What had happened was...the other evening I had arrived at a client's dealership for what I so lovingly refer to as a "night shoot". Which just simply means the "talent" for the commercial needs me to arrive after hours to set up and shoot the footage I'll use for their next spot. Usually this is because they're the managers, owners, etc. and are too busy during office hours.
This week as I was in the process of unloading the trailer, setting up the lights and whatnot they came out to discuss the scripts. While joking around, one of the sales managers says, "Run tell dat!" followed by a wave of laughter. You may find it either sad or not too surprising, but I was out of the loop.
"What? You haven't heard about it? You gotta come to office to watch this. It is hilarious!" was their request and why not? I'm always up for a good laugh, so off to YouTube we clicked and watched the following news report...
Then we just had to watch the follow up...
Admittedly, I did get a kick out the absurdity and reinforced, negative stereotypes that were so blatantly placed "center stage" (heck, I might even add the track to my playlist!), and by a local media outlet no less.
While we have all seen these types of stories aired more than once. You have to wonder how these station's "news" teams can deliver these to the public with a straight face. As if anyone believes they are attempting to disseminate legitimate information. When watching some you can see them sort of making light of the story, but in others they are very stoic I guess in case they attempt to sell the whole, "What? We had no idea anyone would be offended. We were merely reporting the news."
It seems that this has become so in fashion that everyone wants to jump on the band wagon. Not to share a newsworthy story, but to simply get their own "15 minutes of Fame" on YouTube, and maybe, just maybe make it to the network.
If you ask this "reporter", the only people "gettin' raped up in here" are those in the general public looking to their local news station to do just that, deliver the news. Well, the news, sports, and weather on the 3's...More at 10!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
End of an era...
What had happened was... although I had planned for an uneventful drive home, after a great week I might add, a little adventure ensued.
Our "Last Supper" for the week had wrapped up and we went our separate ways (I think I heard that song played somewhere this week). Technically it was our "Last Lunch" but that doesn't roll off the tongue as smoothly. Anyway...as the rest of the group was headed back to the office, I was merging onto the interstate with a few hours of drive time ahead of me, nothing unusual so far.
It was somewhere before I hit Clarksville, the temp gauge my car started steadily rising. This had never happened before, and I had a feeling in my gut this didn't bode well for my day. Pulling over into a gas station I popped the hood and checked my coolant level, oil level, etc. I was little low on oil, but that wasn't crazy because she had been known to burn just a bit as she grew long in the tooth. I topped it off, and texted a bit while waiting for things to cool down.
After a nice little recess I climbed back in and resumed my travels. This time I managed to make it past Clarksville, but this landed me in the middle of B.F.E. and not a lot of help appeared to be in sight. Luckily, there happened to be this little shack of a garage so I pulled in there with my temp gauge just about pinned.
The mechanic on site, which we can only assume his name is "D", came strolling out just like you would hope to see in any movie where "city folk" pull into a small town garage hoping for help. "D" was very friendly, looking over the situation and trying to sort out what the problem may be. His conclusion was that the thermostat must have gotten stuck or gone out. The solution: drive home with the heater on full blast and the windows down. Well, by God if "D" says this is what we should do I'm going to give it a whirl. To add to his act of kindness, "D" also sent along a jug of water...just in case.
Needless to say the next hour was pretty hot, unnerving and I was able to reach breakneck speeds of 45-50 MPH, stopping every 20-30 minutes or so to let things cool down, but progress was being made nonetheless. The only thing I'm thinking at this point is just get back in town and then I can unload (keep in mind I've got my production trailer and gear in tow as well) and get her to the shop.
Crossing over the bridges in Kentucky and finally the bridge into Illinois I am feeling pretty good...confident...almost cocky that I'm going make it back. BOOM! I hear this loud pop from under the hood, and water begins shooting out from the seams around my hood and a smoke screen worthy of Spy Hunter was emitting behind me.
A few expletives later I managed to coast to an exit and down the off ramp. This exit truly was dead, I mean nothing in either direction as far as you could see. Once I look under the hood I see that my top radiator hose had just gave out, split almost the entire length. To the iPhone I go to try and see what shops anywhere around might have one and hopefully deliver a hose to me. On my third attempt the auto parts place does in fact have one, "Awesome!" I say, "Can you deliver it to me?" my heart sinks as hear the guy say that's beyond their delivery area. After some pleading, the salesman's only solution is to talk to his manager. I go on hold for about 2-3 minutes, then the manager finally picks up and I am able to sweet talk him in to delivering the part to me, but "it would take a while since we're about 30 minutes away". What else do I have to do right?
Some more texting takes place and just general time killing, and then I decide to go ahead and pull the shards of busted hose off while I wait. That'll save me time, right? Get me back on the road sooner? Sure it will. So I go around to open my trailer where I keep a tool box. I've got the door swung open, leaning inside for the tool box when I hear from the front of my car, "Looks like you's havin' sum troubles."
S@#t!
I lean my head around the side of the trailer to see, in the flesh, a picture perfect Encyclopedia Britannica definition of backwoods inbreeding. We are talking about a just dirty, sleeves cut off the what used to be black t-shirt that has turned a beautiful brownish/purple hue, by the mixture of earth and grass embedded in his jeans it appears he'd just freshly rolled around in a compost heap, the hair protruding from the tattered collar on his shirt was as long (if not longer) than what was on his head, there was enough tobacco stuck between he gaping teeth and gums for a full "dip", all around foul individual. The best part? My hand to God, his lips never touched when he talked, NOT ONCE!
What could I do? He was trying to be nice, so I just say, "Yeah, hose busted. I've got another on it's way now." Which reminds me to look at my watch...hey it'd been like 20 minutes or so already, so they'll be here any time now. I walk around the trailer and up to hood, trying my best to make small talk and stressing to him that I'm all set. Well he couldn't possibly leave before regaling me with some stories. Stories like how he rebuilt a Mustang II, plopped in a super charger with nitrous assist, went 225 mph while being chased by the "fuzz", which ended in him totaling the car, essentially ripping it in half, but of course he walked away unscathed. Did I mention he managed all of this before exiting the ripe old age of 12? SUSPICIOUS! But hey, I enjoy a good lie as much as the next guy.
TIME OUT: Now, we're all friends here. You know I would never do or say anything to mislead any of you, right? If it were possible for me to swear under oath on a blog entry that the following statement I am about to make 100% accurate I would do so without hesitation. So I need all of you to suspend any disbelief and take me at my word regarding the following statement:
The ENTIRE time this "man" was keeping me company, spinning yarns, he was stroking a 4 inch lizard he had perched horizontally on his extended index finger (occasionally he'd place it on his shirt to make sure I was paying attention) that he, you can't make this stuff up people, "found while he was weed-eating the cemetery"... OH MY GOD!
Let us resume: So good Lord, are they bringing me this hose by way of China? More than an hour has passed, I'd better call. The voice on the other end says the dreaded words, "Oh, you're on the Illinois side?" Sweet Jesus man, yes! "Well he went the other direction. Here's his cell phone number you can call him." I'm guessing because whomever was on the phone was the one responsible for passing along the wrong location he thought it best if I was the one to call. Luckily the driver was super about the whole thing and would head my way. Guess what? Now he's over an hour away! Did I mention daylight was fading?
Once I hang up the phone ol' rotten teeth is just a grinnin', "Boy ain't that just the way!" he says. For this day? Yes, yes it is. After damn near begging, my new best friend was not about to leave my side and while I was on the phone with the parts store had decided to call his wife (or cousin...whatever) to let her know he was "helping out". So while we wait he wants to give me a tour of my engine compartment, informing me of what all these "gizmos" do. Granted I was doing my best to keep a decent distance up to this point, lest I should catch anything, but he was trying to be a good guy so I figured I'd humor him.
Turns out the combination of breaking the 4 foot barrier and his extended arm into my engine bay (that's not a euphemism Ozzy), well quite frankly it unleashed Hell! This was straight up gag you B.O. I have never in my entire life smelt anything remotely close to this, not anywhere, not in a football locker room in August, I mean never. It literally was making me nauseous, on the verge on vomiting nauseous. Tried as I may to tolerate, take a step back for a second here or there, eventually I just had to walk away mid tour. "Oh, I need to talk this call." was the best I could muster as an excuse. My phone never rang.
When the delivery man finally pulled up, I swear I could've kissed him. Sure it took him over two hours to get it to me, but hey I've been waiting for stuff longer. Point was it was here now, let's slap her on there! The delivery man was very nice, smelt a ton better than my previous company, and insisted on putting on the hose. Well most delivery men are quite the talkers, they have to be, so him and "Joe Dirt" struck up some just riveting, albeit time consuming, conversations. Once the hose was on, they got side tracked in a story so I start scurrying around filling the radiator, etc. I slap that hood shut, shaked hands, thank everyone for their part, and as I am pulling away the two Chatty Cathys are STILL standing on the side of the road discussing that Holley "Double Pumper".
Whew...ok a new hose is on, I'm home free now...less than hour to go. Little did I know that I would've needed to be less than 12 miles from home, because that's all she had in her. The car started knocking, smoke rolling (from what I could tell since the sun had set now), and finally died. Again I was fortunate enough that I could coast to an off ramp. Looks like I'm getting a tow the rest of the way.
After another 30 minutes of standing on the side of a another off ramp the tow truck arrived. Luckily I had thought to mention to the towing company that I had a trailer, "It's a good thing you told us because that requires a different truck, and of course it'll cost a bit more." Well of course it will...
After Greg, the tow truck driver, loaded my car up on the flatbed we hooked up my trailer to back of his truck and off we go. The next hour was spent making small talk, but after the day I just had sitting in a cool vehicle, that would actually run, with a guy that didn't smell like a Yeti was a nice change of pace. Greg was great, and very accommodating. With all my gear I had to stop by the house, drop my trailer, unload the car of all equipment, then go drop my vehicle at the shop and then bring me bak home.
What should've been a 3 hour, boring, iPod fueled, thoughtful ride home turned into a frustrating, irritating and sometimes even funny adventure that I was able to share with all of you. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much I did recalling all the absolute absurdity that is my life.
On Friday, October 22nd, 2010 the ol' Montero has appeared to have driven it's last mile. She had one helluva run too! Lots of great times, given rides to wandering drunkards, made sure everyone made it home safe, brought us back for beers and bumper stickers...What could ever replace her? I dunno yet, but I know I look forward logging more fun times in whatever it is, and seeing where she takes us and what new adventures there are to be had.
Our "Last Supper" for the week had wrapped up and we went our separate ways (I think I heard that song played somewhere this week). Technically it was our "Last Lunch" but that doesn't roll off the tongue as smoothly. Anyway...as the rest of the group was headed back to the office, I was merging onto the interstate with a few hours of drive time ahead of me, nothing unusual so far.
It was somewhere before I hit Clarksville, the temp gauge my car started steadily rising. This had never happened before, and I had a feeling in my gut this didn't bode well for my day. Pulling over into a gas station I popped the hood and checked my coolant level, oil level, etc. I was little low on oil, but that wasn't crazy because she had been known to burn just a bit as she grew long in the tooth. I topped it off, and texted a bit while waiting for things to cool down.
After a nice little recess I climbed back in and resumed my travels. This time I managed to make it past Clarksville, but this landed me in the middle of B.F.E. and not a lot of help appeared to be in sight. Luckily, there happened to be this little shack of a garage so I pulled in there with my temp gauge just about pinned.
The mechanic on site, which we can only assume his name is "D", came strolling out just like you would hope to see in any movie where "city folk" pull into a small town garage hoping for help. "D" was very friendly, looking over the situation and trying to sort out what the problem may be. His conclusion was that the thermostat must have gotten stuck or gone out. The solution: drive home with the heater on full blast and the windows down. Well, by God if "D" says this is what we should do I'm going to give it a whirl. To add to his act of kindness, "D" also sent along a jug of water...just in case.
Needless to say the next hour was pretty hot, unnerving and I was able to reach breakneck speeds of 45-50 MPH, stopping every 20-30 minutes or so to let things cool down, but progress was being made nonetheless. The only thing I'm thinking at this point is just get back in town and then I can unload (keep in mind I've got my production trailer and gear in tow as well) and get her to the shop.
Crossing over the bridges in Kentucky and finally the bridge into Illinois I am feeling pretty good...confident...almost cocky that I'm going make it back. BOOM! I hear this loud pop from under the hood, and water begins shooting out from the seams around my hood and a smoke screen worthy of Spy Hunter was emitting behind me.
A few expletives later I managed to coast to an exit and down the off ramp. This exit truly was dead, I mean nothing in either direction as far as you could see. Once I look under the hood I see that my top radiator hose had just gave out, split almost the entire length. To the iPhone I go to try and see what shops anywhere around might have one and hopefully deliver a hose to me. On my third attempt the auto parts place does in fact have one, "Awesome!" I say, "Can you deliver it to me?" my heart sinks as hear the guy say that's beyond their delivery area. After some pleading, the salesman's only solution is to talk to his manager. I go on hold for about 2-3 minutes, then the manager finally picks up and I am able to sweet talk him in to delivering the part to me, but "it would take a while since we're about 30 minutes away". What else do I have to do right?
Some more texting takes place and just general time killing, and then I decide to go ahead and pull the shards of busted hose off while I wait. That'll save me time, right? Get me back on the road sooner? Sure it will. So I go around to open my trailer where I keep a tool box. I've got the door swung open, leaning inside for the tool box when I hear from the front of my car, "Looks like you's havin' sum troubles."
S@#t!
I lean my head around the side of the trailer to see, in the flesh, a picture perfect Encyclopedia Britannica definition of backwoods inbreeding. We are talking about a just dirty, sleeves cut off the what used to be black t-shirt that has turned a beautiful brownish/purple hue, by the mixture of earth and grass embedded in his jeans it appears he'd just freshly rolled around in a compost heap, the hair protruding from the tattered collar on his shirt was as long (if not longer) than what was on his head, there was enough tobacco stuck between he gaping teeth and gums for a full "dip", all around foul individual. The best part? My hand to God, his lips never touched when he talked, NOT ONCE!
What could I do? He was trying to be nice, so I just say, "Yeah, hose busted. I've got another on it's way now." Which reminds me to look at my watch...hey it'd been like 20 minutes or so already, so they'll be here any time now. I walk around the trailer and up to hood, trying my best to make small talk and stressing to him that I'm all set. Well he couldn't possibly leave before regaling me with some stories. Stories like how he rebuilt a Mustang II, plopped in a super charger with nitrous assist, went 225 mph while being chased by the "fuzz", which ended in him totaling the car, essentially ripping it in half, but of course he walked away unscathed. Did I mention he managed all of this before exiting the ripe old age of 12? SUSPICIOUS! But hey, I enjoy a good lie as much as the next guy.
TIME OUT: Now, we're all friends here. You know I would never do or say anything to mislead any of you, right? If it were possible for me to swear under oath on a blog entry that the following statement I am about to make 100% accurate I would do so without hesitation. So I need all of you to suspend any disbelief and take me at my word regarding the following statement:
The ENTIRE time this "man" was keeping me company, spinning yarns, he was stroking a 4 inch lizard he had perched horizontally on his extended index finger (occasionally he'd place it on his shirt to make sure I was paying attention) that he, you can't make this stuff up people, "found while he was weed-eating the cemetery"... OH MY GOD!
Let us resume: So good Lord, are they bringing me this hose by way of China? More than an hour has passed, I'd better call. The voice on the other end says the dreaded words, "Oh, you're on the Illinois side?" Sweet Jesus man, yes! "Well he went the other direction. Here's his cell phone number you can call him." I'm guessing because whomever was on the phone was the one responsible for passing along the wrong location he thought it best if I was the one to call. Luckily the driver was super about the whole thing and would head my way. Guess what? Now he's over an hour away! Did I mention daylight was fading?
Once I hang up the phone ol' rotten teeth is just a grinnin', "Boy ain't that just the way!" he says. For this day? Yes, yes it is. After damn near begging, my new best friend was not about to leave my side and while I was on the phone with the parts store had decided to call his wife (or cousin...whatever) to let her know he was "helping out". So while we wait he wants to give me a tour of my engine compartment, informing me of what all these "gizmos" do. Granted I was doing my best to keep a decent distance up to this point, lest I should catch anything, but he was trying to be a good guy so I figured I'd humor him.
Turns out the combination of breaking the 4 foot barrier and his extended arm into my engine bay (that's not a euphemism Ozzy), well quite frankly it unleashed Hell! This was straight up gag you B.O. I have never in my entire life smelt anything remotely close to this, not anywhere, not in a football locker room in August, I mean never. It literally was making me nauseous, on the verge on vomiting nauseous. Tried as I may to tolerate, take a step back for a second here or there, eventually I just had to walk away mid tour. "Oh, I need to talk this call." was the best I could muster as an excuse. My phone never rang.
When the delivery man finally pulled up, I swear I could've kissed him. Sure it took him over two hours to get it to me, but hey I've been waiting for stuff longer. Point was it was here now, let's slap her on there! The delivery man was very nice, smelt a ton better than my previous company, and insisted on putting on the hose. Well most delivery men are quite the talkers, they have to be, so him and "Joe Dirt" struck up some just riveting, albeit time consuming, conversations. Once the hose was on, they got side tracked in a story so I start scurrying around filling the radiator, etc. I slap that hood shut, shaked hands, thank everyone for their part, and as I am pulling away the two Chatty Cathys are STILL standing on the side of the road discussing that Holley "Double Pumper".
Whew...ok a new hose is on, I'm home free now...less than hour to go. Little did I know that I would've needed to be less than 12 miles from home, because that's all she had in her. The car started knocking, smoke rolling (from what I could tell since the sun had set now), and finally died. Again I was fortunate enough that I could coast to an off ramp. Looks like I'm getting a tow the rest of the way.
After another 30 minutes of standing on the side of a another off ramp the tow truck arrived. Luckily I had thought to mention to the towing company that I had a trailer, "It's a good thing you told us because that requires a different truck, and of course it'll cost a bit more." Well of course it will...
After Greg, the tow truck driver, loaded my car up on the flatbed we hooked up my trailer to back of his truck and off we go. The next hour was spent making small talk, but after the day I just had sitting in a cool vehicle, that would actually run, with a guy that didn't smell like a Yeti was a nice change of pace. Greg was great, and very accommodating. With all my gear I had to stop by the house, drop my trailer, unload the car of all equipment, then go drop my vehicle at the shop and then bring me bak home.
What should've been a 3 hour, boring, iPod fueled, thoughtful ride home turned into a frustrating, irritating and sometimes even funny adventure that I was able to share with all of you. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much I did recalling all the absolute absurdity that is my life.
On Friday, October 22nd, 2010 the ol' Montero has appeared to have driven it's last mile. She had one helluva run too! Lots of great times, given rides to wandering drunkards, made sure everyone made it home safe, brought us back for beers and bumper stickers...What could ever replace her? I dunno yet, but I know I look forward logging more fun times in whatever it is, and seeing where she takes us and what new adventures there are to be had.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Jerry's Kids...
What had happened was...being that I am a fan of director Kevin Smith I have been a subscriber to his podcast (one of iTunes most popular by the way) since it began. It is aptly named "SModcast" as it is him and his producer Scott Mosier discussing random topics. Now Kevin Smith has started his own little "podcast network" with additional shows that are either hosted by his friends (I believe there is a hockey one, TMC) and some others that he co-hosts.
DISCLAIMER: These podcasts are incredibly dirty and pretty irreverent, even too much so for me on occasion (no comments, Ozzy). So if you decide to listen please do so at your your own risk and as always DON'T JUDGE ME.
All of this background is just to lead into this story; on one podcast they are discussing Lindsey Lohan and all the craziness that surrounds her. It just so happens that the conversation turned to the all-knowing Jerry Lewis in the most bizarre way. If you remember our discussion of movies in my "Just Passing the Time..." blog entry I mentioned liking Jerry Lewis movies back in the day. So needless to say I got a pretty good laugh out of this.
DISCLAIMER #2: If you are unfamiliar or don't recall Jerry's shtick from way back when, chances are you will not find this as funny as I did.
Take a listen...
If you have any problems playing this back just let me know. You can also right click and download the files if that works better.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Guilt almost killed me...
What had happened was...over time I have developed a wonderful (can you read sarcasm?) habit somewhat resembling that of a crack addict. However, mine involves junk food or just a high volume of whatever food that's "tickling my fancy" at any particular moment. So after these times, all too frequent I might add, I tend to get P.T.G.D. (I'm sure you can sort that out) which results in some form of cardio, of which I am not an enormous fan.
This particular cardio-venture, launched by a nasty case of peanut M&Ms (remember I am fan of chocolate and peanuts / peanut butter) and a Wendy's chocolate Frosty, landed me at what I lovingly refer to as the "Path".
The "Path" is about a 2.5 mile track (a term I use very loosely) that wraps around a local lake. It is very rural, made of gravel, only about 5 feet wide, fairly twisty / hilly, and you rarely see another individual using it for anything other than fishing, when the season permits. Here are couple of pictures so you "city folk" can visualize it a bit better.
As is my ritual, I plugged the earbuds into my iPhone and began my guilt-ridden journey. It could not have been more than 1/2 mile later, as I rounded a pretty sharp "S" curve, I came darn near nose to nose with a full-grown deer.
Needless to say I stopped dead in my tracks, gravel shooting out in front of me which startled the deer very little. We both stood there for what seemed like an hour (more like 60 seconds in realtime), neither of us really sure what to think of the other.
Sidenote: Am I the only one who's heard stories about deer stomping, mauling and just flat running over people?
OK, I maybe I'm exaggerating a little but I saw crazy in that deer's eyes!
I finally thought we'd bonded enough, and managed to get her to scamper off with a statement that is usually reserved for stray dogs, "You get'on outta here!". Which oddly enough I usually say in jest, because my father used to yell that at any dog that dared to venture onto his property. Hmmm...we'll delve into that at another time maybe.
So mission accomplished! The deer was retreating (just give me that much) AND I had managed to get the ol' heart pumpin'. Admittedly, I laughed out loud a couple times at myself during the remainder of my time on the "Path".
Since I seem to be a fan of placing a moral to the story, I think this one may be; Deer are the most fierce killers in the animal kingdom, and are not to be trifled with.
Or something - Got a better one? I'd love to hear it!
This particular cardio-venture, launched by a nasty case of peanut M&Ms (remember I am fan of chocolate and peanuts / peanut butter) and a Wendy's chocolate Frosty, landed me at what I lovingly refer to as the "Path".
The "Path" is about a 2.5 mile track (a term I use very loosely) that wraps around a local lake. It is very rural, made of gravel, only about 5 feet wide, fairly twisty / hilly, and you rarely see another individual using it for anything other than fishing, when the season permits. Here are couple of pictures so you "city folk" can visualize it a bit better.
As is my ritual, I plugged the earbuds into my iPhone and began my guilt-ridden journey. It could not have been more than 1/2 mile later, as I rounded a pretty sharp "S" curve, I came darn near nose to nose with a full-grown deer.
Needless to say I stopped dead in my tracks, gravel shooting out in front of me which startled the deer very little. We both stood there for what seemed like an hour (more like 60 seconds in realtime), neither of us really sure what to think of the other.
Sidenote: Am I the only one who's heard stories about deer stomping, mauling and just flat running over people?
OK, I maybe I'm exaggerating a little but I saw crazy in that deer's eyes!
I finally thought we'd bonded enough, and managed to get her to scamper off with a statement that is usually reserved for stray dogs, "You get'on outta here!". Which oddly enough I usually say in jest, because my father used to yell that at any dog that dared to venture onto his property. Hmmm...we'll delve into that at another time maybe.
So mission accomplished! The deer was retreating (just give me that much) AND I had managed to get the ol' heart pumpin'. Admittedly, I laughed out loud a couple times at myself during the remainder of my time on the "Path".
Since I seem to be a fan of placing a moral to the story, I think this one may be; Deer are the most fierce killers in the animal kingdom, and are not to be trifled with.
Or something - Got a better one? I'd love to hear it!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Just passing the time...
What had happened was...I have formed this habit of watching older, sometimes extremely cheesy, movies while working. I can't quite put my finger on it, but for some reason having a movie on, at a low volume, in the background helps me pass the time while I sit at my edit bay cutting a new commercial, working on a graphics package, or creating some new 3D assets for a production.
Of course I love the creative nature of what I do, but what I enjoy the absolute most is shooting the footage. That's where I have the most fun, though probably 60-70% of my time is spent sitting in my "dungeon" working on post production. This where my embarrassing movie habit is exercised.
Usually I'll tweet what I'm watching, a confession of sorts I suppose. Every once and a while they are too embarrassing to name. I still won't name them here for the same fear of ridicule (I'm looking right at you Ozzy).
On average they're things like Weird Science, Sixteen Candles, etc. You know...the John Hughes classics. Occasionally, I'll mix in some stand-ups, action, but I really enjoy dialog driven stuff.
So, all of this being said; post in the comments what you think is one of the most embarrassing movies you enjoy watching regardless of it's perceived "cheese factor". I'll be happy to follow your lead and do the same. Actually I'll give you two for one!
Of course I love the creative nature of what I do, but what I enjoy the absolute most is shooting the footage. That's where I have the most fun, though probably 60-70% of my time is spent sitting in my "dungeon" working on post production. This where my embarrassing movie habit is exercised.
Usually I'll tweet what I'm watching, a confession of sorts I suppose. Every once and a while they are too embarrassing to name. I still won't name them here for the same fear of ridicule (I'm looking right at you Ozzy).
On average they're things like Weird Science, Sixteen Candles, etc. You know...the John Hughes classics. Occasionally, I'll mix in some stand-ups, action, but I really enjoy dialog driven stuff.
So, all of this being said; post in the comments what you think is one of the most embarrassing movies you enjoy watching regardless of it's perceived "cheese factor". I'll be happy to follow your lead and do the same. Actually I'll give you two for one!
Old age or all in my head?
What had happened was...about a year and half ago, due to a chatty, non-atttentive spotter my shoulder rotated about 20 degrees in the wrong direction. This of course resulted in a quick succession of loud, popping noises, not completely unlike a concert pianist cracking their knuckles prior to performing (granted in my head it sounded more like a 21 gun salute).
Ever since that lovely morning I have been rewarded with frequent pains that hang around for days when activities particularly stress my shoulder, and what appears to be an ever diminishing range of motion. As someone once told me as they noticed me stretching, "You've gotta take care of that rotator CUP! She can be a real bear once you start having problems with 'er." Truer words have never been spoken! Now I have resorted to "work-arounds", and trying to avoid specific things that I know will result in those familiar pains that hang around for days, whenever possible of course.
There are vivid memories I have of playing sports with my "elders" (dad, uncles, etc.), and laughing at how as they got older there was a direct correlation to the percentage of the game that they actually participated in. For example; we created a new position in basketball just for my Uncle Bud, aptly named "Cherry Picker". What that entailed was as the rest of the team is hustling up and down court, playing both a defensive and offensive game (as is necessary), the "Cherry Picker" would stay down at the offensive end of the court, under the basket. So as his team regained possession of the ball, would wave his arms wildly, screaming about how "Open!" he was. Indeed he was, but somehow he didn't manage to get the ball too often. Only what was necessary to keep him feeling good about himself.
There's one thing that I've dreaded more than anything else for some time...getting old-er! All of the things I laughed about with people of the previous generation I can now see looming.
The question now becomes; is it just me or is it all downhill from here? Or in reality am I just the proud owner of a injured rotator "cup", that because of my total disdain for trips to the doctor and/or surgery have not even taken the time get checked out? Or am I a "Cherry Picker" in the making?
Ever since that lovely morning I have been rewarded with frequent pains that hang around for days when activities particularly stress my shoulder, and what appears to be an ever diminishing range of motion. As someone once told me as they noticed me stretching, "You've gotta take care of that rotator CUP! She can be a real bear once you start having problems with 'er." Truer words have never been spoken! Now I have resorted to "work-arounds", and trying to avoid specific things that I know will result in those familiar pains that hang around for days, whenever possible of course.
There are vivid memories I have of playing sports with my "elders" (dad, uncles, etc.), and laughing at how as they got older there was a direct correlation to the percentage of the game that they actually participated in. For example; we created a new position in basketball just for my Uncle Bud, aptly named "Cherry Picker". What that entailed was as the rest of the team is hustling up and down court, playing both a defensive and offensive game (as is necessary), the "Cherry Picker" would stay down at the offensive end of the court, under the basket. So as his team regained possession of the ball, would wave his arms wildly, screaming about how "Open!" he was. Indeed he was, but somehow he didn't manage to get the ball too often. Only what was necessary to keep him feeling good about himself.
There's one thing that I've dreaded more than anything else for some time...getting old-er! All of the things I laughed about with people of the previous generation I can now see looming.
The question now becomes; is it just me or is it all downhill from here? Or in reality am I just the proud owner of a injured rotator "cup", that because of my total disdain for trips to the doctor and/or surgery have not even taken the time get checked out? Or am I a "Cherry Picker" in the making?
Monday, October 4, 2010
I know...
...I'm working on it!
Don't expect a lot of this blog, consider it more of an experiment. I am not nearly as entertaining or exciting as the blogs I follow. If anything I write can help you kill a few minutes or put a smirk on your face then I'm doing better than I thought...
~J
Don't expect a lot of this blog, consider it more of an experiment. I am not nearly as entertaining or exciting as the blogs I follow. If anything I write can help you kill a few minutes or put a smirk on your face then I'm doing better than I thought...
~J
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