Friday, September 17, 2010

My back. My right.

Now that a day has passed and I've had time to reflect, I must admit that I was remiss by not thanking Newman. Newman is one of my favorite co-workers, and it's not just because of his generous back massages, or the endearing way he mispronounces the syllable "un". He's a doer. He makes things happen, like finding back scratchers. That's why I agree with part of what he said here.

I absolutely owe him a debt of gratitude in saving my itchy back. I must defend myself though, and all back scratchers from around the world. It's not easy to live with dry skin. So when a local bank was handing out back scratchers in their courtesy bags at last year's Freedom Festival, by golly I was happy to take them up on their generous offer.

My back.
My right to scratch.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Perhaps not...

Okay, so there was no thief. Yup, the back scratcher was hiding next to the printer in the promotions office. However. There are lots of shady types in this office. One in particular. Let's call her...."Roni Tyan". Roni seems to think that my utensil was hidden in the PST studio. Clearly she is mistaken. My scatcher could not be more different than the one she claims is mine. "Alarmist"? I think not Ms. Tyan.

A Thief Amongst Us

Seriously disturbing. That's the only words to describe this morning's events.

My back scratcher is missing.

For over a year, it's been in my studio in the exact same place. Right next to the keyboard I'm typing on right now.

What fiend would steal another man's relief? What deviant would want to be in possession of my DNA?

To the person who committed this travesty...know that this transgression will not go unpunished. Also know that I've used that back scratcher to scratch many things.

The least of which is my back.

So enjoy all that.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Dancing with the what, now?

Sigh. Okay, this semi-annual argument is kind of like shooting fish in a barrel, but here it goes again. Did you ever read the 'stupid news' section of the newspaper? It's where they put unimportant, trivial, ridiculous pieces that make absolutely no sense. That's where they should have released the latest "Dancing With the Stars" lineup. Once again, the word "star" is cheapened more and more to the point that any weight or importance it once carried, is gone.

Here's the list:

Audrina Patridge – "The Hills Hottie"Brandy – "R&B's Platinum Girl"Bristol Palin – "Alaska's Most Famous Daughter"David Hasselhoff – "The Hoff"Florence Henderson – "America's Mom"Jennifer Grey – "The Original Dirty Dancer"Kurt Warner – "The Superbowl Success Story"Kyle Massey – "Disney Channel Dynamo"Margaret Cho – "Comedy's Most Outrageous"Michael Bolton – "The Balladeer" Mike Sorrentino – "The Situation"Rick Fox – "Basketball's Foxiest Champion"

Well...I've never seen "The Hills". Never will, but am positive she's not a "star". Florence Henderson, granted does have Wessonality, but is now amusing for different reasons than she used to be. The Hoff is a punchline in any country not named Germany (although his roast on Comedy Central was friggin' hilarious!). Gun in my mouth I couldn't tell you who Kyle Massey or Rick Fox are. Margaret Cho, Brandy and Michael Bolton...peripheral at best.

And then there's the biggest travesty of the season that makes Kate Gosselin seem as big of a star as Julia Roberts. Bristol Palin. Single mother. Daughter of a politician (not even politician). Teenager. Yup, all of these things, but how could you ever even remotely put her name and the word STAR on the same stupid show promo?

Allow me to demonstrate.
Here's Bristol (holds up hand).
Now here's a "star". (jumps out of window, gets into car and drives across country, holds up hand again).

I'm more willing to buy that it actually wasn't Paris Hilton's coke, then a bogus claim that Bristol Palin is a "star".

So now we've established that there are in fact NO stars on this season. But now it's time to answer the semi-annual question of "who is the CLOSEST thing to a star"? Well, J-Grey has the most movie success, though not in like 20 years, back when she unnecessarily fixed her nose. Athletes don't count. Which leaves us TV.

And the biggest star (tongue placed firmly in cheek) right now is...(drum roll)


GTL baby. All the way to that stupid mirror ball thingy.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Naps at work?

Lots of companies including Google (shocking) have recently begun implementing naps into their workday routines. Yeah, "naps". Don't think George from "Seinfeld" hiding under his desk with a pillow and alarm clock. These are high tech sleeping pods, specially set up by your employer. 20 minutes in the tank and you'll be refreshed and ready to attack your chores once again, presumably to save your boss money since now you'll be working instead of slouching and wishing you could take a nap. Sure, certain jobs would be difficult. I'm fairly certain my boss wouldn't let me walk out of the studio for 20 minutes. That's why we just nap in the studio. Restaurant and hospital workers, forget about it...probably doesn't apply to rescue workers or law enforcement either. But in the office environment, this could take off. Think about it. No more putting your head down. Just grab your blankey and head off to a snooze pod. Some companies are outsourcing the nap. You can take a break, but it would cost you $15 for a 20 minute snooze in the nap tank. So if allowed, would you pay $15 for not only a 20 minute break at work, but a sanctioned, uninterrupted, full out sleep? What do you think?

Monday, May 24, 2010

LOST...but not forgotten

(Check out PST On Demand to hear Newman, Dave and I discuss our thoughts about the series finale at length).

Face it. We're never going to see...or rather "experience" another show like LOST ever again. It's impossible, because it wouldn't be the first of it's kind. That was part of the reason we loved it so much. Plenty of attempts will be made, to duplicate what happened...(hello, a series named FLASH FORWARD). We'll get vague stories encouraging us to captivate us...generate "water cooler" buzz, and fuel internet theorists.
But it won't work. Not like this did.

LOST was not a perfect show...but it was perfectly cast. Can you imagine anyone other than Josh Holloway wisecracking as Sawyer? Could someone else's eyes pierce like Michael Emerson's Ben Linus? The character of Jack wasn't supposed to last very long, until Matthew Fox stepped into it. Hugo, Jin, Sun, Locke...every single character was convincingly fleshed out. From the very first frame of the 2004 pilot....week to week...season to season, we became glued to our televisions, and were treated to a very un-television like experience. Top notch dialogue...gorgeous cinematography...a Hollywood worthy score...LOST, especially those first two seasons was - simply put - as good as television can be. No it wasn't 6 years of consistency, and it certainly didn't zoom out to show us all of the answers we needed...nor did it finish like some of us may have wanted. However what LOST did do, was deliver an amazing vision with scope never before imagined outside a movie theater. The bar has truly been raised.

When LOST premiered, I lived alone on my own...not unhappy but alone. I first started seriously dating my now wife Amy just before the start of Season 3, and I pretty much made her watch Seasons 1 and 2 that summer to catch up. I'm glad I did...because it was a real tough show to watch alone. You needed someone to bounce ideas off of. It was fun, but it was also work. Extraordinarily enjoyable work.

I feel sorry for those who never got on board, but I'm tremendously happy I did. That she did. Here's to LOST...a fitting time to get off an amazing ride.

See you in another life, brotha...:)

Monday, May 10, 2010

Lost in Translation: My Visit With a Stranger from IDIOT-JERKVILLE

There’s a lot to be said for regional customs and local traditions. Yet throughout the years, may conflicts have occurred because of language barriers, inaccurate translations and cultural differences. That’s what I believe happened late last week when….ummm. Gosh, I never did get the gentleman’s name. In that case, I’ll objectively refer to him as POOPY-HEAD MORON. His car had IDIOT-JERKVILLE plates, so he wasn’t a local boy. He was a foreign stranger, from a strange land where things are different. See the definition of the word "merge" for example: merge – [murj] verb (used without object) To combine or unite into a single enterprise, organization, body etc;
Example: The two lanes merged into one without incident as all drivers were clearly sane.

Idiot-Jerkville definition: merge – [murj] verb (used however you like) To forge ahead of others at all costs
regardless of circumstances, including risk of bodily harm, etc;
The POOPIE-HEAD MORON from IDIOT-JERKVILLE got so close to me as we merged, the
only thing between our cars was the red light from my break lights…which should
have served as a subtle, yet polite warning instead of the ignition to the
powder keg which was his semi-educated rage.

Of course, if POOPIE was a safe distance from my car, then the quick break light shouldn’t have angered him at all. When we I finally made my right turn, POOPIE-HEAD MORON from IDIOT-JERKVILLE sped by just a little close and very loudly, complete with his girlfriend’s single finger wave. Since this must be their custom, I thought it would be impolite of me not to wave back, so I rolled down the window and gave them a very big wave with fingers on both hands. And then they were gone. I sure will miss POOPIE-HEAD MORON and his perfect gal by his side.

You can imagine my joy when only a short block later, I saw that my new bestest friend, POOPIE-HEAD MORON from IDIOT-JERKVILLE had whipped around the corner at full throttle in order to meet me at the next intersection and take his rightful place behind my car. They must’ve missed me as much as I missed them! Now this time they were a bit closer then before, so I lit my break lights just a tad longer, and with a bit of an unpredictable rhythm. This is where I discovered our language barrier was worse than I thought. Seems POOPIE and his number one squeeze were not enjoying this new and improved light show at all. No they sure weren’t. So I again waved to them in an attempt to calm them down, and shouted some more words of encouragement. I even used a few of the four letter words they’d been sharing from their primitive dialect…but to no avail. That’s when I decided that it was time. Yup, the perfect time to make “First Contact” with my strangers from IDIOT-JERKVILLE. Wondering how history would remember this moment, I pulled over to the side of the road and let them come to me. That’s what you do. You put your hand out and let them sniff around a bit, as not to scare them. It didn’t work. It seems we just didn’t speak the same language. POOPIE seemed to not even hear my claim of “not wanting to die because he was in a hurry”. POOPIE-HEAD then got out of his car and even invited me out of mine. I thanked him, but explained that although I was flattered by his tempting offer, picking up my son seemed a bit more appropriate then dancing with him in front of a day care center. I did however invite him to get back into his own car and drive away. I even offered him a police escort to sweeten the deal. Any-who, that was the end of that. POOPIE and his most bestest super well spoken gal pal sped off into the afternoon. It’s a shame real. Another wasted opportunity, with our two cultures coming together, yet learning so little about each other. Well, except that POOPIE HEAD-HEAD MORONS from IDIOT-JERKVILLE are very, very dangerous drivers.

Gosh, I sure hope nothing happens to him next time he drives into a strange land…you know, like a tree. As a society, we would be robbed of the wealth of knowledge that POOPIE has to offer…and that would be a real loss for both of our cultures.