Yesterday I took the regulars and another couple to the Steelers (-6.5)/Texans home opener. Of course there were some minor electrical issues with the black limo, so we switched to the Escalade. I have a hunch we are about to revisit the same problems from a year ago with this frayed wire. Ahhh, if only I had a nickel for everytime this has happened - I'd probably have 85 cents. Smooth ride up. Surprisingly, no traffic whatsoever. We got to the stadium about 12:15pm. I dumped them off and parked in the crack district (my usual spot on Federal Street). I thought scoring a ticket would be difficult (nice weather, opening day) so I hustled down to the stadium. I ran into a scalper who had a "fan" of 5-6 tickets. I normally don't approach scalpers, but asked him how much for a single. He said, "Make me an offer, you tell me." I repsonded, "How about twenty?" He stammered, "C'mon man, it's 80 face." I started to walk away and he said, "Alright, 40." I resisted, "No, I'll go 20." He flashed me a look of tepid disgust, "Alright, 20." Truth be told, the closer I got to the stadium, there were plenty of tickets. Here's some candid advice for the "professional" scalpers. If you know there is a ticket glut, don't display your tix in a "fanned " format. It reveals your hand. In retrospect, this was an easy one. The next home game will not be - Monday night against the Purple Browns. As I made my way to the stadium, 4 blackhawks did a low level flyover. NICE. One of them had a Steelers logo painted on it. Bad Ass. I made my way to Gate A, took my usual place standing on a bench and watched the crowd go in. I hung out in the pit for the first half. Steelers looked tough, better than I expected (21-3 at the half).
They introduced Charlie Daniels at halftime. "He's here to sing his newest song In America." Well, he strolls out to the 50 yard line with an acoustic guitar. For some reason, they pipe in a different song though the Heinz Field PA. They've got him out there solo with an acoustic guitar and he's singing his song. Meanwhile, "The Legend of Wooley Swamp" is playing in the background. What a fuck up. I think Charlie, kept expecting them to switch the sound. They didn't. What made it truly funny was that he kept singing acoustic and they've got a song playing with a full blown band. This was the most disastrous case of lip-synching I've ever seen. I guess it's really not lip-synching though. With lip-synched shit, you can be a little off, but at least you use the same song.
Anyhoo, I zipped them back to Belldirty and went home to grab a shower. They called a couple hours later and the night was finished. Something was a tad askew when I dropped them off. Oh yeah. it was light out (around 7pm). The best news of the day - I found out they sell Lone Star beef Jerky at the Claysville Exxon. What a score. Speaking of scores...
Steelers 38
Texans 17
I almost forgot to mention. During the first half, this guy yells out, "Tom Brady got his leg broken. There is a god!" My section of the pit erupted in jubilation. A couple guys were high-fiving each other. Another inquired, "Sweet, who's Brady's back-up? I'm going to snag him for my fantasy team." It's nice to see people celebrate the misery of others.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
gayt
For those of you know me, my deepest sympathies. No seriously, for those of you who know me, you know 4 things for certain. I live on a street in a relatively secluded area. I share a driveway with my immediate neighbor. I don't like this neighbor. And, he has a gate. For the past 3 years, both he and his gate have been a source of amusement and disgust. When I first moved in, he had the property immediately surveyed - he explained this was merely to delineate the property boundaries. This was one of the 5 occasions where we have spoken. I'm not going to explain why we don't have cordial, neighborly relations. In fact, for the sake of this blog, I'll gladly admit that I'm a complete asshole and he's the greatest person in the world. Done.
Let's go back to our initial meeting 3 years ago. A few things stood out in my mind. He told me he was going to build a fence bewteen our yards because, "I knew Mrs. Allen (the former deceased owner of my house), but I don't know you." This just struck me as a bit hash and unpleasant. Then he reprimanded me for not knocking on his door and introducing myself when I first moved in. This made me think - shouldn't he be the one to knock on my door and bring me a cake or something. He basically concluded with the sentiment, "It's really quiet up here so if you mind your business, I'll mind mine." Let me be blunt. This guy ain't going to win any Neighbor of the Year awards. Anyway, that was fine with me because there's enough distance between our properties and we really don't need to be in constant contact and I have no interest in engaging him socially. That's my immediate neighbor.
Now I also have some other neighbors. Becky and Jake live right next to his precious gate at the bottom of the driveway. This couple and I have become good friends. They feed me, clothe me and bathe me. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but you get the drift. I spend a great deal of time with these two and their mutual friends. Basically, knowing these two easily outweighs any of the misgivings I might have about gateman.
I've always thought that the gate itself was pretty lame.
A. We live in Wheeling, WV - is a gate necessary.
B. It makes it incredibly difficult for people to turn around.
C. It represents an obnoxious precedent for exclusion rather than inclusiveness. This suits him well, not me.
D. It adds an extra dimension of danger in the winter when the road is icy.
E. It's prone to breaking down.
F. He has it decorated with a wreath and lights during the holiday season.
Honestly, I could probably think of another 10 or so.
About a month ago, a tree fell on Becky and Jake's house. A section of the tree also fell near the gate and snapped the power line. Damage was pretty extensive. Well, gateman had a crew come and clear the street so we could get to our homes unabated by the "remains of monster tree." A nice and timely gesture. Well done. After that incident, the gate has remained open for a month straight. It hasn't closed since the incident. Why? Why? What convinced him to leave it open? Well... last night I was hanging with Jake and Becky (steak, twice baked potato and salad - a superior dining experience). I was a little buzzed last night - went golfing earlier and we were drinking a lot of wine. We started conversing about the gate and the odd property boundaries. We spoke about the split rail fence he erected so nobody could park near his lower property, how he had the mechaincal box bolted shut so nobody could manually open the gate, his Private Drive sign and the never-ending discussion about the infamous gate. Still, why has he left it open for the past month? We slowly started to unravel the historical tapestry of the gate, the drive and the property boundaries. See, I own a little sliver of property down near the gate. I've never really thought about it too much. I just know it's mine and that's the way the boundaries were drawn. From time to time, I'd go down with a weed wacker and clean it up a little. But for the most part, I've just wanted to avoid any issues with that little section of land. And I have no interest whatsoever in the maintenance of the gate.
Well, as I said, last night the wine was flowing and I had a biblical revelation of sorts, some kind of atheistic awakening. It all dawned on me at once.
I own his gate. For christ sakes, IT'S MY FUCKING GATE! The same gate I've mocked and ridiculed for 3 years - IT'S MINE, not his. I just never really thought about it.
A few years ago, I offered to pay half the expense for some of the deteriorated lighting on one of the pillars. He declined my offer and said he'd take care of it. I figured, that's cool. In actuality, he was testing me to see what I knew about the potential gate ownership issue. These past 3 years he's been hoping I didn't know, didn't care or just didn't want to claim ownership of the gate. So he gradually assumed the role of "Gate Guardian." With the recent cataclysmic events, he must be running scared. He's probably wondering if the jig is up.
Now here's the deal. Our street is scheduled to be paved by mid-October. My guess is that he's waiting for the tree debacle and paving issues to conclude and then he'll resume the regular assholic gately protocol. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with my newfound knowledge. Personally, I'd never remove it. If it were up to me, I'd just leave it open all the time. I will tell you one thing though. If he puts his holiday wreath and Chirstmas lights on my gate, there will be fucking hell to pay. You have my word.
You might be asking yourself, "What if he reads this? What if he googles my name and this blog comes up? Saf, aren't you concerned about that?" C'mon, really. I would give neither two shits nor a flying fuck.
Let's go back to our initial meeting 3 years ago. A few things stood out in my mind. He told me he was going to build a fence bewteen our yards because, "I knew Mrs. Allen (the former deceased owner of my house), but I don't know you." This just struck me as a bit hash and unpleasant. Then he reprimanded me for not knocking on his door and introducing myself when I first moved in. This made me think - shouldn't he be the one to knock on my door and bring me a cake or something. He basically concluded with the sentiment, "It's really quiet up here so if you mind your business, I'll mind mine." Let me be blunt. This guy ain't going to win any Neighbor of the Year awards. Anyway, that was fine with me because there's enough distance between our properties and we really don't need to be in constant contact and I have no interest in engaging him socially. That's my immediate neighbor.
Now I also have some other neighbors. Becky and Jake live right next to his precious gate at the bottom of the driveway. This couple and I have become good friends. They feed me, clothe me and bathe me. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, but you get the drift. I spend a great deal of time with these two and their mutual friends. Basically, knowing these two easily outweighs any of the misgivings I might have about gateman.
I've always thought that the gate itself was pretty lame.
A. We live in Wheeling, WV - is a gate necessary.
B. It makes it incredibly difficult for people to turn around.
C. It represents an obnoxious precedent for exclusion rather than inclusiveness. This suits him well, not me.
D. It adds an extra dimension of danger in the winter when the road is icy.
E. It's prone to breaking down.
F. He has it decorated with a wreath and lights during the holiday season.
Honestly, I could probably think of another 10 or so.
About a month ago, a tree fell on Becky and Jake's house. A section of the tree also fell near the gate and snapped the power line. Damage was pretty extensive. Well, gateman had a crew come and clear the street so we could get to our homes unabated by the "remains of monster tree." A nice and timely gesture. Well done. After that incident, the gate has remained open for a month straight. It hasn't closed since the incident. Why? Why? What convinced him to leave it open? Well... last night I was hanging with Jake and Becky (steak, twice baked potato and salad - a superior dining experience). I was a little buzzed last night - went golfing earlier and we were drinking a lot of wine. We started conversing about the gate and the odd property boundaries. We spoke about the split rail fence he erected so nobody could park near his lower property, how he had the mechaincal box bolted shut so nobody could manually open the gate, his Private Drive sign and the never-ending discussion about the infamous gate. Still, why has he left it open for the past month? We slowly started to unravel the historical tapestry of the gate, the drive and the property boundaries. See, I own a little sliver of property down near the gate. I've never really thought about it too much. I just know it's mine and that's the way the boundaries were drawn. From time to time, I'd go down with a weed wacker and clean it up a little. But for the most part, I've just wanted to avoid any issues with that little section of land. And I have no interest whatsoever in the maintenance of the gate.
Well, as I said, last night the wine was flowing and I had a biblical revelation of sorts, some kind of atheistic awakening. It all dawned on me at once.
I own his gate. For christ sakes, IT'S MY FUCKING GATE! The same gate I've mocked and ridiculed for 3 years - IT'S MINE, not his. I just never really thought about it.
A few years ago, I offered to pay half the expense for some of the deteriorated lighting on one of the pillars. He declined my offer and said he'd take care of it. I figured, that's cool. In actuality, he was testing me to see what I knew about the potential gate ownership issue. These past 3 years he's been hoping I didn't know, didn't care or just didn't want to claim ownership of the gate. So he gradually assumed the role of "Gate Guardian." With the recent cataclysmic events, he must be running scared. He's probably wondering if the jig is up.
Now here's the deal. Our street is scheduled to be paved by mid-October. My guess is that he's waiting for the tree debacle and paving issues to conclude and then he'll resume the regular assholic gately protocol. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with my newfound knowledge. Personally, I'd never remove it. If it were up to me, I'd just leave it open all the time. I will tell you one thing though. If he puts his holiday wreath and Chirstmas lights on my gate, there will be fucking hell to pay. You have my word.
You might be asking yourself, "What if he reads this? What if he googles my name and this blog comes up? Saf, aren't you concerned about that?" C'mon, really. I would give neither two shits nor a flying fuck.
Monday, September 01, 2008
FARM USE
Yesterday was an interesting one. I did an airport run around noon. Picked up these two retired football coaches and zipped them down to Wheeling Island for the Don Nehlen Classic "Friends of Coal" event. One of the guys was Dick McPherson. The name sounded familiar but I just couldn't place what team he used to coach - this will eventually become slightly relevant. Anyway, I threw them in the back and off we went. Is it me, or does "The Friends of Coal" sound pretty lame? Couldn't they have configured a better motto; perhaps, "Coal Country" or "The Future is Coal" but really, "Friends of Coal?" I just don't like the idea of people befriending a black geological source of energy. Anyway, it was an uneventful ride to the hotel, with the exception of cops out EVERYWHERE. Of course it was Labor Day weekend, but this was ridiculous. Cops basically lined route 7 and littered parts of 22 and the Island. Between the hour ride up and back, I saw about 28 cruisers. No joke.
I NEVER discuss limo-oriented tips in an open forum, but the man I alluded to earlier emptied his entire wallet for my tip. "Hmmm, that's all I got." Three dollars. Later that night, his true identity would be revealed.
Onto round 2. I was supposed to take up a group from Washington, PA to Crue Fest (Motley Crue, Buckcherry, Papa Roach, 6am and Trapt) at Starlake. Just as I was preparing to leave, I get a call from Jenn D. "Eric would you be interested in letting someone ride co-pilot tonight?" Turns out Kelly Z. wanted to make the trek. This was one of the rare times I had an actual front seat on the passenger side so I acquiesced. Plus, I knew the crew I was taking wouldn't mind. Plus, how could anyone deny Kelly the rite of concert passage? It was nice to have company for a change. My usual limo has a plastic control panel where the seat is; thus, making it unsittable.
We made it to Washington at 6pm and picked up 4 fine looking women (Nichole, Gigi, Melanie and Jackie). Two were wild, two were tame. Kelly is wild and I am tame. So it provided a nice balance - 3 wild, 3 tame. So it was me and the 5 hotties - a refreshing change of pace. Took the back road (18 North) to Starlake. The place was pretty full when we arrived, no traffic. I'd say about 18,800 people showed up for this one. A few minutes after we parked in the oversized vehicle section, a massive military looking Hummer parked beside us. 25 guys in their early twenties jumped out of the back. They threw down a keg and a row of them just started pissing in a line-up. Kelly remarked about how one guy was taking a shit underneath the vehicle. This may or may not have happened. I honestly don't know. On the side of the military vehicle, in bold painted lettering, it read "FARM USE." I could already tell that trouble was brewing. These guys were pretty gooned up. I spoke briefly with this one guy wearing a blond wig and he said they lived about ten minutes down the road. Out of the twenty or so, none had tickets. Hmmmm, a bunch of testosterone fucks from the WV/PA border with no tickets and a ton of beer and liquor at a Motley Crue concert. Let's just say that Hurricane Gustav was en route.
We all hung out and enjoyed the sites and sounds. Ran into Scottie and Schneid as well. They'd be the recipients of two freebies compliments of our leader. One elderly blond-fried woman with an ill-fitting green tank top sat down to take a breather. She was trying to simultaneously fight with her husband, slam a beer and reposition her boobs. Another woman in a black leather mini-skirt took a brief piggyback ride atop the shoulders of her boyfriend. Her ass on total display as everyone cheered, jeered and some took photos. A group of girls walked by and engaged all of us. A few wandered next door into the piss fest. One of the girls boyfriend got into an argument with one of the testosterone fucks and ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. Punches started flying and this one dude's nose was bent sideways, blood streaming all over the place. Simutaneously, there were 3 seperate outbreaks. A mob scene slammed into the side of the limo and crushed the side mirror. The lot attendants and parking guys called in for police back up, but that would take a while. Meanwhile, the brawl would continue unabated. Nichole looked at me, "Eric, do something!" I'm like, "Yeah, like what? Dive on top of the brawl? Try to preach Obama themes of peace and tolerance? What the fuck could I have done? I just silently observed and continued making keychains for the girls. Gigi remarked, "Eric, way to go with your knitting!" Well said. This fight seemed to last about 6 minutes. It had an inertia of its own so there wasn't any stopping it. Until the cops all rolled in. 4 cops and more golf cart security. When the pigs entered the fray, I missed a golden opportunity. As people scattered and some took off for the woods, I should have yelled, "PREPARE TO BE FUCKED BY THE LONG DICK OF THE LAW" (from the movie Superbad). That would have rocked the house. Would have.
I neglected to mention that 2 chicks were right in the middle of the brawl. A tattooed blond with a grey tank top was on top of the pile pummelling this one guy with what I'd call "fists of fury, UFC style." I think she was trying to help her boyfriend whose face was being driven into the gravel surface. All in all, they hauled off 4 of the guys. A few bloody faces and 2 broken noses, one severely. The cops interviewed me and I complained about the side mirror and the blood on the limo. They kept asking me who threw punches. I said, "Well, honestly it was a mob scene so it was hard to tell." In reality, the only one I clearly remember throwing punches was the one girl, but I couldn't rat her out. That would have been blatantly assholic. This had to be one of the biggest fights I've ever seen at Starlake. Big on quantity, duration and brutality. Actually, I've seen worse in the brutality department but this one was pretty heavy. From here on out, the fight will be known as Gustav. The fallout of Gustav - one more arrest for failure to obey/disorderly and a few girls crying. My crew went entirely unscathed. Gigi filled out a verbal police report of her own. All I could see was her repeating something to the effect of, "They're all a bunch of assholes." Probably not sustainable testimony in a court of law.
Buckcherry took the stage and we all wandered in. They had seats and we had lawn so we all kind of separated on the way in. Kelly seemed to enjoy the sights and sounds of Buckcherry. I did not. Some tattooed, high stepping freak singer screaming his tunes and talking at length about fucking and ball grabbing. As the final song Crazy Bitch closed out their set, we wandered down to the lower walkway and ran into Nichole and Gigi. They said it was pretty packed in the pavillion, so we opted to refrain fromt he "ticket hand-off sneak down." We ended up on the hill side with fellow limo driver Darryl. Kelly went to the restroom and got "lost" in the process. I took a look for her but didn't have any luck.
All in all, Motley Crue was pretty good. Tommy Lee pulled out the video "TIT E. CAM" and took a sampling of Breasts of Burgettstown. Mildy amusing. They sounded a bit rough. This was the final show of the North American tour and he was a little raspy. Keep in mind, they're all in their late 40's. And Mick Mars looked beyond hideous. The had to trenchcoat and tophat him. Basically, just cover up the entire guy in black so he blends into the background. Mick probably gets my vote for the ugliest rock star of all-time. All the Motorhead guys and even the lead singer of Grim Reaper are more visually appealing.
I left the show a little early and hooked up with Darryl. He informed me that Dick McPherson used to be the head coach of the New England Patriots. Fuck! A golden opportunity to rail on Bill Belicheck to someone with a pertinent opinion. Actually, I've always like Belicheck. Just don't tell anyone. Made it back to the limo and the military Hummer had just exited. Can't complain about that.
All in all, GREAT TIME. GREAT CREW. GOOD CRUE. I think there might be an unwritten chapter in this one. Well, at least I hope so. Time will tell.
I NEVER discuss limo-oriented tips in an open forum, but the man I alluded to earlier emptied his entire wallet for my tip. "Hmmm, that's all I got." Three dollars. Later that night, his true identity would be revealed.
Onto round 2. I was supposed to take up a group from Washington, PA to Crue Fest (Motley Crue, Buckcherry, Papa Roach, 6am and Trapt) at Starlake. Just as I was preparing to leave, I get a call from Jenn D. "Eric would you be interested in letting someone ride co-pilot tonight?" Turns out Kelly Z. wanted to make the trek. This was one of the rare times I had an actual front seat on the passenger side so I acquiesced. Plus, I knew the crew I was taking wouldn't mind. Plus, how could anyone deny Kelly the rite of concert passage? It was nice to have company for a change. My usual limo has a plastic control panel where the seat is; thus, making it unsittable.
We made it to Washington at 6pm and picked up 4 fine looking women (Nichole, Gigi, Melanie and Jackie). Two were wild, two were tame. Kelly is wild and I am tame. So it provided a nice balance - 3 wild, 3 tame. So it was me and the 5 hotties - a refreshing change of pace. Took the back road (18 North) to Starlake. The place was pretty full when we arrived, no traffic. I'd say about 18,800 people showed up for this one. A few minutes after we parked in the oversized vehicle section, a massive military looking Hummer parked beside us. 25 guys in their early twenties jumped out of the back. They threw down a keg and a row of them just started pissing in a line-up. Kelly remarked about how one guy was taking a shit underneath the vehicle. This may or may not have happened. I honestly don't know. On the side of the military vehicle, in bold painted lettering, it read "FARM USE." I could already tell that trouble was brewing. These guys were pretty gooned up. I spoke briefly with this one guy wearing a blond wig and he said they lived about ten minutes down the road. Out of the twenty or so, none had tickets. Hmmmm, a bunch of testosterone fucks from the WV/PA border with no tickets and a ton of beer and liquor at a Motley Crue concert. Let's just say that Hurricane Gustav was en route.
We all hung out and enjoyed the sites and sounds. Ran into Scottie and Schneid as well. They'd be the recipients of two freebies compliments of our leader. One elderly blond-fried woman with an ill-fitting green tank top sat down to take a breather. She was trying to simultaneously fight with her husband, slam a beer and reposition her boobs. Another woman in a black leather mini-skirt took a brief piggyback ride atop the shoulders of her boyfriend. Her ass on total display as everyone cheered, jeered and some took photos. A group of girls walked by and engaged all of us. A few wandered next door into the piss fest. One of the girls boyfriend got into an argument with one of the testosterone fucks and ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. Punches started flying and this one dude's nose was bent sideways, blood streaming all over the place. Simutaneously, there were 3 seperate outbreaks. A mob scene slammed into the side of the limo and crushed the side mirror. The lot attendants and parking guys called in for police back up, but that would take a while. Meanwhile, the brawl would continue unabated. Nichole looked at me, "Eric, do something!" I'm like, "Yeah, like what? Dive on top of the brawl? Try to preach Obama themes of peace and tolerance? What the fuck could I have done? I just silently observed and continued making keychains for the girls. Gigi remarked, "Eric, way to go with your knitting!" Well said. This fight seemed to last about 6 minutes. It had an inertia of its own so there wasn't any stopping it. Until the cops all rolled in. 4 cops and more golf cart security. When the pigs entered the fray, I missed a golden opportunity. As people scattered and some took off for the woods, I should have yelled, "PREPARE TO BE FUCKED BY THE LONG DICK OF THE LAW" (from the movie Superbad). That would have rocked the house. Would have.
I neglected to mention that 2 chicks were right in the middle of the brawl. A tattooed blond with a grey tank top was on top of the pile pummelling this one guy with what I'd call "fists of fury, UFC style." I think she was trying to help her boyfriend whose face was being driven into the gravel surface. All in all, they hauled off 4 of the guys. A few bloody faces and 2 broken noses, one severely. The cops interviewed me and I complained about the side mirror and the blood on the limo. They kept asking me who threw punches. I said, "Well, honestly it was a mob scene so it was hard to tell." In reality, the only one I clearly remember throwing punches was the one girl, but I couldn't rat her out. That would have been blatantly assholic. This had to be one of the biggest fights I've ever seen at Starlake. Big on quantity, duration and brutality. Actually, I've seen worse in the brutality department but this one was pretty heavy. From here on out, the fight will be known as Gustav. The fallout of Gustav - one more arrest for failure to obey/disorderly and a few girls crying. My crew went entirely unscathed. Gigi filled out a verbal police report of her own. All I could see was her repeating something to the effect of, "They're all a bunch of assholes." Probably not sustainable testimony in a court of law.
Buckcherry took the stage and we all wandered in. They had seats and we had lawn so we all kind of separated on the way in. Kelly seemed to enjoy the sights and sounds of Buckcherry. I did not. Some tattooed, high stepping freak singer screaming his tunes and talking at length about fucking and ball grabbing. As the final song Crazy Bitch closed out their set, we wandered down to the lower walkway and ran into Nichole and Gigi. They said it was pretty packed in the pavillion, so we opted to refrain fromt he "ticket hand-off sneak down." We ended up on the hill side with fellow limo driver Darryl. Kelly went to the restroom and got "lost" in the process. I took a look for her but didn't have any luck.
All in all, Motley Crue was pretty good. Tommy Lee pulled out the video "TIT E. CAM" and took a sampling of Breasts of Burgettstown. Mildy amusing. They sounded a bit rough. This was the final show of the North American tour and he was a little raspy. Keep in mind, they're all in their late 40's. And Mick Mars looked beyond hideous. The had to trenchcoat and tophat him. Basically, just cover up the entire guy in black so he blends into the background. Mick probably gets my vote for the ugliest rock star of all-time. All the Motorhead guys and even the lead singer of Grim Reaper are more visually appealing.
I left the show a little early and hooked up with Darryl. He informed me that Dick McPherson used to be the head coach of the New England Patriots. Fuck! A golden opportunity to rail on Bill Belicheck to someone with a pertinent opinion. Actually, I've always like Belicheck. Just don't tell anyone. Made it back to the limo and the military Hummer had just exited. Can't complain about that.
All in all, GREAT TIME. GREAT CREW. GOOD CRUE. I think there might be an unwritten chapter in this one. Well, at least I hope so. Time will tell.
Friday, August 29, 2008
McCain
Please forgive my pedestrian poetry and irreverant rhyme
about a man who votes with Bush Jr., 90% of the time
Just some ramblings, in the form of a poem
To honor a man, who just bought a seventh home.
His name I regard, with a great deal of disdain
He lives near my parents, his name's John McCain
His lack of an agenda, is difficult to feign
so all he'll run, is a negative campaign
Obama's celebrity status, is something he mocks
but just look at his wife, with the excessive botox
He has been known, for his straight talk expression
Yet fails to understand, our economic depression
His energy policy is not very thrilling
It consists of three major ideas: drilling, drilling, drilling
His stance on abortion, is easy to decipher
Just what we needed, another pro-lifer
His foreign policy, is difficult to muster
the same Bush nonsense, of courage and bluster
Instead of following Bin Laden to the "fiery gates of hell"
how about searching for Al-Queda in the caves where they dwell
The past two terms, have been really rough
It's time to acknowledge, that EIGHT IS ENOUGH
So tell Johnny Mac, go back to Arizona
remain in the senate, and blabber bologna
about a man who votes with Bush Jr., 90% of the time
Just some ramblings, in the form of a poem
To honor a man, who just bought a seventh home.
His name I regard, with a great deal of disdain
He lives near my parents, his name's John McCain
His lack of an agenda, is difficult to feign
so all he'll run, is a negative campaign
Obama's celebrity status, is something he mocks
but just look at his wife, with the excessive botox
He has been known, for his straight talk expression
Yet fails to understand, our economic depression
His energy policy is not very thrilling
It consists of three major ideas: drilling, drilling, drilling
His stance on abortion, is easy to decipher
Just what we needed, another pro-lifer
His foreign policy, is difficult to muster
the same Bush nonsense, of courage and bluster
Instead of following Bin Laden to the "fiery gates of hell"
how about searching for Al-Queda in the caves where they dwell
The past two terms, have been really rough
It's time to acknowledge, that EIGHT IS ENOUGH
So tell Johnny Mac, go back to Arizona
remain in the senate, and blabber bologna
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Getting grilled at the Met
I just had another rousing experience at the Metropolitan Grill. Mark I. and I just had lunch there. We walked in and the place was pretty slammed. Almost all the tables were full. Saf's mental list of rules and regulations requires that we get there by 11:50am. If you get there after 12pm, the service can be atrocious. This is a direct result of the owner hiring/firing people as though it's a bodily function. Half the staff is new everytime you dine at the Met. Anyway, we blundered and arrived at 12:15pm. I'll take the heat on this one.
A portly male waiter with a well-kept multi-tiered ponytail and a large loop earing sat us at one of those standing tables off to the side but in direct full view of all the patrons. The first thing I noticed was that our table was off-kilter. I remarked, "This is going to bug me." I remedied the situation by removing both of my sandals and surrepticiously placed them beneath each leg. Problem solved as Mark gazed his approval. By the way, as most of you know, I usually dress like a homeless bum. Today this was not the case. I had a nice collared golf shirt on. However, I was wearing a ballcap. This will become relevant later in the story. A strange musical combination of Chaka Khan followed by a Lita Ford/Ozzy Osbourne was on the satellite radio. That song "When I close my eyes forever" is an example of poor dining music. There's good and there's not good. This was not good. Our waiter eventually returned to take our drink order. I had a water w/ lemon and Mark had an iced tea. Both arrived in tact a few minutes later. I remarked that I had serious doubts we'd get a complimentary baucket of bread, even though the "dipping plate" was already on the table. It was just a hunch since I'd never seen this particular waiter there in the past. He came back about 5 mintues later to take our order. I had the yellow fin tuna salad and Mark ordered a steak salad. About 35 minutes later our salads arrived, but with one exception. Mine didn't remotely resemble a salad. In actuality, it was the exact opposite of a salad. It was a plate of bow-tie pasta drenched in an alfredo cream sauce with 2 steak medallions in the middle. I remained silent. The last thing I was going to do was bitch and have it take another half hour to throw some greens on a plate. Mark looked at me and said, "I figured you wouldn't say anything." I repsonded, "Well, what the fuck, if I complain we'll never get the hell outta here. Just give me the food and they make me eat." - something to that affect.
Oddly enough, I was really hungry and the dish itself was pretty damn good. Still no bread though but I could cope with that. About 10 minutes later our waiter came over and discreetly leaned in. I was absolutely POSITIVE he was going to say something like, "I'm so sorry sir, did you order a salad?" Instead, he softly said, "Excuse me sir, you're going to have to put your shoes on." I look at him and replied, "I know, I know. But the table is really wobbly. I had to use the sandals to even it out." He looks back, and says, "Yes, but if the health inspector were to show up, we could all be in a heap of trouble." He looked at me with a slightly more forceful look and said, "Here, allow me. It's just a loose tile." He started lifting up the table so I could retrieve my sandals. And lo and behold, he was right. Problem solved. He said thank you and quickly exited. Mark noticed a guy with a disgusted frown in the distance. I was actually a little embarrased over the incident. But hey, we live in West Virginia, right?
I told Mark, "Jesus Christ, I really thought he was going to apologize for screwing up the order." That's what Mark thought he was going to say as well. I reflected back on the ordering miscue. Perhaps I should have said something. What if someone got a salad instead of a heavy pasta entree? They'd probably be more disappointed and less inclined to let it go. The bill came and Mark paid - probably because he felt I was a shoeless dirtbag and took pity upon my socio-economic standing. To be truthful, I think I got lunch last time.
In appreciation he received my two latest Top 10 t-shirts (Top 10 Vacation Destinations near Wheeling, WV & Top 10 Sex Moves in Wheeling, WV). If you read my blog, but don't read thewimp.org and would like to purchase either or both, just shoot me an email (sonofsaf@hotmail.com) or post a comment and I'll send you paypal instructions. Perhaps my new arch nemesis blogger at the University of Pittsburgh might be intersted in some new attire. Well...., maybe not.
And we still never got any bread.
A portly male waiter with a well-kept multi-tiered ponytail and a large loop earing sat us at one of those standing tables off to the side but in direct full view of all the patrons. The first thing I noticed was that our table was off-kilter. I remarked, "This is going to bug me." I remedied the situation by removing both of my sandals and surrepticiously placed them beneath each leg. Problem solved as Mark gazed his approval. By the way, as most of you know, I usually dress like a homeless bum. Today this was not the case. I had a nice collared golf shirt on. However, I was wearing a ballcap. This will become relevant later in the story. A strange musical combination of Chaka Khan followed by a Lita Ford/Ozzy Osbourne was on the satellite radio. That song "When I close my eyes forever" is an example of poor dining music. There's good and there's not good. This was not good. Our waiter eventually returned to take our drink order. I had a water w/ lemon and Mark had an iced tea. Both arrived in tact a few minutes later. I remarked that I had serious doubts we'd get a complimentary baucket of bread, even though the "dipping plate" was already on the table. It was just a hunch since I'd never seen this particular waiter there in the past. He came back about 5 mintues later to take our order. I had the yellow fin tuna salad and Mark ordered a steak salad. About 35 minutes later our salads arrived, but with one exception. Mine didn't remotely resemble a salad. In actuality, it was the exact opposite of a salad. It was a plate of bow-tie pasta drenched in an alfredo cream sauce with 2 steak medallions in the middle. I remained silent. The last thing I was going to do was bitch and have it take another half hour to throw some greens on a plate. Mark looked at me and said, "I figured you wouldn't say anything." I repsonded, "Well, what the fuck, if I complain we'll never get the hell outta here. Just give me the food and they make me eat." - something to that affect.
Oddly enough, I was really hungry and the dish itself was pretty damn good. Still no bread though but I could cope with that. About 10 minutes later our waiter came over and discreetly leaned in. I was absolutely POSITIVE he was going to say something like, "I'm so sorry sir, did you order a salad?" Instead, he softly said, "Excuse me sir, you're going to have to put your shoes on." I look at him and replied, "I know, I know. But the table is really wobbly. I had to use the sandals to even it out." He looks back, and says, "Yes, but if the health inspector were to show up, we could all be in a heap of trouble." He looked at me with a slightly more forceful look and said, "Here, allow me. It's just a loose tile." He started lifting up the table so I could retrieve my sandals. And lo and behold, he was right. Problem solved. He said thank you and quickly exited. Mark noticed a guy with a disgusted frown in the distance. I was actually a little embarrased over the incident. But hey, we live in West Virginia, right?
I told Mark, "Jesus Christ, I really thought he was going to apologize for screwing up the order." That's what Mark thought he was going to say as well. I reflected back on the ordering miscue. Perhaps I should have said something. What if someone got a salad instead of a heavy pasta entree? They'd probably be more disappointed and less inclined to let it go. The bill came and Mark paid - probably because he felt I was a shoeless dirtbag and took pity upon my socio-economic standing. To be truthful, I think I got lunch last time.
In appreciation he received my two latest Top 10 t-shirts (Top 10 Vacation Destinations near Wheeling, WV & Top 10 Sex Moves in Wheeling, WV). If you read my blog, but don't read thewimp.org and would like to purchase either or both, just shoot me an email (sonofsaf@hotmail.com) or post a comment and I'll send you paypal instructions. Perhaps my new arch nemesis blogger at the University of Pittsburgh might be intersted in some new attire. Well...., maybe not.
And we still never got any bread.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
How to defeat McCain
After the VP running mates have been chosen and the dust settles from the conventions, the real race for the presidency will begin. There will be the continual punch, counterpunch and the constant attacks regarding experience, taxes and all the other issues. But let's face it, the candidates represent both the left and right of the political spectrum, so it's common sense to conclude that pretty much everyone has already decided who they'll vote for. However, there's still about 5-10% of the voters who haven't chosen a candidate. I would refer to this segment as "people who faithfully vote but honestly don't have an active interest in politics." They go to work, pay their taxes and raise their family but just aren't interested in the political scene. They quietly conclude; well, I'll vote because it's my civic duty but it really doesn't make a difference anyway. Perhaps they have a point. These people represent a VERY important segment of the voting population, especially this year. These are the voters you need to sway - the tiny fraction of undecideds.
It seems as though the Republican strategy will be to make Obama look like a celebrity who doesn't have the necessary experience. He'll raise your taxes and prematurely withdraw from Iraq. They'll try to make it a generally negative campaign about HIM. Probably a wise strategy.
The Dems will try to tie McCain to the past 8 years of the failed Bush administration. They'll portray him to some extent as a war-monger who wants to attack Iran, give further tax breaks to big oil companies and basically follow in the footsteps of Bush/Cheney. Considering the current unpopularity of Bush, that's probably the right way to go. And of course they'll push the change agenda.
So the attacks will continue back and forth. The 3 presidential debates could provide a huge opportunity for success or failure. The candidates will be well-prepped for just about anything but the most obscure issues. However, I think there's an opening for Obama on a critical issue that you rarely hear discussed in the media - THE OVER-REACHING POWER OF
THE EXECUTIVE BRANCH under the Bush/Cheney administration. I think here's where Obama could really put the nail in McCain's coffin. Whether or not you agree with the invasion/occupation/liberation of Iraq, almost everyone could agree on one point. The policy was set forth by Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld and their cohorts. They set the agenda and had the CIA wrap the intelligence around it. I'm not going to debate whether they were right or wrong, or whether the invasion of Iraq was a success or failure. But I think the vast majority of the country would agree that Bush has upset the checks and balances of the three branches of our government. This has led to increased partisanship, diviseness and vitriole between the major parties.
If Obama could make this case and explain that if he were elected, an Obama administration would take immediate action to restore the checks and balances of our govt., I think it would resonate with voters. Hey, here's a guy seeking the presidency who's genuinely worried about the abuse of the executive branch. If we elect him, he'll go to great lengths to ensure that our president acts within the confines of the constitution and not as a king or despot. He's actually willing to roll back the power of the presidency. Obama could also bring up the rampant cronyism that revolves around Bush and the all the poor appontiments, failed cabinet positions and a huge list of premature resignations.
This strategy is good for 2 big reasons - A. McCcain won't know what hit him and how to defend himself. He'll be totally unprepared for this line of attack. B. It would successfully tie McCain to the past 8 years of Bush/Cheney - this is the recipe for a grand slam. It also crushes any remaining appeal that McCain had as a maverick. You might be thinking, oh Saf, this kind of constitutional mumbo jumbo won't appeal to anyone. I totally disagree. After months of hearing the back and forth about taxes, gas prices, mortgage foreclosures, etc. blah, YOU NEED A NEW ISSUE. You'd have to frame the argument well. I think Obama and his team could convey it without sounding too egalitarian. This argument TRANSCENDS the political tit-for-tat and would dominate the news cycle. Trust me, MCain would be look like a deer in highlights. It would only work in the debates and you'd have to choose your timing. I suppose it would work in a town hall setting as well, which would be devastating to McCain.
Once again, I'm not trying to make the argument that Bush has been good or bad (trust me, he's totally incompetent and has never grasped or understood the magnitude of the office). I just think this would be a homerun for Obama. It's a no lose proposition for him. It also ties in well with the repetitive notions of "change" and "a new forward looking future." Plus, it would set a new precedent after 8 years of dictating policy rather than developing policy. Obmam would be regarded as thoughtful and contemplaitve rather than brash and arrogant, like McCain/Bush. It also helps Obama get away with nuanced stances on a myriad of major issues, which could be a problem for him as election day draws close should the Republican 527s unleash aanother wave of "flip-flop" ads which absolutely killed John Kerry in 2004.
It seems as though the Republican strategy will be to make Obama look like a celebrity who doesn't have the necessary experience. He'll raise your taxes and prematurely withdraw from Iraq. They'll try to make it a generally negative campaign about HIM. Probably a wise strategy.
The Dems will try to tie McCain to the past 8 years of the failed Bush administration. They'll portray him to some extent as a war-monger who wants to attack Iran, give further tax breaks to big oil companies and basically follow in the footsteps of Bush/Cheney. Considering the current unpopularity of Bush, that's probably the right way to go. And of course they'll push the change agenda.
So the attacks will continue back and forth. The 3 presidential debates could provide a huge opportunity for success or failure. The candidates will be well-prepped for just about anything but the most obscure issues. However, I think there's an opening for Obama on a critical issue that you rarely hear discussed in the media - THE OVER-REACHING POWER OF
THE EXECUTIVE BRANCH under the Bush/Cheney administration. I think here's where Obama could really put the nail in McCain's coffin. Whether or not you agree with the invasion/occupation/liberation of Iraq, almost everyone could agree on one point. The policy was set forth by Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld and their cohorts. They set the agenda and had the CIA wrap the intelligence around it. I'm not going to debate whether they were right or wrong, or whether the invasion of Iraq was a success or failure. But I think the vast majority of the country would agree that Bush has upset the checks and balances of the three branches of our government. This has led to increased partisanship, diviseness and vitriole between the major parties.
If Obama could make this case and explain that if he were elected, an Obama administration would take immediate action to restore the checks and balances of our govt., I think it would resonate with voters. Hey, here's a guy seeking the presidency who's genuinely worried about the abuse of the executive branch. If we elect him, he'll go to great lengths to ensure that our president acts within the confines of the constitution and not as a king or despot. He's actually willing to roll back the power of the presidency. Obama could also bring up the rampant cronyism that revolves around Bush and the all the poor appontiments, failed cabinet positions and a huge list of premature resignations.
This strategy is good for 2 big reasons - A. McCcain won't know what hit him and how to defend himself. He'll be totally unprepared for this line of attack. B. It would successfully tie McCain to the past 8 years of Bush/Cheney - this is the recipe for a grand slam. It also crushes any remaining appeal that McCain had as a maverick. You might be thinking, oh Saf, this kind of constitutional mumbo jumbo won't appeal to anyone. I totally disagree. After months of hearing the back and forth about taxes, gas prices, mortgage foreclosures, etc. blah, YOU NEED A NEW ISSUE. You'd have to frame the argument well. I think Obama and his team could convey it without sounding too egalitarian. This argument TRANSCENDS the political tit-for-tat and would dominate the news cycle. Trust me, MCain would be look like a deer in highlights. It would only work in the debates and you'd have to choose your timing. I suppose it would work in a town hall setting as well, which would be devastating to McCain.
Once again, I'm not trying to make the argument that Bush has been good or bad (trust me, he's totally incompetent and has never grasped or understood the magnitude of the office). I just think this would be a homerun for Obama. It's a no lose proposition for him. It also ties in well with the repetitive notions of "change" and "a new forward looking future." Plus, it would set a new precedent after 8 years of dictating policy rather than developing policy. Obmam would be regarded as thoughtful and contemplaitve rather than brash and arrogant, like McCain/Bush. It also helps Obama get away with nuanced stances on a myriad of major issues, which could be a problem for him as election day draws close should the Republican 527s unleash aanother wave of "flip-flop" ads which absolutely killed John Kerry in 2004.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
fuck da police
Monday night was the long anticipated arrival of The Police at Starlake. I think this concert was announced about 8 months ago so there would be sufficient time to cultivate a buzz. Trust me, they truly required the 240 day build-up. I zipped up with Heather and Jess and we met up with Justin/Jenn (celebrity name - Justezer or D-Rector, haven't decided) and Gary/Ashley (celebrity name Ashwell). We did some stealth tailgating and snagged a bunch of tickets - most for about 20 bucks which wasn't too bad. Face was $49 for lawn. Gary snagged two comp freebies from a radio station rep. The last time I saw that much exhiliration was when Dick Cheney shot his buddy in the face.
Let me preface my comments about The Police. I'm a huge fan. Always have been. This was one of the big shows I was looking forward to seeing all summer. I've seen Sting about ten times. He opened for the Dead during the summer of 1993 at all their stadium shows. So I saw him about 6 or 7 times and I saw him do a few solo shows, mostly of the Starlake variety. Anyway, about 10 years ago I was exiting the concert and having a discussion with a group near the car. I asked them if they enjoyed the concert and this one guy proclaims, "Sting is the patron saint of mediocrity." This line blew me away. Where did he come up with this? Turns out he was a writer for a local paper. I aksed him if he was going to use that phrase in his concert review and he replied negative. He liked the line but didn't think it would go over well with his readership. At the time, I was taken aback. I had thought it was a great concert and couldn't understand the negativity. Now, ten years later, I GET IT.
Let me first say, The Police sounded good (technically). You've got Stewart Copeland. One of the best drummers in the history of rock'n'roll. They're all respectable musicians and songwriters. But for the sake of Christ, they were totally uninspired. Totally just going through the motions. I suppose this could be inevitable since they all despise each other and were about 3 months into their tour. And their setlist was borderline abysmal. I honestly could have constructed a way better list. And Sting must be the most "humbly pompous" singer out there. The guy is beyond melodramatic. I can't stand the song Roxanne and I'm beginning to think he hates it too. I think he purposely drags out every syllable in a feeble attempt to mock and ridicule the crowd. It's just plain weird.
I'm sure everyone else who saw this show thought it was wonderful. They would be wrong. The "you've just been asked to exit the stage Price is Right music kicks in" - BUMP-BUMP-BAH-BOHM.
The highlight for me was leaving the parking lot. Flew right through the center, violently weaving through all the parked cars. When we finally needed to hit the main exit line, I got a perfectly timed assist from fellow limo driver Darryl in the White Top Lincoln. That made me feel a little better. Heather was kind enough to take shotgun and immediately passed out, so I had to strain my neck talking to Jess in the backseat for the 40 minute zip back home.
I think Public Enemy had it right all along - FUCK DA POLICE !
Let me preface my comments about The Police. I'm a huge fan. Always have been. This was one of the big shows I was looking forward to seeing all summer. I've seen Sting about ten times. He opened for the Dead during the summer of 1993 at all their stadium shows. So I saw him about 6 or 7 times and I saw him do a few solo shows, mostly of the Starlake variety. Anyway, about 10 years ago I was exiting the concert and having a discussion with a group near the car. I asked them if they enjoyed the concert and this one guy proclaims, "Sting is the patron saint of mediocrity." This line blew me away. Where did he come up with this? Turns out he was a writer for a local paper. I aksed him if he was going to use that phrase in his concert review and he replied negative. He liked the line but didn't think it would go over well with his readership. At the time, I was taken aback. I had thought it was a great concert and couldn't understand the negativity. Now, ten years later, I GET IT.
Let me first say, The Police sounded good (technically). You've got Stewart Copeland. One of the best drummers in the history of rock'n'roll. They're all respectable musicians and songwriters. But for the sake of Christ, they were totally uninspired. Totally just going through the motions. I suppose this could be inevitable since they all despise each other and were about 3 months into their tour. And their setlist was borderline abysmal. I honestly could have constructed a way better list. And Sting must be the most "humbly pompous" singer out there. The guy is beyond melodramatic. I can't stand the song Roxanne and I'm beginning to think he hates it too. I think he purposely drags out every syllable in a feeble attempt to mock and ridicule the crowd. It's just plain weird.
I'm sure everyone else who saw this show thought it was wonderful. They would be wrong. The "you've just been asked to exit the stage Price is Right music kicks in" - BUMP-BUMP-BAH-BOHM.
The highlight for me was leaving the parking lot. Flew right through the center, violently weaving through all the parked cars. When we finally needed to hit the main exit line, I got a perfectly timed assist from fellow limo driver Darryl in the White Top Lincoln. That made me feel a little better. Heather was kind enough to take shotgun and immediately passed out, so I had to strain my neck talking to Jess in the backseat for the 40 minute zip back home.
I think Public Enemy had it right all along - FUCK DA POLICE !
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Bargain
Saturday night was the concert I wanted to see all summer. The Foo Fighters were playing at University of Pittsburgh in Oakland at the Peterson Events Center. I'd never been there but knew it was a high-end, state of the art venue. I was supposed to go with Stollar, but she had to bail. I think she had to run her boyfriend a bath. No big deal. I asked Jess if she wanted to go. Couldn't get out of work early. Then I asked my favorite ex-neighbor Meredith. Couldn't get a hold of her. Then, I figured that I'm a big boy. I've been to Pittsburgh over 500 times. I'll just accept the harsh reality that I'm a LOSER and head up all by myself. I left around 5pm. Pittsburgh is a mess these days, with the North Shore closed and single lane traffic coming off the ramps of Oakland. I wanted to get up there early and perhaps do a little tailgating. I parked on the street and headed to The O. Snagged a corned beef sandwich and ate it en route back to the car. Snagged a lower level single ticket for $20 off some dude. I then ran into my favorite scalper - Tim. Hung out with him for a while. He wasn't making shit, so we just discussed the nature of the crowd, how there was no tailgating scene and how the venue is really sharp, but it seemed like people were gathering for a church service, not a rock concert. I sat on the steps and watched the procession outside the main entrance. Way too orderly. People were barely even speaking, let alone partying. I thought to myself - is this really a Foo Fighters concert or did I get the wrong night and it's Enya or Bjork or Michael Bolton or some other fuck?
I ran into some Shadyside guys who hang at the Tiger Pub. They praised my foosball skills even though I was the first one eliminated in the tournament earlier in the week. I had a good partner too. We just couldn't git'r'dun (Shady Hole Cracker Town style). Sometimes these things happen. I also saw Lou and I'm guessing his girlfriend's kids.
Anyway, I decided to skip the opening act Supergrass even though I like them. Instead, I decided to focus on my water bottle of cheap red wine. I went in at the break and went toward my seat. Just as I'm about to sit down I run into the indomitable couple of Kerri F and Mike Vis-Wis. I hadn't seen these two in a few years. We talked about old times and I showed them my 1992 drivers license. That's always a good way to get the party started. I resemble a dirtball convict with oversized shaded glases and some kind of ill-formed mullett. Then, I saw Kevin R. and his buddy behind me. So, even though my loserdom status was evident, at least I felt like I was amongst friends and part of the normal concertgoing crowd.
The week earlier, I had hosted a party and we listened to The Who tribute concert on VH1 featuring Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, Incubus and a few others doing Who cover songs. The two songs that stood out were obviously from my two top bands. The Foo Fighters and the lead singer of Supergrass did a version of Bargain that I just couldn't get out my head for a week, Pearl Jam did The Real Me which also kicked varying degrees of ass.
I was very tempted to google the setlist from the Cleveland show the previous night. I had resisted temptation but was too curious to see if they'd play Bargain. Anyway, I succumbed and just like Jehovah or Ezekial or some religious freak once said, "Lo and behold, there it was." BARGAIN - the second song of three in the encore. Well, no skipping out early on this one. I figured I'd exit just before they closed the show with Generator. That's cool because I'm not a huge fan of that song.
Our seats were pretty good. Standard lower level, directly across from the main stage. As expected, Dave Grohl was in standard form. Screaming his lungs off at just about every opportunity. For those who've seen the band, they know what I'm talking about. "ALRIGHT, ARE YOU READY, HERE WE GO, RRRROOOOOAAARRRRR." If you've seen them, you get it. If you haven't; Well, just stick with your bubblegum Good Charlotte emo-pop shit because you suck and I find you loathsome. They had an acoustic stage set up right in front of us. They played a few tunes a little over halfway through the show on that stage. Marigold is a killer tune. Skin and Bones is not. And they played another poor one which the drummer sang. Grohl had an amusing anecdote where he spoke of his family and band members which were from the surrounding area outside the Burgh. He mentioned a cheap hotel in Breezewood where they'd go on family vacations. You know, the kind of hotel where you eat a large bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken while the hookers venture in and out. Much funnier than my rendition.
As expected, the entire show ROCKED. I'm actually glad they played indoors. It had been a while since I'd seen a real rock band in an summer indoors arena style show. Pealr Jam at Mellon arena 2 years ago was probably it. They ripped into Bargain near the end. Definitely the highlight among about a dozen highlights. I bolted immediately and zipped out of Oakland in record time. Back in Wheeling to hit the Alpha and the Ho with a friend. My evening ended around 4am. There's a few hours in there that shall remain unblogged. Whew. What a night.
So here's the moral of the story. Even if you're a loser, try not to lose out.
I ran into some Shadyside guys who hang at the Tiger Pub. They praised my foosball skills even though I was the first one eliminated in the tournament earlier in the week. I had a good partner too. We just couldn't git'r'dun (Shady Hole Cracker Town style). Sometimes these things happen. I also saw Lou and I'm guessing his girlfriend's kids.
Anyway, I decided to skip the opening act Supergrass even though I like them. Instead, I decided to focus on my water bottle of cheap red wine. I went in at the break and went toward my seat. Just as I'm about to sit down I run into the indomitable couple of Kerri F and Mike Vis-Wis. I hadn't seen these two in a few years. We talked about old times and I showed them my 1992 drivers license. That's always a good way to get the party started. I resemble a dirtball convict with oversized shaded glases and some kind of ill-formed mullett. Then, I saw Kevin R. and his buddy behind me. So, even though my loserdom status was evident, at least I felt like I was amongst friends and part of the normal concertgoing crowd.
The week earlier, I had hosted a party and we listened to The Who tribute concert on VH1 featuring Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, Incubus and a few others doing Who cover songs. The two songs that stood out were obviously from my two top bands. The Foo Fighters and the lead singer of Supergrass did a version of Bargain that I just couldn't get out my head for a week, Pearl Jam did The Real Me which also kicked varying degrees of ass.
I was very tempted to google the setlist from the Cleveland show the previous night. I had resisted temptation but was too curious to see if they'd play Bargain. Anyway, I succumbed and just like Jehovah or Ezekial or some religious freak once said, "Lo and behold, there it was." BARGAIN - the second song of three in the encore. Well, no skipping out early on this one. I figured I'd exit just before they closed the show with Generator. That's cool because I'm not a huge fan of that song.
Our seats were pretty good. Standard lower level, directly across from the main stage. As expected, Dave Grohl was in standard form. Screaming his lungs off at just about every opportunity. For those who've seen the band, they know what I'm talking about. "ALRIGHT, ARE YOU READY, HERE WE GO, RRRROOOOOAAARRRRR." If you've seen them, you get it. If you haven't; Well, just stick with your bubblegum Good Charlotte emo-pop shit because you suck and I find you loathsome. They had an acoustic stage set up right in front of us. They played a few tunes a little over halfway through the show on that stage. Marigold is a killer tune. Skin and Bones is not. And they played another poor one which the drummer sang. Grohl had an amusing anecdote where he spoke of his family and band members which were from the surrounding area outside the Burgh. He mentioned a cheap hotel in Breezewood where they'd go on family vacations. You know, the kind of hotel where you eat a large bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken while the hookers venture in and out. Much funnier than my rendition.
As expected, the entire show ROCKED. I'm actually glad they played indoors. It had been a while since I'd seen a real rock band in an summer indoors arena style show. Pealr Jam at Mellon arena 2 years ago was probably it. They ripped into Bargain near the end. Definitely the highlight among about a dozen highlights. I bolted immediately and zipped out of Oakland in record time. Back in Wheeling to hit the Alpha and the Ho with a friend. My evening ended around 4am. There's a few hours in there that shall remain unblogged. Whew. What a night.
So here's the moral of the story. Even if you're a loser, try not to lose out.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
tree
Last night was very unusual. I'm hanging with my neighbors and then head up to watch the movie Superbad (which was hysterical). Around 11pm I get a call from our mutual friend Kimmie. She sounds as though she's hyperventilating. "A tree has fallen through Becky's house. It went right through the roof. There was a fire but we put it out. You gotta get down here. Bring some wine. Everyone's freaking out." At first I thought she was playing a practical joke since we had been discussing tree issues earlier that day. Then I realize it's not a joke. I'm thinking - oh no, not again. A tree from a sliver of my property fell on their place last summer. AEP was there the entire day cutting down a bunch of trees. I figured the matter had been resolved. No fuckin' way.
I zip down and park my car. Jake is showing me the damage which was pretty bad. The tree took out their entire grill and patio. Part of the same tree went through their upstairs bathroom as well. A hunk of tree went crashing through their roof. There's a sizeable hole in their bathrrom wall and debris everywhere. The only fortunate thing is that the tree came from my one neighbor's property (not the asshole, the reclusive woman below). That made me feel a little relieved. Jake and I start walking up the street to inspect the downed tree and the accompanying damage. 10 seconds later we start to hear this loud cracking noise. I yell, "Let's get the fuck outta here." Jake responds, "Oh, that's nothing. What are you worrying about?" I start running down the hill as the second half of the tree comes crashing down. It fell straight across the driveway nearly taking out the precious gate of the asshole neighbor. It crushes the power line and sparks start flying. The power to the entire street (as well as National Road) goes out instantly. Jake and I are freaking out and discussing how we both almost got crushed by the tree. This thing is huge. Honestly, it was a matter of ten seconds or we both would have been pummelled into the pavement.
All the neighbors are outside and we start discussing the irony of the situation. How the tree almost killed us. How it didn't hit asshole's gate. How both my and Jake's car almost were crushed and neither of us have personal coverage. How I used to park right where the tree came crashing down until a couple weeks ago when my asshole neighbor put up a split rail fence to shunt my regular parking endeavors. It made for some unusual conversation.
Anyway, we adjourn to the porch, or if you prefer, poach. Eventually, I head back up to my place throuuh the cemetary. For some reason, the cemetary gate is closed, as if there weren't enough strange gate issues for the night. I just had to crash out. Anyway, I woke up around 4:30am when the power came back on. Oddly enough, Superbad is back on tv. That's some funny shit.
I zip down and park my car. Jake is showing me the damage which was pretty bad. The tree took out their entire grill and patio. Part of the same tree went through their upstairs bathroom as well. A hunk of tree went crashing through their roof. There's a sizeable hole in their bathrrom wall and debris everywhere. The only fortunate thing is that the tree came from my one neighbor's property (not the asshole, the reclusive woman below). That made me feel a little relieved. Jake and I start walking up the street to inspect the downed tree and the accompanying damage. 10 seconds later we start to hear this loud cracking noise. I yell, "Let's get the fuck outta here." Jake responds, "Oh, that's nothing. What are you worrying about?" I start running down the hill as the second half of the tree comes crashing down. It fell straight across the driveway nearly taking out the precious gate of the asshole neighbor. It crushes the power line and sparks start flying. The power to the entire street (as well as National Road) goes out instantly. Jake and I are freaking out and discussing how we both almost got crushed by the tree. This thing is huge. Honestly, it was a matter of ten seconds or we both would have been pummelled into the pavement.
All the neighbors are outside and we start discussing the irony of the situation. How the tree almost killed us. How it didn't hit asshole's gate. How both my and Jake's car almost were crushed and neither of us have personal coverage. How I used to park right where the tree came crashing down until a couple weeks ago when my asshole neighbor put up a split rail fence to shunt my regular parking endeavors. It made for some unusual conversation.
Anyway, we adjourn to the porch, or if you prefer, poach. Eventually, I head back up to my place throuuh the cemetary. For some reason, the cemetary gate is closed, as if there weren't enough strange gate issues for the night. I just had to crash out. Anyway, I woke up around 4:30am when the power came back on. Oddly enough, Superbad is back on tv. That's some funny shit.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
new odds on Hillary
Well, the odds on Hillary to win the Democratic nomination have now jumped to 49-1. Think about it. That's 20 bucks to win a GRAND. Of course, you have to reconcile the untimely death of Obama or his withdrawal from the race. I remember the Clinton campaign alluding to a nuclear option early in the campaign. They insinuated that they had some "dirt" on Obama but would never use it. Whether or not this is true is very debatable. They may have just wanted to try and scare some votes her way. But what if they do have some dirt - proof that Obama had a threesome, an extramarital affair, video of him kicking a midget in the balls... who knows, it could be anything. I could even envision the Clintons leaking it to the press (right after the Obama team pays off her campaign debt of course). That will be what I refer to as crunch time. Actually, just a little bit before the debt is retired so it doesn't arouse too much suspicion. Just take an objective look at the Clintons and think who we're really dealing with.
Anyway, the Democratic National Convention is August 25-28. So I'm thinking about placing the wager in about a week or so. I can't fathom the odds getting much better than 49-1. Incidentally, Al Gore is also 49-1. Just rememeber, if the whole bet was so ludicrous and unfathomable, there wouldn't be people out there currently betting on it.
Anyway, the Democratic National Convention is August 25-28. So I'm thinking about placing the wager in about a week or so. I can't fathom the odds getting much better than 49-1. Incidentally, Al Gore is also 49-1. Just rememeber, if the whole bet was so ludicrous and unfathomable, there wouldn't be people out there currently betting on it.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
political wager
Every once in a while, I check out the political odds of various candidates on World Sports Exchange. Obviously, McCain and Obama are currently the respective nominees. I wouldn't waste time betting on either. The odds are basically 2:1 in favor of Obama. However, I thought it was intriguing that you can still bet on Hillary Clinton to win the Democratic nomination. The money line on Hildog is -3233. That means you wager $100 to win over $3233. You can also bet on Al Gore. His line is $100 to win $6500. All the other prior contenders are $100 to win $9,900 and there's zero interest out there (on people like Richardson, Biden, Dodd, etc). They offer the money lines by purchasing futures contracts which I've never done before. I've placed future bets but never bought contracts. In any event, it probably doesn't take rocket scientist. All you have to do is click the button.
Why am I yapping about this shit when Obama has already clinched the Democratic nomination? And why are there still a few stragglers out there betting on Hillary to win the Dem. nomination (not the presidency, just the nomination). Why? Why? Because for the past few months, I keep thinking Obama is going to end up dead. If he gets killed, who does the nomination suddenly fall to. Well, obviously it would go to Hillary. It's not as though the entire Democratic party would remain silent. They'd offer her up in less than an hour. Keep in mind, she doesn't have to win the presdiency, just the nomination.
For a brief moment, reflect on all the political assassinations (and attempted assassinations) in our recent history and around the world. More important, think about all the red states where Obama is going to concentrate his campaign. Confederate states like Georgia, North Carolina, Virginia, Arkansas, Louisiana, etc. These are states with lots of lingering racist undertones. States where Democratic candidates haven't made an active effort in since the 1960's. All it takes is one nutcase. This country has about 1 million legitimate nutcases and I would imagine most of them have guns.
Anyway, here's the reality. There are a few people out there buying futures contracts on Hillary. If Obama ends up dead, those Hillary contracts are going to be worth a shitload of money. And what about the outside possiblity of him just dying from a heart attack or other natural cause? And isn't he planning trips to Iraq, Israel and a few other middle Eastern countries in the near term? Not exactly places that will welcome him with open arms.
Isn't it risky to place a long shot bet on these gambling websites? What if they don't pay out? It's certainly a possibility but I have a reasonable amount of faith in world sports exchange. I've won a few long shots and the money was credited instantaneously. In any event, I trust this site and its often ranked #1 or #2 in the world. They're officialy licensed in England via Antigua. That's where many have their servers - Barbados, Costa Rica, Belize and other Caribbean countries.
So here's the deal. I think I might give this a shot. Now is probably the time. I doubt the odds will increase much further. They seem relatively stagnant at this point. The major point is that Hillary doesn't have to win the presidency, just the nomination. If you think I'm a crackhead, feel free to let me know. If you think I may have a legitimate idea and would consider participating, let me know asap. The sooner, the better. Or maybe I should say, the sooner, the bettor.
Incidentally, I still plan on voting for Obama and desparetely hope he is our next commander-in-chief. After 8 years of dumbshit and Cheney, this country could needs a hero. One final disclaimer - This whole wager is based solely on a long-shot conceptual gambling hunch with some basic Political Science 101 theory thrown in. Nothing more. I'm even thinking of changing my middle name to Hussein... Well, maybe not.
Why am I yapping about this shit when Obama has already clinched the Democratic nomination? And why are there still a few stragglers out there betting on Hillary to win the Dem. nomination (not the presidency, just the nomination). Why? Why? Because for the past few months, I keep thinking Obama is going to end up dead. If he gets killed, who does the nomination suddenly fall to. Well, obviously it would go to Hillary. It's not as though the entire Democratic party would remain silent. They'd offer her up in less than an hour. Keep in mind, she doesn't have to win the presdiency, just the nomination.
For a brief moment, reflect on all the political assassinations (and attempted assassinations) in our recent history and around the world. More important, think about all the red states where Obama is going to concentrate his campaign. Confederate states like Georgia, North Carolina, Virginia, Arkansas, Louisiana, etc. These are states with lots of lingering racist undertones. States where Democratic candidates haven't made an active effort in since the 1960's. All it takes is one nutcase. This country has about 1 million legitimate nutcases and I would imagine most of them have guns.
Anyway, here's the reality. There are a few people out there buying futures contracts on Hillary. If Obama ends up dead, those Hillary contracts are going to be worth a shitload of money. And what about the outside possiblity of him just dying from a heart attack or other natural cause? And isn't he planning trips to Iraq, Israel and a few other middle Eastern countries in the near term? Not exactly places that will welcome him with open arms.
Isn't it risky to place a long shot bet on these gambling websites? What if they don't pay out? It's certainly a possibility but I have a reasonable amount of faith in world sports exchange. I've won a few long shots and the money was credited instantaneously. In any event, I trust this site and its often ranked #1 or #2 in the world. They're officialy licensed in England via Antigua. That's where many have their servers - Barbados, Costa Rica, Belize and other Caribbean countries.
So here's the deal. I think I might give this a shot. Now is probably the time. I doubt the odds will increase much further. They seem relatively stagnant at this point. The major point is that Hillary doesn't have to win the presidency, just the nomination. If you think I'm a crackhead, feel free to let me know. If you think I may have a legitimate idea and would consider participating, let me know asap. The sooner, the better. Or maybe I should say, the sooner, the bettor.
Incidentally, I still plan on voting for Obama and desparetely hope he is our next commander-in-chief. After 8 years of dumbshit and Cheney, this country could needs a hero. One final disclaimer - This whole wager is based solely on a long-shot conceptual gambling hunch with some basic Political Science 101 theory thrown in. Nothing more. I'm even thinking of changing my middle name to Hussein... Well, maybe not.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
bounty
It's official. We're in a recession, no duh. High gas prices, slumping housing market, corporate layoffs, Dick Cheney's sagging ballsack, soaring health care costs, etc. But what's the solution?
John McCain inspired us all by offering a one time payout of 300 million dollars to anyone who can create the perfect battery fueled zero-emission automobile. He also offered up the "gas tax holiday" so everyone could save 15 cents a gallon for a month or so. Both these ideas suck for a myriad of reasons too numerous to expound upon.
Anyway, I was watching some AWA Wrestling from the mid 1980's a week ago and it gave me a stellar idea. Remember how they used to put "a bounty on the head of someone" - it was basically a cash payout for knocking someone unconscious or maybe drawing blood if the wrestler had a pretty face. I think the most notable bounties in wrestling history were placed upon Tommy "Wildfire" Rich and "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes (but they were both WCW and that's largely irrelevant).
So here is my proposition...
I have decided to place a bounty of $100 on the popcorn machine at TJ's Sportsgarden & Restaraunt at 808 National Road, Wheeling, WV. You're probably asking, "what the fuck is he talking about? How do you beat up a popcorn machine at a low-end restaurant?" Here's how to collect - this bounty has a few specifics. All the steps must be acquired on video and youtubed.
Step 1 - Start getting drunk at the 19th Ho.
Step 2 - Stagger over to TJ's.
Step 3 - Walk in the entrance and throw up in their popcorn machine.
An extra $20 bonus payment can be acquired if, post-vomit, you give everyone in the restaurant the "suck it" sign. That means forming an "X" with your arms over the crotchal region while simultaneously yelling "suck it" or "let's get ready to suck it."
Note: The amount of puke must be semi-verifiable via the videotaped footage. I'm not demanding measuring cups but I'm not paying out if someone just goes over there and starts spitting/hacking in the popcorn machine.
So there you go. It's out there. Let's give this slumping Wheeling economy a kick in the ass. Remember the words of our outgoing mayor, "Think not what Wheeling can do for you. Think what you can do for Wheeling!"
John McCain inspired us all by offering a one time payout of 300 million dollars to anyone who can create the perfect battery fueled zero-emission automobile. He also offered up the "gas tax holiday" so everyone could save 15 cents a gallon for a month or so. Both these ideas suck for a myriad of reasons too numerous to expound upon.
Anyway, I was watching some AWA Wrestling from the mid 1980's a week ago and it gave me a stellar idea. Remember how they used to put "a bounty on the head of someone" - it was basically a cash payout for knocking someone unconscious or maybe drawing blood if the wrestler had a pretty face. I think the most notable bounties in wrestling history were placed upon Tommy "Wildfire" Rich and "The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes (but they were both WCW and that's largely irrelevant).
So here is my proposition...
I have decided to place a bounty of $100 on the popcorn machine at TJ's Sportsgarden & Restaraunt at 808 National Road, Wheeling, WV. You're probably asking, "what the fuck is he talking about? How do you beat up a popcorn machine at a low-end restaurant?" Here's how to collect - this bounty has a few specifics. All the steps must be acquired on video and youtubed.
Step 1 - Start getting drunk at the 19th Ho.
Step 2 - Stagger over to TJ's.
Step 3 - Walk in the entrance and throw up in their popcorn machine.
An extra $20 bonus payment can be acquired if, post-vomit, you give everyone in the restaurant the "suck it" sign. That means forming an "X" with your arms over the crotchal region while simultaneously yelling "suck it" or "let's get ready to suck it."
Note: The amount of puke must be semi-verifiable via the videotaped footage. I'm not demanding measuring cups but I'm not paying out if someone just goes over there and starts spitting/hacking in the popcorn machine.
So there you go. It's out there. Let's give this slumping Wheeling economy a kick in the ass. Remember the words of our outgoing mayor, "Think not what Wheeling can do for you. Think what you can do for Wheeling!"
Saturday, June 07, 2008
dream in AZ about MN
I made it to Phoenix late yesterday. Very bumpy flight over the midwest. I guess there was some really bad weather, thus a good straight hour of turbulence. Made it impossible to sleep even though I've been running on empty for the past week. Anyway, all is well. Folks are good. My niece Amy broke her wrist but seemed to be handling it well.
However, I had another strange dream last night. I dreamt that I was an engineer overseeing a vast network of bridges and underground trains for the city of Minneapolis. I would have to assume that the city of Minneapolis somehow relates to my brother's wife Lynn (that's where she's from). Anyway, there's about a dozen peope in a board room and I unveil a futuristic plan for the transportation infrastructure of the city. There's a bunch of ooohs and ahhhs when I unveil the main sketch. Basically, there is a network of bridges that resemble the top of Mellon Arena. I'd say about 16 bridges or so that all lead to the top of the city. They all interconnect at the top dead-center location above the heart of the city. But there's nothing at the top. Beneath the city is about half the amount of trains (probably 8) which also interconnect beneath the city. These train routes lack the curvature of the bridges - much more straight and direct. And that's pretty much how it ends - just me unveiling some kind of futuristic plan to a city council.
I would have to assume that all this relates to me seeing my brother's wife Amy. Perhaps it's about the paths our family has taken and how they all merge back to a common location. The strange thing is that nothing much happens in the dream - only the symbolic imagery of the paths of bridges and trains, up above and down below. My other dreams have had very specific imagery and events. This one seemed more generalized. Maybe it has something to do with establishing boundaries, personal directions and familial pathways through life. At least that's my guess.
However, I had another strange dream last night. I dreamt that I was an engineer overseeing a vast network of bridges and underground trains for the city of Minneapolis. I would have to assume that the city of Minneapolis somehow relates to my brother's wife Lynn (that's where she's from). Anyway, there's about a dozen peope in a board room and I unveil a futuristic plan for the transportation infrastructure of the city. There's a bunch of ooohs and ahhhs when I unveil the main sketch. Basically, there is a network of bridges that resemble the top of Mellon Arena. I'd say about 16 bridges or so that all lead to the top of the city. They all interconnect at the top dead-center location above the heart of the city. But there's nothing at the top. Beneath the city is about half the amount of trains (probably 8) which also interconnect beneath the city. These train routes lack the curvature of the bridges - much more straight and direct. And that's pretty much how it ends - just me unveiling some kind of futuristic plan to a city council.
I would have to assume that all this relates to me seeing my brother's wife Amy. Perhaps it's about the paths our family has taken and how they all merge back to a common location. The strange thing is that nothing much happens in the dream - only the symbolic imagery of the paths of bridges and trains, up above and down below. My other dreams have had very specific imagery and events. This one seemed more generalized. Maybe it has something to do with establishing boundaries, personal directions and familial pathways through life. At least that's my guess.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Alright...
Alright, so I went to the Dave Matthews Starlake opener last night. It was also his summer kickoff show. Honestly, I had no idea I was going, let alone driving. I met up with Heather and Sarah at the salsafied cafe and was convinced to attend. Then, encouraged to play the usual role of limo driver, except, via Subaru. Our group was semi-disorganized, yet sturdy and determined. Fortunately, I cleaned out my car the day before - it was a pig sty. We made it to the lot around 6pm and hooked up with The Dub and his crew. Nearby was Jenn, Amanda and her crew. Taligated for a bit and I snagged a mail order ticket off some dude in the lot for $20. I thought about working the buy and sell angle but just didn't feel like it. Jenn was envious of my mail order ticket and wanted to trade for her standard one. I declined - an omen of things to come.
They all went into the show as I finished off a beer. When I went to the old lady scanning the tickets, she scanned and it came back negative. No fucking beep noise. "Are you kidding me?" She looks down at the ticket and explains it's for Saturday, the following night. I'm a little astonished. I never bothered to check the date. I just assumed it was a go, especially since it was a mail order. So I gather my wits and head back to the dumpster area and look for a ticket. Very little action at this point, since it was going into the third song. I ran into this one guy and he offers me a ticket for $30. I try to get him down to $20, but I'm tired of haggling and I give him the thirty. I bum another beer, drink it, and head down to the same old lady. "Alright, let's try this one." She scans it. No fuckin' beep. She softly explains, "I'm sorry sir, this ticket has already been used." This time I'm pissed, not at her, but at myself. I let that fuckhead sell me a used ticket. UNBELIEVABLE. What am I? Some kind of concert going newbie.
Anyway, I take a deep breath and head back to the car. There's group of 4 people hanging out near my car in the VIP lot. They sense my dismay and this one guy asks me, "Hey, what's up?" I respond, "You don't want to know." This guys is just like me, looking for a floorshow or some side entertainment. I go into the prolonged explanation of how I got a ticket for the wrong night and then bunked. His girlfreind says they have an extra and she insists on giving it to me. He tries to charge me for it but she insists. Alright, so I get miracled at a DMB show and the original Saturday mail order ticket is still usable, even though it was scanned.
I missed about 5 songs but made up for it with about 3 extra beers. I squirmed my way to the box seats where my original crew was. KILLER seats. Definitely among the best. As for the show itself, hats off too Jenn D. for calling the Don't Drink The Water opener. She studies these DMB setlists though. I blame myself. I think she takes after me with the Dead setlists.
I thought the show could have been a bit stronger song-wise but there was some great energy. I don't care for Grey Street as one of their closer songs. I thought the encore would be the song about his sister, but I was thinking Grace is Gone - it turned out to be the other song about his sister. I was surprised by the small crowd. The grass lot and VIP sections were a little over half full. Kind of low for a nice weather Friday night. Maybe it's the economy, but hey, isn't Dave the king of the rich-white-college-girl crowd? That's actualy why I like him - DMB is a marketing machine. F'in A.
The ride home took an extra half hour. I'm not going to explore this part of the night in print. Dropped everyone off at the house and hit the Alpha. I'm taking my crew up to Pittsburgh today. They just want dropped off and they're going to dinner and the Penguins game #4. I'll pick them up around midnight. Guess where I'll be in the interim? That's right - round 2. Can't let that ticket go to waste. I think it may be the first time in the history of Starlake that someone shows up in an empty limo. Dare to dream...
They all went into the show as I finished off a beer. When I went to the old lady scanning the tickets, she scanned and it came back negative. No fucking beep noise. "Are you kidding me?" She looks down at the ticket and explains it's for Saturday, the following night. I'm a little astonished. I never bothered to check the date. I just assumed it was a go, especially since it was a mail order. So I gather my wits and head back to the dumpster area and look for a ticket. Very little action at this point, since it was going into the third song. I ran into this one guy and he offers me a ticket for $30. I try to get him down to $20, but I'm tired of haggling and I give him the thirty. I bum another beer, drink it, and head down to the same old lady. "Alright, let's try this one." She scans it. No fuckin' beep. She softly explains, "I'm sorry sir, this ticket has already been used." This time I'm pissed, not at her, but at myself. I let that fuckhead sell me a used ticket. UNBELIEVABLE. What am I? Some kind of concert going newbie.
Anyway, I take a deep breath and head back to the car. There's group of 4 people hanging out near my car in the VIP lot. They sense my dismay and this one guy asks me, "Hey, what's up?" I respond, "You don't want to know." This guys is just like me, looking for a floorshow or some side entertainment. I go into the prolonged explanation of how I got a ticket for the wrong night and then bunked. His girlfreind says they have an extra and she insists on giving it to me. He tries to charge me for it but she insists. Alright, so I get miracled at a DMB show and the original Saturday mail order ticket is still usable, even though it was scanned.
I missed about 5 songs but made up for it with about 3 extra beers. I squirmed my way to the box seats where my original crew was. KILLER seats. Definitely among the best. As for the show itself, hats off too Jenn D. for calling the Don't Drink The Water opener. She studies these DMB setlists though. I blame myself. I think she takes after me with the Dead setlists.
I thought the show could have been a bit stronger song-wise but there was some great energy. I don't care for Grey Street as one of their closer songs. I thought the encore would be the song about his sister, but I was thinking Grace is Gone - it turned out to be the other song about his sister. I was surprised by the small crowd. The grass lot and VIP sections were a little over half full. Kind of low for a nice weather Friday night. Maybe it's the economy, but hey, isn't Dave the king of the rich-white-college-girl crowd? That's actualy why I like him - DMB is a marketing machine. F'in A.
The ride home took an extra half hour. I'm not going to explore this part of the night in print. Dropped everyone off at the house and hit the Alpha. I'm taking my crew up to Pittsburgh today. They just want dropped off and they're going to dinner and the Penguins game #4. I'll pick them up around midnight. Guess where I'll be in the interim? That's right - round 2. Can't let that ticket go to waste. I think it may be the first time in the history of Starlake that someone shows up in an empty limo. Dare to dream...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
2 more
Yep, 2 more dreams from last night. There was a third dream, but I forget what it consisted of. The first dream was VERY brief. Meowee was chasing a mouse through the house into my bathroom. The mouse jumped into the toilet and Meowee went in after it. I was trying to prevent Meowee from literally being flushed down the toilet. It was kind of like a George Jetson type atmosphere (Jane get me off this crazy thing). My feet are braced against the base of the toilet and I'm grabbing, pulling and trying to restrain the cat. It was a very "cartoon-like" atmosphere. My hands are around her midsection. Then it abruptly ends. Something of note - another dream with a mouse that has some kind of death wish or is dead.
The other dream was more distinctive. I'm shopping at Reisbeck's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Incidentally, I worked there back in late high school/early college. About 3 years. There was an incident where this old guy getting a newspaper. I was about to go on break and said, "do you mind if snag one of these." He screamed, "Oh no you don't and slammed the newspaper machine door on my hand." Then, I said something to the affect, "You asshole, what the fuck is wrong with you." He complained to my boss. I wasn't fired but they reduced my hours to one day a week - so basically, it became a joke to work there. All that has nothing to do with the dream, just some background info.
Anyway, I'm in the store doing some shopping. No recollection of the contents of the shopping cart. I ran into a guy I know named Chris and another one named Dan. We made small chit-chat as we went through the checkout line. I'm almost out of the store, and I run into another guy I know named Dave. He discreetly tells me that he has just shoplifted 6 chocolate bars. He opens his jean jacket and there are a bunch of regular Hershey bars. I say something like , "Good for you." We both start out the door and a siren goes off, and somebody over the sound system says, "Code Red" or "Emergency"." I forgert the exact wording. Anyway, this black employee about 25-30 yrs old who resmebles this guy I know also named Dan, puts me in a headlock and tells me I have to come with him. He walks me to the back. I don't resist but just am kind of "along for the ride." We enter the storage area in the back and that's where it pretty much ends. I think I said something like, "You'll never find anything on me. I didn't take anything."
The other dream was more distinctive. I'm shopping at Reisbeck's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Incidentally, I worked there back in late high school/early college. About 3 years. There was an incident where this old guy getting a newspaper. I was about to go on break and said, "do you mind if snag one of these." He screamed, "Oh no you don't and slammed the newspaper machine door on my hand." Then, I said something to the affect, "You asshole, what the fuck is wrong with you." He complained to my boss. I wasn't fired but they reduced my hours to one day a week - so basically, it became a joke to work there. All that has nothing to do with the dream, just some background info.
Anyway, I'm in the store doing some shopping. No recollection of the contents of the shopping cart. I ran into a guy I know named Chris and another one named Dan. We made small chit-chat as we went through the checkout line. I'm almost out of the store, and I run into another guy I know named Dave. He discreetly tells me that he has just shoplifted 6 chocolate bars. He opens his jean jacket and there are a bunch of regular Hershey bars. I say something like , "Good for you." We both start out the door and a siren goes off, and somebody over the sound system says, "Code Red" or "Emergency"." I forgert the exact wording. Anyway, this black employee about 25-30 yrs old who resmebles this guy I know also named Dan, puts me in a headlock and tells me I have to come with him. He walks me to the back. I don't resist but just am kind of "along for the ride." We enter the storage area in the back and that's where it pretty much ends. I think I said something like, "You'll never find anything on me. I didn't take anything."
Sunday, May 25, 2008
another dream
I took a very rare afternoon nap and just had another dream. This one was incredibly brief. I was entering the Walmart in St. Clairsville. As I approached the door, I see this motorized wheelchair coming from the other direction. There's a woman sittting in it, but her body is disconnected. No arms, no legs, no torso - IT'S JUST A HEAD. The rest of her body is right next to the head, somewhat slumped over. This guy entering the building looks at me and lamentably says, "Ohhhh, she's fucked."
The head was relatively ugly. It looked a bit like a friend's mom. I don't want to say who because I referred to the head as ugly. If I see you in person, I'd probably be willing to share who it is.
I remember thinking to myself in the dream, "How on earth does the deatched headed person get around so well." Then, I wake up.
I think there's a correlation between this dream and the last dream with the mouse. Obviously, both dreams had disfigurement issues.
The head was relatively ugly. It looked a bit like a friend's mom. I don't want to say who because I referred to the head as ugly. If I see you in person, I'd probably be willing to share who it is.
I remember thinking to myself in the dream, "How on earth does the deatched headed person get around so well." Then, I wake up.
I think there's a correlation between this dream and the last dream with the mouse. Obviously, both dreams had disfigurement issues.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
another dream
Sure enough, I had another dream last night. Like I said, I rarely dream these days and if I do, I usually don't remember them. I'm sitting at a bar with Paulie Goutiellrie and Christopher Multisanti from the Sopranos. The bar looks a lot like the one in the movie Good Fellas - the scene where they kill that made guy "Bats" in Queens. Oddly enough, Bats is the New York boss on the Sopranos. I seem to be playing the role of Bats, or at the very least, I'm sitting in his seat. A converstaion emerges between the 3 of us and Chris challenges me to eat a mouse. I tell him that will require $360 or $380, I forget. Then, I come to the realization that they want me to eat a live mouse. I tell them it must be dead, and they start laughing. Chris leans behind the counter and grabs a dead mouse and places it in a plastic shot glass. I look at it and it's pretty mangled. Mostly made of head and tail. It seems to be missing most of its body. I ask them where the money is and Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of crumpled bills -roughly $18. As I unfurl the bills there's a little more in there. About another $10 or so. I look at them both and say that it's insufficient or something to that affect. And that's where the dream ends.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
dreams
For the past 2 night, I've had dreams of impending personal danger and destruction. Very rarely do I even remember the content of my dreams, but these were both extremely vivid and both caused me to wake up.
On Sunday night, I dreamt I was skateboarding down a hill that looked a lot like 2 mile Hill (Dallas Pike). However, the hill was sloped differently. As though, I was starting at the Highlands and going down eastward. I never been able to operate a skateboard effectively. As I approach the bottom, the road turns into a swamp and I end up wearing a pair of roller blades. I'm trying to navigate through the swamp - it reminded me of a picture of the Puget Sound in Oregon. And of course I start sinking and getting bogged down. When I feel as though I'm totally helpless and sinking, I wake up.
Last night, I dreamt I was on the front porch of a house in a prairie like setting and I spot a tornado off in the distance. I ask a man in the house (not sure who it was) how far off he thinks the tornado is. He says, "I don't know" and then I say "seems like the distance from Wheeling to Wellsburg." The house is a standard brick colonial (probably 4 bedroom/2 bath). I suggest we'd better head inside as a few other tornadoes have started to form (same distance). We retreat into the living room and there's woman (not sure who it was) staring out the window and she says something to the affect of "Oh god, look at all the other ones coming." I stare out the living room window and there's probably about a dozen funnel clouds approaching. That's when I wake up.
Maybe once a year or so, I have a nightmare where I wake up in a sweat. I wasn't perspiring on either occasion, but I was definitely unsettled and agitated. I'm curious to see if another dream hits me tonight.
I neglected to mention, in the second dream, when I retreat into the house, I try to shut the door, but there's no knob or handle. I manage to close it for the most part. The flap at the base of the floor is awkwardly sticking up. It's made of a black rubbery plastic composite.
On Sunday night, I dreamt I was skateboarding down a hill that looked a lot like 2 mile Hill (Dallas Pike). However, the hill was sloped differently. As though, I was starting at the Highlands and going down eastward. I never been able to operate a skateboard effectively. As I approach the bottom, the road turns into a swamp and I end up wearing a pair of roller blades. I'm trying to navigate through the swamp - it reminded me of a picture of the Puget Sound in Oregon. And of course I start sinking and getting bogged down. When I feel as though I'm totally helpless and sinking, I wake up.
Last night, I dreamt I was on the front porch of a house in a prairie like setting and I spot a tornado off in the distance. I ask a man in the house (not sure who it was) how far off he thinks the tornado is. He says, "I don't know" and then I say "seems like the distance from Wheeling to Wellsburg." The house is a standard brick colonial (probably 4 bedroom/2 bath). I suggest we'd better head inside as a few other tornadoes have started to form (same distance). We retreat into the living room and there's woman (not sure who it was) staring out the window and she says something to the affect of "Oh god, look at all the other ones coming." I stare out the living room window and there's probably about a dozen funnel clouds approaching. That's when I wake up.
Maybe once a year or so, I have a nightmare where I wake up in a sweat. I wasn't perspiring on either occasion, but I was definitely unsettled and agitated. I'm curious to see if another dream hits me tonight.
I neglected to mention, in the second dream, when I retreat into the house, I try to shut the door, but there's no knob or handle. I manage to close it for the most part. The flap at the base of the floor is awkwardly sticking up. It's made of a black rubbery plastic composite.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Balance
Over the past 2 decades, I've often been asked about my nonbeliever status. I've heard the same questions repeatedly, "Saf, you don't believe in god?" "Saf, do you think Jesus was a Jew?" "Well Saf, then who created the universe and set everything in motion?" On and on it goes. All the same questions. All posed with the similar tinge of incredulity. As if I have a different take on the same questions that have plagued mankind. Yes, plagued. While these questions might offer humans a sense of hope, they're also the questions that bring about the worst qualities in man. It's an intriguing balance. A televangelist can take the comfort of old womans prayer and use if for sinister gain. A third world tyrant, or one right here in the USA, can use religion as a weapon of terror, mobilizing the janjaweed to storm through villages, raping and killing, or even worse, subtly using the notion of "good vs. evil" to milk hundreds of billions to alter the geoploitical landscape of the planet.
As would be expected, I find all this as disturbing as the next guy. Well Saf, at least you can take comfort in the idea of a greater power or some omnipotent force that guides mankind. Yeah, right! Talk about the audacity of hope!
But the truth is I DO believe. Not in Jesus Christ dying for my sins, or they came to the ark in twosies twosies, or the notion of papal infallibility, or a burning bush, or the garden of eden, or Ezekial begat so and so, or any of that line of mundane jibberish. I believe there's balance in the universe. You see it all around you, everyday in just about every conceivable way. Everything is striving toward some form of common ground, or center. Some refer to it as yin/yang or maybe a branch of Taoism. I don't know what it's called, but you see it in every aspect of life - politics, economics, spirituality, war. And there's balance in simpler things; landscaping, golf, online gambling.
I've always had a desire to put these thoughts on paper, or nowadays, screen. So I'm bidding farewell to the acrimonious restaurant reviews and the mildly amusing rock concert anecdotes. For the forseeable future, I'll just be writing about one concept - BALANCE IN THE UNIVERSE. I wonder if it will be fulfilling. Some will like it, some won't. Some posts will leave you contemplative, others will be like "things that make you hmmmm (Arsenio Hall style)." Some posts will dwelve into the stark realities of mankind, other posts will deal with the misuse of ranch dressing. In any event, they'll all be dealing with the notion of balance and how everything strives toward some common ground. Hopefully, this goes over better than that double comedy cd. Maybe it will, maybe it won't.
As would be expected, I find all this as disturbing as the next guy. Well Saf, at least you can take comfort in the idea of a greater power or some omnipotent force that guides mankind. Yeah, right! Talk about the audacity of hope!
But the truth is I DO believe. Not in Jesus Christ dying for my sins, or they came to the ark in twosies twosies, or the notion of papal infallibility, or a burning bush, or the garden of eden, or Ezekial begat so and so, or any of that line of mundane jibberish. I believe there's balance in the universe. You see it all around you, everyday in just about every conceivable way. Everything is striving toward some form of common ground, or center. Some refer to it as yin/yang or maybe a branch of Taoism. I don't know what it's called, but you see it in every aspect of life - politics, economics, spirituality, war. And there's balance in simpler things; landscaping, golf, online gambling.
I've always had a desire to put these thoughts on paper, or nowadays, screen. So I'm bidding farewell to the acrimonious restaurant reviews and the mildly amusing rock concert anecdotes. For the forseeable future, I'll just be writing about one concept - BALANCE IN THE UNIVERSE. I wonder if it will be fulfilling. Some will like it, some won't. Some posts will leave you contemplative, others will be like "things that make you hmmmm (Arsenio Hall style)." Some posts will dwelve into the stark realities of mankind, other posts will deal with the misuse of ranch dressing. In any event, they'll all be dealing with the notion of balance and how everything strives toward some common ground. Hopefully, this goes over better than that double comedy cd. Maybe it will, maybe it won't.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
99th post
As I approach my hundreth post, I thought it would be a good idea to journey back to my blogroots - the restaurant reviews. How about a general recap? With all the lousy dining options in the valley, it's vital to get the truth out there. I'm just going to offer some listings and brief explanations.
Best lunch option - I'd have to say Metropolitan Grill. Yeah, I know the service ranges from marginally questionable to downright bizarre. You have to go in with a certain mindset. It might take 10 minutes to get seated. It could take 20 minutes to make verbal contact with your waiter/waitress. You might get the wrong bill. You might get the complimentary bread, you might not. Even worse, you get the bread, but they didn't shake up that dipping sauce so it ends up tasting like straight light sweet crude oil. Your waiter might have those wierdo African disc earings stretching the fuck out of his earlobes. If you can handle the oddities of the waitstaff, you're in great shape because the food is of impeccable quality. The salads are, hands down, the absolute best in a 45 mile radius. Any of the salads are a great choice. You'll never be disappointed. And to be honest, it's really not the fault of the waitstaff because the guy who owns the place hires and fires people like it's a bodily function. The average employee only works there for like 4 days or so.
Honorable mention goes to Figaretti's. It's not really about the food. The place is just so damn comfortable.
Best dinner option - I'll probably take some heat on this one. I'd have to say Outback. I know, I know. Saf, it's a fuckin' chain restaurant and they use words like "Kookooburra" and say things like "ahoy, matey." Nonetheless, the menu is strong and affordable and the service is decent and friendly. A few pieces of advice - the Bloomin Onion is one of the least healthy things you can eat on the planet earth. Their wings are surprisingly poor. The seared Ahi Tuna appetizer is very good. If you get the caesar side salad, ask for a few wedges of lemon. Great dressing, but use it sparangly. It's loaded with mayonnaise. And finally, don't go there on a Friday or Saturday. It's far too busy. Choose an off night.
Honorable mention goes to DeeJay's in Weirton. Great food. Great price. Great service. Nice place.
Best breakfast - Sonny Boys in outer Bridgeport is dirt cheap, but the place is kind of disgusting. The food is decent but I question the resaurants' cleanliness and the personal hygiene of the workers. I'm even more concerned about the hygiene of its patrons. Plus, the place wreaks of cigarette smoke. As far as price goes, it can't be beat. However, I'd rather pay a little more and go some place nice. Thus, the Ihlenfield Dining Room at Oglebay Park gets the nod. The have a fantastic Sunday brunch for around 12 bucks. I've only gone a few times but it's truly impressive. Plentiful options, pleasant atmosphere and the food is great. One piece of advice - don't stand in the omelette station or handmade waffle line if there are more than 3 people. You'll look like an idiot trying to make small talk with the hotel guests (you'll be forced to discuss the all the finer points of Oglebay Park - that's a conversation of consternation) and it will take forever for them to custom design your breakfast. Heed this warning - avoid the Ihlenfield dining room for any other meal. Only the Sunday brunch is decent.
Honorable mention goes to Bob Evans.
Worst buffet - Oh, for the love of God, that Super Buffet on National Road by TJ's. Chinese/American/Italian cuisine at its absolute worst. Yeah, they have 200 options, but they're all equally bad. The food sits there for who knows how long and the parking lot is relatively vacant. I think I'd rather eat at the CVS next door.
Worst overall restaurant - It's got to be TJ's Sportgarden. WHY? Why do people voluntarily choose to dine at this place? I have no idea whatsoever. The food is so bad it defies description. The funny thing is that the menu is standard sports bar fare, so you've got to figure it can't be that bad. They just offer the basics and deep fry the hell out of everything else. It's something more sinister though. I think TJ's thrives because of the stupidity of the general populous of Ohio & Belmont Counties. It's success is largely based on the indisputable fact that the morons who reside in the area "simply don't know any better." What else could explain how this place has been successful through the years? As I see it, TJ's success is based on 3 things - the dumbness and low iq of area residents, their unbelievably low dining expectations and its location (they do have a nice spot right off I-70.
Best burger - I don't eat a lot of hamburgers but Billy's Brickyard in deep Triadelphia is the best.
Best wings - Drover's. Nothing else compares. If you don't want any drummies, make sure to loudly request all "Double Boners." That's what they unashamedly refer to them as. Great atmosphere. Just don't go there with a crowd of more than 4 on a busy night - a guaranteed recipe for disaster.
Worst fast food restaurant - A triple tie between 3 Bruger Kings. The one in Warwood is beyond disgusting. The one on the Island is atrocious. And the one in Bel-dirty is, well, just plain dirty.
Best steak night - I'd have to say the Undos, T&C, Sparachane, Herk entity cannot be beat. Here's the advice - call in an order for takeout. Steak, baked potato and salad easily feed two. Always go early. A waitress once told me, "If you're getting there late, you'll get the slop that's leftover at the end of the night."
Best cafeteria - Gotta go Mehlman's. Dirt cheap. Food is decent and more importantly, it's safe and predictable. Avoid the salad, roll and dessert area at the beginning of the line. Stick with the stuffed chicken breast, green beans and mashed potatoes. Go with the obvious for maximum fulfillment. Their secret motto is "You will grow old with us."
Worst cafeteria - gotta stick with Hoss's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Fuck that place.
Worst Mexican - that Nogales place in downtown Wheeling is gross. I'd rather consume regurgitated dogshit.
For my 100th blog, I'm going to start focusing on more tangible/regional concerns Stay tuned...
Best lunch option - I'd have to say Metropolitan Grill. Yeah, I know the service ranges from marginally questionable to downright bizarre. You have to go in with a certain mindset. It might take 10 minutes to get seated. It could take 20 minutes to make verbal contact with your waiter/waitress. You might get the wrong bill. You might get the complimentary bread, you might not. Even worse, you get the bread, but they didn't shake up that dipping sauce so it ends up tasting like straight light sweet crude oil. Your waiter might have those wierdo African disc earings stretching the fuck out of his earlobes. If you can handle the oddities of the waitstaff, you're in great shape because the food is of impeccable quality. The salads are, hands down, the absolute best in a 45 mile radius. Any of the salads are a great choice. You'll never be disappointed. And to be honest, it's really not the fault of the waitstaff because the guy who owns the place hires and fires people like it's a bodily function. The average employee only works there for like 4 days or so.
Honorable mention goes to Figaretti's. It's not really about the food. The place is just so damn comfortable.
Best dinner option - I'll probably take some heat on this one. I'd have to say Outback. I know, I know. Saf, it's a fuckin' chain restaurant and they use words like "Kookooburra" and say things like "ahoy, matey." Nonetheless, the menu is strong and affordable and the service is decent and friendly. A few pieces of advice - the Bloomin Onion is one of the least healthy things you can eat on the planet earth. Their wings are surprisingly poor. The seared Ahi Tuna appetizer is very good. If you get the caesar side salad, ask for a few wedges of lemon. Great dressing, but use it sparangly. It's loaded with mayonnaise. And finally, don't go there on a Friday or Saturday. It's far too busy. Choose an off night.
Honorable mention goes to DeeJay's in Weirton. Great food. Great price. Great service. Nice place.
Best breakfast - Sonny Boys in outer Bridgeport is dirt cheap, but the place is kind of disgusting. The food is decent but I question the resaurants' cleanliness and the personal hygiene of the workers. I'm even more concerned about the hygiene of its patrons. Plus, the place wreaks of cigarette smoke. As far as price goes, it can't be beat. However, I'd rather pay a little more and go some place nice. Thus, the Ihlenfield Dining Room at Oglebay Park gets the nod. The have a fantastic Sunday brunch for around 12 bucks. I've only gone a few times but it's truly impressive. Plentiful options, pleasant atmosphere and the food is great. One piece of advice - don't stand in the omelette station or handmade waffle line if there are more than 3 people. You'll look like an idiot trying to make small talk with the hotel guests (you'll be forced to discuss the all the finer points of Oglebay Park - that's a conversation of consternation) and it will take forever for them to custom design your breakfast. Heed this warning - avoid the Ihlenfield dining room for any other meal. Only the Sunday brunch is decent.
Honorable mention goes to Bob Evans.
Worst buffet - Oh, for the love of God, that Super Buffet on National Road by TJ's. Chinese/American/Italian cuisine at its absolute worst. Yeah, they have 200 options, but they're all equally bad. The food sits there for who knows how long and the parking lot is relatively vacant. I think I'd rather eat at the CVS next door.
Worst overall restaurant - It's got to be TJ's Sportgarden. WHY? Why do people voluntarily choose to dine at this place? I have no idea whatsoever. The food is so bad it defies description. The funny thing is that the menu is standard sports bar fare, so you've got to figure it can't be that bad. They just offer the basics and deep fry the hell out of everything else. It's something more sinister though. I think TJ's thrives because of the stupidity of the general populous of Ohio & Belmont Counties. It's success is largely based on the indisputable fact that the morons who reside in the area "simply don't know any better." What else could explain how this place has been successful through the years? As I see it, TJ's success is based on 3 things - the dumbness and low iq of area residents, their unbelievably low dining expectations and its location (they do have a nice spot right off I-70.
Best burger - I don't eat a lot of hamburgers but Billy's Brickyard in deep Triadelphia is the best.
Best wings - Drover's. Nothing else compares. If you don't want any drummies, make sure to loudly request all "Double Boners." That's what they unashamedly refer to them as. Great atmosphere. Just don't go there with a crowd of more than 4 on a busy night - a guaranteed recipe for disaster.
Worst fast food restaurant - A triple tie between 3 Bruger Kings. The one in Warwood is beyond disgusting. The one on the Island is atrocious. And the one in Bel-dirty is, well, just plain dirty.
Best steak night - I'd have to say the Undos, T&C, Sparachane, Herk entity cannot be beat. Here's the advice - call in an order for takeout. Steak, baked potato and salad easily feed two. Always go early. A waitress once told me, "If you're getting there late, you'll get the slop that's leftover at the end of the night."
Best cafeteria - Gotta go Mehlman's. Dirt cheap. Food is decent and more importantly, it's safe and predictable. Avoid the salad, roll and dessert area at the beginning of the line. Stick with the stuffed chicken breast, green beans and mashed potatoes. Go with the obvious for maximum fulfillment. Their secret motto is "You will grow old with us."
Worst cafeteria - gotta stick with Hoss's in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall. Fuck that place.
Worst Mexican - that Nogales place in downtown Wheeling is gross. I'd rather consume regurgitated dogshit.
For my 100th blog, I'm going to start focusing on more tangible/regional concerns Stay tuned...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Bed Bath & Beyond
Yesterday I zipped up to the Highlands and made a purchase that has transformed my very existence. I purchased the Aquascape Waterpik showerhead. It was marked down from $89 to $69. The head on this thing is massive. 5 different settings that spew forth H20 in ways that boggle the mind and alter the boundaries of imagination. I have named it "Obama." This showerhead represents a new standard and a fresh approach to the bathing process much the same way Barack Obama has injected a new perspective to the political process. I have aptly decided to name the old showerhead "Bush." It will be discarded in the near future.
I've always hated taking baths. There's something inherently unpleasant about wallowing in ones own filth. Maybe if the water could stay hot. From time to time I do embrace the Oglebay hot-tub whirlpool spa thing. Usually when my back is locked up. But I digress. Anyway, I strongly encourage anyone to check out this innovative showerhead contraption.
I also purchased a splashproof radio/cd player for 20 bucks. It's a bit on the large side but is a nice add on. My old shower radio was a piece of junk. You could barely pick up the local stations and the thing looked like something out of a McDonalds Happy Meal.
I also purchased some new ice cube trays that feature "cylinderical" style cubes. Good for inserting in a bottle of water or wine to go. Cost - 1 package of 3 trays for #3.99. Now I'll admit, that one's a rip off. Still, I find these new ice cubes exhilerating.
All in all, I highly recommend the Bed Bath & Beyond at the Highlands. The employees are genuinely friendly and helpful, but they give you an ample amount of breathing room so they're not a nuisance. I give them high marks. There's nothing worse than an overly aggressive Walmart employee who's trying to sell you on some low-end olives or canned meat. While on the topic of Walmart, there's this one guy who stocks shelves. He's a middle aged white man that sports a 1970's NBA style afro. Has anyone seen this guy? They make him wear this hair net meshing ensemble. Very unusual.
The last time I was in Walmart I happened to strike up a conversation with a woman in front of me. She explained how she had just relocated from West Palm Beach. We discussed the "change of pace" and some of the differences she would inevitably encounter. As I was leaving, she was speaking very graphically about why she came to walmart to buy some new scrubs. She loudly used the following terms with the cashier - urine, blood and fecal matter. Apparently, this nurse wanted everyone at the check-out to hear her words. In the parking lot, a younger woman she was with (I think it was her sister) saw me loading up my car and proclaimed, "Hey, she's single!" I responded, "Thanks, I'm good."
I've always hated taking baths. There's something inherently unpleasant about wallowing in ones own filth. Maybe if the water could stay hot. From time to time I do embrace the Oglebay hot-tub whirlpool spa thing. Usually when my back is locked up. But I digress. Anyway, I strongly encourage anyone to check out this innovative showerhead contraption.
I also purchased a splashproof radio/cd player for 20 bucks. It's a bit on the large side but is a nice add on. My old shower radio was a piece of junk. You could barely pick up the local stations and the thing looked like something out of a McDonalds Happy Meal.
I also purchased some new ice cube trays that feature "cylinderical" style cubes. Good for inserting in a bottle of water or wine to go. Cost - 1 package of 3 trays for #3.99. Now I'll admit, that one's a rip off. Still, I find these new ice cubes exhilerating.
All in all, I highly recommend the Bed Bath & Beyond at the Highlands. The employees are genuinely friendly and helpful, but they give you an ample amount of breathing room so they're not a nuisance. I give them high marks. There's nothing worse than an overly aggressive Walmart employee who's trying to sell you on some low-end olives or canned meat. While on the topic of Walmart, there's this one guy who stocks shelves. He's a middle aged white man that sports a 1970's NBA style afro. Has anyone seen this guy? They make him wear this hair net meshing ensemble. Very unusual.
The last time I was in Walmart I happened to strike up a conversation with a woman in front of me. She explained how she had just relocated from West Palm Beach. We discussed the "change of pace" and some of the differences she would inevitably encounter. As I was leaving, she was speaking very graphically about why she came to walmart to buy some new scrubs. She loudly used the following terms with the cashier - urine, blood and fecal matter. Apparently, this nurse wanted everyone at the check-out to hear her words. In the parking lot, a younger woman she was with (I think it was her sister) saw me loading up my car and proclaimed, "Hey, she's single!" I responded, "Thanks, I'm good."
Friday, February 29, 2008
looting
Another bold prediction...
It seems to me that there could be some unintended consequences of all this capitalistic consumerism and the recent advent of acquiring instantaneuos information. Try to follow me here. You have all these retail outlets which increasingly stock small and expensive items. Specifically stuff like laptops, video gaming devices, medication, etc. Wouldn't it be possible to sign up (via the interent) for some kind of notification, sent by whoever, that there will be a mass looting spree at this particular store or general location. I'm talking about smash and grab - nothing too fancy. Basically, you'd be notified via your cell phone that a mob will quickly appear at a certain location. In increasingly difficult economic times, there are a lot of people out there who'd have no qualms about committing acts of blatant theft against big corporations if they know they could get away with it. You might ask, what about the law enforcement or security cameras. That probably wouldn't be a factor if the place gets torched immediately following the instant looting/wilding spree.
I'm just mentioning this because I see a certain inevitablity here. You can't just have all these retail outlets keep popping up without a negative backlash. There's got to be some form of checks and balances with this.
It seems to me that there could be some unintended consequences of all this capitalistic consumerism and the recent advent of acquiring instantaneuos information. Try to follow me here. You have all these retail outlets which increasingly stock small and expensive items. Specifically stuff like laptops, video gaming devices, medication, etc. Wouldn't it be possible to sign up (via the interent) for some kind of notification, sent by whoever, that there will be a mass looting spree at this particular store or general location. I'm talking about smash and grab - nothing too fancy. Basically, you'd be notified via your cell phone that a mob will quickly appear at a certain location. In increasingly difficult economic times, there are a lot of people out there who'd have no qualms about committing acts of blatant theft against big corporations if they know they could get away with it. You might ask, what about the law enforcement or security cameras. That probably wouldn't be a factor if the place gets torched immediately following the instant looting/wilding spree.
I'm just mentioning this because I see a certain inevitablity here. You can't just have all these retail outlets keep popping up without a negative backlash. There's got to be some form of checks and balances with this.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Olive Garden (of Eden). NOT!
Yesterday was a historic one indeed. Obama and Huckabee pulled off huge upsets and won the Iowas caucases. Of far greater importance, I disobeyed a lifelong tenet. I visited a restaurant that had been open only a week or so. I've often stressed the importance of waiting about a month before going to a newly opened restaurant for the initial visit. This way, they've worked out all the "kinks" with the food, service, etc.
Anyway, Jenn and I were at Walmart and decided to go for it. We arrived at the Olive Garden in the Highlands around 7:30pm. The place was packed and about a baker's dozen of people were waiting to be seated. It only took about 5 minutes for the giant blinking buzzer disc to start vibrating. I spotted Paigey in the distance, but I don't think she saw me.
We were seated in the back. Paigey was hustling about and briefly stopped to chit chat. Our waitress had a jarheadish, bleached-blond butchie kind of haircut. She was bit curt and abrupt. Jenn ordered coffee and water. I requested a Miller lite, but was quickly informed that they didn't have any Miller Lite products since New Years. Kind of a surprise that they wouldn't restock. I then opted for a Coors Light - none of that in stock either. Faced with the horrific prospect of Bud or Bud Light, I opted for a water with lemon. Our drinks came shortly thereafter. Jenn got an entire pitcher of coffee (nice touch) and I received my water (sans lemon).
Jenn ordered the eggplant parmesan and I selected the shrimp calabrese. Our militaristic waitress soon returned with the salad and breadsticks. She aggressively placed the bowls on the table and they made a distinctive clang. Jenn noticed all the other diners were offered freshly, grated cheese. We were denied this opportunity although I did see our waitress walking around with the mozzerella machine. Jenn quietly mentioned to me that she wanted cheese, more salad with up to 5 pepperoncinis and a surplus of black olives. I didn't think it would be a good idea to "rock the boat." Just in the nick of time, Paigey showed up and proceeded to solidify, or if you prefer "saladify", our order.
Our food was delivered by a young girl, making her first and only appearance of the night. I noticed something was wrong immediately. I didn't get the right order. But I glanced at Jenn's plate and she had the right one so I harkened back to my earlier thoughts. Don't rock the boat, Saf. I started eating and Paigey swung through and said, "Oh you got the seafood portifino, great choice. Mmmmm." Before I could respond, she was out my vocal range. I thought to myself, oh well, one out of two ain't bad. I'll just eat it and go with the flow. As Jenn, sliced into her eggplant parmesan, she was alarmed with the turgid nature of the eggplant. Alas, much to her dismay, it was not eggplant. It was chicken. Now I must admit, eggplant and chicken parmesan do look pretty similar. As we're discussing the fact that they gave us both the wrong food, here comes our stern waitress (with slightly lesbianic overtones). "Listen you guys. I'm really sorry. We gave you the wrong order." All the time, she must have been secretly thinking - how could these two idiots not know what they ordered. We admitted that we kind of figured it out, but we were just kind of "going with the flow." We thought about the other couple who probably would have been a little more disurbed - not everyone loves eggplant. And I must admit, I really would have preferred the garlic & tomato/olive oil base as opposed to the fettucini alfredo sauce. I've gained about 5 pounds over the winter and have made a genuine recent attempt to avoid eating a stick of butter with 3 cups of heavy whipping cream.
Our waitress continued a brief apology and even Paigey got involved. Are you absolutely sure you want to eat that?" "Yeah, that cool. Everything is fine." They subliminally placed the blame on the young server girl, which in all likelihood was the true source of the mix-up. No big deal though.
As our dining experience neared its conclusion, I pondered the thought - will she bill us for what we ordered or what we actually consumed. My shrimp calabrese would have been a few bucks more than that seafood thing. When our waitress returned with the "to-go boxes," she wished us a happy New Year and said the meal was on us. How cool is that. I kind of assumed they wouldn't have the audacity to charge us for the wrong order, but we were partially to blame too. I mean, what kind of bozos both eat the wrong meal. We tipped her a twenty which seemed appropriate since it was a kick-down meal.
As we exited, we bid Paigey a farewell. Amid the crying babies and the screaming children at the adjacent table, as well as the shrill sounds of the background Pavarotti knock-off over the sound system it all became apparent. When you go to the Olive Garden, YOU TRULY ARE FAMILY.
Anyway, Jenn and I were at Walmart and decided to go for it. We arrived at the Olive Garden in the Highlands around 7:30pm. The place was packed and about a baker's dozen of people were waiting to be seated. It only took about 5 minutes for the giant blinking buzzer disc to start vibrating. I spotted Paigey in the distance, but I don't think she saw me.
We were seated in the back. Paigey was hustling about and briefly stopped to chit chat. Our waitress had a jarheadish, bleached-blond butchie kind of haircut. She was bit curt and abrupt. Jenn ordered coffee and water. I requested a Miller lite, but was quickly informed that they didn't have any Miller Lite products since New Years. Kind of a surprise that they wouldn't restock. I then opted for a Coors Light - none of that in stock either. Faced with the horrific prospect of Bud or Bud Light, I opted for a water with lemon. Our drinks came shortly thereafter. Jenn got an entire pitcher of coffee (nice touch) and I received my water (sans lemon).
Jenn ordered the eggplant parmesan and I selected the shrimp calabrese. Our militaristic waitress soon returned with the salad and breadsticks. She aggressively placed the bowls on the table and they made a distinctive clang. Jenn noticed all the other diners were offered freshly, grated cheese. We were denied this opportunity although I did see our waitress walking around with the mozzerella machine. Jenn quietly mentioned to me that she wanted cheese, more salad with up to 5 pepperoncinis and a surplus of black olives. I didn't think it would be a good idea to "rock the boat." Just in the nick of time, Paigey showed up and proceeded to solidify, or if you prefer "saladify", our order.
Our food was delivered by a young girl, making her first and only appearance of the night. I noticed something was wrong immediately. I didn't get the right order. But I glanced at Jenn's plate and she had the right one so I harkened back to my earlier thoughts. Don't rock the boat, Saf. I started eating and Paigey swung through and said, "Oh you got the seafood portifino, great choice. Mmmmm." Before I could respond, she was out my vocal range. I thought to myself, oh well, one out of two ain't bad. I'll just eat it and go with the flow. As Jenn, sliced into her eggplant parmesan, she was alarmed with the turgid nature of the eggplant. Alas, much to her dismay, it was not eggplant. It was chicken. Now I must admit, eggplant and chicken parmesan do look pretty similar. As we're discussing the fact that they gave us both the wrong food, here comes our stern waitress (with slightly lesbianic overtones). "Listen you guys. I'm really sorry. We gave you the wrong order." All the time, she must have been secretly thinking - how could these two idiots not know what they ordered. We admitted that we kind of figured it out, but we were just kind of "going with the flow." We thought about the other couple who probably would have been a little more disurbed - not everyone loves eggplant. And I must admit, I really would have preferred the garlic & tomato/olive oil base as opposed to the fettucini alfredo sauce. I've gained about 5 pounds over the winter and have made a genuine recent attempt to avoid eating a stick of butter with 3 cups of heavy whipping cream.
Our waitress continued a brief apology and even Paigey got involved. Are you absolutely sure you want to eat that?" "Yeah, that cool. Everything is fine." They subliminally placed the blame on the young server girl, which in all likelihood was the true source of the mix-up. No big deal though.
As our dining experience neared its conclusion, I pondered the thought - will she bill us for what we ordered or what we actually consumed. My shrimp calabrese would have been a few bucks more than that seafood thing. When our waitress returned with the "to-go boxes," she wished us a happy New Year and said the meal was on us. How cool is that. I kind of assumed they wouldn't have the audacity to charge us for the wrong order, but we were partially to blame too. I mean, what kind of bozos both eat the wrong meal. We tipped her a twenty which seemed appropriate since it was a kick-down meal.
As we exited, we bid Paigey a farewell. Amid the crying babies and the screaming children at the adjacent table, as well as the shrill sounds of the background Pavarotti knock-off over the sound system it all became apparent. When you go to the Olive Garden, YOU TRULY ARE FAMILY.
Friday, November 09, 2007
the other favorite concerts
These are some additional favortie concerts. No major incidents, just great shows in no particular order...
Jane's Addiction - AJ Palumbo Center, Duquesne University - 1991
I cruised up with Mark Infantino. On our way back to the car, some concertgoer said, "Hey, check out that bumper sticker. That's cool." It was the "He's Gone" bumper sticker on my Omni. In a strange way, it paralleled my existense during the early 1990's.
Phish - KSU Mac Center, Kent State University - 1994
A large crew of us went to this one - probably about a dozen. My first Phish show. The energy level was insane. I remember watching this hippie dude stealing beer from a vendor on the arena floor while doing some unusual "mother shabooboo" dance moves.
Foo Fighters - Chevrolet Ampitheatre, Pittsburgh, PA - 2003
Just a total rock show. I'm a huge fan of Dave Grohl.
Prince - Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh, PA - 2004
I saw Prince at the same venue during the late 1990's. That show was pathetic. This one was unbelieveable. It was me, Amanda, and the indomitable April Green.
Farm Aid - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2002
A ton of us went. Phenomenal dumpster parking and just an overall great time. When we were leaving, I kicked some kids out of their chairs by the steps. "Oh, are these yours. We're sorry." I just mumbled, "No big deal." Snagged the chairs, threw them in the hatch and said, "Now we're done." I still have those chairs compliments of Weirton Rent-a-Center.
Beastie Boys - CSU Convocation Center, Cleveland, Ohio - 1998
After begging just about everyone I knew to go up, the best I could muster up was Bill Samms from the 440 N. Front Street House of Death. Needless to say, he remained consistently silent the whole night. The concert made up for it though.
Fleetwood Mac - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1997
Went up with a small crew. Angie Szalay ran over a dead deer carcas on the way there. Total energy show. There's something intrigueing about Christie McVie. The other girl, not so much.
Live - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1995
Place was packed. It was their Throwing Copper tour. After the show, we were doing long range soccer kicks. The ball was careening off peoples' cars as they left the parking lot. Windhields, doors, the little parking security trailor. Nothing was immune to the soccer ball. People were pissed off. We couldn't stop laughing. When we finally left the lot, I took out about a dozen barrels in the Maxima.
X-Fest - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2000
I know, I know. Everyone has their stories of multple lawn chair fires and people throwing giant hunks of dirt from the lawn. This has happened many times at the festival shows up there, but never like this one. Dunkle danced around the fires like a wild injun. Stone Temple Pilots closed this one out, but Cypress Hill was the the highlight.
Jane's Addiction - AJ Palumbo Center, Duquesne University - 1991
I cruised up with Mark Infantino. On our way back to the car, some concertgoer said, "Hey, check out that bumper sticker. That's cool." It was the "He's Gone" bumper sticker on my Omni. In a strange way, it paralleled my existense during the early 1990's.
Phish - KSU Mac Center, Kent State University - 1994
A large crew of us went to this one - probably about a dozen. My first Phish show. The energy level was insane. I remember watching this hippie dude stealing beer from a vendor on the arena floor while doing some unusual "mother shabooboo" dance moves.
Foo Fighters - Chevrolet Ampitheatre, Pittsburgh, PA - 2003
Just a total rock show. I'm a huge fan of Dave Grohl.
Prince - Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh, PA - 2004
I saw Prince at the same venue during the late 1990's. That show was pathetic. This one was unbelieveable. It was me, Amanda, and the indomitable April Green.
Farm Aid - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2002
A ton of us went. Phenomenal dumpster parking and just an overall great time. When we were leaving, I kicked some kids out of their chairs by the steps. "Oh, are these yours. We're sorry." I just mumbled, "No big deal." Snagged the chairs, threw them in the hatch and said, "Now we're done." I still have those chairs compliments of Weirton Rent-a-Center.
Beastie Boys - CSU Convocation Center, Cleveland, Ohio - 1998
After begging just about everyone I knew to go up, the best I could muster up was Bill Samms from the 440 N. Front Street House of Death. Needless to say, he remained consistently silent the whole night. The concert made up for it though.
Fleetwood Mac - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1997
Went up with a small crew. Angie Szalay ran over a dead deer carcas on the way there. Total energy show. There's something intrigueing about Christie McVie. The other girl, not so much.
Live - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 1995
Place was packed. It was their Throwing Copper tour. After the show, we were doing long range soccer kicks. The ball was careening off peoples' cars as they left the parking lot. Windhields, doors, the little parking security trailor. Nothing was immune to the soccer ball. People were pissed off. We couldn't stop laughing. When we finally left the lot, I took out about a dozen barrels in the Maxima.
X-Fest - Starlake Ampitheatre, Burgettstown, PA - 2000
I know, I know. Everyone has their stories of multple lawn chair fires and people throwing giant hunks of dirt from the lawn. This has happened many times at the festival shows up there, but never like this one. Dunkle danced around the fires like a wild injun. Stone Temple Pilots closed this one out, but Cypress Hill was the the highlight.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Death Angel/Rigor Mortis 1988
Death Angel is one of the baddest metal bands on the planet. It didn't take much coaxing for a crew of us to go see the "Frolic Through the Park" tour at Bogarts in Cincinnati. The guys from the Trash house (Mike, Steve and Cleve) and me, Anthony Semirale and Ed Montgomery all made our way to the familiar concert hall. Trasher Mike was a huge Rigor Mortis fan. He would look at you in this drunken, stoned haze and recite their lyrics.
Your body's in slices. You're in six fuckin' pieces. Bodily Dismemberment.
That pretty much set the tone. When Rigor Mortis came out, the place went berzerk. A very rough pit. I steered clear but when Death Angel opened with "Mind Rape," I found myself in the middle of it all. An absolute killer show. Definitely in my all-time top 5. After the show was over, we were partying with the band in the back alley. For some reason, they had a real tour bus. This was a bit unusual for a band of their stature. They invited us on the bus. I bought a t-shirt and had the whole band sign it. I'd have it for a few years until this complete dumbshit who lived in my Wheeling Island apt. for two weeks snagged it. The sad truth is, he was a fake white thug rapper. I think his name was Rob. He was a complete waste, but his girlfriend (my neighbor) Tameka was pretty cool. I can't even fathom what happened to either of them.
I spent some time talking with the drummer who was a little worried about openly drinking Corona. He admitted to me, "Hey, I'm only 15." This struck me as really odd. At the time, I was 19.
Your body's in slices. You're in six fuckin' pieces. Bodily Dismemberment.
That pretty much set the tone. When Rigor Mortis came out, the place went berzerk. A very rough pit. I steered clear but when Death Angel opened with "Mind Rape," I found myself in the middle of it all. An absolute killer show. Definitely in my all-time top 5. After the show was over, we were partying with the band in the back alley. For some reason, they had a real tour bus. This was a bit unusual for a band of their stature. They invited us on the bus. I bought a t-shirt and had the whole band sign it. I'd have it for a few years until this complete dumbshit who lived in my Wheeling Island apt. for two weeks snagged it. The sad truth is, he was a fake white thug rapper. I think his name was Rob. He was a complete waste, but his girlfriend (my neighbor) Tameka was pretty cool. I can't even fathom what happened to either of them.
I spent some time talking with the drummer who was a little worried about openly drinking Corona. He admitted to me, "Hey, I'm only 15." This struck me as really odd. At the time, I was 19.
Testament at the City Limits, 1988
I'm pretty sure this was my first "real" metal show. I was a senior in high school and by virtue of the fact that I had a driver's license and access to a vehicle, it would fall on me. I remember it was me, Jepson, and two others (probably Ricer, Mulvey, Neuhardt, or Shawn White (who, to this day, still annoys the fuck out of me). Testament was scheduled to play at this abandoned roller skating rink formerly known as The City Limits in Penn Hills, PA. I recall pulling into the lot and checking out the line of metalheads. We were in heaven. This was the first real show for all of us. We're milling around and all of a sudden an old van pulls up and Chuck Billy (the lead singer) jumps out of the back. We were BLOWN away. You cannot put this into words - it was the equivalent of some Princess Di fanatic having a wine spritzer with Elton John. That's what we're talking about. We got some of the band members to sign our memorabalia. I bought my first "legit" metal concert t-shirt - THE NEW ORDER w/ all the tour dates.
We walked into the venue and realized that we could walk up and touch the stage. There were only one or two rows of people before the show commenced. All in all, I'd say about 500 people attended this show. The band Vio-lence opened. The lead singer would continually hurled himself backwards into the crowd and the fans would push him back onto the stage. This blew me away. I'd never seen anything like it. I think I was a bit starstruck at the time. Honestly, I idolized these bands and there they were, about 5 feet in front of me. The lead singer was wearing a 1-900 DOMINATRIX t-shirt. It was getting ripped too shreds. I'll never forget the picture of the woman with a whip.
Testament opened with "Into the Pit." Great choice. They also played "Over the Wall." Little did I know, Jepson would coin the phrase "Over the Wall" in reference to pissing outside the urinal. We stopped at a McDonalds on the way home and everyone (except me) purposely pissed outside the urinal. We saw a McDonalds employee heading into the bathroom. As we exited the restaurant, we heard him say "Ohhh, no."
We walked into the venue and realized that we could walk up and touch the stage. There were only one or two rows of people before the show commenced. All in all, I'd say about 500 people attended this show. The band Vio-lence opened. The lead singer would continually hurled himself backwards into the crowd and the fans would push him back onto the stage. This blew me away. I'd never seen anything like it. I think I was a bit starstruck at the time. Honestly, I idolized these bands and there they were, about 5 feet in front of me. The lead singer was wearing a 1-900 DOMINATRIX t-shirt. It was getting ripped too shreds. I'll never forget the picture of the woman with a whip.
Testament opened with "Into the Pit." Great choice. They also played "Over the Wall." Little did I know, Jepson would coin the phrase "Over the Wall" in reference to pissing outside the urinal. We stopped at a McDonalds on the way home and everyone (except me) purposely pissed outside the urinal. We saw a McDonalds employee heading into the bathroom. As we exited the restaurant, we heard him say "Ohhh, no."
Friday, November 02, 2007
RATM - 1997
The unlikely foursome of Mark I., Mandy B., Jepsonian and myself hit the Rage Against the Machine show at Starlake about 10 years ago. This was a rowdy crowd. Great tailgating atmosphere. Jepson was surprised by the attendance. I was not. We somehow managed to snag one of the boxes in the reserved seating area. For some reason, they didn't try to kick us out. Usually, they can be pretty persistent. Wu Tang Clan opened but I recall very little of their performance. The lights went down and Rage came out. The whole ampitheatre really went nuts. Stray bodies were charging in from the lawn area. Usually, people try to be pretty discreet when they sneak into the seats. You look for a moment when the security is distracted or the usher guy is showing someone to their seats. Not this time. These mororns would come running down the hill and hurdle themsleves over the barrier. One of the security guys resembled Fuzzy the Bear, but much taller and lankier. Anyway, he spotted some cro-magnon dude and went after him. I had my doubts about whether he'd succeed. Sure enough, Fuzzy emerges from the pit area. He's dazed and confused and it looks like he got his nose broken. Blood streaming down his face as the other security guys help him off. There's a good lesson in there - if you're only getting paid minimum wage, don't try to be a hero.
On the way out of the lot, I tried to weave through traffic to get to the front. I accidentally scraped this one guy's Imapala. I jumped out of the car, explained how sorry I was, told him we didn't need the cops coming and handed the guy 70 bucks. It was all the money I had on me. I think he was amazed that I offered anything. The actual damage probably cost a few hundred. I jumped back in the car and took off in the other direction. Everyone in my car looked at me like I was nuts. Jepson said, "How'd you get away with that." I responded, "Let's get the fucka outta here."
On the way out of the lot, I tried to weave through traffic to get to the front. I accidentally scraped this one guy's Imapala. I jumped out of the car, explained how sorry I was, told him we didn't need the cops coming and handed the guy 70 bucks. It was all the money I had on me. I think he was amazed that I offered anything. The actual damage probably cost a few hundred. I jumped back in the car and took off in the other direction. Everyone in my car looked at me like I was nuts. Jepson said, "How'd you get away with that." I responded, "Let's get the fucka outta here."
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Pearl Jam - 2000
Dunkle and I cruised up to Starlake for the Pearl Jam show back in the late summer/early fall of 2000. We snagged the usual dumpster spot at the top of the steps and set up shop. The Maxima was nearing its demise. Right next to us was a giant bin filled with ice and Citra. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Citra, it's kind of like Fresca but without the nutrasweet/aspartame zing. They even had a male and female Citra representative from Coca Cola. I guess they were there to field questions and oversee giveaway operations. Anyway, I snagged a few gargabe bags from the "beer bottle police" and went to work. When the Citra reps moved off, I went to the bin and started filling up. Probably made about 5 separate Citra trips. I was loading up the trunk of the Maxima until it was full and then started in on the back seat. During one of the final trips, an undercover had busted this girl for underage drinking. He had her cornered up against my car and was filling out the citation. She's crying up a storm. Meanwhile, here I am on an entirely different mission. I'm hauling the garbage bag of Citra and it busts open leaving a trail of cans. I look at them both as I approach my car. "Excuse me you guys, I need to get in here." The cop gazes at me with this look of disbelief as I start dumping the garbage bag full of cans. Even the girl temporarily ceased her crying as she had trouble figuring out exactly what was transpiring. After all that commotion died down, we started to make our way into the venue. I saw the female Citra rep and she was back in action, promoting her cause and offering up free refreshment. She looked at me and asked if I'd like a sample can. I told her, "no, that would be stealing." She assured me that it was complimentary and I could have as many as I'd like. I told her that it just made me uncomfortable - getting something for nothing. After a few more back and forths, she just shrugged her shoulders and said ok. We continued hooping it up and slamming beers. For some reason, we decided to walk down to the other entrance. Before we left, I approached the Citra girl and told her I needed to show her something. She walked with me over to the car. I popped the trunk and, lo and behold, there were about 300 cans of Citra and the back seat probably had a couple cases in there as well. She looked at me with the same sense of disbelief the cop gave me an hour earlier. In fact, the trunk was so full, the car was weighted down. My struts were in pretty bad shape leading up to the incident to begin with.
We waited until the crowd died down and Dunkle decided to sneak some beers into the show. He lined his shorts with 3 beers. I was a little skepical of his brazenness because they ask you to lift up your shirt and spin around. Sure enough, the girl asks him to lift up his shirt. Dunkle complies and a beer can hits the ground and starts spraying her. Dunkle looks at her and points to a large pile of confiscated blankets. "These are mine." He picks up the stack and walks off into the distance. The same look of incredulity. This time from the gate attendant. All these looks of astonishment, wonderment and awe. You'd think these morons had never seen a rock concert.
Great show. They played a long encore and it was getting cold so we bolted. As the Maxima limped off the lot (due to the weight of the Citra), I came to the conclusion that it might be time for a new car. Unfortunately, that would lead to the worst decision I ever made - the 1997 Jeep Grand Cherokee aka shake, rattle and roll. However, on a lighter note, there would be plenty of Citra giveaways for weeks to follow.
We waited until the crowd died down and Dunkle decided to sneak some beers into the show. He lined his shorts with 3 beers. I was a little skepical of his brazenness because they ask you to lift up your shirt and spin around. Sure enough, the girl asks him to lift up his shirt. Dunkle complies and a beer can hits the ground and starts spraying her. Dunkle looks at her and points to a large pile of confiscated blankets. "These are mine." He picks up the stack and walks off into the distance. The same look of incredulity. This time from the gate attendant. All these looks of astonishment, wonderment and awe. You'd think these morons had never seen a rock concert.
Great show. They played a long encore and it was getting cold so we bolted. As the Maxima limped off the lot (due to the weight of the Citra), I came to the conclusion that it might be time for a new car. Unfortunately, that would lead to the worst decision I ever made - the 1997 Jeep Grand Cherokee aka shake, rattle and roll. However, on a lighter note, there would be plenty of Citra giveaways for weeks to follow.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Oasis - 1998
Cleopatra Carmen and I went up to this show at the AJ Palumbo Center. She got her neighbor to babysit and we rolled up in the Maxima. We got a late start and she was a little nervous about my driving - just keeping up with traffic. We skipped the opening act and made our way in. We walked down to the floor during the break and found some seats about 10 rows back. There was this diminutive kid in front of us who resembled the lead singer. Looked exactly like him. He even had the same mannerisms and identical gestures. We both found this really amusing. They band came out on stage as if they were playing a massive stadium in Europe, not a basketball arena at the Duquesne University. They had this total arrogance about them. The lead singer would frequently drink from his water bottle and spray the crowd. He must have gone through a 12 pack that night. As pompous as the band was, they definitely rocked. Just a straight-up pure rock concert.
After the concert, I told Carmen that we had to zip by 3 Rivers Stadium and check out the tail-gating scene. She was very skeptical but I explained that the Denver (-2) at Pittsburgh AFC Championship game was the next day at 1pm. I was pretty sure it would be a lively tailgating scene, despite the fact that it was bitter cold. Sure enough, there were a bunch of cars waiting to get on the main lot. We hung out at a few tailgates, but the one I really remember was these rednecks in a van with PA plates. They actually had a live black pig with them. Its name was Slash and if the Steelers lost tomorrow, they were going to "slash, Slash and grill/eat the pig right on the spot." If you could see the look in their eyes, you knew these guys weren't fucking around.
Broncos 24
Steelers 21
That poor pig. He probably never saw it coming.
After the concert, I told Carmen that we had to zip by 3 Rivers Stadium and check out the tail-gating scene. She was very skeptical but I explained that the Denver (-2) at Pittsburgh AFC Championship game was the next day at 1pm. I was pretty sure it would be a lively tailgating scene, despite the fact that it was bitter cold. Sure enough, there were a bunch of cars waiting to get on the main lot. We hung out at a few tailgates, but the one I really remember was these rednecks in a van with PA plates. They actually had a live black pig with them. Its name was Slash and if the Steelers lost tomorrow, they were going to "slash, Slash and grill/eat the pig right on the spot." If you could see the look in their eyes, you knew these guys weren't fucking around.
Broncos 24
Steelers 21
That poor pig. He probably never saw it coming.
Friday, October 26, 2007
King Diamond/Flotsam - 1988
My old friend Ed Montgomery and I wanted to go see King Diamond at Bogarts in Cincinnati. No vehicle though. So we enlisted the help of a strange upperclassman named Rob. Actually, he was alright but his driving made us both a bit nervous. He seemed to jerk the wheel a bit too much. We cruised down to the club and ran into some other Daytonites - Trasher Mike, Steve, Cleve and Anthony Semirale - aka Stone.
Flotsam and Jetsam opened the show and a huge pit emerged in front us. I'm a little leery of charging into these pits - it's a good way to get a bloody nose or at the very least, stomped on. Instead, I like to hover on the outskirts. Every once in a while you get bumped around but it's no big deal. Also, you don't have some fat ass who's sweating profusely rub up against you. That is not my idea of a good time. Flotsam rocked. During the set break, I saw the stage manager (Ole Bang, that's really his name) helping set things up. I asked him if we could get an autograph of the King and he surprisingly was very cool with it. In fact, he claimed to remember me. I thought that was odd but played along. After the show, Ed and I were led backstage. There was a a very peculiar dude in the corridor holding a clock. He asked us if were going to meet King Diamond and I said "that's the plan." He explained how he was hoping to get his clock signed - on the face of the clock was a painting of King Diamond's head (full satanic makeup and it looked pretty sharp). We also met these two groupie chicks from Dayton who we'd run into a few more times at these metal shows. I forget their names.
Anyway, Ole Bang comes up to us and says "the King is ready to see you." Ed and I open the door and there he is - no makeup. I must say, the King looked pretty haggard. Must have been worn out from all that screeching and that bizarre stage show. Anybody who has seen King Diamond would know what I'm talking about. He opened his mouth and in a haunting soft voice said "Come forward." Ed and I look at each other and nervously approached. He asked us if we enjoyed the show and we both mumbled "Yes, Mr. Diamond." He then signed my fan club letter which I kept in my wallet for years. He wrote the standard KING DIAMOND with two inverted crosses on both sides. I wish I still had that memento. Maybe I'll search through my files.
This wasn't the best show I've seen. I thought Flotsam was much better, but no way was I going to miss King D on that Welcome Home tour. All his friends were there - Missy, some giant mummy/Frankenstein thing, and don't forget Grandma. Not one of the best shows, but probably one of the strangest. It's always time for tea.
Flotsam and Jetsam opened the show and a huge pit emerged in front us. I'm a little leery of charging into these pits - it's a good way to get a bloody nose or at the very least, stomped on. Instead, I like to hover on the outskirts. Every once in a while you get bumped around but it's no big deal. Also, you don't have some fat ass who's sweating profusely rub up against you. That is not my idea of a good time. Flotsam rocked. During the set break, I saw the stage manager (Ole Bang, that's really his name) helping set things up. I asked him if we could get an autograph of the King and he surprisingly was very cool with it. In fact, he claimed to remember me. I thought that was odd but played along. After the show, Ed and I were led backstage. There was a a very peculiar dude in the corridor holding a clock. He asked us if were going to meet King Diamond and I said "that's the plan." He explained how he was hoping to get his clock signed - on the face of the clock was a painting of King Diamond's head (full satanic makeup and it looked pretty sharp). We also met these two groupie chicks from Dayton who we'd run into a few more times at these metal shows. I forget their names.
Anyway, Ole Bang comes up to us and says "the King is ready to see you." Ed and I open the door and there he is - no makeup. I must say, the King looked pretty haggard. Must have been worn out from all that screeching and that bizarre stage show. Anybody who has seen King Diamond would know what I'm talking about. He opened his mouth and in a haunting soft voice said "Come forward." Ed and I look at each other and nervously approached. He asked us if we enjoyed the show and we both mumbled "Yes, Mr. Diamond." He then signed my fan club letter which I kept in my wallet for years. He wrote the standard KING DIAMOND with two inverted crosses on both sides. I wish I still had that memento. Maybe I'll search through my files.
This wasn't the best show I've seen. I thought Flotsam was much better, but no way was I going to miss King D on that Welcome Home tour. All his friends were there - Missy, some giant mummy/Frankenstein thing, and don't forget Grandma. Not one of the best shows, but probably one of the strangest. It's always time for tea.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Paul McCartney - Cincy, 1989
In anticipation of a big sold-out one stand at the Riverfront Coliseum, I decided to buy as many tickets as I could for an upcoming Paul McCartney show. I slept out overnight with a buddy (Ed Montgomery) of mine in front of a department store in downtown Dayton. When they opened the doors, we charged to the ticketmaster machine in the back of the store easily outrunning everyone in the place. We each bought 8 tickets (the maximum). Our plan was to scalp them without even going to the show. Just put up a few flyers around campus. Needless to say, we got rid of them in no time. People at the back of the line were quite upset when they announced the show had sold-out in a record 45 minutes. Not the fastest sell-out by today's Hannah Montana standards, yet rather impressive for the late 1980's.
Anyway, one of the calls I got was from a sophmore girl who lived a floor below me. She was very interested in buying 2 tickets and taking her mother to the show. I told her I was out of tix, but still planned on going to the concert if she was interested. This was back in the day where we'd go to Bogarts (a club on Vine Street near UC) and purchase 3 buck tickets for some kind of waltzing fest. Then, we'd just use them at the coliseum. It worked just about every time. In fact, I used that same method to get in to my first dead show (also at Riverfront). Anyway, I explained the process to her and she was very skeptical but still wanted to go to the show. I think her name was Linda. Anyway, we got together and made plans. I asked to borrow this guy Steve's Nissan Stanza provided I fill it up and give him a case of long neck Bud bottles - that was the price. In retrospect, not that big a deal.
Anyway, we made it down to Cincinnati and tickets were going for big bucks. All of downtown was really whipped into a frenzy for this one. I think the mayor even gave Paul McCartney the "key to the city" - whatever, the fuck that meant at the time. Wow - what an honor to bestow upon someone - the city with the highest percentage of rapes, violent crime and murder per capita. Nice.
We merged into a huge line of people waiting to get in. They actually had a "checkpoint" set up to verify that you did indeed have a ticket. We flashed our tickets and walked right through. Linda, or Lisa, or whatever her name was confided that she was very nervous and didn't think it was going to work. I assured her we did this all the time. Just follow my lead. I looked for the oldest ticket-taker. It was a 75 year old who probably had never even heard of the Beatles. I made some small talk as he ripped my ticket - I honestly think it was a 3 dollar ticket stub for some kind of dance/waltz contest or maybe something called Buckwheat Zydeco. Anyway, not bad considering tickets were going for a couple hundred right outside.
Anyway, we looked for seats on the upper tier in the back of the arena but like I said, totally sol-out. So we sat in the aisle which made us fodder for the flashlight police. When the lights went out, the place erupted. They opened with a generally mellow song - Figure of Eight, which to this day I still like. The setlist is from a live recording of "Tripping the Live Fantastic" - an absolutely killer live cd.
Anyway, the Linda girl ran into someone she knew and they crowded her in with them a few rows ahead as the flashlight dude persisted. Fortunately an older couple saw my plight and "took me in to their row." I felt bad since my presence made it a little cramped, but I didn't have much of a say in the matter. They even got me high. Unfortunately, I put my finger on the top of the pipe instead of the side carb thing. It burned the fuck out of my finger and made the rest of the evening very uncomfortable. My finger actually throbbed in pain the entire night - it was that bad. No exaggeration.
This concert is definitely in my all-time top 5. Great show. Great crowd. Super-charged atmosphere. As we drove back to Dayton, I couldn't help but notice "how dark it was outside.
I asked Linda why I couldn't see any of the cars that would pass us. She ignored my questions and kept talking about how great the show was and how she wished she could have seen it with her mom. We were on two totally different wavelengths. I persisted about the "degree of darkness" and asked her to get me a beer out of the cooler in the back. When she turned around, she looked back at me and said, "Eric, do you know the trunk is up?" In retrospect, maybe that's why the ride home was a black-out.
Anyway, one of the calls I got was from a sophmore girl who lived a floor below me. She was very interested in buying 2 tickets and taking her mother to the show. I told her I was out of tix, but still planned on going to the concert if she was interested. This was back in the day where we'd go to Bogarts (a club on Vine Street near UC) and purchase 3 buck tickets for some kind of waltzing fest. Then, we'd just use them at the coliseum. It worked just about every time. In fact, I used that same method to get in to my first dead show (also at Riverfront). Anyway, I explained the process to her and she was very skeptical but still wanted to go to the show. I think her name was Linda. Anyway, we got together and made plans. I asked to borrow this guy Steve's Nissan Stanza provided I fill it up and give him a case of long neck Bud bottles - that was the price. In retrospect, not that big a deal.
Anyway, we made it down to Cincinnati and tickets were going for big bucks. All of downtown was really whipped into a frenzy for this one. I think the mayor even gave Paul McCartney the "key to the city" - whatever, the fuck that meant at the time. Wow - what an honor to bestow upon someone - the city with the highest percentage of rapes, violent crime and murder per capita. Nice.
We merged into a huge line of people waiting to get in. They actually had a "checkpoint" set up to verify that you did indeed have a ticket. We flashed our tickets and walked right through. Linda, or Lisa, or whatever her name was confided that she was very nervous and didn't think it was going to work. I assured her we did this all the time. Just follow my lead. I looked for the oldest ticket-taker. It was a 75 year old who probably had never even heard of the Beatles. I made some small talk as he ripped my ticket - I honestly think it was a 3 dollar ticket stub for some kind of dance/waltz contest or maybe something called Buckwheat Zydeco. Anyway, not bad considering tickets were going for a couple hundred right outside.
Anyway, we looked for seats on the upper tier in the back of the arena but like I said, totally sol-out. So we sat in the aisle which made us fodder for the flashlight police. When the lights went out, the place erupted. They opened with a generally mellow song - Figure of Eight, which to this day I still like. The setlist is from a live recording of "Tripping the Live Fantastic" - an absolutely killer live cd.
Anyway, the Linda girl ran into someone she knew and they crowded her in with them a few rows ahead as the flashlight dude persisted. Fortunately an older couple saw my plight and "took me in to their row." I felt bad since my presence made it a little cramped, but I didn't have much of a say in the matter. They even got me high. Unfortunately, I put my finger on the top of the pipe instead of the side carb thing. It burned the fuck out of my finger and made the rest of the evening very uncomfortable. My finger actually throbbed in pain the entire night - it was that bad. No exaggeration.
This concert is definitely in my all-time top 5. Great show. Great crowd. Super-charged atmosphere. As we drove back to Dayton, I couldn't help but notice "how dark it was outside.
I asked Linda why I couldn't see any of the cars that would pass us. She ignored my questions and kept talking about how great the show was and how she wished she could have seen it with her mom. We were on two totally different wavelengths. I persisted about the "degree of darkness" and asked her to get me a beer out of the cooler in the back. When she turned around, she looked back at me and said, "Eric, do you know the trunk is up?" In retrospect, maybe that's why the ride home was a black-out.
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