Man alive, the news has been tough to watch lately. The poor folks in New Orleans, Gulfport, Biloxi and all points in between got hammered pretty damn good.
I encourage you to make a donation to the Red Cross. I was thinking about how sad the situation was today at work, when someone reminded me of how many pets and animals got displaced or killed also. I just try not to think about it, because just the thought that some idiot decided with the storm on the way that it would be okay to leave his dog tied to the tree in the front yard makes me crazy. (And don't you just know that some goof went and did that?) Anyway, here's a story that I hope will give you a little smile and take your mind off of all the misery those poor people are going through.
So Tuesday's and Thursday's are the days that Kim comes home late. She works those nights to 7:30pm, and then goes and picks up the kids at school, where their band practices end around 8pm. So I usually get home around 6pm and I'm by myself until the rest of the brood gets home. Well, I made some plans to go visit some friends that I haven't seen in like forever....but I wasn't sure if I would be going on Tuesday or Thursday. So I call over the kid next door, James. He's a great kid, friends with Andy & Kellie, and smart as a whip. So I fill him in with my plans, but tell him I'm not sure which day I'll be visiting, so will he come over to our house after school and let the dogs out in the backyard for me? No problemo. Well, yesterday came and I decided that I was going to visit on Thursday and so I headed home.
I figured, worse case scenario, the dogs would just get to go outside an hour early.
So I'm pulling into my neighborhood, and it is just pouring rain. I pull up into the yard and I hear some barking, which is no big surprise, because the dogs hear the car coming into the driveway and react. But I open the front door....and no dogs.
Now, this is a huge surprise, because I'm used to them jumping up and down because, quite frankly....I'm their whole world. Anyway......So I'm figuring, okay, James is out back with them...because I see the backdoor is unlocked. So I open the door, expecting to see James out there with the dogs....(even though its raining).
And no dogs. I momentarily freak out, thinking maybe the gate is open, because if it is, and there has been any sort oftime lapse between them getting out and me getting home....they might be gone for good. Adios. Then I peek my head around the corner towards our screen porch and......
Huddled together by the door....soaking wet....miserable.....are the 3 dogs. So I call out to them:
"Hey! What the hell are you guys doing there?"
The words sheer and utter joy come to mind when trying to describe the looks on the dogs faces. No doubt about it, right then....at that moment...I was their favorite human. So I bring them in, dry them off....give them some attention....and start the timeline back to when James must have gotten there....and let them into the backyard...and then LEFT THEM OUTSIDE. Ya know....in the RAIN.
Hour...maybe an hour and a half.
So later, I call up James.
"Uh, James...what's up buddy?"
"Hey Jeff...what's doing?"
"Hey man....did you have a brainfart earlier?"
"Whatta mean?"
"Well, ya know...letting the dogs out and all."
"Why?"
"Well...when I asked you to let them out in the backyard.....did you not realize that I meant for you to let them out.....and them LET THEM BACK INSIDE??"
"Oh....uh....really?"
"Well....I woulda thought the whole rainstorm might've given you a clue...but..."
"Um...oh yeah, I didn't think of that."
The future generation. Our future leaders.
We're in deep trouble.
Later,
Jeff
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
8/28/05---Chainsaw Charlie
So before we had the threat of Hurricane Katrina, the wife went over to the Home Depot and picked us up a chainsaw...ya know, to scare the hell out of the kids on Halloween---and in case of a bad storm where branches get knocked down. But mainly to scare the kids. So this morning, we get up and go out to the front yard (before the temperature index was above 100 degrees) and take care of some of the fallen branches from the storm, and to thin out a couple of the trees we have that were in need of a good pruning.
I gotta tell ya, I'm up on the ladder, and I'm sweating my ass off, and I got the chainsaw just humming away....and ya know what? You feel like a man. I mean
one of those manly men you see in movies. And then I get off the ladder, trim down some of the bigger branches, order the kids around and tell them to move them to by the street and such....and I was ready to grab Kim by the wrist, take her inside, into the bedroom....and just have my way with her. Because I felt like a manly man!!
But of course, the whole sweaty body thing. Eeeewww.
Here's something that I love in the aftermath of the storm. The talking heads on t.v. are going to seemingly every sight even slightly effected by the storm, and their interviewing some woman who's house is flooded. And we here the following:
"We here at the corner of 225th Avenue & 185 Terrace talking to Mrs Smith."
"I can't believe it....I can't believe my house is flooded."
Well no shit lady, you live in the Everglades. I mean, if you buy your house here in south Florida, and your street has any sort of numbers that are in the hundreds, much less the TWO hundreds....you have bought property that was a swamp 25 years ago. Don't be so fucking surprised that your street gets flooded.
Dipshits....all of them.
Meanwhile, I think I'm going to go cut something down.....the roar of that chainsaw....makes me feel like Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now.
Later,
Jeff
I gotta tell ya, I'm up on the ladder, and I'm sweating my ass off, and I got the chainsaw just humming away....and ya know what? You feel like a man. I mean
one of those manly men you see in movies. And then I get off the ladder, trim down some of the bigger branches, order the kids around and tell them to move them to by the street and such....and I was ready to grab Kim by the wrist, take her inside, into the bedroom....and just have my way with her. Because I felt like a manly man!!
But of course, the whole sweaty body thing. Eeeewww.
Here's something that I love in the aftermath of the storm. The talking heads on t.v. are going to seemingly every sight even slightly effected by the storm, and their interviewing some woman who's house is flooded. And we here the following:
"We here at the corner of 225th Avenue & 185 Terrace talking to Mrs Smith."
"I can't believe it....I can't believe my house is flooded."
Well no shit lady, you live in the Everglades. I mean, if you buy your house here in south Florida, and your street has any sort of numbers that are in the hundreds, much less the TWO hundreds....you have bought property that was a swamp 25 years ago. Don't be so fucking surprised that your street gets flooded.
Dipshits....all of them.
Meanwhile, I think I'm going to go cut something down.....the roar of that chainsaw....makes me feel like Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now.
Later,
Jeff
Friday, August 26, 2005
8/26/05---The Return of...."the cone of death"
So I'm watching a little television on Tuesday night (Rock Star:INXS) when they temporarily interrupted programming (luckily it was when that broad with the ugly hair--Jordis--was singing) to announce that we could expect tropical storm Katrina to hit us sometime on Friday. Say what? Who the hell knew we even had a tropical storm off of the coast? When did this thing show up? All valid questions.
So then I went into work, and after a busy morning, the dreaded rumor mongering went into full effect. Were we going to be off on Friday? Would they let us go home early on Thursday? Was this really going to be something more than a really bad storm? You never know what to believe at the courthouse, because....and this is the gospel truth...we've had two bomb scares in the last month, where they evacuated the FIRST floor of the 10 story building---and DID NOT TELL ANYONE ELSE ABOUT IT. Really. So part of the reason that the rumor mongering goes on is because they usually keep us in the dark about other things.
Supposedly there was a "meeting" of some big muckity mucks late in the afternoon that would give us some direction.
So I get home, and Kim is telling me that she definitely has to go to work the next day (Healthsouth...building that goodwill with the employees). So we go out for dinner and then Borders.....(Kim's comment: "If we're going to be sitting home for a couple of days, by God I'm going to have something to read")....and then based on an irrationally intelligent decision by my wife--decided to do the grocery shopping two days early (rather than go shopping in the middle of a hurricane). But when I get home, I have the message on the answering machine that there is NO work tomorrow. So I called another confidential source (no names....but you know who you are)....who informs me that there isn't going to be work on Friday either (there is noting quite as enjoyable as getting the info EARLY). So we spend yesterday, doing....ya know....basically nothing. We're listening to the talking heads tell us how at the very worst this is a bad tropical storm and BARELY a hurricane. Then about 7pm-ish, our lights begin to dim and flicker a bit, and we decide that this would probably be a real good time to take our new generator out of the box. (cough)
So we do that...get it all set up...an no lie....it was just about that time that the storm, for reasons that no one can ever explain, did something that hurricanes almost NEVER do.
It went south.
Let me repeat that this NEVER happens. The damn thing was proceeding right for the county line at Broward & Palm Beach counties (the one that I live about 3 miles away from)....and then suddenly veered south, where it wreaked havoc on the southern part of Broward and went through Miami-Dade County (who had been told that the storm was not even going to effect them) like wind through a goose.
So, other than one gastro-intestinal incident involving one of the dogs in my son's bedroom (EEEEEEEEEWWWWW).....to quote the great Barry Manilow:
"I made it through the rain....."
Hey, how often do you get to quote Barry???
Later,
Jeff
So then I went into work, and after a busy morning, the dreaded rumor mongering went into full effect. Were we going to be off on Friday? Would they let us go home early on Thursday? Was this really going to be something more than a really bad storm? You never know what to believe at the courthouse, because....and this is the gospel truth...we've had two bomb scares in the last month, where they evacuated the FIRST floor of the 10 story building---and DID NOT TELL ANYONE ELSE ABOUT IT. Really. So part of the reason that the rumor mongering goes on is because they usually keep us in the dark about other things.
Supposedly there was a "meeting" of some big muckity mucks late in the afternoon that would give us some direction.
So I get home, and Kim is telling me that she definitely has to go to work the next day (Healthsouth...building that goodwill with the employees). So we go out for dinner and then Borders.....(Kim's comment: "If we're going to be sitting home for a couple of days, by God I'm going to have something to read")....and then based on an irrationally intelligent decision by my wife--decided to do the grocery shopping two days early (rather than go shopping in the middle of a hurricane). But when I get home, I have the message on the answering machine that there is NO work tomorrow. So I called another confidential source (no names....but you know who you are)....who informs me that there isn't going to be work on Friday either (there is noting quite as enjoyable as getting the info EARLY). So we spend yesterday, doing....ya know....basically nothing. We're listening to the talking heads tell us how at the very worst this is a bad tropical storm and BARELY a hurricane. Then about 7pm-ish, our lights begin to dim and flicker a bit, and we decide that this would probably be a real good time to take our new generator out of the box. (cough)
So we do that...get it all set up...an no lie....it was just about that time that the storm, for reasons that no one can ever explain, did something that hurricanes almost NEVER do.
It went south.
Let me repeat that this NEVER happens. The damn thing was proceeding right for the county line at Broward & Palm Beach counties (the one that I live about 3 miles away from)....and then suddenly veered south, where it wreaked havoc on the southern part of Broward and went through Miami-Dade County (who had been told that the storm was not even going to effect them) like wind through a goose.
So, other than one gastro-intestinal incident involving one of the dogs in my son's bedroom (EEEEEEEEEWWWWW).....to quote the great Barry Manilow:
"I made it through the rain....."
Hey, how often do you get to quote Barry???
Later,
Jeff
Sunday, August 21, 2005
8/21/05---Too much, too soon....a cautionary tale
Some of you may know that, in a previous life (i.e., when I was younger) I used to write articles and columns for wrestling newsletters & websites. Yes, wrestling.
I really don't care much for the current product--truthfully I haven't watched as much as an hour's worth in probably over a year....but I remain an avid student of its history. I received a letter the other day from a friend, who included a reprint of a column that someone else had written a couple of years back. I thought the column was so interesting, I decided to reprint it here. Its an amazing story. The guy it talks about was literally the biggest star in the industry for a brief moment in time. And then, it was all over.....would make a great movie, that's for sure.
I really don't care much for the current product--truthfully I haven't watched as much as an hour's worth in probably over a year....but I remain an avid student of its history. I received a letter the other day from a friend, who included a reprint of a column that someone else had written a couple of years back. I thought the column was so interesting, I decided to reprint it here. Its an amazing story. The guy it talks about was literally the biggest star in the industry for a brief moment in time. And then, it was all over.....would make a great movie, that's for sure.
KENTUCKY FRIED RASSLIN' By Scott Bowden <o:p></o:p>
October 30, 2003
Scott Bowden explains how Tommy “Wildfire” Rich burnt out much too quickly
I had only smoked pot three times previously when a former NWA World champion handed me a joint in the backseat as we traveled from Memphis to Louisville, Kentucky, in October 1994. No, it wasn’t Lou Thesz. It wasn’t Jack Brisco. And it sure as hell wasn’t Giant Baba. (But wouldn’t that have been cool?
In reality (and, yes, I do recognize the irony of using that term in relation to the business), it was Tommy “Wildfire” Rich, who for years was considered the Memphis-area local-boy-done-good — but maybe not so much now inhindsight. Even without the benefit of hindsight, some in the business at the time were probably associating Rich’s monumental push — and on this new technology called “cable TV” no less — with the old adage “right place, right time.” In his early 20s, he feuded with the biggest baddies in front of an ever-expanding stage, such as The Masked Superstar, Ivan Koloff, Tor Kamata and Ray Stevens, often with the Georgia (later “National” to shed the Southern image) title on the line.
Rich, a former football player at Hendersonville High School, had gotten his start in the business because his mother, Peggy Richardson, was friendly with area wrestler Eddie Marlin. The story goes that through Marlin, Rich got hooked up with Tojo Yamamoto (the late Harold Wantanabe), who was often used by the promotion as an enforcer of sorts to run off would-be ‘rasslers by beating the hell out of them.
Although that seems hard for me to imagine, given that I never saw Tojo in his heyday, Jerry Lawler has always told the story that way. Apparently, Tojo was incredibly stiff with the greenhorns, including the man who would be King in his first few bouts with the promotion in the ’70s.
Rich debuted around 1974 —within three years he and upcoming-star Lawler were feuding over the then-NWA Southern title, culminating with a hot program in 1977. Shortly thereafter he made his way to Atlanta around 1977 — at the right place, the right time — and became the number-one babyface on Ted Turner’s fledging WTBS network in the process. Reportedly, he was initially scheduled to be the latest pretty boy to be fed to menacing heel Abdullah the Butcher; however, promoter Jim Barnett saw something in Peggy Richardson’s son that would appeal to teenage girls, moms, grandmas and even men alike: a legit country boy with a temper.
On those Channel 17 broadcasts of the time, which started precisely at 5 minutes past the hour (and often after an Atlanta Braves loss), Rich came off as the good ol’ boy in all of us. Rich was never a strong interview but that almost worked in his favor. He came off unpolished — though often polite to announcer Gordon Solie — and ready to fight at a moment’s notice, which carried a lot of weight in the South. Often, his interviews were downright incoherent: “Somebody say something about ‘crazy time’? Well, it’s gonna be crazy time when I get a hold of you.” Um, not exactly a catchphrase of the time.
The Apter mags fell in love with Rich and included him in the regular rotation of cover boys like Dusty Rhodes, Andre the Giant, Harley Race, Superstar Graham, Bob Backlund, Mil Mascaras, Ric Flair and Ricky Steamboat.
Although a bit awkward in his movements around the ring, Rich was a good worker, better than most today give him credit for. He was certainly no Ted DiBiase, another young babyface who often worked Atlanta in the ’70s and ’80s (before becoming a dastardly black-gloved heel). Perennial NWA champ Harley Race, who had a lot of say as to who he dropped the belt to and when, supposedly assured DiBiase at one point that he’d get the much-vaunted 10 pounds of gold for an extended run someday. DiBiase certainly had the ability to be a classic touring NWA champ — one who could wrestle any style and make the local hero look like a million dollars in the process. But Rich was more than capable and had a likeable, clumsy charisma that DiBiase didn’t have.
According to a recent published report by Dave Meltzer of THE WRESTLING OBSERVER, Rich was under consideration to be a touring NWA World champion. But first he returned to Memphis in 1980, at a time when the territory’s top-draw Lawler was recovering from a broken leg. Nine-year-old mark Scott Bowden watched with much anticipation as Rich, in his first appearance back, wrestled longtime babyface Bill Dundee, with the winner to receive a Southern title shot. The two did some damn fine mat wrestling before Rich apparently head-butted Dundee below the belt as he attempted a backdrop. Rich picked up Dundee to ensure he was OK, and then quickly wrapped up his foe in a small package for the win. (Does anyone do the small package anymore? Sigh.) Immediately after turning on Dundee, Rich further disappointed announcer Lance Russell and the viewing audience by shoving Lawler, who was doing commentary (with nary a mention of puppies or any such nonsense), to the studio floor. Soon after, Rich aligned himself with manager Jimmy Hart and Bobby Eaton. We speculate that he was being groomed for the NWA title and was sent to Memphis to learn the heel style, much like David Von Erich did in Florida in the early ’80s. In those days, wrestling news traveled slowly — I often heard about World title changes first through the Apter mags. The Rich heel turn was sure to be a magazine seller, so the country boy turned heel was plastered on the covers of both THE WRESTLER and INSIDE WRESTLING, with the latter featuring the fabricated quote “The fans can go to hell!” (Yep, those Apter interviews were a work.) Of course, by the time those mags hit the newsstands Rich had already turned babyface after former mentor Yamamoto and “Handsome” Jimmy Valiant attacked Rich’s mother during an interview. While disappointed female fans outside the Memphis area unquestionably cried upon reading Apter’s report (and I’m not kidding there), they wouldn’t be upset long.
Instead of the usual intro to the WTBS wrestling show in early 1981, viewers saw a hand putting an 8-track tape into the deck of a Firebird. As Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” blared, the camera pulled back to reveal Rich, who apparently was headed back to Georgia. Atlanta's brave babyface was home.
Upon his return, Rich was even more over than before, if that’s possible. According to some of the boys who were around then, Rich made as much as $7,000 a week as he appeared in townsranging from Columbus, Georgia, to Columbus, Ohio. With the exception of Rhodes and Andre the Giant, he very well could have been the hottest box-office attraction in the business in 1981.
To explain Rich’s absence, Solie had sold the story that Tommy had left the area because of his inability to defeat Race for the World title. But now Rich was not to be denied. No, he didn’t get the proposed extended run with the most important title in the business. Promoter Barnett, the one responsible for pushing Rich to the moon, didn’t want to lose his top drawing card, but was able to convince Race to drop the title for a few days to Rich. Barnett asked Race to make Rich champion in order to make the youngster a viable contender in the fans’ eyes. After all, if the belt never changed hands, the fans would wise up. And besides, Rich was the hottest babyface on cable TV. In Race’s shoot interview of a few years ago, he claims he told Barnett: “Fine, but if you think I’m gonna let him have the title for more than a few days, you’re crazy.”
According to the ref who worked the match, Rich didn’t even know he was going to win the belt until he arrived to the small arena in Augusta, Georgia, for what was supposed to be nothing more than the usual spot-show main event against Race.
When Rich rebounded off the ropes to catch Race in the Thesz press — a move most recently used by Steve Austin — for the three count, the crowd erupted. In a classic moment, Rich appeared more dumbfounded than Race — he had become the third-youngest man in history to win the NWA World title. As the ref handed Rich the domed gold belt, the new champion hugged him and they tumbled to the mat together — a wonderful unscripted moment.
Race was already scheduled to defend the NWA’s laurels against Rich for the rest of the week, so the impromptu plan was for the ex-champ to regain the title five days later in Gainesville, Georgia, in front of an even smaller crowd than in Augusta and with no TV cameras to capture the moment.
The whole scenario was a bit odd — even for the wrestling business. If the idea was to put Rich over as a legit top-tier grappler to the fans, why wasn’t he allowed at least one appearance with the title on the most-watched wrestling program in the world? And, why, after years of close calls in front of big crowds at Atlanta’s Omni, did Rich win the title in front of less than 1,000 fans at a spot show? Adding to the controversy, Race had already dropped the title to Florida-fave Dusty Rhodes less than a year before for the same time period — five days — before regaining it, which some felt cheapened the belt and only made Rhodes look weak. Because of the circumstances surrounding the title change, years later a rumor emerged insinuating that Barnett — a known homosexual — arranged the switch only after blackmailing Rich to sleep with him. I address this because it’s not only a frequent topic on message boards such as KAYFABE MEMORIES’ Georgia section, but it’s also a rumor that has again picked up steam with the publication of CHOKEHOLD, the memoirs of disgruntled ex-wrestler/pro football player Jim Wilson (best known for appearing with Eddy Mansfield on 20/20’s expose on the biz in 1985). It’s simply not true. Most of the rumormongers don’t understand just how much Rich was over at the time. Think Race would have dropped the strap to Rich otherwise? No way.
Unfortunately, like hotshots in any profession, Rich couldn’t handle that much success at age 24. He partied a lot. He drank heavily. He put on weight. He cut himself so many times with the blade that his forehead started resembling that of legendary bleeders like Rhodes and Abdullah. Less than five years after winning the most prestigious title in the business, his star had faded. And with the emergence of Hulk Hogan and sports entertainment, he was done as a player in the industry.
Wildfire had burned himself out by the time he was 32.
I first met Tommy during my initial ref stint around 1991. Wearing an outdated three-piece suit, he introduced himself as “Big Dick Hertz” as he gave me the boys’ working handshake backstage at the Mid-South Coliseum.
Three years later, I was his heel manager, accompanying he and Doug Gilbert to the ring in cities like Memphis, Nashville, Louisville. Overweight and looking nothing like the WTBS hero who broke hearts years ago, Rich sometimes worked matches intoxicated. One night, with the former World champion reeking of tequila, I helped carry him to the dressing room area as his blood gushed over my starched Polo button down. If it sounds sad, it was.
I asked him once about footage from his glory days as a superstar on the SuperStation. Before I could finish my sentence, he cut me off: “I don’t have any of that stuff. None.” He clearly didn’t enjoy talking about the past, which, in my opinion, haunted him.
Shortly after we smoked that joint on way to Louisville, we stopped at Subway. The excited old woman behind the counter beamed: “Oh, my gosh. Are you Tommy Rich?” His reply: “Yessum.” And when she asked for his autograph on a Subway napkin, he again replied, “Yessum.” Apparently, Peggy had taught her son well.
I’ll never forget Rich’s comments to me after I graduated from the University of Memphis with a BA in journalism during our heel run: “Put that diploma to work. Don’t let this business screw you up like me.”
Hope you enjoyed the article.
Later,
Jeff
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
8/16/05--T.V. recommendations
I hate reality television. Never saw one episode of Survivor, The Bachelor, The Big Race....any of that shit. And yet, here in the dog days of summer I've found myself checking out a couple of reality shows. I feel such shame. The other evening, I sat down and watched an evening of television, and laughed my ass off. I started with:
1) BRAVO>KATHY GRIFFIN MY LIFE ON THE D-LIST--this is the best reality show on t.v. right now. Griffin is absolutely hilarious, taking in all the vagaries of celebrity with a jaded eye, and mooching anything free whenever she can get her hands on it. I love the fact that she's so honest about her own cheapness. She has become what Joan Rivers USED to be.
2) Welcome to The Simpsons.com---after 16 years, the show isn't always "on" like it used to be...but every once in awhile, they hit one out of the park. Such was the case the other night, when the episode dealt with Bart wanting to convert to Catholicism. Now, I was born and raised Catholic, and I really probably should've taken offense at what I saw, but I was too busy laughing my ass off. Among the hilites: The young priest recalling for Bart the day he received his calling from God,
Marge's view of what Catholic heaven must look like (think "Riverdance") and finally, religious zealot and next door neighbor Ned Flanders explains Catholicism to Marge ("Its like Simon Says with no ending!"). Very, very funny episode.
3) Family Guy--since, as I just mentioned, the Simpson's no longer hits a home run every single time out anymore, I'm often asked what my favorite show on television is. No contest. This show takes that fine line that the Simpson's so carefully tread upon...and step on, kick it and stomp all over it. The series that wouldn't die has been brought back time and time again, mainly because its the funniest, and yet most depraved, show on television. A must see.
4) Comedy Central's Roast: Pamela Anderson--now, despite what I just said about the Family Guy....for one single night....and not an entire season of shows.....this was one amazing night. I mean, at first glance you might wonder why in the hell someone like Pam Anderson would be getting roasted. Personally, although she's a very nice looking woman with a couple of nice store boughts....I couldn't care less about Pamela Anderson. That being said--this was one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my life. Crude, vulgar, decadent....it was all that and more. This wasn't the kind of show that you'd show to your conservative Aunt Millie from Topeka. But holy crap would she be missing one funny ass show. Some of the comics featured are:
Jimmy Kimmel, Adam Corolla, Nick Dipaolo, Greg Giraldo, Jeffrey Ross & Lisa Lampinelli. In particular, Dipaolo & Laminelli KILLED. A must see when its repeated 50 times during the month on Comedy Central.
Later,
Jeff
PS...okay, okay...even though I don't like reality shows, I also admit that I got roped into watching American Idol by my wife....and that whole RockStar Inxs is a great train wreck. And speaking of train wrecks, what could be better than watching the slow inevitable downward spiral that is Whitney Houston on that Bobby Brown show....and then there's.....ah, screw it. I think I'm hooked.
1) BRAVO>KATHY GRIFFIN MY LIFE ON THE D-LIST--this is the best reality show on t.v. right now. Griffin is absolutely hilarious, taking in all the vagaries of celebrity with a jaded eye, and mooching anything free whenever she can get her hands on it. I love the fact that she's so honest about her own cheapness. She has become what Joan Rivers USED to be.
2) Welcome to The Simpsons.com---after 16 years, the show isn't always "on" like it used to be...but every once in awhile, they hit one out of the park. Such was the case the other night, when the episode dealt with Bart wanting to convert to Catholicism. Now, I was born and raised Catholic, and I really probably should've taken offense at what I saw, but I was too busy laughing my ass off. Among the hilites: The young priest recalling for Bart the day he received his calling from God,
Marge's view of what Catholic heaven must look like (think "Riverdance") and finally, religious zealot and next door neighbor Ned Flanders explains Catholicism to Marge ("Its like Simon Says with no ending!"). Very, very funny episode.
3) Family Guy--since, as I just mentioned, the Simpson's no longer hits a home run every single time out anymore, I'm often asked what my favorite show on television is. No contest. This show takes that fine line that the Simpson's so carefully tread upon...and step on, kick it and stomp all over it. The series that wouldn't die has been brought back time and time again, mainly because its the funniest, and yet most depraved, show on television. A must see.
4) Comedy Central's Roast: Pamela Anderson--now, despite what I just said about the Family Guy....for one single night....and not an entire season of shows.....this was one amazing night. I mean, at first glance you might wonder why in the hell someone like Pam Anderson would be getting roasted. Personally, although she's a very nice looking woman with a couple of nice store boughts....I couldn't care less about Pamela Anderson. That being said--this was one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my life. Crude, vulgar, decadent....it was all that and more. This wasn't the kind of show that you'd show to your conservative Aunt Millie from Topeka. But holy crap would she be missing one funny ass show. Some of the comics featured are:
Jimmy Kimmel, Adam Corolla, Nick Dipaolo, Greg Giraldo, Jeffrey Ross & Lisa Lampinelli. In particular, Dipaolo & Laminelli KILLED. A must see when its repeated 50 times during the month on Comedy Central.
Later,
Jeff
PS...okay, okay...even though I don't like reality shows, I also admit that I got roped into watching American Idol by my wife....and that whole RockStar Inxs is a great train wreck. And speaking of train wrecks, what could be better than watching the slow inevitable downward spiral that is Whitney Houston on that Bobby Brown show....and then there's.....ah, screw it. I think I'm hooked.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
8/13/05---So, about our vacation....
I guess your wondering what happened. Well, we spent 4 days and 3 nights up in Orlando at Universal Studios at their Royal Pacific resort hotel. The hotel was a little pricey, but the key to the whole thing was that by staying on grounds, we get to use their "express" service in the park, which basically allows you to jump right to the front of the line. That may not mean anything to you in the winter...but in the dead of summer---OMAN. It was worth every penny.
We got there Sunday, checked in and then were joined for dinner by Kim's friend Pam. We had to take advantage of the opportunity to get a Chicago style pizza at Uno's (who aren't down in south Florida). Of course, I should say we had to take advantage of the opportunity to get some major heartburn. Oy vey! Anyway, after dinner we went over and got our express passes so that we would be ready and raring to go in the morning. We got back to the hotel and noticed our first problem.
There seemed to be a "slight" problem with the water pressure at the hotel. And by "slight", I mean....ya know....almost none. Imagine if you will, standing under a hose in your backyard. That's about how much water pressure this "luxury" resort was offering. The next day we hit the park, first going to the Universal side as we let Kellie overcome her fears by returning to the "Twister" exhibit. The last time we had all gone there she about freaked out over the whole tornado thing. Of course, as I reminded her...that was back when she was just a kid. (Cough) Next up we managed to go to the Men in Black//Alien Attack ride, which was fun except for the whole spinning around thing that I hate. We also did the Earthquake ride, which by now is slightly tame in comparison to some of the others....and caught the new Mummy roller coaster ride, which was actually pretty darned good in a sort of Space Mountain-esque way. Ya know, the whole roller coaster ride in the dark thing. Eventually we made our way over to the Jaws boat ride, which was one of the real highlites of the week for us, as Kellie forgot about the fake shark for a moment and it came out of the water right next to her. She must have jumped a foot out of her seat--it was hilarious! After dinner, we went over to the Islands of Adventure park and let Andy do the Incredible Hulk roller coaster (no thank you) and did the Spiderman & Doctor Doom rides. Finally, as the sun began to go down, we went over to the waterpark section and rode the rapid rivers of the Popeye ride--one of my personal faves at the park. Kim got absolutely soaked.
The Dudley Do Right ride was also a lot of fun, as was trying to explain to the kids that the joke was that Dudley was the stupid one--the horse was the smart one.
The next day, we decided to skip the buffet at the hotel (only $15 each!) and just sort of skipped breakfast. More rides for the kids, more heat from the sun, and more blisters on my feet. Am I really getting to be an old fart? So finally, its the day we leave. We move our checkout time back to noonish, and are going to let the kids hit the rides that they wanted to do again one more time and then head out home. So we all get up, and I'm in the bathroom shaving, ya know, looking sexy like only I can....and I notice this flashing light in the bathroom.
"Kim, what the hell is with the flashing light?"
"I think its a fire alarm."
"Well send Kellie out into the hallway to find out what's going on."
So Kellie goes out into the hallway, and sees some workers from the hotel at the end of the hallway. She hears something, calls for her mom, who reports to me.....
"They just said the fire alarm went off because of something in room 1205."
Wanna guess what room we were in?
Anyone? How about you?
So Kim immediately begins grabbing things near and dear to her, preparing for the mad dash into the hallway....and I'm telling her that there is NOT a fire. (Good thing too, with that crappy water pressure in the hotel) So the hotel staff comes in the room, checks it out....and figures out (this is a good one)...that the cleaning staff, while cleaning the room next door to us--ya know, the one that connects to our room--had done just a little TOO GOOD on the cleaning, and had stirred up so much dust in their cleaning....that it set off the fire alarm.
This shit only happens to me.
So now that the Towering Inferno has been resolved, we decide to head to the park.
Before we go in, Kim decides she wants a croissant or something, so we go into this little restaurant inside the Islands of Adventure. I orderd a hot chocolate, and I'm sitting there....when holy crap, my main man Barry Rose walks past!! Yep, the original Playboy himself. Kim shakes her head in amazement, because she always jokes about how, whereever we go, I always run into someone I know. I'm going to have to vacation in Antartica and see if that shit is true.
Anyway, I have a nice visit with Barry, do some quick catching up--find out he's the manager of the restaurant and has worked there for like 2 years (that's me--Mr. Keep in Touch with everyone!) and how he & his wife are doing, etc. We happen to mention the whole water pressure thing to him, mainly because he said that the Universal people are really conscious of wanting everyone to have a great time, and be return customers...that sort of thing. He told us to mention the water pressure at the front desk when we checked out and see what happened.
Well, suffice to say....we did just that....and got $100 off of our bill.
Squeaky wheel gets the grease baby. But it was sure good to be home.
Later,
Jeff
We got there Sunday, checked in and then were joined for dinner by Kim's friend Pam. We had to take advantage of the opportunity to get a Chicago style pizza at Uno's (who aren't down in south Florida). Of course, I should say we had to take advantage of the opportunity to get some major heartburn. Oy vey! Anyway, after dinner we went over and got our express passes so that we would be ready and raring to go in the morning. We got back to the hotel and noticed our first problem.
There seemed to be a "slight" problem with the water pressure at the hotel. And by "slight", I mean....ya know....almost none. Imagine if you will, standing under a hose in your backyard. That's about how much water pressure this "luxury" resort was offering. The next day we hit the park, first going to the Universal side as we let Kellie overcome her fears by returning to the "Twister" exhibit. The last time we had all gone there she about freaked out over the whole tornado thing. Of course, as I reminded her...that was back when she was just a kid. (Cough) Next up we managed to go to the Men in Black//Alien Attack ride, which was fun except for the whole spinning around thing that I hate. We also did the Earthquake ride, which by now is slightly tame in comparison to some of the others....and caught the new Mummy roller coaster ride, which was actually pretty darned good in a sort of Space Mountain-esque way. Ya know, the whole roller coaster ride in the dark thing. Eventually we made our way over to the Jaws boat ride, which was one of the real highlites of the week for us, as Kellie forgot about the fake shark for a moment and it came out of the water right next to her. She must have jumped a foot out of her seat--it was hilarious! After dinner, we went over to the Islands of Adventure park and let Andy do the Incredible Hulk roller coaster (no thank you) and did the Spiderman & Doctor Doom rides. Finally, as the sun began to go down, we went over to the waterpark section and rode the rapid rivers of the Popeye ride--one of my personal faves at the park. Kim got absolutely soaked.
The Dudley Do Right ride was also a lot of fun, as was trying to explain to the kids that the joke was that Dudley was the stupid one--the horse was the smart one.
The next day, we decided to skip the buffet at the hotel (only $15 each!) and just sort of skipped breakfast. More rides for the kids, more heat from the sun, and more blisters on my feet. Am I really getting to be an old fart? So finally, its the day we leave. We move our checkout time back to noonish, and are going to let the kids hit the rides that they wanted to do again one more time and then head out home. So we all get up, and I'm in the bathroom shaving, ya know, looking sexy like only I can....and I notice this flashing light in the bathroom.
"Kim, what the hell is with the flashing light?"
"I think its a fire alarm."
"Well send Kellie out into the hallway to find out what's going on."
So Kellie goes out into the hallway, and sees some workers from the hotel at the end of the hallway. She hears something, calls for her mom, who reports to me.....
"They just said the fire alarm went off because of something in room 1205."
Wanna guess what room we were in?
Anyone? How about you?
So Kim immediately begins grabbing things near and dear to her, preparing for the mad dash into the hallway....and I'm telling her that there is NOT a fire. (Good thing too, with that crappy water pressure in the hotel) So the hotel staff comes in the room, checks it out....and figures out (this is a good one)...that the cleaning staff, while cleaning the room next door to us--ya know, the one that connects to our room--had done just a little TOO GOOD on the cleaning, and had stirred up so much dust in their cleaning....that it set off the fire alarm.
This shit only happens to me.
So now that the Towering Inferno has been resolved, we decide to head to the park.
Before we go in, Kim decides she wants a croissant or something, so we go into this little restaurant inside the Islands of Adventure. I orderd a hot chocolate, and I'm sitting there....when holy crap, my main man Barry Rose walks past!! Yep, the original Playboy himself. Kim shakes her head in amazement, because she always jokes about how, whereever we go, I always run into someone I know. I'm going to have to vacation in Antartica and see if that shit is true.
Anyway, I have a nice visit with Barry, do some quick catching up--find out he's the manager of the restaurant and has worked there for like 2 years (that's me--Mr. Keep in Touch with everyone!) and how he & his wife are doing, etc. We happen to mention the whole water pressure thing to him, mainly because he said that the Universal people are really conscious of wanting everyone to have a great time, and be return customers...that sort of thing. He told us to mention the water pressure at the front desk when we checked out and see what happened.
Well, suffice to say....we did just that....and got $100 off of our bill.
Squeaky wheel gets the grease baby. But it was sure good to be home.
Later,
Jeff
Friday, August 12, 2005
8/12/05---Angry consumer fights back
So I'm at work yesterday....and I got a phone call that really just pushed my buttons.
It was a phone call that I can honestly say that I hadn't gotten at work, well....at least one of "that type", since the late 80's. I got a call from a credit card company.
I was pretty surprised. Kim essentially does the bill paying in our family, she writes out the checks etc etc. I'm not completely in the dark with our finances like I was...ahem...on another occasion, but let's face it--she pays the bills (I bring home the bacon, she fries it up in a pan). So I get on the phone...and the following is an approximation of the conversation that took place.
"Is this Jeff...."?
"Yes it is."
"Yes, I'm calling about the account you have with HSBC."
(Now literally, I need to interject here--it had been so long since I had gotten one of these calls that I thought it was one of my friends ribbing me)
"Say what?"
"Your account with HSBC. Our records show that you had a payment of $320 due a few weeks ago that we haven't received."
"Your kidding me! Wow, I'll call my wife right now and have her make a payment by phone or computer by the end of the day."
"Excuse me?"
"I said I'll have my wife make a payment via computer or phone today. She's the one in our family who writes the checks....she must have forgotten to make the payment."
"I'm sorry....our records show you as the primary cardholder."
"Uh...yeah...and?"
"Sir, you're the primary cardholder and you don't know if a payment was made?"
"Like I said...my wife mails out the bills. I'll call her right now and find out what happened."
"You don't know the status of your own account? You are the primary account holder you know."
"Yes, I know that....and like I said, my wife pays the bills."
"Well, can I count on you for a payment today then? How much shall I put you down for?"
"Did you not just hear me? I said I was going to call my wife and have her make a payment today."
"Yeah, well...you're the primary accountholder. Will you be making a payment?"
I should mention that it was about this point when I lost it.
"Dude....you're an OPERATOR. Don't worry about how I make the payment.
I'm not going to sit here and be lectured by an operator."
I hung up the phone then and was highly pissed. I called up Kim, who told me that she thought that she had made the payment and would check on it and give me an answer when I got home.
I got home a few hours later, and Kim apologized, telling me that we had two cards with that company--one in her name, one in mine. She had made the payment on the card in her name, but had somehow not paid the account under my name. She told me that she had already called in an made a payment though.
Today, I got home from work--and transferred the entire balance out of my HSBC account into another account--at a lower rate. One snot nosed operator has officially cost HSBC a customer. Kim's card will also be closed out within the next 3 days. All this because some hot shot decided to try and make me feel like some piece of shit because I was a couple of weeks late on a payment.
Excuse me for saying it, but:
Fuck them.
Later,
Jeff
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
8/10/05--back from vacation
We have returned from Orlando, and our vacation at the Universal Studios resort.
Details on that one in the days to come--but first, less we forget....folks, we have to talk about the big shindig in honor of my wife on this past Saturday night. Classic.
We had decided that in lieu of a party here at the house, that what we would do is to go to the HardRock Casino here in town and bring a large group of friends to this club called 88 Dualing Pianos. What they do at the club is have these two pianos facing one another on a small stage in the middle of the club, and these three piano players rotate in and out throughout the evening playing pretty much any song that you could think of. Seriously. We had everything from Billy Joel to Jimmy Buffett to country to hiphop to t.v. show theme songs. It was just tons of fun. But let's go back to the beginning and briefly recap the evenings events. We were joined for dinner at Carabbas (home of the world's best spicy chicken soup) by Kim's brother, his friends Tim & Debbie and her brother in law Jorge. We had gotten Tim & Debbie to let us use their Ford Expedition so that we could have someone be the designated driver. Uh....allegedly. So after a nice dinner, we step out of the restaurant right into the middle of undoubtably one of the most horrific lightening storms I've seen in my over 30 years of living in south Florida. Good Lord, it was horrible. Now, at this point we were going to swing by the house real quick and drop our take home food off with the kids and be on our way. Time was working out well, as it wasn't quite 6:45 and I had wanted to be at the casino by 7:30pm at the latest, in case anyone showed up early to the club. Kim then decides to call our neighbors Jimmy & Mary, who had told us they were coming, and ask them if they wanted to join us in the SUV. Mary said she needed another 20 minutes, and Kim told her she had 5. Allegedly. We pulled up into their driveway and waited. And waited...and waited. I began to get the feeling that Mary was higher maintenence than I may have realized. We drive to the casino, egging on Tim (who was driving) through the torrential downpour. When we get there, because of the weather, the valet service had shut down and the parking garage was nearly full. Ugh. Things were not looking good. After about a 10 minute drive thru the garage, we stumble onto a spot and head to the casino....allegedly. First we stop off for a quick pitstop that turns into a 15 minute wait. Mary. She had to finish her makeup. Yep, high maintenence that one. So finally we get to the club. Luckily, only one couple had gotten there early, so it wasn't like I had to deal with a bunch of people screaming and yelling at us for being late. So everyone else moved into the club while I stood outside with Jorge waiting for anyone who might come walking up. Hilarity ensued.
Most of the people walking up (not in our party mind you) thought Jorge & I were the bouncers and began to show us their i.d.'s and try and hand us the cover charge of $6. After a while, Kim came out and asked me how we were doing. I told her that I didn't know about her, but I had made $20 and had two new phone numbers.
Finally most people we expected arrived (two no-shows. HUMPF!). Around 8:30 the show started and the place just lit up like a Christmas tree. Literally every person that came that night, whether they were friends of mine or Kim's told us what a great time that they had and how they wanted to come back to the club again.
Lots of fun sing a longs and the fun of getting to see Kim called onto stage and have the entire crowd wish her a happy 40th birthday. She then had to do a little dance for everyone to the "hokeypokey". Then she had to dance with some other guy who was also celebrating his birthday. She had to put her fingers in the guys belt loops while I played the role of outraged husband. It was really a lot of fun though. Meanwhile, at some point during the evening, Mary had lost a contact lense and was sitting there with one eye closed. If that wasn't bad enough, she was getting---hmm, well....incredibly drunk would be a good name for it. She fell asleep on her husband's shoulder and when she was awake, she was only opening one eye (because of her contact lense). It was really pretty hilarious, getting even worse on the ride home when she began making....hmm....what can only be described as desperately inappropriate comments. Inappropriate yes, fall out of your chair laughing---oh hell yes. I can't imagine she'll remember even one second of it.
Isn't that what parties are all about?
Next time---Orlando & Universal---good Lord to my feet hurt.
Later,
Jeff
Saturday, August 6, 2005
8/6/05---Oh yeah, by the way.....
Yesterday was my wife's 40th birthday. I just realized....I've never been romantically involved with a 40 yr old woman (okay, excluding that one crazy night in Cleveland that I don't think we should discuss). Far be it for me to forget her birthday and....my one year anniversary as an "official dad".
Happy Birthday honey.....I pretty much...ya know....love you. Kinda. Ya know.
So as you may have guessed, that's the 3rd Mrs Me right there above ya. Last night we went out for a little dinner with some family and friends....about 12 of us, and we had a wonderful time. Making the dinner even more interesting, at least to the male of the species, was that the table next to us seemed to be....hmm...what could best be described as...."The Breast Augmentation Table". I mean, every single woman sitting there. It was amazing. My friend Johnny came over to see me today, and I tried to tell him about it--ya know, to impress him--and the bastard topped me by telling me about how the hotel he works at is hosting a porno convention.
Rat bastard.
Later,
Jeff
Happy Birthday honey.....I pretty much...ya know....love you. Kinda. Ya know.
So as you may have guessed, that's the 3rd Mrs Me right there above ya. Last night we went out for a little dinner with some family and friends....about 12 of us, and we had a wonderful time. Making the dinner even more interesting, at least to the male of the species, was that the table next to us seemed to be....hmm...what could best be described as...."The Breast Augmentation Table". I mean, every single woman sitting there. It was amazing. My friend Johnny came over to see me today, and I tried to tell him about it--ya know, to impress him--and the bastard topped me by telling me about how the hotel he works at is hosting a porno convention.
Rat bastard.
Later,
Jeff
Friday, August 5, 2005
8/5/05---one long ass week
What a week. On the work front, we had to switch our courtroom this week, since there was some repair work to be done in the courtroom this week. This meant, of course, change. I do not adapt well to change in the work environment. And it was so stupid. There is this wall, about 3 feet high, that is front of where the audience sits, seperating the audience from the court personnel. A few months back, we started noticing how the wall was beginning to wobble a bit, and it was only a matter of time before the damned thing fell over and ended up causing a civil lawsuit. So the judge called court administration, and put in an order to do the repair.
Now, mind you, I know nothing about carpentry work. I'll preface my comments with that statement. But my brother does exactly this sort of work, and I guaran-damn-tee you that he, working by himself, would've had the job done in two days, maximum. The idiots from the courthouse that they had working on it, all THREE of them, still hadn't finished it as of this afternoon. That's five days of work, THREE men....and still not done. What a clusterfuck. So because of Moe, Larry & Curly, we're forced to go and use another courtroom for the entire week. It just throws off your timing. I didn't know where my various paperwork was, the occasional court document that had to be prepared would have to first be searched for---ya know, that sort of shit. And so yesterday, we had one of the alltime great screwups in the history of our court division. This woman comes in to court, and according to the file and the court docket, is charged with illegally carrying a raised white cane. She's Haitian, speaking nothing but Creole. So I call her name, which is Aline Desir (or something like that). Stay with we here---this is going to get a little complicated.
So after I call the name, the Haitian woman starts coming forward. It was at this point that another woman in the audience raises her hand and said that her daughter had gotten a notice for the same case. Her daughter's name was Arlene Desir. She was only like 14 yrs old. The information on our court file, the biographical info, was on Arlene's MOTHER. Oh wait, it kept getting better. Apparently the charge, remember...the "raised white cane" thing....that was wrong. The actual charge should have been crossing a street outside a crosswalk. Come to find out, the woman (the original Haitian one--who's name was "Aline') had been hit crossing the street and got taken to the hospital in an ambulance. The officer on scene got her name, but no other info...and as near as we can figure looked in the phone book for any biographical data on this Aline Desir. Only problem is, the info he found was for someone named ARLENE Desir. No wait, he got Arlene's name---but Arlene's mother's info. Are you still with me here? So what we had at this point was.....
1) Wrong defendant
2) Wrong charge
3) Wrong info
Which means.....
Time to call a supervisor.
Oh, but wait---it gets even better. Ya see, all this was discovered relatively late in the morning. Ya know, after the bomb threat. Did I mention there was a bomb threat??? I probably forgot to mention it because you see---no one had told us up to that point either. Again, using top notch government logic, the first floor of the courthouse (make that the TEN FLOOR courthouse) was evacuated. I guess the thinking was that if it was a bomb, and it went off...and ya know....the rest of the building began to slowly begin to collapse on top of it....that I would just grab hold of the strongest table I could find and ride it down to the first floor. Or not.
But anyway, I mention the bomb threat mainly because....well our supervisors were sort of confined to the office. And so were the interpreters in the courthouse, which made it even more difficult to get any info out of the original Aline Desir. Luckily, we had a brand new prosecutor who spoke Creole and was trying to find out what in the blue hell was going on. So one of my supervisors comes up....and wouldn't you know it...it was the one who knew nothing about traffic cases. And the people who would know what was happening? They were basically barricaded into their office at the rear of the first floor--not answering the phone. Finally, the traffic manager came up and--oh yeah, I forgot this part--the charge? It wasn't even criminal. It was a lousy traffic infraction. Oh yeah...and one more bit of news. The young girl's mother....who's biographical info had been put on the ticket by the officer? She started getting the bill for the ambulance!!! Just amazing.
Eventually the traffic divison manager took the whole file and took it with her to try and comprehend all that was screwed up with the court file. I figure she should have it all done by sometime next week.
But wait...I'm not done yet. Remember the bomb? Well, apparently whatever they thought it was worried them to the point where they sent in--not the bomb squad--but one of those freakin ROBOTS to see what the hell it was. I think it ended up being an empty briefcase that someone had left behind. Finally, I get to the end of the workday. I go out to my car and....my air conditioner isn't working right. Now, if I lived in Alaska, I wouldn't give a shit. But in Florida--in August--where the term "Africa hot" applies on a daily basis--your damned right I cared. So I'm driving home, sweating my ass off...and I'm exhausted from a long day at work...one of those not just physically exhausted, but mentally too....and I'm a block from my house. There's a 4-way stop sign. I get up to it, and this guy in a Mazda truck is pulling away and proceeding through. He's all the way through mind you. And I sorta do the old California stop. I admit it. But it wasn't like I was cutting the guy off or anything---I just wanted you to know that for the purpose of this part of the story. All of a sudden, the guy stops the truck and leans out the window.
"That's a fucking four way stop sign asshole! Can't you read the fucking stop sign!"
Now mind you...I truly can't convey to you how psychotic the guy looked. Total road rage going on. And he finally drove away, still cursing me out. And after I parked my car at my house and went inside, I started thinking about how situations like that are what ends up with someone being shot and killed. And I also thought of something else......
Exactly who did I piss off to deserve a day like this?
Holy crap...I couldn't wait to get to bed.
Later,
Jeff
Now, mind you, I know nothing about carpentry work. I'll preface my comments with that statement. But my brother does exactly this sort of work, and I guaran-damn-tee you that he, working by himself, would've had the job done in two days, maximum. The idiots from the courthouse that they had working on it, all THREE of them, still hadn't finished it as of this afternoon. That's five days of work, THREE men....and still not done. What a clusterfuck. So because of Moe, Larry & Curly, we're forced to go and use another courtroom for the entire week. It just throws off your timing. I didn't know where my various paperwork was, the occasional court document that had to be prepared would have to first be searched for---ya know, that sort of shit. And so yesterday, we had one of the alltime great screwups in the history of our court division. This woman comes in to court, and according to the file and the court docket, is charged with illegally carrying a raised white cane. She's Haitian, speaking nothing but Creole. So I call her name, which is Aline Desir (or something like that). Stay with we here---this is going to get a little complicated.
So after I call the name, the Haitian woman starts coming forward. It was at this point that another woman in the audience raises her hand and said that her daughter had gotten a notice for the same case. Her daughter's name was Arlene Desir. She was only like 14 yrs old. The information on our court file, the biographical info, was on Arlene's MOTHER. Oh wait, it kept getting better. Apparently the charge, remember...the "raised white cane" thing....that was wrong. The actual charge should have been crossing a street outside a crosswalk. Come to find out, the woman (the original Haitian one--who's name was "Aline') had been hit crossing the street and got taken to the hospital in an ambulance. The officer on scene got her name, but no other info...and as near as we can figure looked in the phone book for any biographical data on this Aline Desir. Only problem is, the info he found was for someone named ARLENE Desir. No wait, he got Arlene's name---but Arlene's mother's info. Are you still with me here? So what we had at this point was.....
1) Wrong defendant
2) Wrong charge
3) Wrong info
Which means.....
Time to call a supervisor.
Oh, but wait---it gets even better. Ya see, all this was discovered relatively late in the morning. Ya know, after the bomb threat. Did I mention there was a bomb threat??? I probably forgot to mention it because you see---no one had told us up to that point either. Again, using top notch government logic, the first floor of the courthouse (make that the TEN FLOOR courthouse) was evacuated. I guess the thinking was that if it was a bomb, and it went off...and ya know....the rest of the building began to slowly begin to collapse on top of it....that I would just grab hold of the strongest table I could find and ride it down to the first floor. Or not.
But anyway, I mention the bomb threat mainly because....well our supervisors were sort of confined to the office. And so were the interpreters in the courthouse, which made it even more difficult to get any info out of the original Aline Desir. Luckily, we had a brand new prosecutor who spoke Creole and was trying to find out what in the blue hell was going on. So one of my supervisors comes up....and wouldn't you know it...it was the one who knew nothing about traffic cases. And the people who would know what was happening? They were basically barricaded into their office at the rear of the first floor--not answering the phone. Finally, the traffic manager came up and--oh yeah, I forgot this part--the charge? It wasn't even criminal. It was a lousy traffic infraction. Oh yeah...and one more bit of news. The young girl's mother....who's biographical info had been put on the ticket by the officer? She started getting the bill for the ambulance!!! Just amazing.
Eventually the traffic divison manager took the whole file and took it with her to try and comprehend all that was screwed up with the court file. I figure she should have it all done by sometime next week.
But wait...I'm not done yet. Remember the bomb? Well, apparently whatever they thought it was worried them to the point where they sent in--not the bomb squad--but one of those freakin ROBOTS to see what the hell it was. I think it ended up being an empty briefcase that someone had left behind. Finally, I get to the end of the workday. I go out to my car and....my air conditioner isn't working right. Now, if I lived in Alaska, I wouldn't give a shit. But in Florida--in August--where the term "Africa hot" applies on a daily basis--your damned right I cared. So I'm driving home, sweating my ass off...and I'm exhausted from a long day at work...one of those not just physically exhausted, but mentally too....and I'm a block from my house. There's a 4-way stop sign. I get up to it, and this guy in a Mazda truck is pulling away and proceeding through. He's all the way through mind you. And I sorta do the old California stop. I admit it. But it wasn't like I was cutting the guy off or anything---I just wanted you to know that for the purpose of this part of the story. All of a sudden, the guy stops the truck and leans out the window.
"That's a fucking four way stop sign asshole! Can't you read the fucking stop sign!"
Now mind you...I truly can't convey to you how psychotic the guy looked. Total road rage going on. And he finally drove away, still cursing me out. And after I parked my car at my house and went inside, I started thinking about how situations like that are what ends up with someone being shot and killed. And I also thought of something else......
Exactly who did I piss off to deserve a day like this?
Holy crap...I couldn't wait to get to bed.
Later,
Jeff
Monday, August 1, 2005
8/1/05---I'm too old for this shit
So those of you who read on a regular basis will recall (some of you fondly) my recent problems with my shoulder. Now honestly, that's a problem that has sorta plagued me for the better part of 10 years, and just kept getting progressively worse.
Well, after some rather agonizing therapy at the hands of Amanda the Wicked, my shoulder has finally started to feel somewhat better. But wait---it gets better.
So the other night, the kids and I are out walking the dogs--each with one on a leash. I, of course, have Midnight the Wonder Dog (who's photo I would love to show you if MY WIFE WOULD EVER DOWNLOAD HIS PHOTO--ahem, that was a gentle reminder there oh-love-of-my-life) and as usual, he's going on the great squirrel hunt. Midnight is documented and listed as the number 1 squirrel chaser in the ENTIRE state of Florida, and dare I say--perhaps the entire southern region of the great United States of America. The problem with having a dog of this rare pedigree is that....on occasion....he'll see a squirrel and begin to, ya know.....run at full sprint towards the squirrel in question---before you realize that he's at top speed.
That's exactly what happened the other day, when the wonder dog took off at full speed and decided to take any remaining youth in my left elbow along with him.
There was this audible.......POP.....and all I know is that it hurt like hell. I get home, and the wife, being an occupational therapist who deals with injuries to the hand and arm below the elbow basically does nothing. What...did she think I would sue??
So, although I was in some discomfort for a couple of days, I gritted it out ("tougher than nails", that's what they call me) and eventually the pain subsided. That was of course, until I had the brilliant idea to play basketball with my kids last night. Now, besides the fact that most of you are probably thinking---BASKETBALL??
Yes, despite my "round mound of rebound"-esque appearence, I happen to be pretty good at basketball. Why? Well, quite frankly, I cheat. And usually I play kids that are a lot smaller than me that don't realize I'm cheating. Anyway, early in the game I go for a beautiful jumpshot, extend my arm (let me repeat that---I extend my arm).....and sure as hell, my arm was gone--again. This time, the wife happened to be standing there (not PLAYING mind you, but I digress) and saw my distress.
Well, I guttedout a few more minutes on the court, pushing the kids around, fouling whenever the occasion called for it...and then I headed inside. The wife told me, that in a RARE ACT of kindness, that she would take a look at my arm and give me some therapy. Kindness my ass.
So she takes my hand and says that she wants to perform a theraputic test for something called "lateral epicondylitis". She does the test, I immediately scream in pain and she says:
"Yep, you definitely have it."
"I have what?"
"Tennis elbow."
"How the hell can I have tennis elbow? I don't play tennis. (By the way, I really am this stupid in real life as this was an ACTUAL conversation we had last evening)
"It doesn't have anything to do with tennis...that's just what therapists call it."
"But I can't have that. I should have that in my right arm if anything. That's the arm that I threw baseballs with, footballs with---my left arm hasn't done shit for 43 years.
How come that's the one that gets tennis elbow?"
"Well I don't know, but you have it. That's what I just tested you for and based on your reaction, there's no doubt."
Aren't I smart? What a dipshit. It wasn't until this evening, a full day later, that it suddenly popped into my head and I asked my wife....
"Hey, if you hyperextend your elbow--could that lead to tennis elbow?"
"Yeah."
"Ya know....like say if YOUR DOG JERKED YOUR ELBOW out of joint???"
It was about that time that Midnight decided to relocate to another room.
Anyway, getting back to last night, after her diagnosis, the wife decided to give me what is called a "friction massage". No, not that kind of friction massage. She proceeds to grab my arm at the elbow and rubbing it like she's giving me an Indian burn or something. Holy shit, I had water coming to my eyes. Amanda the Wicked is like Princess Grace compared to the savagery of a wife---MY WIFE---getting the opportunity to inflict pain---for free, with no chance of reprisal--on her husband.
And get this....she tells me that she was doing all this to....
"Increase the bloodflow to the injured area."
I told her if she rubbed any harder, there was going to be bloodflow allrighty, it was going to be coming directly out of my arm onto her hands.
And she gets paid for this?
Later,
Jeff
Well, after some rather agonizing therapy at the hands of Amanda the Wicked, my shoulder has finally started to feel somewhat better. But wait---it gets better.
So the other night, the kids and I are out walking the dogs--each with one on a leash. I, of course, have Midnight the Wonder Dog (who's photo I would love to show you if MY WIFE WOULD EVER DOWNLOAD HIS PHOTO--ahem, that was a gentle reminder there oh-love-of-my-life) and as usual, he's going on the great squirrel hunt. Midnight is documented and listed as the number 1 squirrel chaser in the ENTIRE state of Florida, and dare I say--perhaps the entire southern region of the great United States of America. The problem with having a dog of this rare pedigree is that....on occasion....he'll see a squirrel and begin to, ya know.....run at full sprint towards the squirrel in question---before you realize that he's at top speed.
That's exactly what happened the other day, when the wonder dog took off at full speed and decided to take any remaining youth in my left elbow along with him.
There was this audible.......POP.....and all I know is that it hurt like hell. I get home, and the wife, being an occupational therapist who deals with injuries to the hand and arm below the elbow basically does nothing. What...did she think I would sue??
So, although I was in some discomfort for a couple of days, I gritted it out ("tougher than nails", that's what they call me) and eventually the pain subsided. That was of course, until I had the brilliant idea to play basketball with my kids last night. Now, besides the fact that most of you are probably thinking---BASKETBALL??
Yes, despite my "round mound of rebound"-esque appearence, I happen to be pretty good at basketball. Why? Well, quite frankly, I cheat. And usually I play kids that are a lot smaller than me that don't realize I'm cheating. Anyway, early in the game I go for a beautiful jumpshot, extend my arm (let me repeat that---I extend my arm).....and sure as hell, my arm was gone--again. This time, the wife happened to be standing there (not PLAYING mind you, but I digress) and saw my distress.
Well, I guttedout a few more minutes on the court, pushing the kids around, fouling whenever the occasion called for it...and then I headed inside. The wife told me, that in a RARE ACT of kindness, that she would take a look at my arm and give me some therapy. Kindness my ass.
So she takes my hand and says that she wants to perform a theraputic test for something called "lateral epicondylitis". She does the test, I immediately scream in pain and she says:
"Yep, you definitely have it."
"I have what?"
"Tennis elbow."
"How the hell can I have tennis elbow? I don't play tennis. (By the way, I really am this stupid in real life as this was an ACTUAL conversation we had last evening)
"It doesn't have anything to do with tennis...that's just what therapists call it."
"But I can't have that. I should have that in my right arm if anything. That's the arm that I threw baseballs with, footballs with---my left arm hasn't done shit for 43 years.
How come that's the one that gets tennis elbow?"
"Well I don't know, but you have it. That's what I just tested you for and based on your reaction, there's no doubt."
Aren't I smart? What a dipshit. It wasn't until this evening, a full day later, that it suddenly popped into my head and I asked my wife....
"Hey, if you hyperextend your elbow--could that lead to tennis elbow?"
"Yeah."
"Ya know....like say if YOUR DOG JERKED YOUR ELBOW out of joint???"
It was about that time that Midnight decided to relocate to another room.
Anyway, getting back to last night, after her diagnosis, the wife decided to give me what is called a "friction massage". No, not that kind of friction massage. She proceeds to grab my arm at the elbow and rubbing it like she's giving me an Indian burn or something. Holy shit, I had water coming to my eyes. Amanda the Wicked is like Princess Grace compared to the savagery of a wife---MY WIFE---getting the opportunity to inflict pain---for free, with no chance of reprisal--on her husband.
And get this....she tells me that she was doing all this to....
"Increase the bloodflow to the injured area."
I told her if she rubbed any harder, there was going to be bloodflow allrighty, it was going to be coming directly out of my arm onto her hands.
And she gets paid for this?
Later,
Jeff
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