did I know that it sounded like I knew why they were there because I was guilty. I tried to tell them it was the second time it had happened, but they were only interested in talking to Sally. She was asked to come downstairs. I was made to sit on the couch as they interviewed Sally and she reassured them everything was all right.
When we finally had them convinced that all was well, we impressed upon them that we were tired of the false reports and if anything could be done. They said they would look into it. Thanks.
One week later, Sally was opening the front door on her way home from work when the hard of hearing, orgasmic neighbor lady popped out her door and asked if she could talk to her. She then asked Sally if her husband was home. Sally said no and explained we were only just engaged. The lady was a bit surprised, but then said that she understood what Sally was going through as she was a survivor of an abusive relationship. Now Sally was confused. Sally laughed and said that I was not abusive. Next door lady said she heard the beatings and the fighting. Sally said that was impossible and dismissed her. Neighbor lady left Sally, thinking she was in denial.
When I came home, Sally told me about the conversation. Almost at the same time we both realized what was happening. The stairs that go up to the bedrooms double back before they got to the top. The freaky neighbors were hearing someone get the shit beat out of them… but it was the people living in the duplex on the OTHER side of them. They had their left and right screwed up. Idiots!
We moved out a few months later.
The bad thing is that poor woman who was getting the shit beat out of her never had the cops show up at her door.
The good thing about this was that we later realized that the freaky neighbors must have thought it was the other neighbors who had called them in the morning to wake them up when their alarm couldn’t. Suckers!
John and guy I bought a beer for
We went to Brazenhead in Grandview for St. Patrick’s Day. It wasn’t Chicago, but it was a very good time. (Remind me to tell you about the Alphabet Girls.)
Towards midnight we noticed a tall dude. He knows he’s tall. Idiots probably remind him of it every day. Bigger idiots ask to get a photo taken with him. At least this guy is smart enough to make it worth his while. Once I asked him if he’d let us take his photo, he said yes, for a beer.
It was worth it.
Damn that dude is tall.
My date with Cory Kennedy
Yes, I know. There are several reasons why I should not have gone on a date with Cory Kennedy. I’m married. She’s 17. We don’t listen to the same music. We only have a few things in common. Scratch that... we have nothing in common besides drinking. But drinking is the great equalizer and so I thought that by the end of the night, it would all work itself out.
And oddly enough, it did.
I was in LA for business. On a whim, I called my buddy who runs a recording studio. He’s a testicular cancer survivor and swears that his raw food diet has kept him in remission.
I gave my studio buddy a call and he mentioned that he recently had a celebrity in the studio. That celeb knew a guy who dated a bouncer who had a Facebook account. And one of his friends on Facebook was none other than a Facebook friend of Cory Kennedy’s.
Cory Kennedy is an internet fabricated personality. She’s interesting like a pork kite is interesting. You wonder how she got famous and why she is still famous, which makes her more famous by your wondering. But you cannot help yourself. She’s pretty because we are told she is pretty. She is fashionable because we are told she is fashionable. And I was going to go on a date with her because I told myself I was going to go on a date with her. Why not?
I tried to get her to accept me as a MySpace friend. She denied me. So I found one of her MySpace friends’ friend and they blindly added me. I was in her extended network which is almost like being in her Blackberry. I sent the friend of a friend a note to pass on to Cory that we should go out very soon. I didn’t get a response. I assume MySpace was down.
I enrolled as a substitute teacher at her high school. Since I was only in LA for a few days, I didn’t really enroll as a sub, but I did carry a briefcase as I marched around the school’s campus. I narrowed down my search by not looking for anyone wearing matching clothes, or anything with blue, red, yellow or any combinations of those colors. I had it narrowed down to about 218 girls when the cops hauled me off campus by my iPod ear buds.
I was let off with a warning after I mentioned that I had a date with Cory Kennedy planned for that evening. Cop number one said, “I’ve got a color blind daughter of my own at home. Go get her, champ.” Cop number two said, “Isn’t she only sixteen?” but I didn’t hear that as I was all ready running off through Burbank.
That night I had everything planned. I rented a limo and bought a TON of Red Bull and some menthol cigarettes. I waited outside her window for her to sneak out, but it turns out she just walks right out the front door on her way out to the clubs at 11:00pm. I ran back to the Limo and had Asphed follow her to eighteen different clubs: Rants, Jimmy 8, Outré, Sim Sim, Lookie Tick, RED, Front Door, Rex, Symbol, Number Ten, Camel Tent, WOO Tavern, Capitol G, Upstairs Twice Club, Yeast, Juvie Nile, Kliq and Epstine Fillmore and the Rat VooDoo Soul Club. I couldn’t get into any of them. I would sit in the limo and wait for her to leave. Sometimes I would put on my chef costume and try to sneak in the back door, but it turns out most clubs don’t have chefs. As a matter of fact, none of them do.
So at the end of the night or the start of the morning as we call 6:00am here in Ohio, I tracked her down at a Jerry’s Famous Deli. She was with a large group of people and I couldn’t force my way into the corner booth to ask her how she felt the date was going. So I ordered a Yummy (a cream cheese and jelly sandwich, battered and deep fried) and sent it over to her table.
The waiter handed her the plate and pointed in my direction. She pointed to some other guy and the waiter shook his head no and pointed more at me. She pointed again and the waiter shook his head no and came over to my table and held his hand over my head.
She mouthed the words “thank you” or something very similar.
All in all, the date turned out really good. I felt like a gentleman buying her dinner/breakfast and she gave me a lot of space so that I could grow. A very positive experience for both parties.
So in the end, it all worked out.
But, I do not think it is going to work out. She’s way too Hollywood for me. And the restraining order keeps me at 150ft away. Plus her arms are way too hairy.
Palmerfest 1992
There is really too much to write about Palmerfest. If you went to OU after 1990, you probably have gone to one or two. Shit, you might even claim to have originated it.
Sadly, the backyards of 19, 21 and 23 Palmer are gone. Replaced when the three houses were extend backwards so that Mr. Gevas could make a couple more bucks.
I hope he bought a new blue van.
It actually is the worst fight scene ever
This video is labeled "The Worst Fight Scene Ever!"
I was going to try and convince you that it is actually the BEST fight scene ever, but I cannot because it is the worst fight scene ever.
To make matters worse, the video compression is causing the audio to be out of snyc. Actually, that makes the clip that much funnier.
I was going to try and convince you that it is actually the BEST fight scene ever, but I cannot because it is the worst fight scene ever.
To make matters worse, the video compression is causing the audio to be out of snyc. Actually, that makes the clip that much funnier.
My kid can fall asleep slower than your kid
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This is a “My Kid” writing. I suggest you stop reading now. I really do not like to hear people talk about their kid because unless it is a story about them pooping their pants at the recital, I’m not interested in hearing it. Sorry. Most kid stories go like this: My kid “X” did “Y” and did it better or more interestingly or faster than any kid I’ve ever seen. He/She is advanced for his/her age. Blah… Again, stop reading. I warned you.
My kid had an incredibly crazed night. He was extremely excited and running around and I knew all the way through reading books to him that this was not going to end well.
As I turned off his light, he started asking for mommy and then crying for mommy and then ranting for mommy. Mommy came up to calm him down and it worked until she needed to leave. Then he asked for daddy and cried for daddy and so on and so forth.
After the second shift change, Miss Sally calmed him down and we gave him goodnight kisses and he seemed like he was going to be all right, but then he pulled the “sleep with me” card. I’ve slept in his room on two or three occasions in the middle of the night when he was sick or upset. I do not want to start that as a trend.
So, here I am, typing because he can hear it from the other room and it seems to comfort him to know that I am in the other room. It’s an odd connection that my clamoring on the keyboard reassures him. If only he knew that I was usually typing crap about drinking or nudie bars.
So, for the next few minutes, I’ll type. And since we are on the topic of Greg, I’ll continue this one-sided conversation.
Greg sometimes has a problem with listening. Most kids do. If we get reports from his teachers that he wasn’t a good listener that day, then we end up keeping the TV off or not letting him play Lego Star Wars. My kid Greg is the best non-listener of any kid I’ve ever seen. He’s an advanced non-listener for his age.
Lego Star Wars is a beautiful game. Watching Greg play is interesting and frightening. He picked up on it in a few weeks and he’s pretty good. There is a dual player mode so that two people can play in tandem to complete the goals. Greg thinks that it is funny to chase me down and shoot me with his blaster. When we are in the middle of a quest, I get a bit peeved that he kills me. I’ll warn him once or twice and then I’ll drop out of the game and let him finish on his own.
The other day he came up to me around Star Wars time. He said the following, “I was a good listener at school today and I promise not to kill you.”
I almost wept. My little boy is growing up.
And now he is asleep.
This is a “My Kid” writing. I suggest you stop reading now. I really do not like to hear people talk about their kid because unless it is a story about them pooping their pants at the recital, I’m not interested in hearing it. Sorry. Most kid stories go like this: My kid “X” did “Y” and did it better or more interestingly or faster than any kid I’ve ever seen. He/She is advanced for his/her age. Blah… Again, stop reading. I warned you.
My kid had an incredibly crazed night. He was extremely excited and running around and I knew all the way through reading books to him that this was not going to end well.
As I turned off his light, he started asking for mommy and then crying for mommy and then ranting for mommy. Mommy came up to calm him down and it worked until she needed to leave. Then he asked for daddy and cried for daddy and so on and so forth.
After the second shift change, Miss Sally calmed him down and we gave him goodnight kisses and he seemed like he was going to be all right, but then he pulled the “sleep with me” card. I’ve slept in his room on two or three occasions in the middle of the night when he was sick or upset. I do not want to start that as a trend.
So, here I am, typing because he can hear it from the other room and it seems to comfort him to know that I am in the other room. It’s an odd connection that my clamoring on the keyboard reassures him. If only he knew that I was usually typing crap about drinking or nudie bars.
So, for the next few minutes, I’ll type. And since we are on the topic of Greg, I’ll continue this one-sided conversation.
Greg sometimes has a problem with listening. Most kids do. If we get reports from his teachers that he wasn’t a good listener that day, then we end up keeping the TV off or not letting him play Lego Star Wars. My kid Greg is the best non-listener of any kid I’ve ever seen. He’s an advanced non-listener for his age.
Lego Star Wars is a beautiful game. Watching Greg play is interesting and frightening. He picked up on it in a few weeks and he’s pretty good. There is a dual player mode so that two people can play in tandem to complete the goals. Greg thinks that it is funny to chase me down and shoot me with his blaster. When we are in the middle of a quest, I get a bit peeved that he kills me. I’ll warn him once or twice and then I’ll drop out of the game and let him finish on his own.
The other day he came up to me around Star Wars time. He said the following, “I was a good listener at school today and I promise not to kill you.”
I almost wept. My little boy is growing up.
And now he is asleep.
What to do the day after Conny takes the Bar Exam
1. Wake up drunk in Conny's hotel living room
2. Call boss and tell him you are still drunk
3. Yell at Conny and ask how I got on a fold out bed
4. Listen to Conny’s explanation
5. Thank Conny for not letting you fall asleep on the fold out bed while it was still folded up into the shape of a couch.
6. Sit up
7. Lay back down
8. Ask Conny what he is making me for breakfast
9. Sit up again.
10. Stand up
11. Go pee
12. Mistake not being hung-over with still drunk
13. Go down stairs for awesome breakfast at the Drury Inn
(Actually Step -1) Forget the Arnold Classic is in town
14. Remember the Arnold Classic is in town
15. Try not to stumble into huge dudes that are eating all the French toast
16. Smile at self for skillful ladling of sausage gravy on biscuits
17. Eat coffee and drink sausage gravy
18. Watch Conny mangle waffle with spatula on grill and finally give up and use fingers to pull shredded waffle off grill.
19. Watch Conny not eat mangled waffle
20. Sit for an hour and watch hot chicks with huge dudes with tiny pee-pees go by
21. Go back up to Conny’s room
22. Grab shit and leave
23. Go to parking garage
24. Look for car
25. – 27. Continue looking for car
28. Find car
29. Drive car to gate and realize you need room key to leave garage
30. Drive in reverse up steep hill
31. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
32. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
33. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
34. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
35. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
36. Sigh as call to hotel goes into Conny’s room’s voice mail
37. Conny stops taking a shit and calls me back
38. Drop off Conny at hotel doors after he lets me out of parking garage with his room key
39. Say goodbye again
40. Drive home 9/10th way home
41. Receive call from Conny
42. Answer, “No, I don’t think your car keys are in my car but I will check when I get home.”
43. Check
44. Call Conny and tell him keys are not there
45. Call Meshell and ask her to check her car (she dropped us off at the hotel.)
46. Answer call from Meshell and say, “Thanks for looking.”
47. Call Conny and ask if he’s looked in X for the keys.
48. Ask if he’s looked in Y for the keys.
49. Ask if he’s looked in Z for the keys.
50. Begin to feel hung-over
51. Look at clock and see that it is 11:00am
52. Get in car and go back to Conny’s hotel
53. Fight Arnold Traffic
54. Pick up Conny
55. Drive Conny by Char Bar just in case
56. Car Bar is closed and take Conny to my home
57. Conny calls Toyota dealership
58. Dealership says they can give key with VIN number
59. Drive back down to hotel get VIN number
60. Stop halfway there as Conny remembers VIN number is on insurance card
61. Turn around and go home
62. Conny drinks a diet coke and I drink a diet 7up.
63. Go to Toyota Direct
64. Sit in car listening to Howard Stern show from 1994 while Conny convinces dudes inside he is not a car thief
65. Fall asleep for 2 minutes
66. Awake screaming as Conny knocks on window
67. Take Conny to hotel
68. Drop off Conny
69. Arrange to meet Conny for dinner on Tuesday night when he’s back in town
70. Say goodbye again again
71. Promise not to go drinking when meeting Conny for dinner when he is in town next Tuesday
72. Drive home without call from Conny
73. Look at clock and see that it is 2:00pm
74. Fail at napping
75. Post photo of Char Bar chalkboard
76. Remember at the last minute to call Conny’s house in Akron and leave a message that his wife will get saying that you are the manager of a nudie bar and that you found Conny’s key’s in the $150/hr VIP room and that "Mr. Moneybags" can come back anytime and pick them up
77. Reply, “Awe CRAP” when Conny answers the phone at his house instead of it going into voicemail.
2. Call boss and tell him you are still drunk
3. Yell at Conny and ask how I got on a fold out bed
4. Listen to Conny’s explanation
5. Thank Conny for not letting you fall asleep on the fold out bed while it was still folded up into the shape of a couch.
6. Sit up
7. Lay back down
8. Ask Conny what he is making me for breakfast
9. Sit up again.
10. Stand up
11. Go pee
12. Mistake not being hung-over with still drunk
13. Go down stairs for awesome breakfast at the Drury Inn
(Actually Step -1) Forget the Arnold Classic is in town
14. Remember the Arnold Classic is in town
15. Try not to stumble into huge dudes that are eating all the French toast
16. Smile at self for skillful ladling of sausage gravy on biscuits
17. Eat coffee and drink sausage gravy
18. Watch Conny mangle waffle with spatula on grill and finally give up and use fingers to pull shredded waffle off grill.
19. Watch Conny not eat mangled waffle
20. Sit for an hour and watch hot chicks with huge dudes with tiny pee-pees go by
21. Go back up to Conny’s room
22. Grab shit and leave
23. Go to parking garage
24. Look for car
25. – 27. Continue looking for car
28. Find car
29. Drive car to gate and realize you need room key to leave garage
30. Drive in reverse up steep hill
31. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
32. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
33. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
34. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
35. Sigh as call to Conny goes into voice mail
36. Sigh as call to hotel goes into Conny’s room’s voice mail
37. Conny stops taking a shit and calls me back
38. Drop off Conny at hotel doors after he lets me out of parking garage with his room key
39. Say goodbye again
40. Drive home 9/10th way home
41. Receive call from Conny
42. Answer, “No, I don’t think your car keys are in my car but I will check when I get home.”
43. Check
44. Call Conny and tell him keys are not there
45. Call Meshell and ask her to check her car (she dropped us off at the hotel.)
46. Answer call from Meshell and say, “Thanks for looking.”
47. Call Conny and ask if he’s looked in X for the keys.
48. Ask if he’s looked in Y for the keys.
49. Ask if he’s looked in Z for the keys.
50. Begin to feel hung-over
51. Look at clock and see that it is 11:00am
52. Get in car and go back to Conny’s hotel
53. Fight Arnold Traffic
54. Pick up Conny
55. Drive Conny by Char Bar just in case
56. Car Bar is closed and take Conny to my home
57. Conny calls Toyota dealership
58. Dealership says they can give key with VIN number
59. Drive back down to hotel get VIN number
60. Stop halfway there as Conny remembers VIN number is on insurance card
61. Turn around and go home
62. Conny drinks a diet coke and I drink a diet 7up.
63. Go to Toyota Direct
64. Sit in car listening to Howard Stern show from 1994 while Conny convinces dudes inside he is not a car thief
65. Fall asleep for 2 minutes
66. Awake screaming as Conny knocks on window
67. Take Conny to hotel
68. Drop off Conny
69. Arrange to meet Conny for dinner on Tuesday night when he’s back in town
70. Say goodbye again again
71. Promise not to go drinking when meeting Conny for dinner when he is in town next Tuesday
72. Drive home without call from Conny
73. Look at clock and see that it is 2:00pm
74. Fail at napping
75. Post photo of Char Bar chalkboard
76. Remember at the last minute to call Conny’s house in Akron and leave a message that his wife will get saying that you are the manager of a nudie bar and that you found Conny’s key’s in the $150/hr VIP room and that "Mr. Moneybags" can come back anytime and pick them up
77. Reply, “Awe CRAP” when Conny answers the phone at his house instead of it going into voicemail.
Pizza Technical Difficulty
There is a small chain of pizza/stromboli stores in Columbus called Pizzano's. It’s not the best pizza in the world, but it’s decent and quick. We get it at our office and Miss Sally likes their cheese/black olive/banana pepper stromboli.
On President’s Day, we tried to order some Pizzano’s for the office. Their phone rang and rang, but no one answered. We assumed they were closed for the holiday and we ate Lori’s stash of chocolate for lunch instead.
Last night, I tired to order some for dinner. Again, the phone rang and rang. Pizzano’s web site was up, but their outsourced, online ordering system said CLOSED. Oh dear. I ordered Donatos and drove over to pick it up.
Being a curious little boy, I drove by Pizzano’s to see if their building was open. I remembered on the way over that Pizzano’s was in the middle of a name change or take over by Mama Ghambi’s Pizza and Stromboli. They had big “Grand Opening” signs in their front window from our previous successful visit. Maybe they had just changed their number.
Not so much…
I’m not sure how a Pizza place can have a technical difficulty, but it seems they somehow do or did.
I hope everything works out for them. I grow weary of chocolate for lunch.
On President’s Day, we tried to order some Pizzano’s for the office. Their phone rang and rang, but no one answered. We assumed they were closed for the holiday and we ate Lori’s stash of chocolate for lunch instead.
Last night, I tired to order some for dinner. Again, the phone rang and rang. Pizzano’s web site was up, but their outsourced, online ordering system said CLOSED. Oh dear. I ordered Donatos and drove over to pick it up.
Being a curious little boy, I drove by Pizzano’s to see if their building was open. I remembered on the way over that Pizzano’s was in the middle of a name change or take over by Mama Ghambi’s Pizza and Stromboli. They had big “Grand Opening” signs in their front window from our previous successful visit. Maybe they had just changed their number.
Not so much…
I’m not sure how a Pizza place can have a technical difficulty, but it seems they somehow do or did.
I hope everything works out for them. I grow weary of chocolate for lunch.
Char Bar Chalkboard
Conny was in town this week taking the Ohio Bar Exam. He had called a few weeks ago to say that once he completed the test, he wanted to go out for a lot of drinks.
He finished the test. We had lots of drinks.
Here is one photo from this night:
At the Char Bar, they have a chalkboard in the men’s bathroom above the two urinals. We utilize that board to make fun of each other and discuss who is banging whomever else’s wife.
By the end of the night, there were several modifications. I hope to get those photos from Jenn as my camera battery died trying to take photos of this idiot parking her car on the curb.
.JPG)
I'll update once I am less hungover.
He finished the test. We had lots of drinks.
Here is one photo from this night:
At the Char Bar, they have a chalkboard in the men’s bathroom above the two urinals. We utilize that board to make fun of each other and discuss who is banging whomever else’s wife.
By the end of the night, there were several modifications. I hope to get those photos from Jenn as my camera battery died trying to take photos of this idiot parking her car on the curb.
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I'll update once I am less hungover.
Marion County Common Please Court
My co-worker Angie picked up some documents in Marion County. As she was standing in line to deliver the documents in Franklin County, she noticed the typo/spelling error.
I think that it's positive to suggest that problems one might have with the County could be resolved just by going to the County Please Court. If you are polite, they'll let you off.
Polite or not, she still had to pay the fine.
I
I’m still trying to decide if I got the letter “i” the word “I” or the Roman numeral one.
Rob from www.cockeyed.com. is giving out link opportunities that are connected to a story in which every single word in the story is linked elsewhere. A very interesting idea. It might be a complete flop, but he thought of it and you’ve got to give the guy credit for that.
I got “I.”
As a bonus, he is auctioning off several words on e-bay. I bid on "sucks" but got immediately outbid. I’ll wait to the very end to snipe my word. If I do win, I’ll link it to the You Suck, Joe Show story.
You can read about it here on The Very Well Linked Story.
I chose the letter “I” because I am a day late and had to pick from the leftover “I”s the “am”s and the “of”s.
Since this is the letter “I” and I am all about me, I will dedicate this page to Doug.
Here are some things you do not know about Doug. Or things you do know about Doug and are afraid to share with your friends:
I have broken my arm twice.
I lost my virginity at 19.
I like going to Outland.
I have been friends with Russ since kindergarten.
I currently have tweleve secret crushes.
I have a list of three famous people I am allowed to sleep if I get the opportunity. They are: Christina Ricci, Leelee Sobieski and Melissa Joan Hart. (I just have to call home first.)
I have had one major concussion, one minor concussion and one major concussion.
I have broken several chairs in my lifetime.
I cannot say the word Woolworths.
Here’s to I!
Rob from www.cockeyed.com. is giving out link opportunities that are connected to a story in which every single word in the story is linked elsewhere. A very interesting idea. It might be a complete flop, but he thought of it and you’ve got to give the guy credit for that.
I got “I.”
As a bonus, he is auctioning off several words on e-bay. I bid on "sucks" but got immediately outbid. I’ll wait to the very end to snipe my word. If I do win, I’ll link it to the You Suck, Joe Show story.
You can read about it here on The Very Well Linked Story.
I chose the letter “I” because I am a day late and had to pick from the leftover “I”s the “am”s and the “of”s.
Since this is the letter “I” and I am all about me, I will dedicate this page to Doug.
Here are some things you do not know about Doug. Or things you do know about Doug and are afraid to share with your friends:
I have broken my arm twice.
I lost my virginity at 19.
I like going to Outland.
I have been friends with Russ since kindergarten.
I currently have tweleve secret crushes.
I have a list of three famous people I am allowed to sleep if I get the opportunity. They are: Christina Ricci, Leelee Sobieski and Melissa Joan Hart. (I just have to call home first.)
I have had one major concussion, one minor concussion and one major concussion.
I have broken several chairs in my lifetime.
I cannot say the word Woolworths.
Here’s to I!
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