I was frassed at for wanting to know what I should wear to this years Ivey awards and so I brought up all my tux's for viewing. I'll be doing the all-black outfit this year, but in figuring out stupid things like 3 button, 2 button, etc. I found the following in my one button masterpiece:
1- pair of sunglasses
3-fliers for upcoming shows (circa Fall 2008)
1-Flask my brother gave me as a wedding present
This garnered a chuckle from us when I looked at Moda and said "Does this look like it still fits...what the f#ck is in my pockets?"
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Does anyone else think...
That the Cities Ninety-Seven, with a few notable exceptions, that their playlist is perpetually stuck in between the years 1994-1996?
RIP, Dalton...
Well...people with the big "C" can't always have happy endings. And I do think it's kinda sad about the Swayze-ist of Patricks recent passing. I wasn't a huge fan of "DD" to be fair. I mean, I saw it, but outside of musicals I never had the same jones for "dance" movies where the dancing is a part of the overall drama. (Like "Frassloose" back in '84. There were far better films to see that year, IMO...cough cough "Ghostbusters"? Cough cough "Temple of Doom"? Cough cough "Buckaroo Banzai"?) And I think I caught "The Outsiders" maybe once or twice on a Saturday channel 9 edited-to-hell matinee and was like "meh...the book was better".
But I so did dig on "Red Dawn". And a couple of years later when we had free HBO, I probably watched "Road House" 10 times. (I still was years away from taking karate so how was I to know he was only doing "Dance Fu"? Bonus points if you can catch the Benny "The Jet" Urquidez cameo in the car lot Bigfoot scene.) I mean...that movie was dumb, over the top, and (in later years) extremely quotable. "I thought you'd be bigger", "Pain don't hurt", and Jeff Healy's insane thespian delivery of "Word is you f#ck with him...he'll theal yer fate". (Yeah, I wrote his lisp in. Suck it)
And of course the nudity and Sam Elliot. Hello? Crap, Ro and I bogarted the "throat rip-out" when we auditioned for "KFH" a few years ago. Classic.
People were blah-blah over "Ghost" and I liked it well enough. (I took a date to see it at the Brookdale UA. Mostly I remember flicking a band-aid down her blouse and laughing when the evil "ghosts" dragged away bad-guy ghosts. That dumb sound effect. And for the record, I was 15. So apologies for said flicking. She didn't get mad, anyway. Good ol' Angie W.)
And of course x's 2- His SNL appearance. Doi. "Everybodies workin' for the weekennnnd!"
"Point Break" was more doofy adrenalin and I always thought that this movie was dumb to have "Ted" play and F-B-I agent...and wtf was a "Chili Pepper" doing in this movie? (Points again for an early Tom-I make the worst celebrity sex tape on the planet" Sizemore sighting)
Sure, he had some dogs for the following 10 years or so but that little role in "Donnie Darko" was just another awesome casting job in an equally awesome dark little indie film that blew up in a good way. Don't call it a comeback!
For me, though? It'll always be Dalton. The philosophizing cooler. Pure-D awesome.
Rest in peace, 'Miho.
But I so did dig on "Red Dawn". And a couple of years later when we had free HBO, I probably watched "Road House" 10 times. (I still was years away from taking karate so how was I to know he was only doing "Dance Fu"? Bonus points if you can catch the Benny "The Jet" Urquidez cameo in the car lot Bigfoot scene.) I mean...that movie was dumb, over the top, and (in later years) extremely quotable. "I thought you'd be bigger", "Pain don't hurt", and Jeff Healy's insane thespian delivery of "Word is you f#ck with him...he'll theal yer fate". (Yeah, I wrote his lisp in. Suck it)
And of course the nudity and Sam Elliot. Hello? Crap, Ro and I bogarted the "throat rip-out" when we auditioned for "KFH" a few years ago. Classic.
People were blah-blah over "Ghost" and I liked it well enough. (I took a date to see it at the Brookdale UA. Mostly I remember flicking a band-aid down her blouse and laughing when the evil "ghosts" dragged away bad-guy ghosts. That dumb sound effect. And for the record, I was 15. So apologies for said flicking. She didn't get mad, anyway. Good ol' Angie W.)
And of course x's 2- His SNL appearance. Doi. "Everybodies workin' for the weekennnnd!"
"Point Break" was more doofy adrenalin and I always thought that this movie was dumb to have "Ted" play and F-B-I agent...and wtf was a "Chili Pepper" doing in this movie? (Points again for an early Tom-I make the worst celebrity sex tape on the planet" Sizemore sighting)
Sure, he had some dogs for the following 10 years or so but that little role in "Donnie Darko" was just another awesome casting job in an equally awesome dark little indie film that blew up in a good way. Don't call it a comeback!
For me, though? It'll always be Dalton. The philosophizing cooler. Pure-D awesome.
Rest in peace, 'Miho.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Why I <3 NE Mipples...
Dear everyone-
I obtained an "I Heart NE" button from Surdyk's shortly before the NEMAA Art-A-Whirl last May. To this day, it has been mistaken for the following:
I Heart Nebraska
I Heart New England
I Heart Knee (Pretty creative, IMO)
I get it, a little. One person, one, has figured it out. We're at MOA today shopping for Ivey Award dresses and whilst waiting for try-on's at Nordstrom's Bodacious Rack this kid was staring at me. (Okay, a teenager). It got so that the staring went past MN (Ha. Get it? Another Acronym!) comfort, and after making eye-contact at his chest-staring head (I, for one, do not have a bodacious rack) I said "What's up?".
(In a foreign exchange student accent. He looked pretty-boy nordic, so hearing a German accent surprised me a bit)
"What is 'Knee'?"
(me) "Oh. North East. North East Minneapolis. I'm the uncrowned King of Northeast."
(Blank Stare. His girlfriends titter. There were three girlfriends.)
"Northeast Metropolis?"
"No. That's Superman. We're fairly territorial in our neighborhoods in Minneapolis."
"Oh" (Laughs uncomfortably)
I loiter outside the ladies dressing rooms for as long as possible until they leave then take a seat. Ever notice how, if you're male and loitering outside of a ladies dressing room you still kind of feel pervy? You could be staring at the lights the whole time until said "dressed" lady comes out for an opinion (or whatever) or laying face down on the ground. You're still left with the whole "dude loitering outside the ladies dressing rooms" stigma. It's weird. (Even in the ladies shoe area, which takes up a parking lot sized area in most department stores*, if you're a guy/boyfriend/husband the guys master the blank forward stare. You go into a coma. And no one asks questions. The nurse just comes by to read you stories)
Later, I get treated to restauranty goodness for being a sport the whole (cough-cough) 7 hour day and the server makes a comment that she likes Northeast Minneapolis too (or something) and it came as such a shock that I almost didn't sit for a second. We laughed. A lot.
I need to stop wearing that dumb button. Or I should have given to the exchange student in solidarity.
*If I wanted job security? I should sell women's shoes at Nordstroms. Al Bundy was on crack for hating his job, Humpty. They were on you like white on snow- if you were man...woman...it didn't matter. Those ladies were frickin' pro's. There were literally 3 sales reps for every one person and they did their jobs in style. Holy...I mean the slick pitch: "Well, those 'Glitz' brand might feel loose but the Praaaada will never-ever fit you poorly. It's the design you see?" (She fit it in quick and dirty during her sales pitch like a shiv between the ribs during a prison brawl. I was amazed.
She didn't buy the Prada, btw.)
I obtained an "I Heart NE" button from Surdyk's shortly before the NEMAA Art-A-Whirl last May. To this day, it has been mistaken for the following:
I Heart Nebraska
I Heart New England
I Heart Knee (Pretty creative, IMO)
I get it, a little. One person, one, has figured it out. We're at MOA today shopping for Ivey Award dresses and whilst waiting for try-on's at Nordstrom's Bodacious Rack this kid was staring at me. (Okay, a teenager). It got so that the staring went past MN (Ha. Get it? Another Acronym!) comfort, and after making eye-contact at his chest-staring head (I, for one, do not have a bodacious rack) I said "What's up?".
(In a foreign exchange student accent. He looked pretty-boy nordic, so hearing a German accent surprised me a bit)
"What is 'Knee'?"
(me) "Oh. North East. North East Minneapolis. I'm the uncrowned King of Northeast."
(Blank Stare. His girlfriends titter. There were three girlfriends.)
"Northeast Metropolis?"
"No. That's Superman. We're fairly territorial in our neighborhoods in Minneapolis."
"Oh" (Laughs uncomfortably)
I loiter outside the ladies dressing rooms for as long as possible until they leave then take a seat. Ever notice how, if you're male and loitering outside of a ladies dressing room you still kind of feel pervy? You could be staring at the lights the whole time until said "dressed" lady comes out for an opinion (or whatever) or laying face down on the ground. You're still left with the whole "dude loitering outside the ladies dressing rooms" stigma. It's weird. (Even in the ladies shoe area, which takes up a parking lot sized area in most department stores*, if you're a guy/boyfriend/husband the guys master the blank forward stare. You go into a coma. And no one asks questions. The nurse just comes by to read you stories)
Later, I get treated to restauranty goodness for being a sport the whole (cough-cough) 7 hour day and the server makes a comment that she likes Northeast Minneapolis too (or something) and it came as such a shock that I almost didn't sit for a second. We laughed. A lot.
I need to stop wearing that dumb button. Or I should have given to the exchange student in solidarity.
*If I wanted job security? I should sell women's shoes at Nordstroms. Al Bundy was on crack for hating his job, Humpty. They were on you like white on snow- if you were man...woman...it didn't matter. Those ladies were frickin' pro's. There were literally 3 sales reps for every one person and they did their jobs in style. Holy...I mean the slick pitch: "Well, those 'Glitz' brand might feel loose but the Praaaada will never-ever fit you poorly. It's the design you see?" (She fit it in quick and dirty during her sales pitch like a shiv between the ribs during a prison brawl. I was amazed.
She didn't buy the Prada, btw.)
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Can't...keep...it in...
I wouldn't usually wish this on anyone, and sorry if it might offend (I am, as you know, an amateur b-squad observationalist) but sakes aLIVE is urn-checking-outing the dumbest thing you can do? I was apprehensive enough with family due to the sensitive nature of it but outside of a clown handing you a balloon before you go in the "showroom" there could be little more ridiculous outside of...okay, here's a list of potentials so you all are prepared. Keep in mind, you have an image of what an urn is, BUT you can also get cremains:
Made into diamonds
Put into Lava Lamps
Put into a light up night light globe
Put in Biodegradable heart-shaped bags
Placed in the low...low end model. Which is plastic and looks like an office garbage can
Placed in a, gah, it's supposed to be a suspended Jesus but my brother said "It looks like Han Solo suspended in carbonite..." He was right.
Made into a door stop or garden marker
And my favorite?
A teddy bear. A $130 teddy bear.*
We cried a lot, but I think we also laughed a lot too which is what he would have done at the silly nature of it all. And it helped a little. It was needed.
*It was in the kids section, but perched next to the "formal" urns made it a little unnerving yo. Moda and I took turns trying to unscrew the head to see if that's where the cremains were supposed to go.
**I still hate the term cremains. And if it wasn't for "Six Feet Under" I'd never had known it.
Made into diamonds
Put into Lava Lamps
Put into a light up night light globe
Put in Biodegradable heart-shaped bags
Placed in the low...low end model. Which is plastic and looks like an office garbage can
Placed in a, gah, it's supposed to be a suspended Jesus but my brother said "It looks like Han Solo suspended in carbonite..." He was right.
Made into a door stop or garden marker
And my favorite?
A teddy bear. A $130 teddy bear.*
We cried a lot, but I think we also laughed a lot too which is what he would have done at the silly nature of it all. And it helped a little. It was needed.
*It was in the kids section, but perched next to the "formal" urns made it a little unnerving yo. Moda and I took turns trying to unscrew the head to see if that's where the cremains were supposed to go.
**I still hate the term cremains. And if it wasn't for "Six Feet Under" I'd never had known it.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Hiya friends. I know I've been piecemeal about blogging in spite of a lot of spare time the last few weeks and I'm sorry to say that I'll probably be doing another sabbatical while I get my head on straight and spend some time with my family. I'm not getting into it in too much detail here on the cyber-web but I'd like to leave you all with a quick non-sequiter:
I spent a very, very good day yesterday with my dad.
I spent a very, very good day yesterday with my dad.
Friday, July 24, 2009
You gotta be kidding, right?
Let's talk about tricky sloganizing, shall we? Dunkin Donuts newest: "America Runs on Dunkin'!" with little pictures for those who don't understand the message: Picture of ' Merica. Picture of a runner, ala' the Olympics. Picture of a donut.
Wow. Donuts+Running='s did someone in their advertising department say "HEY! These donut's are getting a BAD RAP! Saying they promote obesity and have little to NO nutritional value? What about JELLY filled donuts, friends?!?! THAT is a fruit if I ever SAW one. No, no, no...the time has come to help the noble pastry RISE from it's painful yoke of unhealthiness while we usher in a NEW DAY OF THE DONUT...! AND THAT MEANS RUNNING!!!"
Why not just run a smear campaign on foods that are a good source of iron and vitamins? Or are a prime source of roughage?
"SPINACH! It will MAKE you play WII FAT!!!"
"F#CK BROCCOLI! Do you WANT to have DOUBLE CHINS?!?!"
"Baked potato? HOW ABOUT COUCH POTATO!"
"KALE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"
"America is screwed with tomatoes" (This is where you have the picture of 'Merica. A screw...or a silhouette of someone, you know, getting screwed. And the noble lycopene laced tomato.)
Equating donuts and health. I donut know.
(Flashback) A really happy memory from when I was a kid was when my dad would take me either to Dunkin' or to Jack's Bakery over by NHCC for a donut and milk after my hockey games. He'd get a coffee and usually an apple fritter. I'd get a 1% milk and either a long john (They weight 16lbs at Jack's) or one of those powdered jobbies filled with chocolate cream and the "chocolate frosting nipple looking thing" on top. The smell is what will take you back at DD.
In high school, we would/could order a dozen to demolish amongst 2-3 of us or order a variety of 24-36 donut holes. Oof.
As an A-Dult, I learned to appreciate their coffee. DD does have some pretty strong and tasty coffee.
And as an aging frasser in a world where DD is coming back, and now apparently using a picture of a runner to pimp their D's as opposed to a middle aged man muttering "It's time to make the donuts..." I can't remember the last time I had one.
Wow. Donuts+Running='s did someone in their advertising department say "HEY! These donut's are getting a BAD RAP! Saying they promote obesity and have little to NO nutritional value? What about JELLY filled donuts, friends?!?! THAT is a fruit if I ever SAW one. No, no, no...the time has come to help the noble pastry RISE from it's painful yoke of unhealthiness while we usher in a NEW DAY OF THE DONUT...! AND THAT MEANS RUNNING!!!"
Why not just run a smear campaign on foods that are a good source of iron and vitamins? Or are a prime source of roughage?
"SPINACH! It will MAKE you play WII FAT!!!"
"F#CK BROCCOLI! Do you WANT to have DOUBLE CHINS?!?!"
"Baked potato? HOW ABOUT COUCH POTATO!"
"KALE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"
"America is screwed with tomatoes" (This is where you have the picture of 'Merica. A screw...or a silhouette of someone, you know, getting screwed. And the noble lycopene laced tomato.)
Equating donuts and health. I donut know.
(Flashback) A really happy memory from when I was a kid was when my dad would take me either to Dunkin' or to Jack's Bakery over by NHCC for a donut and milk after my hockey games. He'd get a coffee and usually an apple fritter. I'd get a 1% milk and either a long john (They weight 16lbs at Jack's) or one of those powdered jobbies filled with chocolate cream and the "chocolate frosting nipple looking thing" on top. The smell is what will take you back at DD.
In high school, we would/could order a dozen to demolish amongst 2-3 of us or order a variety of 24-36 donut holes. Oof.
As an A-Dult, I learned to appreciate their coffee. DD does have some pretty strong and tasty coffee.
And as an aging frasser in a world where DD is coming back, and now apparently using a picture of a runner to pimp their D's as opposed to a middle aged man muttering "It's time to make the donuts..." I can't remember the last time I had one.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Great. Just...Great.
So on a happy note, Moda got back in town from KS last night. She told me she caught a slight bug while down there which was a touch flu-like. I was able to visit and we shared some Chinese food before heading back home for the night.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Double, triple ow.
Well ferrets and firecrackers...I know I've promised an unemployment blaug, but I guess outside of the general mundane routine that is hermiting myself/working out/finding new work I figured it just didn't make for very good theater. (It's okay, folks. Temp staff got me a new gig in a week or so. And I found another one on MONSTER that seemed right up my alley...with the caveat being I'd need to obtain my series 6, 26, AND 63. Time to stock up on Gingko Biloba. )
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
Monday, July 13, 2009
Annual B'Day greetings to RSVP!
Happy Birthday, big brotherness RSVP! Your ninja self looks great, per normal!
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Friday, July 10, 2009
What...The...Frass...
(Please note the way the arrow on the package points to...the package)
I know this is far from being a triumphant return to the blog-o-sphere (esp. for my 2-3 adoring fans. And esp.esp. b/c I'm unemployed...AGAIN!) But this was FAR too precious to pass up a thought or three.
O'er breakfast today, I was flipping through the B,B&B circular and whilst adding color commentary to the newest gadgets that our upwardly mobile public may covet (Oh, and B, B, and B? $55,000 contest for college kids? That's greeeeeat. Poppa will take a check, thanks) such as a "Over the door 16 baseball cap holding cap rack"- I mean that was enough to make me chortle, right? (Mostly because I own maybe 3 baseball hats. The oldest dating back to 1995 when I did the most pull-ups of the day at the Marine recruiting station. That's right. Marines.)
I didn't even chuckle when they advertised the "Snuggie" (i.e. the "WTF Blanket". Mental note- Moda's birthday is coming up) No, no...the "Man-Groomer" caught my rapt attention.
Man-Groomer. Say it out loud. Go on. Say it yet? It sounds, people, like a bad SNL sketch from the 70's along with the Bass-O-Matic. I mean, really? Really? The ad showed someone shaving their shoulders and then another picture with a bare (baaaare) chest with captions saying "SHOULDERS AND ARMS!" and "CHEST AND BACK"...captions that would easily be found on an ad for Bowflex or a Weider Home Gym. Except, and really, really- LOOK AT THE BOX.
It should be called "B#ll-Shaver" and be done with it. Really. Ain't they got no mama?
More to come.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Nose-talgia...
Happy Father's day, y'all! For me, I'd like to send my love to RsVP and my own pa- The former for being someone who I emulated and held as the acme of coolness when I was a kid and the latter for being...well...my dad. I wouldn't be the frasser I am without him. Or be alive for that matter.
But...
Today we met the extended fam out at the OG in the Grove. I love our get togethers nowadays more than when I was a kid/teens/20's because I feel like there is a sense of candor now that I'm older that was never prevalent- Example? Today , the Lowry Bridge went down. And while I was elbowing my way through conversations about how I wanted to be there on my bike, my aunt quietly told me about how many trips she took in the late 50's early 60's to visit my uncle when they lived in North. Huh...I did not know this. And I love them for sharing.
Heading to the Grove, however, I chose to leave a lil' early so that I could make a personal side trip through my old nabe. Okay, so per normal I left late but was able to make it up Brooklyn Blvd which I titled "The Long Way" to the OG. And oh my, how things have changed. After dinner, I managed to have a maudlyn trip back home where I could really be a quizzacle investigator of my "old life". See, I realized that I've segmented so much of my wee existance into "BP years", "College/Uptown Years"/"NE years" etc that I kinda feel I don't respect the changes that happen.
So I toodle.
I toodle up Brooklyn Blvd. Taking a right on Jolly Lane after HWY 81. First thing I notice? Hollywood Video is gone. There's a Chipotle there now.
The Lutheran church where we had Scouts is still there. As is the graveyard across the street. The trailer that seemed a permanent resident in the parking lot for so many years with "Troop 542" is absent.
Further down, the DQ/now All American Recreation...site of many post-baseball parfaits is overrun with weeds.
The hotel is now a Ramada with waterpark. Charley Goodnight's is now a beach themed bar. Congratulations, Courtney and Peter...(On the sign out front, folks)
The church across from the Schulz's is still there. The ball park in front is gone, as is the bushes where we made forts. The last I remember, I used to vote in my district there when I turned 18.
Hotchkisses, Hengs, Lawreneces, Putnams, Skoogs, Dixons, Rikimotos, Speckmans, Emmons, Desrudes...all still in place. The siding is different on some, as is the shingles. A lot of "For Sale" signs. I circle my cul-de-sac to where ma and pa last sold their home in 2006. I see toys next to the neighbors (Illgen, Johnson, Peterson, Casperson...very nordic) and smack dab in the middle of my old lawn is another "For Sale" sign. 3 years later.
My elementary school is now an elementary school and rec center. My junior high is kinda the same. As is the old auditorium/theater I did my very first play...I head up 69th and not much has changed. Maranatha? Site of my big bro's first job? Still exists. In fact, nothing has changed much (Korean Evangelical Church? Check. Health Partners? Check. Post Office? Check) until you hit 69th and Brooklyn Blvd when the old Tasty outlet and Pop Shoppe shopping mall have made way for a Culver's and Subway.
Then I hit Mound cemetery after heading up a ways. I pass streets like "Georgia"..."France" (France. France! I sometimes forget my home town shared something with the Southwest suburb corner of 50th and France which neighbored my Uptown years!) and I pull in. Mom, Biggie, and I used to grab pastries from the Tastee outlet and come up there. We called the cemetary "Lambie" because of a lamb that rested on top of a tombstone. It'd be a while before I realized a lamb meant it was a grave marking for a child. A kid. Like I was. With my mini-glazed outlet donuts in their blue fold over box.
I say "Hi" to Eric.
I drive a little. I try and remember where the spot was that I remembered shortly after he passed where I saw the grave of a junior high girl (what was her name?) and it floored my 19 year old self at the time.
It's drizzling. And I realize that I'm a 34 year old man, who has just came from spending quality time with his extended family, answering family questions of how old I am/how the house is/how is Moda/etc...and I'm in a cemetery in my 15 minutes away home town.
In the rain.
I say "Bye" to Eric. And drive away. Past the industrial park that used to house the original factory of this little device called "Rollerblades" and a crappy baggy pants favored by bodybuilders, professional wrestlers, and d-bags called "Zubaz". I spy with my little eye Palmer Lake park where Ro, Dad, and I would walk Duchess with back packs full of Softner Salt to train for our backpacking trek of '89. Earle Brown is still there. So is the restaurant. And the Super 8. Aurther Treacher's Seafood/La Casita/...whatever it turned into is gutted and has a "Coming Soon" sign in front. I'm toodling some more. I need to go home.
Home, home. To Nordeast. To my garden. My freshly shorn lawn which, now, is almost glowing green. My cat. My roommate. My bed.
My home.
But...
Today we met the extended fam out at the OG in the Grove. I love our get togethers nowadays more than when I was a kid/teens/20's because I feel like there is a sense of candor now that I'm older that was never prevalent- Example? Today , the Lowry Bridge went down. And while I was elbowing my way through conversations about how I wanted to be there on my bike, my aunt quietly told me about how many trips she took in the late 50's early 60's to visit my uncle when they lived in North. Huh...I did not know this. And I love them for sharing.
Heading to the Grove, however, I chose to leave a lil' early so that I could make a personal side trip through my old nabe. Okay, so per normal I left late but was able to make it up Brooklyn Blvd which I titled "The Long Way" to the OG. And oh my, how things have changed. After dinner, I managed to have a maudlyn trip back home where I could really be a quizzacle investigator of my "old life". See, I realized that I've segmented so much of my wee existance into "BP years", "College/Uptown Years"/"NE years" etc that I kinda feel I don't respect the changes that happen.
So I toodle.
I toodle up Brooklyn Blvd. Taking a right on Jolly Lane after HWY 81. First thing I notice? Hollywood Video is gone. There's a Chipotle there now.
The Lutheran church where we had Scouts is still there. As is the graveyard across the street. The trailer that seemed a permanent resident in the parking lot for so many years with "Troop 542" is absent.
Further down, the DQ/now All American Recreation...site of many post-baseball parfaits is overrun with weeds.
The hotel is now a Ramada with waterpark. Charley Goodnight's is now a beach themed bar. Congratulations, Courtney and Peter...(On the sign out front, folks)
The church across from the Schulz's is still there. The ball park in front is gone, as is the bushes where we made forts. The last I remember, I used to vote in my district there when I turned 18.
Hotchkisses, Hengs, Lawreneces, Putnams, Skoogs, Dixons, Rikimotos, Speckmans, Emmons, Desrudes...all still in place. The siding is different on some, as is the shingles. A lot of "For Sale" signs. I circle my cul-de-sac to where ma and pa last sold their home in 2006. I see toys next to the neighbors (Illgen, Johnson, Peterson, Casperson...very nordic) and smack dab in the middle of my old lawn is another "For Sale" sign. 3 years later.
My elementary school is now an elementary school and rec center. My junior high is kinda the same. As is the old auditorium/theater I did my very first play...I head up 69th and not much has changed. Maranatha? Site of my big bro's first job? Still exists. In fact, nothing has changed much (Korean Evangelical Church? Check. Health Partners? Check. Post Office? Check) until you hit 69th and Brooklyn Blvd when the old Tasty outlet and Pop Shoppe shopping mall have made way for a Culver's and Subway.
Then I hit Mound cemetery after heading up a ways. I pass streets like "Georgia"..."France" (France. France! I sometimes forget my home town shared something with the Southwest suburb corner of 50th and France which neighbored my Uptown years!) and I pull in. Mom, Biggie, and I used to grab pastries from the Tastee outlet and come up there. We called the cemetary "Lambie" because of a lamb that rested on top of a tombstone. It'd be a while before I realized a lamb meant it was a grave marking for a child. A kid. Like I was. With my mini-glazed outlet donuts in their blue fold over box.
I say "Hi" to Eric.
I drive a little. I try and remember where the spot was that I remembered shortly after he passed where I saw the grave of a junior high girl (what was her name?) and it floored my 19 year old self at the time.
It's drizzling. And I realize that I'm a 34 year old man, who has just came from spending quality time with his extended family, answering family questions of how old I am/how the house is/how is Moda/etc...and I'm in a cemetery in my 15 minutes away home town.
In the rain.
I say "Bye" to Eric. And drive away. Past the industrial park that used to house the original factory of this little device called "Rollerblades" and a crappy baggy pants favored by bodybuilders, professional wrestlers, and d-bags called "Zubaz". I spy with my little eye Palmer Lake park where Ro, Dad, and I would walk Duchess with back packs full of Softner Salt to train for our backpacking trek of '89. Earle Brown is still there. So is the restaurant. And the Super 8. Aurther Treacher's Seafood/La Casita/...whatever it turned into is gutted and has a "Coming Soon" sign in front. I'm toodling some more. I need to go home.
Home, home. To Nordeast. To my garden. My freshly shorn lawn which, now, is almost glowing green. My cat. My roommate. My bed.
My home.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sometimes they beach themselves when they're sad.
(Not pictured- Soaked through Costco tighty whities. Thanks, Moda. If you had sound-o-vision, you'd probably have heard me snoring.)
Memorial Day weekend 2009. (The remaining pics may be found on Frassbook, for the curious)
You have no idea how much I was looking forward to it. Really. The hours FLEW by on Friday and it was all I could do not to sprint out of the office to the LRT. We started the weekend fairly easy. We grilled a bit. Watched "Frost/Nixon" (excellent, btw) and made vows to take it relatively easy. Outside of a party for Moda's cast in South Mpls, and a boat trip on Memorial Day proper, it was ease...jogging...cleaning...gardening. Easy.
Well it turned out that I found someone at the party that grew up in the small (tiny) hometown we'd frequent where my gramma lived down in IA. When I heard it mentioned, my jaw dropped and we started drinking more beers, nibbling more lamb bites, and frassin' about who we knew. It was surreal. And I didn't end up getting home until the wee, weeeeee hours. And I still had to get up and make us a Memorial Day breakfast and hop down to Boom Island marina relatively early. Needless to say, our 8 am wake up call was marred with my feeling groggy and tired as all heck.
And then...we start cocktailing.
So D and KT were ready. Really ready. They had two coolers full of food and libations, a grill, a full tank of gas, and a day of fun in the sun planned. I had brought four beers that I figured would take us through the day but ooooohhh no. By the time we docked at the island, we had out pre-made gin and vodka martinis with stuffed olives, champagne, beer, and mojito's. I was having a GREAT old time scampering around barefoot when I took a fallen tree up over a pond that had formed when the river was higher. Long story short, I grabbed a dry branch which snapped and I took a header into the festering moat. Fully clothed. With wallet and cell phone deep in my buttoned pockets.
Winner.
I was lucky that it was about 5.5 feet deep. I was lucky a dead and bloated beaver didn't break my fall. I was unlucky that my phone is ruined. And that I spent several hours in my tightie whities sobering up on a blanket while my clothes...kinda...dried out. I'm just glad KT was a witness otherwise it'd have been chalked upto "Oh..dummy. You were buzzed and trying to play Spider Man you dope!" Swear. I had it under control. It was like in a movie. Except I lounged in my underpants for several hours afterward. And there were no leeches, thankfully, ala' "Stand by Me".
Wooooooooo...
7 hours, a mild case of sun stroke and exhaustion later it was all I could do to get showered and snuggle in to watch a little "Choke" before sleep took over. Getting up this morning was an epic, EPIC struggle. And I felt like a$$ all day at the office. The gut rot of mixing. I deserved it. I did. No one to blame but myself. And my healthy pre-summer lifestyle took the bench while I did the famous Baby P debauch routine.
Sigh. Hope y'all had good ones, kids. I don't get a three day weekend now until September. Frass.
Summah Lovin....
Is here. Truly. And I have high hopes that this summer will be a grand summer. The familiar feeling that starts off with plastic peeled off of the windows and allows a cleansing breeze to waft through your home. Some things that have got me positively glowing for this summer will comprise the bulleted content of today's blog. So read on, and let's start our summer off right:
The mower is out and has been tuned. Already I've had two epic mows, and already I need to fill the gas can to power me through the remainder of the summer. Edging has been made, and the impervious weed barrier underneath the cedar chips has failed in the sense that it is more creeping Charlie than mulch. My new lilacs, planted in 2005/06 are still budding. A good sign indeed. Outside of napalm, a good creeping Charlie remedy would be appreciated. The ginormous boxelder tree in my backyard is dropping whirligigs by the ton, and I've made a careful note to keep the herb pots cleared lest they get choked out MMA style like the cilantro and mint of 2008. I've sprayed weed killer, ant killer, and have been brewing ideas from other gardens I've spied on my daily jogs.
How doth my garden grow? Well, thank you. The garlic bulbs were bigger than my tulips in the front planters (RIP, btw) and we had milk jugs protecting the hydroponic tomatoes Moda was gifted at work. A trip to the Mill City and Lyndale Farmers markets yielded the following bounty:
The mower is out and has been tuned. Already I've had two epic mows, and already I need to fill the gas can to power me through the remainder of the summer. Edging has been made, and the impervious weed barrier underneath the cedar chips has failed in the sense that it is more creeping Charlie than mulch. My new lilacs, planted in 2005/06 are still budding. A good sign indeed. Outside of napalm, a good creeping Charlie remedy would be appreciated. The ginormous boxelder tree in my backyard is dropping whirligigs by the ton, and I've made a careful note to keep the herb pots cleared lest they get choked out MMA style like the cilantro and mint of 2008. I've sprayed weed killer, ant killer, and have been brewing ideas from other gardens I've spied on my daily jogs.
How doth my garden grow? Well, thank you. The garlic bulbs were bigger than my tulips in the front planters (RIP, btw) and we had milk jugs protecting the hydroponic tomatoes Moda was gifted at work. A trip to the Mill City and Lyndale Farmers markets yielded the following bounty:
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
On the other hand...let's Trek.
A whim.
Moda had rehearsal. She'd stated vehemently she'd not want to see it. Vehemently. (For the record...I wasn't vehement when I said I'd rather see "Wolfie" than "The Soloist"...I was just buzzed)
So.
When I get back from a Monday jog...mowing the lawn...weeding...cleaning and dusting the house...canvassing...I'm ready to shower and go to bed...and I see one...ONE person's FB status saying they would be at my neighborhood art-house theatre seeing "The Trek"
Well F#ck.
So I went.
This will be shorter than the previous review, promise.
I grew up, not only on the Wars that were in the Stars, but the Trek.
We watched the cartoon.
We had phase...
F#ck that.
It was great. I don't think I've grinned like an idiot from ear to ear at a movie in a long time. He did it right. Folks are saying "Bond" and "Batman" are in the same league, I'm gonna argue differently-
Bond was great. Really great. And it made one of the best thriller spy films to date.
Batman 1 and 2 the same. I mean, we were at the same theater and my girlfriend and roommate were crying. At a SUPERHERO movie. Good stuff.
This one...it made me smile. It made me remember how much fun it was when the Winnebago went from the Millennium Falcon to the Enterprise when we were all 11-13 and "Jedi" had been out of the theatres for years. When our dirtbikes led our "Away Team" missions. When I owned the patches for all of the Starfleet area's of office. (I probably still have "officer" and "science officer" patches somewhere)...heck I remembered my dad taking RSVP and I to the Camden theatre to see "The Motion Picture" and not getting it...at all.
I even cried a little during "Wrath of Khan". Of course, I cried during "Top Gun" 4 years later. A big exposed nerve, I am.
Did I have issues? Sure. I won't spoil'em, and they sure weren't part of the original canon, but they were never enough to take me away from the story. And the story, is what I think they got right.
If you're a "Trek" nerd, or are mildly familiar with the original series/movies you have no choice but to see it. If you've never seen a "Trek" film/show etc...don't worry. This is all the primer you'll need.
Moda had rehearsal. She'd stated vehemently she'd not want to see it. Vehemently. (For the record...I wasn't vehement when I said I'd rather see "Wolfie" than "The Soloist"...I was just buzzed)
So.
When I get back from a Monday jog...mowing the lawn...weeding...cleaning and dusting the house...canvassing...I'm ready to shower and go to bed...and I see one...ONE person's FB status saying they would be at my neighborhood art-house theatre seeing "The Trek"
Well F#ck.
So I went.
This will be shorter than the previous review, promise.
I grew up, not only on the Wars that were in the Stars, but the Trek.
We watched the cartoon.
We had phase...
F#ck that.
It was great. I don't think I've grinned like an idiot from ear to ear at a movie in a long time. He did it right. Folks are saying "Bond" and "Batman" are in the same league, I'm gonna argue differently-
Bond was great. Really great. And it made one of the best thriller spy films to date.
Batman 1 and 2 the same. I mean, we were at the same theater and my girlfriend and roommate were crying. At a SUPERHERO movie. Good stuff.
This one...it made me smile. It made me remember how much fun it was when the Winnebago went from the Millennium Falcon to the Enterprise when we were all 11-13 and "Jedi" had been out of the theatres for years. When our dirtbikes led our "Away Team" missions. When I owned the patches for all of the Starfleet area's of office. (I probably still have "officer" and "science officer" patches somewhere)...heck I remembered my dad taking RSVP and I to the Camden theatre to see "The Motion Picture" and not getting it...at all.
I even cried a little during "Wrath of Khan". Of course, I cried during "Top Gun" 4 years later. A big exposed nerve, I am.
Did I have issues? Sure. I won't spoil'em, and they sure weren't part of the original canon, but they were never enough to take me away from the story. And the story, is what I think they got right.
If you're a "Trek" nerd, or are mildly familiar with the original series/movies you have no choice but to see it. If you've never seen a "Trek" film/show etc...don't worry. This is all the primer you'll need.
Wolferine...a review...
I feel bad for dumping stupid work malfeasance on the masses. Last weekend Moda and I met some buddies for mega-cheap HH at Stella's (Which, my fish loving buddies, should all hit. It ain't called the Oyster Orgy for nothing.) Afterwards, aglow with cheap oysters and 2-fers we wandered over to the Lagoon where I grumped Moda into seeing "Wolferine"...Why this popcorn flick was playing there, I don't know. That instinct should have trumped my inner nerd, but the wine made me bold. I demanded. And Moda, the champ, said "yes"...
I'm not gonna talk about the film too much. I wanna keep this short. I'm one of the few that likes certain movies that folks like to gang up and hate. Me? I find the LOVE. Star Wars prequels? F@ck you. There were lightsaber fights. If I had to wait until floppy Jar Jar left, fine. If I had to wade through the EMO acting stylings of Hayden Pantyterry then fine.
Then I realized the power of "3"- X3? out of the hands of Singer? It wasn't an abortion...it just was a muddled good idea. "Pirates"? Glut. Way. Too. Glut. "Blade 3"? Well...let's chalk "Wolverine" up to a case of Reynolds-itis.
I like Ryan Reynolds. He's a gen X Chevy Chase. Smart Ass. And he can be charming in the right vehicle. And for Deadpool? The Merc with a Mouth? Perfect.
Except...okay, here are my analogies:
"Wolvie" was like that kid in High School. Popular. With everyone. Easygoing. Athletic. Coulda probably gotten an athletic scholarship to...oh, maybe a Div 2 school. But they choose academia. And accepted a full-ride to, oh, Northwestern. Even after High School...and beyond...folks remember that kid fondly.
Except around 2nd semester, he agree's to go to a party. His buddies goad him into getting stoned. Pretty soon, their Saturdays revolve around the bong and "Real Genius" on DVD. This kid drops out after 2nd semester. Moves back home. He becomes..."The Case"...the one who shows up at home with 7-8 of his "buddies" back from 2-1's at Applebee's. He ends up working a dead-end job...all that hope and prospect...gone...Washed out.
See...I KNOW what they wanted to do with "Wolfie"...They just dissapointed the frack out of me. Washed it out with too many characters in the hope they'd appease hardcore nerds in order to be true to the source materieal. In fact, Wolfie was the least interesting character out there. I mean, they tried to establish a minimum of cannon in order to make this...but one of the earliest lines he spoke in the 1st movie when he was asked if his claws hurt to come out? He says "Every Time"...Well Mo-Fo made a point to pop out his claws every chance he got. Hurt...indeed.
That's not to say I didn't like it. There was a lot TO like, but I liked it because I knew what they were trying to do. I would have hated it as a newbie. I would have been confused. And what would have cut down on that confusion is by making this High School Hopeful's useless stoner buddies...I mean.. Wolfie's Weapon X cronies (Gambit, Deadpool, um...Gun-Guy...Black-Eyed Pea's Cowboy...Wannabe Fattie...) non-existent. For an origin story, it really made us try an look away from the facts.
And more blood. Weird, I know, but considering the two characters combating each other the whole movie have...um, claws? You'd think they'd make it a little bloodier. Heck, the first "X" had more bloodshed. This? Neutered.
Sad thing is...I'll probably still buy it an re-watch it. : (
I'm not gonna talk about the film too much. I wanna keep this short. I'm one of the few that likes certain movies that folks like to gang up and hate. Me? I find the LOVE. Star Wars prequels? F@ck you. There were lightsaber fights. If I had to wait until floppy Jar Jar left, fine. If I had to wade through the EMO acting stylings of Hayden Pantyterry then fine.
Then I realized the power of "3"- X3? out of the hands of Singer? It wasn't an abortion...it just was a muddled good idea. "Pirates"? Glut. Way. Too. Glut. "Blade 3"? Well...let's chalk "Wolverine" up to a case of Reynolds-itis.
I like Ryan Reynolds. He's a gen X Chevy Chase. Smart Ass. And he can be charming in the right vehicle. And for Deadpool? The Merc with a Mouth? Perfect.
Except...okay, here are my analogies:
"Wolvie" was like that kid in High School. Popular. With everyone. Easygoing. Athletic. Coulda probably gotten an athletic scholarship to...oh, maybe a Div 2 school. But they choose academia. And accepted a full-ride to, oh, Northwestern. Even after High School...and beyond...folks remember that kid fondly.
Except around 2nd semester, he agree's to go to a party. His buddies goad him into getting stoned. Pretty soon, their Saturdays revolve around the bong and "Real Genius" on DVD. This kid drops out after 2nd semester. Moves back home. He becomes..."The Case"...the one who shows up at home with 7-8 of his "buddies" back from 2-1's at Applebee's. He ends up working a dead-end job...all that hope and prospect...gone...Washed out.
See...I KNOW what they wanted to do with "Wolfie"...They just dissapointed the frack out of me. Washed it out with too many characters in the hope they'd appease hardcore nerds in order to be true to the source materieal. In fact, Wolfie was the least interesting character out there. I mean, they tried to establish a minimum of cannon in order to make this...but one of the earliest lines he spoke in the 1st movie when he was asked if his claws hurt to come out? He says "Every Time"...Well Mo-Fo made a point to pop out his claws every chance he got. Hurt...indeed.
That's not to say I didn't like it. There was a lot TO like, but I liked it because I knew what they were trying to do. I would have hated it as a newbie. I would have been confused. And what would have cut down on that confusion is by making this High School Hopeful's useless stoner buddies...I mean.. Wolfie's Weapon X cronies (Gambit, Deadpool, um...Gun-Guy...Black-Eyed Pea's Cowboy...Wannabe Fattie...) non-existent. For an origin story, it really made us try an look away from the facts.
And more blood. Weird, I know, but considering the two characters combating each other the whole movie have...um, claws? You'd think they'd make it a little bloodier. Heck, the first "X" had more bloodshed. This? Neutered.
Sad thing is...I'll probably still buy it an re-watch it. : (
Monday, April 27, 2009
Owe a blog or tuppence...
Has it been a month?
The important thing to remember about new big-kid work gigs is establishing a routine. For me, it meant learning how to get up before the ass crack of non-dawn. As a mildly insomniatic frasser, I figured this'd be no big deal. So I started my daily routine with stretching, push ups, and crunches to help "wake me up".
Doesn't work so well. I'm back on coffee faster than Bub's jumps on heroin...fans of "The Wire" will get that...
I'm not gonna lie. I'm not a fan of the new gig. I have limited interweb access. It's busy. 8 hours worth of busy from 1st log in. No down time. And I'm expected to churn out productivity like it was my jo...Okay. Shup. But 8 hours non-stop outside of my particular skill set hurts. And I'm new. And it's hard to formulate a response to my S.O. when asked: "how was your day?" when it starts so early and your faculties don't kick in until hour 2 that you really don't know how your day was until it's over. For real. (I sometimes forget cases I worked on a mere 6 hours prior because I'm not "with it" until 8 a.m. A co-worker will ask "Do you remember this case?" And I'll say "No" and really? It's no big surprise to anyone at the office. We easily work 250 orders a day.)
So I'll break this down, pro and con, and hope I don't get deuced in the interim. I may need to get some job counselling soon.
Pro- I started light railing. I had a practice jump a few weeks back when I forgot my cell phone at work and now I'm an old pro. Get up at 4:45. Stretch/Push Up/Sit Up. Hit the Hiawatha line by 5:25. Read for 20 minutes. I'm there. I'm saving over 20 miles a day in commute time. I can read the 20 minutes until I'm there. Unless early morning airflight travellers knock my head with their luggage. F#cks.
Con- I get home 30 minutes later than I normally would. I park in a conspicuously break-inable Park and Ride. I have to walk four blocks to my building in the morning, rain or shine. The LRT bells are pretty jarring when you haven't woken up yet. And my first trip to work I had a Shawshank style shakedown when I couldn't produce my paid-pass which was deep in my satchel that I'd tucked in after paying. (Note to self. Keep paid-pass close to your paid ass)
Pro- I'm done, off shift, ridiculously early. On the days I may commute? Traffic is nil. Esp. in the a.m. The only worries I have are when MNDoT chooses that day to arbitrarily close a lane to do Crosstown makeovers.
Con- When I was searching for work, I kinda was hoping for something closer to the metro. Sure it's on the LRT, but man...It's behind MOA. And no sensible MN'otan goes there unless necessary or has a crowd fix that can't wait until the State Fair. Beggars can't be choosers and all that...but still...
Pro- Such a laid back environment. It's almost lovey dovey. It's diverse. (Moreso than the Stag) Someone told me that I was called "McHottie" during training. (Don't people keep that to themselves?). I've seen people hug. They're fairly laid back. There is free water, coffee, overtime is encouraged with the threat of free catered food, plenty of fridge space...My yogurt hasn't disappeared yet.
Con- I hate it. I'm used to such a safe, structured corporate environment= even when I was in such a diverse place as the Bullseye= I still think it's weird. I'm not cool with words like "retard" being thrown around to describe people co-workers think are dumb. Or "Gay". It doesn't strike me as insensitive or deliberate...just ignorant. And a minor bitch, there isn't a stall in the men's room that has a partition. Which, okay, whatever. I've pissed at the Metrodome. But your junk is in plain view of ANYone standing in front of the mens room door when it opens. (Anyone) And I guess, well, I thought there'd be a little something to keep the lil' guy from public eyes.
Pro- I'm starting to "get" it now. I've gotten past the freshman hump, and I think I'm getting it now. I've been doing overtime. Asking fewer questions from my resources.
Con- I realize that this isn't a job for someone with 14 years of corporate quality/training experience...or corporate experience in general. If I was just out of college...heck..HIGH school...I could get this job in a few weeks. Move up. And hell, I find myself wishing I had...housing market being what it is.
But after the initial freshman shakes wore off, I figured out how the productivity cheaters cheat. Why the people who are perm. reps are jaded. And even after working 3 weeks and seeing 8 new "new hire" classes come through...realized I'm sort of disposable. It doesn't feel like home. My 22 co-worker b#tches up a storm daily. I used to wonder why they made such a fuss about being on time until my cube mate (I share a cube) frequently shows up 10-45 minutes late and takes 8...8 breaks a day...4 of which to smoke, and the first only 25 minutes after she's shown up.
In short...I feel old. Overqualified. And swimming in a pool of people who could give a f#ck when I'm in debt, have a house...roommate...car...cat...and really care about being employed. It's frustrating.
And I can't blog at work. Or check Yahoo. And I hear people b#tch about being bored at work?
(sighs) I go from being unhappy at my big kid job. To unhappily unemployed. To temp. To unhappy temp. I don't even have a theater gig to look forward too.
Double sigh.
Did I mention I have to get up at 4:45 am?
Did I mention I get "coaching tips" from my direct report...on s#it I never was trained on how to do in the first place?
Did I mention there was no training? We had 2 days of "This is the Company!" Then we sat with people who did their jobs...and didn't tell us how to do it.
8 New Hire classes have came in since I started. All with the same frightened look that the last one did. The same one I did.
I put my stuff away in a single drawer so that the p.m. person who shares my desk doesn't feel like I'm horning in. My disrespectful cubbie doesn't feel like that. She set up shop as soon as she set down with a box from her last job. 20 odd family pics. Beanie Babies. Coffee mugs full of pens. On the weekend, I ran into a buddy from my 1st training class asking what the f@ck was wrong with the person that sits there in the morning?!?!?
I don't know. I just tune her, and her s#itty IPOD music that I politely...and repeatedly...and repeatedly (she turns it up if I leave for break or lunch...or get an email from someone asking why she needs it so loud?) tell her to turn it down...
Anyway. I'm still on the hunt, folks. I'm feeling 3rd grade patronized, daily. And it chips at the soul.
The important thing to remember about new big-kid work gigs is establishing a routine. For me, it meant learning how to get up before the ass crack of non-dawn. As a mildly insomniatic frasser, I figured this'd be no big deal. So I started my daily routine with stretching, push ups, and crunches to help "wake me up".
Doesn't work so well. I'm back on coffee faster than Bub's jumps on heroin...fans of "The Wire" will get that...
I'm not gonna lie. I'm not a fan of the new gig. I have limited interweb access. It's busy. 8 hours worth of busy from 1st log in. No down time. And I'm expected to churn out productivity like it was my jo...Okay. Shup. But 8 hours non-stop outside of my particular skill set hurts. And I'm new. And it's hard to formulate a response to my S.O. when asked: "how was your day?" when it starts so early and your faculties don't kick in until hour 2 that you really don't know how your day was until it's over. For real. (I sometimes forget cases I worked on a mere 6 hours prior because I'm not "with it" until 8 a.m. A co-worker will ask "Do you remember this case?" And I'll say "No" and really? It's no big surprise to anyone at the office. We easily work 250 orders a day.)
So I'll break this down, pro and con, and hope I don't get deuced in the interim. I may need to get some job counselling soon.
Pro- I started light railing. I had a practice jump a few weeks back when I forgot my cell phone at work and now I'm an old pro. Get up at 4:45. Stretch/Push Up/Sit Up. Hit the Hiawatha line by 5:25. Read for 20 minutes. I'm there. I'm saving over 20 miles a day in commute time. I can read the 20 minutes until I'm there. Unless early morning airflight travellers knock my head with their luggage. F#cks.
Con- I get home 30 minutes later than I normally would. I park in a conspicuously break-inable Park and Ride. I have to walk four blocks to my building in the morning, rain or shine. The LRT bells are pretty jarring when you haven't woken up yet. And my first trip to work I had a Shawshank style shakedown when I couldn't produce my paid-pass which was deep in my satchel that I'd tucked in after paying. (Note to self. Keep paid-pass close to your paid ass)
Pro- I'm done, off shift, ridiculously early. On the days I may commute? Traffic is nil. Esp. in the a.m. The only worries I have are when MNDoT chooses that day to arbitrarily close a lane to do Crosstown makeovers.
Con- When I was searching for work, I kinda was hoping for something closer to the metro. Sure it's on the LRT, but man...It's behind MOA. And no sensible MN'otan goes there unless necessary or has a crowd fix that can't wait until the State Fair. Beggars can't be choosers and all that...but still...
Pro- Such a laid back environment. It's almost lovey dovey. It's diverse. (Moreso than the Stag) Someone told me that I was called "McHottie" during training. (Don't people keep that to themselves?). I've seen people hug. They're fairly laid back. There is free water, coffee, overtime is encouraged with the threat of free catered food, plenty of fridge space...My yogurt hasn't disappeared yet.
Con- I hate it. I'm used to such a safe, structured corporate environment= even when I was in such a diverse place as the Bullseye= I still think it's weird. I'm not cool with words like "retard" being thrown around to describe people co-workers think are dumb. Or "Gay". It doesn't strike me as insensitive or deliberate...just ignorant. And a minor bitch, there isn't a stall in the men's room that has a partition. Which, okay, whatever. I've pissed at the Metrodome. But your junk is in plain view of ANYone standing in front of the mens room door when it opens. (Anyone) And I guess, well, I thought there'd be a little something to keep the lil' guy from public eyes.
Pro- I'm starting to "get" it now. I've gotten past the freshman hump, and I think I'm getting it now. I've been doing overtime. Asking fewer questions from my resources.
Con- I realize that this isn't a job for someone with 14 years of corporate quality/training experience...or corporate experience in general. If I was just out of college...heck..HIGH school...I could get this job in a few weeks. Move up. And hell, I find myself wishing I had...housing market being what it is.
But after the initial freshman shakes wore off, I figured out how the productivity cheaters cheat. Why the people who are perm. reps are jaded. And even after working 3 weeks and seeing 8 new "new hire" classes come through...realized I'm sort of disposable. It doesn't feel like home. My 22 co-worker b#tches up a storm daily. I used to wonder why they made such a fuss about being on time until my cube mate (I share a cube) frequently shows up 10-45 minutes late and takes 8...8 breaks a day...4 of which to smoke, and the first only 25 minutes after she's shown up.
In short...I feel old. Overqualified. And swimming in a pool of people who could give a f#ck when I'm in debt, have a house...roommate...car...cat...and really care about being employed. It's frustrating.
And I can't blog at work. Or check Yahoo. And I hear people b#tch about being bored at work?
(sighs) I go from being unhappy at my big kid job. To unhappily unemployed. To temp. To unhappy temp. I don't even have a theater gig to look forward too.
Double sigh.
Did I mention I have to get up at 4:45 am?
Did I mention I get "coaching tips" from my direct report...on s#it I never was trained on how to do in the first place?
Did I mention there was no training? We had 2 days of "This is the Company!" Then we sat with people who did their jobs...and didn't tell us how to do it.
8 New Hire classes have came in since I started. All with the same frightened look that the last one did. The same one I did.
I put my stuff away in a single drawer so that the p.m. person who shares my desk doesn't feel like I'm horning in. My disrespectful cubbie doesn't feel like that. She set up shop as soon as she set down with a box from her last job. 20 odd family pics. Beanie Babies. Coffee mugs full of pens. On the weekend, I ran into a buddy from my 1st training class asking what the f@ck was wrong with the person that sits there in the morning?!?!?
I don't know. I just tune her, and her s#itty IPOD music that I politely...and repeatedly...and repeatedly (she turns it up if I leave for break or lunch...or get an email from someone asking why she needs it so loud?) tell her to turn it down...
Anyway. I'm still on the hunt, folks. I'm feeling 3rd grade patronized, daily. And it chips at the soul.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Oops...I owe a job blog
It's been a whirlwind at the temp gig. I've been experiencing the ups and downs that anybody goes through when they are training- confusion, elation at remembering work details, frustration that I wasn't issued my parking pass which resulted in getting red-slip reminders (Thankfully, no boots or towing of my vehicle) and I'm settling in slightly. I haven't really seen much of my direct manager but it seems that there are batches upon batches of temps coming through after me which leads me to believe they may need to open another floor to accommodate us all.
And there's the commute.
It's been pretty easy, all told, in spite of the construction on 35. Except the last few days have been a little weird. I was stuck behind two F-150's who were pretty lost coming to the Crosstown and were puttering along at 30 mph which caused some wheel-clutching as I worried I'd be a little late (And believe me, they are death-death-death on even a smidgen of late-liness) Yesterday I realized that accidents don't cause MN'aton's to become lookiloo's, but construction turns folks in to an older version of a 8 year old with Tonka Trucks when the big back ho is being used to tear up concrete with a wrecking ball dangling precariously from a mega-chain. It caused traffic to snarl for 10 minutes while they watched road crews demolish 35 SB in an astonished fashion. Frustrating for yours truly. Fascinating for people who think that sort of thing is incredible. (This theory is backed up by the 5 people I have told, including my roommate, who said that they would have probably done the same thing and watched...even after the fact I was in disbelief)
One notable thing- I downsized my man-purse to accomodate a Trapper-Keeper folder I found to keep my temp paperwork/job aids seperate from the contents of my bag (including my lunch) in order to lighten my load as it was. It was an old thing, but still in tact and apparently was a throwback to my big bro's HS days. (Yes, I still have that s#it on hand. Bite me) I threw it in my manbag without realizing that someone scrawled the word "ASS" in block letters with a Sharpie on it before tossing it on the desk of my trainer before engaging in side-by-sides...I kept that side down before getting to work.
In other news, my SO is on her epic "Thelma and Louise" road trip and her texts are making me drool with wanderlust.
Beers in Moab indeed.
And there's the commute.
It's been pretty easy, all told, in spite of the construction on 35. Except the last few days have been a little weird. I was stuck behind two F-150's who were pretty lost coming to the Crosstown and were puttering along at 30 mph which caused some wheel-clutching as I worried I'd be a little late (And believe me, they are death-death-death on even a smidgen of late-liness) Yesterday I realized that accidents don't cause MN'aton's to become lookiloo's, but construction turns folks in to an older version of a 8 year old with Tonka Trucks when the big back ho is being used to tear up concrete with a wrecking ball dangling precariously from a mega-chain. It caused traffic to snarl for 10 minutes while they watched road crews demolish 35 SB in an astonished fashion. Frustrating for yours truly. Fascinating for people who think that sort of thing is incredible. (This theory is backed up by the 5 people I have told, including my roommate, who said that they would have probably done the same thing and watched...even after the fact I was in disbelief)
One notable thing- I downsized my man-purse to accomodate a Trapper-Keeper folder I found to keep my temp paperwork/job aids seperate from the contents of my bag (including my lunch) in order to lighten my load as it was. It was an old thing, but still in tact and apparently was a throwback to my big bro's HS days. (Yes, I still have that s#it on hand. Bite me) I threw it in my manbag without realizing that someone scrawled the word "ASS" in block letters with a Sharpie on it before tossing it on the desk of my trainer before engaging in side-by-sides...I kept that side down before getting to work.
In other news, my SO is on her epic "Thelma and Louise" road trip and her texts are making me drool with wanderlust.
Beers in Moab indeed.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
So yeah...new joerbed...
The first two days of jobhood are a bit of a whirlwind. The first thing you want to do is maintain the air of enthusiastic energy coupled with a forwarded minded sense of mobility. This, of course, is difficult when after having spending many weeks of bathrobed unemployed torment can cause a sense of internal tumult. You spend an inordinate amount of time in a training room with the lights off getting a wash of new-company information like business tiers, mission statements, internal structure, corporate goals, manager names, associate manager names, team lead names...not to mention the shadowing of individuals whose positions you will be emulating with the caveat that "It seems a LOT at first but in time you'll get it..."
And you know you will. And it still leaves you feeling like you've watched a 10 hour anime' festival. Headachey, boarderline epilleptic, and exhausted. Thank goodness you learn that coffee and water is free in the breakroom.
What tends to set my Spider Sense off if that there is such a large number of temps in the office. Almost 80% (if they aren't management) are temps. Certain key phrases that set me off are thrown out "turnover", "You aren't 'JUST' a temp'...", "Cultish atmosphere", and other bon mots that make me wary. Not to mention the fact that the pay cut, after I do some careful math, is considerable. This would be a great job if I was just out of college and upwardly mobile. (As one of my trainers pointed out they were.) But for a guy that has 14 years of corporate experience and after quietly (impressive for me, I know) observing certain behaviors is not quite sure this...again...is the right fit.
See, it made me realize you are at the discretion/peril of the agency you get work through- You are told the name of the company, the"possible" job title, a very-very generic description of responsibilties, and the pay range. The more desperate (read, Me) will gobble it up. You get sucked in by the agencies enthusiasm, their description that many temps have landed GREAT permanent positions and this is one of their FAVORITE companies to staff for! (Why so great? Because they fire and re-hire you to re-staff them? The current 80% temp staffing is what set me off to that)
So. I perservere. I will work this job. And in the mean time...
I troll my dad's place of employment. Not my calling, but for what they do it pays infinitely more than what I'd earn at the above.
I send a resume' to another place recommended by Bri-Bay. Again, not the same $ but it's downtown, better $, and not temp. (Read: Benefits)
I do the same thing I always do and send a resume to a job I am probably hugely underqualified for but liked the position nevertheless. (Maybe not hugely, but it was a leap. I hope my cover letter "professionally" made them smile)
And off to another week.
And you know you will. And it still leaves you feeling like you've watched a 10 hour anime' festival. Headachey, boarderline epilleptic, and exhausted. Thank goodness you learn that coffee and water is free in the breakroom.
What tends to set my Spider Sense off if that there is such a large number of temps in the office. Almost 80% (if they aren't management) are temps. Certain key phrases that set me off are thrown out "turnover", "You aren't 'JUST' a temp'...", "Cultish atmosphere", and other bon mots that make me wary. Not to mention the fact that the pay cut, after I do some careful math, is considerable. This would be a great job if I was just out of college and upwardly mobile. (As one of my trainers pointed out they were.) But for a guy that has 14 years of corporate experience and after quietly (impressive for me, I know) observing certain behaviors is not quite sure this...again...is the right fit.
See, it made me realize you are at the discretion/peril of the agency you get work through- You are told the name of the company, the"possible" job title, a very-very generic description of responsibilties, and the pay range. The more desperate (read, Me) will gobble it up. You get sucked in by the agencies enthusiasm, their description that many temps have landed GREAT permanent positions and this is one of their FAVORITE companies to staff for! (Why so great? Because they fire and re-hire you to re-staff them? The current 80% temp staffing is what set me off to that)
So. I perservere. I will work this job. And in the mean time...
I troll my dad's place of employment. Not my calling, but for what they do it pays infinitely more than what I'd earn at the above.
I send a resume' to another place recommended by Bri-Bay. Again, not the same $ but it's downtown, better $, and not temp. (Read: Benefits)
I do the same thing I always do and send a resume to a job I am probably hugely underqualified for but liked the position nevertheless. (Maybe not hugely, but it was a leap. I hope my cover letter "professionally" made them smile)
And off to another week.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Oh Hai...Jobbed!
Yes, yes. It was a fast turnaround to be sure. And I'm glad of it.
So after checking my business on Monday and wondering where the hellacious stomach cramps and nausea were coming from, I received a call from the Temp agency with the question:
Can you come out today for a 3pm interview.
Wellllll...I was going in for a mani/pedi, and I've got to watch a repeat of the watered-down VHS taped TV version of "The Breakfast Club"...but I guess I'll make this onnnnnne exception HELLS YES!
So I pace. I frass. I try to go for a run but end up getting sick midway through and turning around. I wait. (It was still reasonably early, btw) Shower. Shave. And sweat. Wait, what? Sweat?
Yup. I have a sheen, at this point dear Martin, and I'm feeling re-grossed out.
I check and re-check the directions and head on out early. Annnnnnnd 35 W South is now down to TWO lanes? Furk.
I arrive and check myself in the rearview. (I drove with the "cold" blasting from my blower so I wouldn't sweat again) Turns out (A) I didn't shave well. At all. There's a dark soul-patch looking thing at the corner of my mouth in addition to a sideburn that has turned into a Triffid. Great. Also, a cut on my chin. Great. Also...dry skin? I have dry skin? And it's a lot. I get out and head in, noticing the car booted next to mine. (I saw the sign that says if you aren't here on company business you'd be booted. Great. I hope they were warned)
I join the group of 16 other hopefuls in the lobby with my contact who I'd only spoken to on the phone. (Tall drink of water, btw. She assures me my car will be fine) I head to the restroom to check my appearance in full light and...Gah. My hair is still wet a bit and slicked down. I look like an extra from "There Will Be Blood". I flumpf it up as best I can, brush off superfluous dust/dandruff/kitteh hairs from my blazer and use a wet napkin to blanche the dry skin off of my neck. Okay.
By the time I got back out to be let upstairs, I was sweating again. Nervous sweat. And as we were led to a conference room, I ended up sitting between a recruiter and a manager. (God, Oh God, please don't let me smell. Please) I nervously mop off my forehead with an extra paper towel I swiped and absentmindedly listen to the speaker speak. Before going, my recruiter told me that this company is cool, see? And she loved hiring for them but they were hard to break into but the guy leading this was a guy who was temp and is now managerial after a few months. Okay. I get called up, and wonder if it's sweat I can feel trickling down my arm or my imagination. If you've ever sweated in a suit, it sucks.
So we interview. It's cool in the office, which I'm grateful for. I realize my normally hip and frassless demeanor has been shaken a bit. I see my hands are a little shakey (No breakfast) and my answers are slightly stuttered. (What? Actor, rehearse, hello?) I glide through it, shake hands, and depart.
2 hours later, I find I'm one of a few candidates to land the position and they really liked me. Thank you, Sally Fields. And I pass out that night, only to stay awake until dawn.
So now, I'm setting out my clothes. I went and got a respectable (kinda) haircut. My car runs. And I turned in my background check info yesterday. (Who'da thunk remembering address for the last 8 years woulda been tough, right?)
And now, we will have a night in with Mexican food and hopefully all will be well. If I don't post as much, remember I'll fill you in later in the evening.
Yee-Haw
So after checking my business on Monday and wondering where the hellacious stomach cramps and nausea were coming from, I received a call from the Temp agency with the question:
Can you come out today for a 3pm interview.
Wellllll...I was going in for a mani/pedi, and I've got to watch a repeat of the watered-down VHS taped TV version of "The Breakfast Club"...but I guess I'll make this onnnnnne exception HELLS YES!
So I pace. I frass. I try to go for a run but end up getting sick midway through and turning around. I wait. (It was still reasonably early, btw) Shower. Shave. And sweat. Wait, what? Sweat?
Yup. I have a sheen, at this point dear Martin, and I'm feeling re-grossed out.
I check and re-check the directions and head on out early. Annnnnnnd 35 W South is now down to TWO lanes? Furk.
I arrive and check myself in the rearview. (I drove with the "cold" blasting from my blower so I wouldn't sweat again) Turns out (A) I didn't shave well. At all. There's a dark soul-patch looking thing at the corner of my mouth in addition to a sideburn that has turned into a Triffid. Great. Also, a cut on my chin. Great. Also...dry skin? I have dry skin? And it's a lot. I get out and head in, noticing the car booted next to mine. (I saw the sign that says if you aren't here on company business you'd be booted. Great. I hope they were warned)
I join the group of 16 other hopefuls in the lobby with my contact who I'd only spoken to on the phone. (Tall drink of water, btw. She assures me my car will be fine) I head to the restroom to check my appearance in full light and...Gah. My hair is still wet a bit and slicked down. I look like an extra from "There Will Be Blood". I flumpf it up as best I can, brush off superfluous dust/dandruff/kitteh hairs from my blazer and use a wet napkin to blanche the dry skin off of my neck. Okay.
By the time I got back out to be let upstairs, I was sweating again. Nervous sweat. And as we were led to a conference room, I ended up sitting between a recruiter and a manager. (God, Oh God, please don't let me smell. Please) I nervously mop off my forehead with an extra paper towel I swiped and absentmindedly listen to the speaker speak. Before going, my recruiter told me that this company is cool, see? And she loved hiring for them but they were hard to break into but the guy leading this was a guy who was temp and is now managerial after a few months. Okay. I get called up, and wonder if it's sweat I can feel trickling down my arm or my imagination. If you've ever sweated in a suit, it sucks.
So we interview. It's cool in the office, which I'm grateful for. I realize my normally hip and frassless demeanor has been shaken a bit. I see my hands are a little shakey (No breakfast) and my answers are slightly stuttered. (What? Actor, rehearse, hello?) I glide through it, shake hands, and depart.
2 hours later, I find I'm one of a few candidates to land the position and they really liked me. Thank you, Sally Fields. And I pass out that night, only to stay awake until dawn.
So now, I'm setting out my clothes. I went and got a respectable (kinda) haircut. My car runs. And I turned in my background check info yesterday. (Who'da thunk remembering address for the last 8 years woulda been tough, right?)
And now, we will have a night in with Mexican food and hopefully all will be well. If I don't post as much, remember I'll fill you in later in the evening.
Yee-Haw
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)