Looking at my box of Quaker “Very Berry Muffin” Breakfast Bars with “25% less sugar”, I can’t help but laugh at the small print disclaimer “NOT A LOW CALORIE FOOD”
From the Blog
Okay, this is the THIRD time I’ve watched “Too Late Wtih Adam Carolla” on Comedy Central and he’s taken a call from Florida. It’s also the third time that the giant screen behind Adam’s head has misrepresented the location of the caller. The first time, he took a call from St. Petersburg. That’s about 15 miles away from me, so I should know where it is on a map. The people at “Too Late” pegged it about 30 miles south, near Bradenton. Wha? Okay, then a couple weeks later, they took a call from Largo. Whatta ya know, that’s only FIVE miles away from me. But the “Too Late” guys were WAAAAY off. Like 100 miles or more south – probably Punta Gorda or something. Then tonight, I’m watching and there’s a call from Orlando. Okay, EVERYONE knows where ORLANDO is, right? Disney World? Mickey Mouse? Universal Studios? No, Adam Carolla’s people placed their dot about 50 miles EAST of town, probably half way to Cocoa Beach! Mother puss bucket, what’s with these people? And the big gripe I’ve got about the first two items above is that St. Petersburg and Largo are both in Pinellas County, WHICH STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB ON A MAP. It’s a PENINSULA! I’m talking when you look at a Florida map, right after say, Lake Okechobee and the Keys, our Peninsular county is the next most obvious geographical feature. Right there in the middle of the west coast, there’s a little bay inlet – Tampa Bay – and Pinellas county falls right between it and the Gulf of Mexico.
Do you have a cell phone?
Do you have voicemail?
Do you check your voicemail? Be honest.
Why do you have voicemail if you’re not even going to check my message before calling me back?!
Yeah, I get that you don’t want to use your precious minutes to check messages, but how about my precious minutes spent leaving messages?
Just get rid of the voicemail, dammit!
As we enter 2005, I wanted to take a moment to shout out to those who still put up with my crap and continue to inspire me every now and then…
There’s the ladies, Renee, Jenn, Jen and Melissa, who still manage to keep an eye out for my infrequent LJ scrawls and occasionally offer sage advice.
There’s Brian and Matt, who have great taste in music and provide me with a reason to make a Christmas CD every year.
There’s Brad, Tony and Dale, my partners in crime (so to speak), who have given me a little creative community to be a part of and learn from.
It’s been a weird year… It went by so fast, yet 2003 seems like an eternity ago. There have been a lot of ups and downs, yet I actually feel like I lived life more than I had before.
Spent the last couple hours of 2004 rocking up to the new year with Barenaked Ladies. I’ve always been bummed that I didn’t have any really cool things to do on New Year’s Eve, so this was quite a treat to see one of my favorite bands. The show was packed with most of the songs I’d want to hear, and the usual BNL antics… Too bad I couldn’t round up anyone around here who would appreciate the show like some of my friends scattered around elsewhere would.
Hope everyone who comes across this is starting off the new year safe and sound. All the best for a new year!!
This past Sunday morning, I was reminded of how an insignificant moment will sometimes stick in your mind. It also reminded me how potent sound can be to create moods or trigger memories.
Here’s the setting: the usual Sunday A.M. gig, checking the program log at PAX TV while catching two weekly radio shows about The Beatles. Both shows were spotlighting George Harrison, as he would have turned 61 this week if he were still alive. The second show cued up an odd chestnut from 1977 called “Crackerbox Palace” which, strangely enough, triggered a very vivid memory.
Around five years ago, I was out of town on a job at Amelia Island, off the east coast of Florida, very near the Georgia border. The people I was working for had booked rooms at this resort on the island, and my room was not far from the beach.
It was early Sunday morning. I was awake because I had to take the video gear from this place down to the Miami area, and I was going to get an early start on the drive which would take me almost the entire length of the coast. I had the sliding glass door open, so the sound of the ocean could be heard. I also had the TV on.
On the TV was “Saturday Night Live.” But it wasn’t new, it was from 1977. And on this episode of “Saturday Night Live” was a video for “Crackerbox Palace.”
What struck me at the time was that this song and the accompanying video were both very much a product of the 70s. The fact that I was watching this at 3 A.M. seemed oddly appropriate. The vibe I got from other artifacts of the 70s usually felt like late nights – “Rocky Horror”, disco clubs, parties a la “Dazed and Confused”. It felt like being up all night was changing from something strange to something to celebrate.
The feeling I had was one of nostalgia, which is odd considering I was but a baby in rural upstate New York in 1977. My mind often conjures images of people out in the city at night, and it feels like the late 70s and early 80s. It seems like a dark and dangerous time, but an adventurous and pure time as well.
All these years later, I felt like I was the only one getting this glimpse back in time at that moment. I was both comforted and isolated by the night, and I felt like I was there, even though I never was.