Oops

When it comes to contests, buyer beware.

A waitress at Hooters entered a restaurant held promotion a while back.  It was a pretty good idea... in theory, by her particular chain location.  "How can we increase sales?"  I'm sure there was a "think-tank," a round table discussion, a lot of bickering over who had the best idea.  Finally after a lot of sleepless nights they finally agreed on having a contest.

Not a bad idea.

In fact when you think about it, it was actually a pretty simple idea.  The waitress who had the best beer sales for a designated period of time would win a brand spanking new Toyota.  Wow! Nice prize!  (Sure put all your overblown, cliched brake jokes here), but honestly, think about it.  What do you do? You wear skimpy outfits, serve so/so food and hock beer as you jiggle your boobs to drunken morons who come just to ogle you.  It's a natural.  The more you smile, flirt and jiggle, the more beer you sell.  It's a contest where everyone wins!

Right?

Well unfortunately this isn't a Will Ferrell movie.  This is real life.  And sadly in real life there's always a catch.  So what's the catch?  Let me guess.

The Toyota is a matchbox car!
No?

The Toyota is a model!
No?

The Toyota is a RC racer?
Nope?  Out of guesses?  Just take a look below.

Yeah, that's right.  It's a Toy Yoda.

Ouch.  Good luck with that lawsuit.

Bear Down Chicago Bears!!!

Living in South Florida but having grown up in Chicago made the Bears @ Dolphins game last night all the more sweet.  When I moved down in 2003 all I heard was "why are you routing for ... you live in Florida now."  Really?  I was born in Chicago, lived there basically till I left for grad school and now I'm just supposed to give up my allegiances?   Their replies were always the same, "Yeah. You live here now. You should have to root for our teams."  Nice logic, but teams suck.

Granted Chicago has fielded some of the worst teams in their respected sports during my life time, but there were the '85 Bears, '05 Sox, '10 Blackhawks  and of course the 6-pack that Jordan gave the city.  And two championships by the Sting in the now defunct North American Soccer League.  That's really not that bad when it comes to championships.  When I first moved here the Cubs and Marlins were going head to head for the NLCS.  If it weren't for some bad pitching mistakes, those idiots could have possibly ended 90+ years of futility.  But no.  Let's all blame some nerd who really didn't even touch a  ball for cursing the team.  Heck it was really Pat Looney; a Chicago firefighter who went running for the firehouse across the street for safety, leaving Bartman to be the goat.

I spent a lot of great afternoons out in the $3.00 bleachers at Wrigley.  I talked to the late great Harry Carey one drunken afternoon there too.  Heck, I even saw him personally carry 2 cases of Bud up the old stairs to the broadcast booth one afternoon that I should have still been at school.  Now my Floridian friends are all demanding I just forsake my time spent at Wrigley, Soldier, Comiskey and the old Stadium just because I have a different zip code.  If that's not being fickle I don't know what is.

I can see their point for wanting more fans though, as Florida is a transient state.  With all the people coming and going it's tough to get a solid fan base to fill the stadiums.  Of course the "die-hard" Marlin fans that were all enjoying the Cubs futility that year never filled their stadium again after that.  So much for their fandom.

I would always counter the argument with, "So if you moved, you wouldn't be a Dolphins/ whatever fan any more?"  Of course to drive home their point they'd all answer along the lines of, "Yeah.  Wherever you are, you should be a fan of the local teams."  Let's let that soak in a minute... OK... What a load of *^&#!  To counter them I offered, "OK, so let's say that for whatever reason, let's say a family member needs long term, like life long medical attention and it can only be received in say Boston, or New York.  And for whatever reason you feel that you absolutely had to be there.  There is no getting out of it. It wouldn't even occur to you that moving there for the rest of your life wasn't an option... you'd give up your Dolphin jersey and become a Pat's or duh-duh-duh... a JETS fan?"

Let's let that stew for a few moments shall we?  What would you do?  Hum..... According to you, by your rules you'd have to be a JETS fan!  J-E-T-S, JETS! JETS! JETS!  Can you really see yourself doing that?

Some would try to cut me off, "That'll never happen."  "No, you can get health care... blah, blah, blah."  I wouldn't let them avoid the question, but it's funny that none of them ever coped to the fact that they wouldn't give up their fandom.  The best they could do was say, "I'd be a Giants fan."  Yeah right.  All you do is talk about how great the AFC is and how lame the NFC is and now you're going to give that up?  I call shenanigans!

So lets flashback to the '85 Bears again who were one stinking game away from perfection.   One game to finally shut up the stupid Dolphin fans who say there the only team to go undefeated (on a shorter schedule, but they overlook that).  One loss in Miami and all those idiot '72 Dolphins were able to crack their annoying bottle of champagne after the game...  Ironically, had the Bears won that game they would have gone 16-0, which if you're a Dolphin fan you didn't stay up for or left the stadium early to the raucous Bears fans, was the score of last nights game.  Ahh... so much for Miami fandom.  Yeah... I think I'll switch.

When visiting Key West...

Key West has always been one of my favorite places to go.  Sure I wish I could have been there in the early days, before it became the big tourist trap that it became.  But if I could turn back the hands of time, first I'd buy Microsoft, tons of land all along the Florida I.C.W. and the winning ticket for one of those hundred plus million lotto drawings, the week before it was actually won.  Then I'd head down. Since none of that is currently possible... rats... someday, someday.  Since that is still currently only a dream, I have to take modern day KW for what it is.  A drunken, food filled, tourist infested haven for the weirdest of the weird.  In other words, my kind of people. 

If you're planning a visit take time out to look for things like:

 And of course:

That's right... keep your damn snowmobiles out of here!   If you have some change jingling around in your pocket and want to try your luck, let me recommend:

If you are hungry and don't have a seafood allergy, try the conch (pronounced "conk") chowder.  Now everyone in town is going to try to give you their version.  That's just what proprietors do.  Don't get me wrong, I won't begrudge anyone any food concoction down there, but I was steered by a local to one of their favorites.  It's a little place off the beaten path, since 1939, called The Conch Shop.  

There I met the weekend cook and owner, Rita.  Daughter of the original owners and conch chef extraordinaire.  

The bowl of chowder she laid on me knocked my flip flops off.  Her secret recipe is so secret that her own son, a bus boy, doesn't even know how to make it.  All they would share though is that they are the only ones on the island to get their conch from the Bahamas (ironically, the same place where the "Conch" nickname hails from that the keys locals now claim as their very own) every day.  Everyone else gets theirs from the local fish market.  The short boat trip obviously is a nice cruise as they are exceptionally rested and extra tasty after their journey.

The other place to visit is of course Margaritaville.  No, not just because they sell my book (at the entrance, bookshelf, top left), but because you have to take a few minutes to sit at the bar and meet Chris the bartender. 

 Just tell him that it's your first visit, strap yourself in and get ready for the full Key West/ Jimmy Buffett experience.  He's the best bartender in town. And I'm not just saying that because he's (and as he puts it Jimmy) bought me a few drinks in my time.  Not that that hurts of course.

And before you hit the abundant nightlife take in the sunset in Mallory Square.

And keep the tradition alive.  You're supposed to applaud just as the sun slips past the horizon... unlike the putzes we were around recently... jerks...

That concludes our trip for now. Make sure to wave to the web cam on Duval and if you're at Capt. Tony's see if you can find this picture of the ole man.

I hate green

No it's not what you think.  I'm not anti environment or anything like that.  I am a little sick of having it shoved down my throat though.  I had the energy saver bulbs way before they were fashionable.  Not because I was worried about the environment, but because it cut my electric bill in half.  I'm also into appliances that weren't built in 1967 if they are more energy efficient.  The more money I save the happier I am.

No, the green I'm talking about is the way my Rosetta Stone software keeps admonishing me that I'm saying the word wrong.  A while ago I got on a kick to become a better person.  Let me tell you, it's not worth it. It's all just a pain in the ass.  Whomever said that you should be all that you could be never was buzzed by a computer for saying something it perceived as incorrect.

The way Germans say green is very close to its English counterpart.  Grun is the way it's spelled and looks simple enough to pronounce.  However you have to twist your tongue in an almost half pike position, mildly purse your lips and half grunt the word out.  Apparently I can't do it and it's frustrating as hell.

Computer: Der Apfel ist grun.

Me: Der Apfel ist grun.

(BUZZ!)

Me: Der Apfel ist gruuun!

(BUZZ!)

Me: Der Apfel ist gruuuunnnn!

(BUZZ!)

Me: DER (EXPLETIVE) APFEL IS GRUUUUN!!

(BUZZ!)

It's about this time when I want to either punch the screen or toss the laptop out the window.  I've done it before so I know how satisfying it can be.  Long before the movie Office Space scene where they wreak destruction against technology, I was working for the Syracuse Crunch.  I was given an old computer that they no longer wanted.  I quickly figured out why.  After a series of crashes and lost information I borrowed the roof access key from one of the maintenance guys.  Without even asking why I wanted them he tossed over the key.  It shouldn't be that easy, but I'm not going to complain.  

With computer in hand I went up to the roof, made sure no one could get hit with windows based shrapnel, I tossed the unit as far as I could.  Luckily it went right into the empty dumpster and exploded on impact.  It was VERY satisfying and I highly recommend it.

Fortunately for my Mac, I don't have rooftop access while I'm "bettering myself."  I don't know what's the most irritating aspect.

- The fact that I can't say the word properly.

- The fact that the computer is completely without compassion and doesn't let me slide as a real German would.  I mean c'mon, I'm not that far off.

- The fact that it buzzes like I lost on a game show.

- The fact that I use a goofy voice when I get infuriated and more often than not it accepts my response. 

So my quest to better myself has hit a proverbial iceberg in the word "grun."  Just thinking about having to be buzzed repeatedly has made me curtail my pursuit of German mastery.   Maybe I can make a recording of them saying it and I'll just play it back when needed.  Bet they get buzzed too.

Old Joke

Three men walk into a bar.

The fourth one ducked.

The Dr. isn't in

• So far this is how my morning is going:

Except for looking bored waiting for my next customer, I'm overbooked.  Not sure what "vibe" I'm giving off today, but apparently everyone thinks that I'm Lucy in her booth waiting to give out sage advice.  Maybe they just want to bend an ear, but for whatever reason they're flocking to me today.

Let me clarify for those that don't realize this; let me clearly state, I don't care.  Feel free to take a second to let that sink in.  Now if you still are unsure if you fall into this category or somehow managed to get on my, let-it-slide list for the day, here's a rundown.  If you fall into the following, you fall into the "leave me alone" category.  So if you told me that:

1. You told me that a doctor is currently waiting, impatiently for an image to download to a computer and in the process is grumbling at said computer.
2. A short, rotund woman is by your desk and chit-chatting with your co-worker about gasoline. 
3. The cleaning lady keeps putting your garbage can a few inches away from your desk and that's driving you insane!
4. A certain someone is taking all your paperclips.
5. There isn't any air freshener in the restroom.
6. Someone kept putting boxes in your parking spot at your apartment yesterday.
7. The repair guy told you, blah, blah, blah about the x-ray machine.
8. The hospital admin told you blah, blah, blah about some person that the hospital who said blah, blah, blah about blah, blah, blah.
9. The chemical for blah, blah, blah.
10. The blah, blah, blah... can you tell that I'm already shutting down and tuning out?

    you've over stayed your welcome.

It's not that I hate the people I work with, for the most part they're good people.  I could do without the Dr.'s "God" complexes, but it goes with the territory.  What is vexing is that people seem to think that I care.  When did this happen?   More importantly, HOW?  What did I do to screw up?  That's what I need to find out so that I can correct my error.  I can not state this any more clearly than I am right now.  I don't care.  Not only do I not care, I really, honestly, deeply, whole-heartily, and with every fiber, nay atom of my being... i don't care.  Period.  End of discussion.  Of course, if it's something important, yeah I want to know.  But telling me that so and so keeps taking your paperclips doesn't interest me.  Seriously, it doesn't.  But there you are, yet again... yup, you just told me that she did it again.  Why didn't you take my advice and tell her to stop?  Why didn't you just grab a new box of them?  They're EVERYWHERE!  Why?  


Uugh... at least Lucy got paid for having to listen to peoples "problems." 

Dogs can't tell time

I KNOW!!! I was as surprised as you to find that out!

As everyone who doesn't live in that certain area of Indiana where the time never changes knows, this weekend was the annual waste of time.  The day to "fall back" an hour.  Yea! An extra hour of sleep... yeah right.  Tell that to my dog who either doesn't listen when I tell her these things, or pretends not to know.

Sunday morning sure as $hi# she was up at 5:40, but with the time change make that 4:40.  (I think that she has a link in her brain to the atomic clock.)  Not only was she up, but also panting in excitement to get to go out for a long walk.  She was irritated at my less than enthusiastic stance in the matter.  So to get her way, the queen jumped up on the bed, sat down, still panting so much that the bed was shaking.

I'm old enough to remember the creepy "Magic Fingers" that were in the finer rest stop motels along the highways and byways of this great land.  For a quarter you got a few minutes of the bed shaking that was supposed to give the weary traveler a restful and relaxing magic massage.  (Uh-huh.  You can make your own jokes here.  It's just too easy.)  The older the units were, the less they shook. But when you got a good one, it could almost shake you off the bed and onto the disgusting carpet.  Good times, good times.  I call what Largo (my dog) does Magic Fingers as she shakes the bed in varying degrees of seismic activity.

So there we were.  At an impasse so to speak.  The one day of the year I could get an extra hour after staying up way too late watching a rerun of Mystery Science Theater 3000 ( I know! It's an exciting life I've carved out for myself!)  Remember when Saturday nights were about going out, getting drunk and seeing where the winds may blow you?  Yeah, me too.  Now they're about which bad movie to watch.  Growing older kinda sucks.  This was always a great night in college too because of the extra hour.  An extra hour to stay out.  An extra hour to sleep it off until Taco Bell opened.  It was great.  Now it's just an extra hour that the dog doesn't want to have to wait to go pee.  There is some irony in there somewhere, but I just don't have the energy today to look for it.

So there we were, still laying in bed with the dog stationed over me panting.  When this doesn't work she moves on the the next thing in her arsenal.  She licks my face.  She'll continue to do so even when I try to defend myself.  It's a really good thing that she's so darn cute and that's a lot of fun playing with her like that or I'd be really pissed.  If for some reason she wants to take it to the next level, she goes on to her version of water boarding.  She'll hunker over top of me and pant.  Not a big deal, but then comes the drool.   Long, disgusting wet bombs of sticky drool dropping down on my forehead.  This was her m.o. for Sunday.  She knows that with the first drop that she has me and we're going to do what the queen wants to do.

Naturally we were off in a minute and out wandering the empty streets of the neighborhood, marking her territory every few feet.  It's no wonder that all the dogs in the area hate her so much.  The only solace was in the fact that when we were almost home we came across some other schmuck and his dog.  "Your dog can't tell time either, huh" was all he could utter.

Glad that it's just not my dog that gets her way.

Late Late Show

I have a new goal in life. I want to get on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.  For my money he's the funniest guy on late night TV.  I think the reason I like the show so much is because he runs the show the way I would, loose and informal.  It's not that I'm so narcissistic that I feel like I have so much to offer to the world, it's that he's funny and I think I could play off that and have fun.  So you see I'm in it just for me to have a bunch of laughs.  You'd think his producer would be knocking down my door right now, but as of yet the door is still on its hinges.

Here's my plan to fulfill my dreamy little dreams.... (I know, shoot for the stars).  Until my incessant bothering of agents finally pays off; and by pays off I mean one of them takes me on as a client, I may have to pursue other routes.  Obviously once I get an agent who gets my fabulous book, (Tales From The Conch Republic available on Amazon, see the note on the right) into the hands of a great publisher and that turns into a movie deal it'll be easier to get on the show.  However until this happens I have to take other measures.

The easiest way would be for me to simply get tickets and go to a show.  Heck the tickets are even free.  Problem is that they're in California and I'm not. I'm no geography expert by any means, but my overnight stay in a certain hotel chain has given me the insight that Florida isn't next to California.  That's unless you still have a paper map and fold it just right.  Otherwise it's a bit of a haul.  Of course if I'm out there I'll have to stop by GoWesty and pick up a rebuilt VW Westfalia camper van which I could drive at a comfortable 80 m.p.h. down divorce lane.  But I'd finally realize my other dream of having a vehicle outfitted with its own refrigerator.  (As you can see when I dream, I dream big.)

So what's the next course of action you undoubtedly are asking! Alright, calm down and I'll tell you.

A quick visit to The Late Late Show's website yesterday gave me a revelation.  I can submit an email to the show, which if you watch the show any idiot could of told you.  Especially because he reads emails every night.  So I'm not the brightest bulb in the sandwich drawer, but nevertheless (I never understood why nevertheless is one word.  It's three words jammed together.  If I do that, I get that annoying red spell check line under my word telling me I f*#$%d up again. And believe me, I get that a lot.  So I'd like to know who got away with putting three words together like that and have it stick.  I'd like to shake his hand... If I had to guess, I say it'd be that guy from the Dos Equis commercials.)

Back to my plan.  I have decided to send an email a day until I finally get on the show... even if that means I just start with getting an email read on the show.  My first offering was:

Hey Craig,

I'm at work and I'm bored.  What are you wearing?

I'm thinking my next one will be,

Hey Craig,

I'm at work and I'm bored.  If you can smell that... I'm sorry.

Maybe I'll work a little harder at this... probably not.  But I'll be watching!

I love the news

And Huey Lewis to boot.  No really I'm talking about the news news.  They so often tell us, the uninformed if you will, about things that we would never have understood, guessed or figured out on our own.  For example on various news sources today we are being told that despite the election of so many republicans to office that it hasn't ended the discord between them and President Obama.   Really?  Let's just take a moment to think about that.

No really, I'll wait.

Huh...

Here I thought that with the loss of ultimate power he'd be like, "Aw gosh... schucks... (heavy sigh, hands in pockets, head held low, kicks a pebble) I guess we should let bygones be bygones."  Then he'd pull his hand out of his pocket, shake hands with John Boehner and surprise him with a joy buzzer.  Thus signaling an end to partisan politics.  And we live happily ever after.

Guess I was wrong.  It's a darn good thing that Yahoo news was there to show me the errors of my ways.

What else...

In Zimbabwe a pride of lions killed a man showering in a nature reserve viewing area.  Maybe they were a little more reserved... yeah... that was a terrible joke.  I'm not sure, but if I ever go to Zimbabwe nature reserve, showering isn't going to be my main concern.  I don't care if I'm there for a week, I'd rather put up with my own stink than be caught in a situation where my only defense is one of those fuzzy scrubber balls.

In entertainment news Aretha Franklin was told by doctors to cancel all appearances until May.  Well it wasn't so much doctors as the forklift needed to get her out of the house and to the concerts was too slow to keep her schedule.

"Actor" David Cassidy was arrested for DUI in Florida after police pulled him over for swerving all over the road.  David told police that he had only consumed a 1/2 glass of wine and a pain pill... Apparently "pain pill" to bad sitcom actors of the 70's is a half-empty bottle of bourbon, which was found in the back seat.   He also said that he was tired from attending a funeral... he attended, he didn't actually grab a shovel and dig the grave, but whatever.  He also sent the AP an email to thank family, friends and fans for their love and support... and did so by name... all four of them.

The last, but not least thing I learned from the news today was that Sparky Anderson, long time baseball manager died today.  "Sparky"was the Detroit manager the day the Tigers came to old Comiskey Park for a double header with the White Sox.  July 12, 1979 will forever be remembered for Steve Dahl's Disco Demolition night.  For 98 cents and a disco record you were allowed into the ballpark.  The Sox were 19 1/2 game back and drawing about 5,000 to a game.  However that night there were people literally crawling up the walls trying to get in.   Between games Steve, the commander-in-chief of the Insane Coho Lips anti-disco army blew up most of the record that were brought to the game.  Afterwards a fun-loving riot broke out and Sparky called for the Sox to forfeit the game.  The game was conceded and Sparky said he feared for his life.  Seeing that he in fact passed from dementia, perhaps he was right all along.

It's all over but the shouting

Election day came and went and all we truly have to be thankful for is that the annoying, mud-slinging commercials are gone.  I am proud to say that I did vote and that's pretty much it. I have become jaded to the point where I think they're all egocentric, narcissistic, crooks out to get themselves a bigger piece of the pie.

I remember back to the mock elections we had in grade school.  Everyone was told what each candidate stood for.  We were also given a little background on each of them and told how they got to their current position being eligible for the post.

On election day we formed a single file line, were lead out of class and into the makeshift polling place.  There even was a little curtain we got to close to keep our votes secret.  The next day the real votes were tallied and on a poster board next to the votes from all our different classes.  We discussed who won, who lost and why our votes may have differed from the adult voting public.

Sounds nice. Doesn't it? Almost like something from a Norman Rockwell painting.  It made a believer out of me that the system does work.  That our votes really do make a difference.  That everything was going to be alright.

What a load of crap!  We were snookered!   I want retribution!

In the adult world all you get is a bunch of hoopla about our guy and your guy is a racist devil!  Now there can be no change, even though before when "the right people" were in charge there wasn't any change.  How can you say that? Your people were screwing everything up!  How dare I? My people were being held down by your people.  Your candidate is a crook! Oh yeah? Well yours is a radical. Take that back! No you take it back!

Good God everyone just shut up already.  Talking politics is about as useful as an empty box of kleenex to a person with a runny nose.  All it gets you is frustrated and a wet sleeve.

Someone please take me back to those innocent school days. The days where I actually thought the people in office really cared about us.  The days I thought they actually cared about the job they're doing.  Man oh man was I naive.

Candy day is over

So Halloween came and went and what have I learned? The dog will go nuts with repeated doorbell rings? Nope.  Well aware of that.  That I need to get rid of as much candy as possible so that I don't engorge myself with the left overs? Um, no.  Is it that teenagers are typically surly asses who come without costumes and try to intimidate candy out of you?  Nope, already knew that too.

I still think Larry David had it right in the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where he doesn't give so said teenagers candy solely on principal.  Yeah, they get their revenge, but so what.  They still didn't get the candy, had to waste money, time and the worst thing a teenager can ever give up, effort to get their revenge.

Last night after a meager fifteen or so kids came and went, I was ready to pack it in and call it a Halloween. Pretty pathetic numbers after last year where we were probably fifty to sixty deep of booger eaters.  Just before the lights went out there came the ring.  As soon as it came (just around 9) I knew that it was my Larry David moment.  Sure enough.  As I opened the door there they were.  Four teenagers in normal clothes, backpacks worn on their chests, surly as all hell.  Not even a "trick or treat."

I was at a crossroads.  Do I really care?  No, but there is part of my brain saying, "screw them."  I'm not fearing them to do any damage to my house.  I could easily catch any of them and when they saw my dog they were a little standoffish.  So what should I do?  Just give them candy? Let them succeed by rewarding their effort of doing the very least?  Is that really the message I want to impart to the youth of America?  Can I go to bed tonight knowing that I didn't use this as a teaching moment?

Or should I gather the youth of today, sit them down and explain how a good honest effort, a little creativity and yes, maybe even a little elbow grease will make their reward all the more satisfying.  Would I sleep better knowing that I did what their own parents have given up on; dispensing a little tough love?

So I made my decision.  I looked them square in the eyes, smiled and dumped handfuls of candy in their bags and told them to have a great night.

So what I learned from Halloween this year was that I hate other peoples kids and really don't care if they learn anything or not. Actually, I already knew that too.  But I got rid of a lot of fattening candy so that's good for me.  And besides, if you want satisfaction, eat a Snickers and leave me alone.  All I know is that I slept great last night.