Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!

Released in the U.S. about a year ago, I'm finally coming around to listening to the entire Duffy disk, Rockferry.

It is easy to see why most reviewers and fans might lump Dusty Springfield in as huge influence of Duffy. There are aspects of that ("Warwick Avenue", "Mercy"). But the disk probably owes as much to artists like Jackie DeShannon and songwriters Burt Bacharach & Hal David ("Rockferry" & "Stepping Stone").

For sure she is a throw-back, as all of the aforementioned artists were very 1960's-based.

But what you get is what you see/hear. Duffy is an ok vocalist and a decent songwriter. I'm a little fascinated how her voice can soulful and a little tinny at the same time. The record isn't a studio creation - it's not strong enough to be. It is what it is. She sounds the same way live - which is more than you can say of the train wreck - Amy Winehouse.

I like the disk, but it's not one I can listen to for the entire length, just a few songs at a time. Still it is new and it is old all at the same time. Not such a small feat.

Spinning Wheel

Long time readers might remember me posting about my lack of wearing deodorant/antiperspirant. As weird as it was, only one person commented on it (RJ). Of course the funniest thing about the post was that a few days later, the Cleveland Plain Dealer on-line addition picked-up upon it. (From the media front, I can guarantee no more than 81 people ever saw that blurb.)

Of course, I was taken a little out of context. One of the reasons for not wearing aluminum under my pits was simple. I never really perspired before. Not really. You can go back and read the rationale for my lack of underarm protection if you feel the need.

With my work-out routine earlier in the year, I got to the point I'd break a sweat, but I was never one to stain, let alone soak, my shirt (or anything else).

Spinning has taken care of that. Completely.

If any of you drink (ha!), you'll probably know the term 'breaking the seal'. I can drink a half-dozen beers without peeing, but once I talk to that man about a horse, I'm back having that conversation much much much more often.

Sweating, I find, is like that.

In Spin, I broke the seal. Completely.

But it carries over from spin. Now I sweat completely at workouts and yoga too. I have the soaked shirts to prove it. ...shorts too. But I can sell those on fetish markets for a hefty price.

It has gotten to the point that if I do spin class and work out consecutively, and in that order, I have to bring a change of clothes. No one - and I do mean, no one - wants to follow you on a machine after you've put your sweaty back on the vinyl seats.

Yeah, I look all butch with my 94% wet shirt - and it shows that I have been putting forth the effort, but it's still a bit weird to walk around like that.

And do not suggest sweat wicking clothes. These ARE sweat wicking clothes I'm already wearing. "designed to transport sweat away from your skin" - MY ASS. I mean, they do, but then they trap them in the shirt, which rests against.....oh yeah.....your skin!

So with all of this you'd think I'd be more on-board with the deodorant thing. But so far I am not. So far, a good shower with soap in all the right places keeps me not smelling ripe. At least I'm pretty sure. I don't smell me.

I will keep an eye (and nose) on the situation. I do not want to be the guy I see three times a week rubbing an antiperspirant stick right above the crack of his ass after his shower.

What's that all about?


(above image is not me. I now sweat more than that)

Song by: Blood, SWEAT & Tears

Love for Sale

Ok - I got a weird offer two days ago. No no, not a proposition, per se. Well, certainly not the kind you might be thinking of. Nor the kind I was looking for, either.

It came via email:

We are interested to buy your domain name BLOBBYSBLOG.COM and offer to buy it from you for 80% of the appraised market value.

Who the fuck wants to buy my URL?? ...and better yet, why would I sell it for only 80% of the market value? Should I not be holding out for some kind of real profit?

I threw the offer out to my peeps and got a few responses back. Morty directed me to a wiki page for Mr. Blobby, thinking maybe they are the ones who want it. Mr. Blobby is scary. Scarier than regular old Blobby (me). ....but they have provided my clown reference for the week.

If I'd ever give up my website name, they'd better pony up a butt-load of cash for me to surrender this.

Dith emailed and said: DON'T SELL! YOU CAN'T BUY GENIUS.

First off, blobbysblog.com = genius? WOW!!! Even I wouldn't be that bold. Secondly, everyone has their price. Including me. But throw me a hard number. Write it on a piece of paper, fold it up - and slide it across the table.

We'll talk.


Song by: Fine Young Cannibals

Death or Glory

Poor poor Farrah Fawcett. Upstaged in death.

Lucky lucky Governor Sanford. Knocked out of the news cycle after just 48 hours.

Clearly I missed part of the news yesterday afternoon as it turns out, because I left work to go to yoga. My yogini (Kris swears that's a real world/title) was happy happy happy to tell everyone who walked into class last evening - "Did you hear Michael Jackson died?"

My first thought was "Oh my!". The immediate second thought was, "who cares?"

Like Grease or E.T., I might be the only person who never owned a copy of Thriller. I didn't care - for it or him. Oh, you might not know - I've never seen Grease or E.T. Yes, I'm the one!

I will cop to liking parts of Off the Wall, but that's about it. I will say that when I saw some of his crap belongings at the Rock and Roll Hall O'Fame I was disgusted. There were shoes on display that said they were designed by Michael Jackson, the King of Pop (and the phrase was copyrighted). I am telling you - they were Bass Weejuns.

By that point, any talent the man displayed had been replaced by freakish behaivour and looks.

Admittedly, in 1984, I purchased a child's watch with the cover of Thriller on it down on Canal St in NYC. It was for a joke - and mainly because I couldn't find a good Menudo one.

Though the strap is broken, I still have that watch. And it still works! (I tried to get a good pic of it this morning but it was a no-go.)

I'm sure there are millions of tributes in blog-land to him. And possibly to Farrah too - but I'm not one of them. I will go off on a tangent, though.

Except for Charlie's Angels, I'm not sure I saw her in anything. Like all those things I listed above - I didn't care to. I wasn't going out of my way - that's for sure. ...oh, and I didn't buy her poster in hopes of concealing my homosexuality. Trust me, I know a few guys who did.

But I certainly had a thing for her then-husband - Lee Majors. I didn't realize it at the time, but what a huge gay-crush I had on him, not just in the Six Million Dollar Man, but he was frickin' hot The Big Valley, as Heath, the bastard son of Victoria Barkley's dead husband. Heady stuff for the '60s. I love how they acknowledged illegitimacy at least in the first episode that introduced him. Granted, it was never discussed again.

I'm not sure she traded-up with that freak, Ryan O'Neal and his family. He was never hot. He was no Steve Austin, a man barely alive. Of course, Lee did wear those leisure suits - so he wasn't that big of a catch.

...and poor Ed McMahon. He's not even on the radar....even for the Angel of Death. Even in the 'it comes in threes' rule, he is still the side-kick.


Song by: the Clash

Throw Me a Curve

Everything that's old is new again.

You can still buy Quisp cereal, if you look hard enough. They advertise for Fanta in the theaters. Morty still drinks Fresca. Spandau Ballet is threatening to come back on the scene. They (well, someone) are re-making that originally horrible g-ddamn movie Footloose.

It's like there isn't one new thought in the entire universe.

So I was not incredibly surprised to find this in the store the other day

Oh, how it made me smile. Impaling of little children be damned. To paraphrase that scene from Airplane: they knew what they were getting into, I say: "Let them die!"

Then I saw the little round red "disclaimer" near he bottom of the package. ROUND TIP.

You bunch of pussies! Man-up!

Grow a pair and put a metal spike on the bottom of a flighted plastic throwing object and let 'er rip!

I have yet to meet anyone who has been killed by a lawn dart (before the "accident, of course). Or anyone who has used one to kill. Though it would make a great CSI show. Probably the lesser Miami version, more so than Wad Vegas.

...but 'everyone's favourite lawn game'? Better than badminton? I mean, that has shuttlecocks. hehehe.


Song by: the Go-Gos

Do-Ri-Me

It seems we're home to a deer.

Usually I see them travel in twos or threes, so this guy (or gal) is all alone. (S)he sleeps either in front of that stone wall, or sometimes behind for cover, I suppose.

We assume it came from down in the ravine (which is across three lanes of very very busy traffic), where there has to be plenty to eat, but maybe it's not the right stuff.

Apparently what is, is all our new plantings. Hostas, Dogwood blooms, Hydrangeas. It's problematic to say the least. I want him/her to be safe, and it's great we provide that safe haven, but I don't want to feed them our expensive pants either.

Up close(r) he/she is so cute....and really notices our every move - even when we're in the house and well behind glass and closed windows and doors.

We've sprayed stuff on the plants that is deer repellent: Deer B Gone, or something like that. It has garlic and cayenne pepper in it. Other stuff too. We'll see if it keeps (s)him away.

UPDATE: Oh - it is a she. As I sit here and type this, she is out there with a baby standing under her, nursing. The baby is so cute!!! How can I possibly kick this little guy out? Not that I would know how to get rid of them in the first place.

Hopefully they just need a safe haven until junior gets a little bigger and they'll be on their way. Maybe in a week or so?


Song by: the cast of the Sound of Music

Once I Had a Love

Yes, I could have called this 'Heart of Glass', but that would have been too easy.

For those who are not Blondie-o-philes, you might not know that "Once I Had a Love" was the original title of the song.

As you know from this here blog, I'm a big fan of music. What you don't know is that I'm just as big of a fan of how it is made. Not just the songwriting process, but especially the recording process.

I love knowing how the the music is put to tape (or now, a computer) and put together via recording, mixing and mastering. It has been a l-o-n-g time since an entire band has sat in the studio all at the same time, playing a tune beginning to end. Anymore it is about editing: taking the best take from each instrument, or worse, splicing parts of them together to make a song.

Because anymore, it is commerce and not music or art.

I'm way amazed that any band can play their own songs live. That is assuming things are not pre-recorded and playing through the monitors without the need for the actual musicians.

Oh - back to my original post stuff.....but it's all tied in. My friend, and fellow Blondie fan, Jon, sent me this little link the other day, which of course, just fed into all of it.

There is a website that breaks down Blondie's "Heart of Glass" almost track-by-track (which is different than song by song). Using 1977-78 state of the art analog equipment and Mike Chapman's production skills, they used a 24 track recording system to put together a number of drum, guitar, percussion, synthesizer and vocal tracks that make up the now classic song.

None of you might have the slightest interest in this, but I found it quite fascinating. ...and I think Jon knew I would. So thanks to him (and now to me), you can enjoy it.

Or not.


Song by: Blondie

Dog New Tricks

This is one of the cutest ads I've seen in a while. Of course, I have a huge soft spot for doggies and kitties.

I love how they can show emotion, or edited to seem like they can (but I believe they can).



I don't care that the commercial is for an investment firm. I like how in one minute it can tug at my heart strings for sadness and love.

It's just a fun Monday morning video to kick off the week. Enjoy.



Song by: Garbage

Love and Pride

Yesterday we went to Pride. Just the after-event, not the parade. I'm not a parade kind of guy - participating or watching.

Yes, you can decry that my lack of involvement is what brings 'the movement' down, but it's Cleveland. There aren't that many in the parade (yes, I know - because people "like me" don't participate) and no one comes out to watch it - to cheer or to taunt us.

To be fair - the gathering downtown isn't much to write home about either, but we go. Or usually go. It turned out to be a nice day and not too hot, though I still might have gotten too much sun. I did not slather any SPF anything on me.

It is now mostly vendors anyway: State Farm Insurance. Time-Warner Cable. Petco. We get it: you're gay friendly or at the very least want our alleged disposable income. Because if we don't have babies or families we have tons of money to just throw around - right?

And don't get me started on the competing music sections - situated an entire 50 feet apart - playing different music with their speakers pointed at each other. Who the fuck organized this?

One was the 'beer garden' where there was no dancing. The other was the dancing area - where no beer was sold - or allowed to be in the area. Fucked up, I tell you (not that I was drinking - I had had enough the night before, and the night before that). And both camps volume was ear-bleeding. (I know, I sound like an old man - but anyone I ran into said the exact same thing.).

But g-d love the lesbians. Only they would have someone standing in front of a bank of PAs signing the words to the blaring disco. Trust me - any deaf person could have heard this music - that's how loud it is. ...and how does one sign "oooh yeah.....oooh yeah....oooh yeah", you know that standard almost backing/filler "vocal" that has been a pre-requisite on 84% of all dance tracks since 1988?

I know - I sound like I'm complaining, because I kind of am. I don't care about dykes on bikes or the drag queens that much on whether they do or don't represent us by overshadowing 'the normal gays'. I don't put much worry into some who say they bring the movement down and we're not taken seriously as a community.

How can you when, if the paper carries anything at all about the event, it's buried on page 8 of the metro section and it barely even hits the evening news cast anymore. No one is paying attention much anymore.

The best part of the day/event was just sitting and watching the folks come and go. Everyone in their garb and me remembering my shirt that I used to wear at the Columbus Pride event that said So Many Gerbils, So Little Time (thanks Garkawe!). It always got a few raised eyebrows and a number of pointed fingers at me.

Oh - and they had a youth tent, which was cool. And it was PACKED. ...and get this, I would estimate that 80% of it was kids of colour. Are they more comfortable with attending such an event? The demographics of that area intrigued me to no end.

I will say, my favourite were how many lesbians were eating penis shaped pride lollipops. I guess they didn't make vagina shaped ones.

I'm glad we went, but it was just enough participation for us. We got out, donated some cash, got some sun, saw some friends. What's not to like?


Song by: King

Doing What I Can

I know - I know, I'm late posting. What can I say? I have good excuses, of course. I always do.

Let's start with that I hit G2H2 again. It was better than the last few times, but still a very very controlled environment. They actually took over the entire restaurant for it and closed it to the public. Ok. But again, why give the $$$ to the straight establishment - give it to the queer guys if you're just gonna do that.

Denton opted not to go, so I went right after work. Me and one other guy were there in suits. Oh well. I looked good. I hung out with some guy I see at the gym and know peripherally, and his partner. They introduced me to a few guys too. No biggie. I stayed for three drinks and then met the man for dinner....and a bottle of wine. Yikes.

In between I went home and our power was off. We had storms earlier, but I don't think that was it. I do love that in a way. Neighbors are all out yakking since there is nothing to do inside and people are carrying around wine and such. But we were hungee and went for food. And wine.

I was not really thinking ahead here. I had Spin class at 08:30, a bunch of booze in me and no power at home. And it didn't come on until about 02:30. I didn't notice because for all intense purposes, I was down for the count.

Since things were running late this morning, it was all I could do to get my padded shorts on and get down to sit on a bike for an hour. ...and by sit on a bike, I mean be tortured by cute Andy on moving faster and using more resistance. I think I do it for his approval. I found myself wondering if he counts down the way he does when he's about to ejaculate. 10.....5..2.1!!!! One can hope.

So Spin and then my weight routine made me sweat any access alcohol out of my body.

...and that's why I'm late for a post.

Now I'm just waiting for the man to get back from his gym (yes, we go to separate facilities) so we can go to lunch and stop by Pride. Assuming it does not downpour again - for the 14th time today.


Song by: Lindsey Buckingham

Just Friends

It's possible I'm a little bit drunk.

Not because I'm still drunk early in the morning. I'm drafting this the evening before you read this. I hope not to be drunk in the morning anymore. I've outgrown that by a decade or so now.

It's been about a month, but I had an evening out with my straight friend, Scott. We just met at a wine bar and we drank. We had a bit to eat, but barely a bit. More like four Maker's Mark and four glasses of wine - him and me respectively.

Maker's Mark to me is a grown-up drink. It's something I could never touch. Wine is good. Beer is good. Clear alcohol is good (vodka. gin.). Brown is like medicine to me. Hate the smell, hate the taste.

I love Scott - in a completely platonic way. We get along great and he likes Denton and I like his wife. My friends would love Scott and his wife too. It's so rare when one doesn't have to explain their jokes.......or their quotes.....or cultural references. Maybe it's an age thing.

We tried to steer away from work talk, but it came up. We tried to nip it in the bud. ...or 'in the butt', as our previous assistant insisted was the phrase. It isn't.

I hurt my tailbone in my workout routine. Either yoga or one of the five spin session in the last eight days. Or a combination of the two. I skipped my first scheduled routine because of it. Yoga. No way to use my sit bones with the pain I'm feeling.

...but four glasses of wine took care of that. Temporarily.


Song by: Amy Winehouse

Missing

You know me (or perhaps you do not - not really), but if you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know when I see a good license plate, I'll snap a pic of it. And post it here.

It can't be just any vanity plate - it has to speak to me!

Ok, that's a bit much - but it's gotta catch my eye and make me laugh. Like this one:

We were out to lunch on Saturday and I got out of the car and saw it immediately. I just laughed and laughed and laughed. And laughed.

If you haven't really looked at the car, it's a Mini Cooper. If you don't know who DB is - then I seriously cannot help you with the in-joke.


Song by: Everything but the Girl

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!
...and this, people, is why Whole Foods is so much better than every other market out there.

The cantaloupes (can't elope without a ladder!) and honeydews I buy in other stores are filled with seeds and gunk. Not here!

Oh sure, you pay a little more at Whole Foods, but isn't a berry filled melon totally worth it? Do you know how many genetic engineers had to go on someone's payroll to figure this out?

Or maybe these just came from the magical Melon Land (no no, not Dr. 90210 - a different melon land!).

Sixteen

Take a look at the attached image.

The weird psych-out make-up aside, the guy is intriguing. And by "guy", I mean "kid". Bryce Harper is 16.

He's also just quit high school to join the major leagues. WTF?

Oh - with his parent's father's permission / encouragement. Double WTF?

Technically he's not joining the majors just yet. First he has to get his GED and pretend to get into/attend community college so he can get in the 2010 draft. And technically, he'll probably be 17 when and if he gets drafted or starts spring training.

Of course, who can blame the kid when at 15 you've been deemed 'the chosen one'? Who can blame him when he clearly has talent - pushing 600 home runs since starting playing baseball? Who can blame his parents for wanting to cash in on this ASAP?

I don't know - but someone should. Hopefully it will be Bud Selig. But most likely it will not.

What a frickin' bad message to send. Not that he'd ever be a stellar student, most likely, but how responsible is it to have a 16-17 year old play against 30 year olds? Who takes liability for looking after a minor when during 81 away games?

MLB can't even look after its adults, let alone children.

I'm hoping no major league team takes the bait and Bryce is stuck at DeVry for a few years. I'm not saying I hope he doesn't make it - but what is 24 months? Somehow I just have to blame the dad for this.

People have (and will) make the argument of LeBron James. Say what you want about him - he finished high school. People have (and will) make the argument that gymnasts and tennis players drop out as well. ....and how well is that working for 99.7% of them?

"....would you like fries with that?"

Bryce Harper - you're on career injury away from being on the permanent disabled list. At age 19. With a GED.

Welcome to your life.


Song by: No Doubt

Record of the Month - Classic

Another installment of a disk I have enjoyed over the years. I'm trying to keep the Record of the Month posts to be fairly new releases. Classics are going to be ones that are at least 5 years old.

I have no idea if any of my readers besides Birdie knows from Great Big Sea. RJ might, - if he still reads this blog. Tornwordo might, since he lives in (but doesn't hail from) Canada. But that might be it.

I became acquainted with them over a decade ago when our cable use to carry MuchMusic. For years, that is where I went to find new music - as it was a real music and music video cable station. Then our service came up with a bastardized version: MuchMusic US - which tired to imitated the already flat-lined MTV Then that disappeared after a few months.

But on the original MM - I came across Great Big Sea playing a festival in their native Newfoundland. I was hooked immediately.

Their playing was tight and upbeat. I can't say their style was original, as it is basically celtic drinking/folk music. The style has been around for a century or two - just hardly done by anyone under 60 playing in a pub somewhere.

Rant and Roar is their first U.S. release - which is basically a collection of their first few Canadian disks. And what a fun collection it is.

The set starts with probably the two most accessible tracks ("Ordinary Day" and "When I'm Up") - which would have been perfect for US radio, but it was not to happen. I guess it's the most accessible they can be with fiddle and penny whistle. I find these two very infectious.

But the next song is my favourite on the disk. "Mari Mac" is a two and one-half minute ditty that is an exercise in vocal theatrics.....and in just out and out breathing techniques for a singer. Any singer. Denton hates it. It drives him up the wall, but I am totally fascinated by it.

I don't think it is any accident that the album sequencing goes right into R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)", as that itself has always been too many words in too short of a time or measure of music.

GBS does slow it down a bit with a number of tunes - "Fast As I Can" and "Something to It". But they have some much more traditional stuff to - "General Taylor", the instrumental "Dancing with Mrs. White" and "The Day Paddy Murphy Died".

I can see where not many would embrace this. It is fun for me - and like it or not, I don't think anyone could deny how talented the guys in the band are.

GBS seemingly tours all the time and have landed in Cleveland a dozen times since we've lived here, but I can't seem to get Denton to go. Oddly enough, my niece came across them on some music I gave her and she really likes them - so maybe I can get her to go with me to see them.

I will say you might not like an entire disk, but you might want to scan iTunes and sample some tracks - and even purchase them.

Andy, You're a Star

This was to be titled "Joy Ride" which still would have been a Killer's song, but this title works too.

I've made no secrets about my OCD, (except what my actual tics might be) but as I sat in my third spinning class in four days (shut up, I know!), it became clear to me that this isn't obsessive or compulsive. It's addiction.

Back in the day, I took an MMPI that told me I had addictive behaviours. I was young enough then that I might not have picked that out had I not heard it from a trained professional. I've kept it in the back of my head since then - during many destructive phases.

But there are worse things than being addicted to exercise, I guess. Alcohol, Sex, Gambling, Narcotics, Cutting. I find addicts to be weak-minded. Of course, I guess that's what makes them addicts. I'm not judging, I'm just saying.

I had a fairly unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but could I quit anytime I wanted? Yes. Yes I could. And I didn't need a higher power to do it.

Ok - I didn't quit. But I quit drinking and getting drunk 4-5 nights per week - a habit that lasted almost a decade. ....and for the record, I would never cut myself. Ouchy. Maybe that's where people get their narc habits, to ease the pain from all their cutting.

So yesterday was the best Spin class so far. Each time there have been different instructors. Each has a different style. The instructor yesterday, Andy, had the best style....and the most engaging.

Oh, and he's hot. (in a nerdish glasses-wearing dentist with a hot body, kind of way.)

It turns out Andy, not Virgil, is the dentist. Now, I think dentists have sadistic tendencies. Couple that with him being a Spin instructor, what did I think I was getting into? There was no mercy. But it's probably what I need - someone to kick my ass. Figuratively, people. Figuratively. ....and he did.

I've blogged before about the amount of gay dentists there seem to be, and I think Andy is on that list. Just like Morty predicted. Though the dance remix of "Holding Out for a Hero" might have been a dead giveaway on its own. Still, his music choices were slightly straighter than Virgil's. All I'll say is Sylvester's "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" was one of his song selections.

Whereas I said in the first Spin post that I liked, but not loved, the class - I am liking it more. I can see me skipping Virgil's class as he wasn't that enthused nor did he get others jazzed either. And you kind of need that. Or I do.

Oh - and what is with the resistance knob on the bikes? They are like hotel showers. You can turn and turn them and get nothing - and then you get scalded. Or feel like your stuck in molasses. The latter description is for the bike, not the hotel shower.

After class, I hit the weights (after I changed my soaked shirt) and ran into Andy as I was leaving. He asked if I liked the class (oooooh.....he talked to me!) and we just chit-chatted. Yeah, I probably have a guy-crush on him, but it will pass. It is just some transference for my exercise, I'm sure.

Jon posted on FB yesterday: All your posts are the same...off to the gym..off to the gym. Is it your substitute for love?

It isn't. It's just all I have got going on in my life right now, besides home and work - and I'm ok with that. For now.

And you know, it's not even addiction. I don't have an addiction. The MMPI said I have addictive 'behaviours'. So I can quit anytime I want to.

But for now, I'll be heading out for Sunday Spin and work out. But I won't be posting it on FB (psssst.....check my Twitter account though!).



Song by: the Killers

Kung Fu Fighting


This is a phone-it-in blog post. It's not that I don't got nothing (which is possible a triple negative, which implies that I do indeed have nothing), it's just that I'm way way way tired from a restless night of sleep (and killing a bottle or Dr. Zen Zen at 21:00 last night oddly enough didn't help) and I still have to eat and get ready for the gym.

But I laughed at the above someecard notice I got. The entire David Carradine thing is weird. Do I think he probably committed suicide? I don't know - I don't care. Do I think that his family would rather have a ruling of accidental death so they can collect his life insurance? Well, that seems more probable.

My g-d! I'm writing about David Carradine (who starred in a show I never watched once!) and auto-erotic asphyxiation.

That triple negative was right !!!!!


Song by: Carl Douglas

Woody and Dutch on the Slow Train to Peking

I got an email about a potential career opportunity. I will leave the company name out of this post, of course. I'm not going to copy/paste the entire email here, but this is how it started!

Job Description

Wie zoeken we?
Ambitieuze financiële experts met minimaal 6-8 jaar werkervaring met financiële processen (adviseren, implementeren, optimaliseren). Kennis en affiniteit met de Gezondheidszorg , bijvoorkeur in de Cure en Care Sector. Je hebt bewezen acquisitie ervaring en een aantoonbaar netwerk op bestuurlijk niveau. Je opereert goed in teamverband, kunt zelfstandig projecten leiden en hebt een professionele uitstraling. Eigenschappen als overtuigend, commercieel vaardig en resultaatgerichtheid zijn je op het lijf geschreven.

First, I love how in the intro there as no mention that the job was in the Netherlands. And secondly, that the entire ad was in Dutch....except 'job description'. What's that all about?

Ironically, you can kind of make out what the actual needs of the employer are - and figure out the job description.

Naturally, I emailed it to my peeps and Becky responded with: zabat ist ferked uppa!

...to which I replied, now you just sound like Jar Jar Binks.

...and that just totally skeeved out Jon, which I admit was kind of fun to do. I've known him for almost a quarter of a century and never been able to do that.

I'm not even responding to the email about the job. As much as the Netherlands would be cool, I don't think I'm ready to up and move....or learn a new language.


Song by: Rickie Lee Jones

Spinning World

A while back someone on FB asked me what my motivation for exercise was. I responded, equal parts vanity and humiliation (if I failed). As I've mentioned here before, if I tell enough people I'm doing it - and then don't follow through, I kind of look like an ass (more than I already do! ha! I beat you to the punch, fuckers!!!!).

Mind you - Morty chimed in that stream and said 'and a healthy dose of OCD'.

Damn him for being right. But maybe in this case OCD can do something for me, instead of me being a slave to it.

My intent was never to have this be a blog on gyms and work-outs, but as they say, write what you know. ...and right now, this is it.

Yesterday I started spinning. Should that be upper cased? I just don't know.

It was never the plan. I bike. I like to bike, but Spin class just didn't seem like me. But on the weekends, I would see people file in and eventually out of the class and I'd think about it. Then, as only I can do, I started to dream about it. I even had my bike helmet on in the class - in my dream. Yeah - even in dreamland, I'm a dork.

So I went. Now, the weekend classes are packed. Maybe 30-40 people per class. So I was kind of expecting the same thing at 06:00 on a weekday morning. I was expecting to get lost in a sea of people where no one would notice me. Silly silly me.

Including the instructor, there were four people in the room. Much like part of my workout motivation, I was going to finish that 60 minute routine out of a sheer desire to not be humiliated. In the back of my mind I kept telling myself: you bike. you've seen people in this class 10 years older than you and 70 pounds heavier. YOU can do this.

Lord. I became Stuart Smalley.

But you know, I could do it. And I did do it. I won't say it was easy. And I'm not sure I have ever sweated that much in my life. The room was hot....or I was. Or both. I thought, if hot yoga was this hot, could I do it?

They tell you to bring your water bottle in there, but I don't know why. I don't know how you'd have a moment to grab it and drink. There's no time. Hell, I only wiped my head down twice - it's all I could do.

Getting my shirt off afterwards was a chore. It was adhered to my back. But Morty told me I was not to use natural fibers in classes like these. I knew this to be true, but there was part of me that wanted people to see me sopping wet and to know how hard I worked. How manly I was. g-d, I'm an ass. (btw......14 hrs later, the shorts and shirt were still way damp.)

Oh - and the only thing harder than a 06:00 Spin class is one led by a lesbian. I'm just sayin......
...and one who liked to use a lot of Coldplay in her song mix. I'm not a Coldplay fan, but some of their stuff worked for what we were doing - or I thought.

Friday, it will be run by a dentist named Virgil. I kid you not. The poor guy already has those two strikes against him. I'm 90% sure he's family. Morty even insinuated it and he has never been to my gym, nor does he even live in town. Maybe this is true of many Spin instructors.

Here is what I wasn't expecting - Yoga kind of plays into Spinning. How you stretch for the front of the bike or put your sit bones back on the seat, your breathing and how you place your shoulders all really ties in. My g-d, my workout life in a linear fashion. CRAZY!

As I told my email group about my morning adventure, Mort noticed I didn't say I enjoyed it. True that. I responded, 'I didn't not enjoy it'. It's work. I feel good afterwards, but it is work.

I'm going back, but I don't think I can do three classes per week. That would make me be at the gym seven days a week, and two of those days I'd be there twice a day.

That might be a bit much - even for my OCD.


Song by: Lori Carson

Black Cadillac

I had a pretty crappy day at work yesterday, but ruckiry (not Jon's boss), an old work friend of mine, Kathy, sent me this:

Prom Night in Sugarcreek, OH

If you hadn't guessed, Sugarcreek is a town that has a number of Amish folk. But it just made me laugh and laugh. I needed that.

Also, one of the people who used to work for me dropped me another email that made me really laugh out loud. Maggie's daughter is graduating high school today. But this was part of the email she sent to me: Tomorrow is the actual graduation and I guess that I will have to sit near my ex, his whore wife and his mother, "Mrs Scott".

I was amused that Maggie never called her former mother-in-law 'mom' or by her first name. But I LOVED the 'whore wife' comment.

Maggie is one of the best people I have ever worked with and I miss collaborating with her. Thank g-d for email. Sometimes my friends just help me get through the day.



Song by: Rosanne Cash