Not Sure it's a Good Thing or a Bad Thing...

But I've never been asked to "guest blog."

Hrm.

This was a very Mega post.

Thank You Nameless Tiger Fans...

Two Saturdays ago, I went to an Orioles game where they gave out DVD's of Orioles Magic 08. As I made my way to the escalators, I saw 3 of them sitting on top of a trashcan. I assume Tiger fans who had no interest in them put them there...but they should have done what I did. After making my way up to them and nobody else grabbing them, I sure did.

And the next day, they were up on eBay.

And a week later, I'm 90 dollars richer.

You read that right. Nine-Zero Dollars richer. For a DVD that has a 2 minute video on it and maybe 10 more minutes of "making of" type stuff. That was free simply for showing up in the first place.

Thank you nameless Tiger Fans. I 'preciate it.

New Look

No readily available camera, so you'll have to settle for the Simpsons approximation.

Also, I found out the hard way that I can drift in my car. I'm fine, thanks. But let's just say that after it was all over (not gonna get in to details but if I could get drag that other driver out of his car and beat him senseless and take his license and throw it in to the Chesapeake Bay, I would), a guy behind me got me to roll my windows down to tell me "that was some incredible driving, I doubt I could have avoided that!"

Also, under 100 days until Erin is due. I'm sorry, until our guess date. We're taking a class that accentuates positive language.

The Quarter Life Crisis.

That would be the episode title if this story was an episode of How I Met Your Mother. Except they're in their mid to late 20s while I was 20...but I digress. Since I made the HIMYM reference I might as well frame this story as if it were an episode of said show.

Kids, have you ever wondered if people think to themselves, "how did I get to this place in life?" I'm sure a lot do, but I don't. I can trace my current life's direction, most especially my job, to the Quarter Life Crisis.

Some background is required. Fall of 97. I'm 19 soon to be 20. I've basically been named Assistant Manager of the retail store I was working for part time (it became official not long after). I stop going to college classes (though I obviously keep working on the shows at the theatre, because I've told quite a few stories about that particular show), but I make the mistake of not actually withdrawing from them. Cut to late winter/early spring 98. Said retail store fires me for really bogus reasons (that I heard were actually protested by a couple of store managers, which made me feel good, but let's look at this: I announced my intention to become a full manager and take over a vacant store after I basically ran the store I was an AM at until I inticed an old manager to come to it...and a week and half later, I'm being fired. Sheeeenanigans!! It's not the story, but let's just say that there was a new regional manager who had a vastly different agenda than the old, and was weeding out people she saw as being too latched in to the old...one of my old managers, right before the new RM drummed him out, tried to warn me, but I was 20 year old kid. Invincible. This was a very long parenthetical). Around the same time I receive the letter from the college, telling me that I've been academically dismissed, which is a nice way of saying "you flunked out, dumbass."

So, I learned a couple valuable lessons there...there's no such thing as job security, and if you stop going to classes, WITHDRAW FROM THEM.

Well, I guess I got used to working full time or something, because my first solution was to go to a temp agency. I started getting work almost immediately (being able to type really fast helps a lot in the temp world, no matter what gender you are, but believe it or not, I actually type faster now). Then, around late May, early June, I get an opportunity at a temp-to-hire position. Customer Service Call Center for the now defunct MCI Wireless. The first three weeks were in a isolated room being trained (though the last couple of days we started taking calls while being shadowed by an experienced employee, while being monitored by the rest of the class one by one...talk about pressure). I got in to that groove for about a month once the classes were over.

I was making decent money, but wow, not my kinda job. You were expected to always be on the phone and there were managers monitoring how long you kept your line off the queue list. But you also had to fill out a lot of paperwork depending on the nature of the call...so you'd have to learn to multi-task and do that paperwork while handling BS type calls, like angry guy doesn't like his bill, etc. That was easy, I'm not horrible at multi-tasking...but not in that enviornment. Too much stress. This was back in the days when cell phones didn't have the convenient packages with minutes per month/free nights and weekends and people used airtime WAY more so they were always pissed off at the size of their bills. And half the time I couldn't understand them because of various accents. Suffice to say, it started to take a toll on me. I really started living for lunch break and watching the clock a lot. Even though all the experienced people thought I was worth keeping, which they told me a lot. They had a lot of turnaround, after all, hence the temp-to-hire stuff.

Then, in August...The Quarter Life Crisis.

I woke up, and dragged my ass in to work. All the feelings that had been building about everything basically came to the surface at once after the first caller of the day. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I can do better than this! Etc. I went out for a break (that was one cool thing that place had going for it...they recognized that it was unfair to let people have cigarette breaks but not give similar breaks for non-smokers), and walked around the building.

And in a way, the QLC (get it?) made me snap.

I walked back in, I grabbed the few personal effects I had at my cube, and I walked to the floor manager and said "sorry, I can't do this anymore, I'm out." And proceeded to leave while they were still spluttering.

I do kinda feel bad about just walking out, but that's why I refer to this as the QLC...I really had a form of a breakdown that day. And damn this story is long.

I didn't even drive home. A lot of the middle of that day is hazy. I remember talking to a lot of people about what happened, but the only person that I specifically remember talking to was, of all people, my then best friends then girlfriend. I think I picked her up and we went to the music store or something. Or maybe it was just on the phone...shit...like I said, really hazy. But somewhere in there, I realized I had to go back to school...that's what was really bugging me that whole time. And various people (including said ex of the ex-best friend) reinforced that. So, still under the influence of the QLC, I drive right up to the college. Wasn't that far, it was a JC after all. My first stop was the theatre...old habits die hard.

And we now get to the exact point where I can see where I am in life today from what happened 10 years ago.

I walk in to the theatre, and my friends John and Justin are there (I know I've talked about John before, he now teaches set design at LSU, not sure if I've mentioned Justin...I would live with both of these guys, and another guy, for awhile right after I got my bachelors in 03). They've worked there as house technicians for awhile, and they're doing summer work. Cleaning, maintenance, that sort of thing. But it's near the end of summer, and both of them are leaving for regular colleges in the fall. I tell them I'm finding out about getting back in to school, and they tell me that if I'm successful, to come back when I'm done. I'm like, okay. Figure they just want to talk more.

So I go to admissions or whatever they called it, and found out I could definitely come back, but I would have to write a petition letter, and once back I was on probation. First sememster back I could only take one class, and it had to be a class I failed. Next semester, assuming I passed that first class, I'd be restricted to under 12 credits for two semesters. Completing that, I'd be off probation. So, if anybody wanted to know why it took me 5 years to get my associates degree after graduating high school...that's a big part. Academic probation is a biznitch.

I head back to the theatre, and tell John and Justin the (relative) good news. They then tell me that if I needed a job, well...they were leaving and the theatre facility manager (a really good guy named Pete) was actually on his way over to check on something for them. I stuck around, and after saying hi (I knew him from the "old days" of course), John and Justin were like "hey, Bart's looking for a job, he's coming back to school." Pete practically hired me on the spot. In fact, I do believe I ended up working for him two days later in the sweltering heat, going through a big metal container (like the one in the picture) outside looking for old storage items to throw away...that was a fun day.

Anyway, that's how I first started getting paid for technicians work. And if I didn't have that under my belt, I wouldn't have gotten the student employee job when I went to my four year school, and then wouldn't have had the full time job basically handed to me once I graduated.

All thanks to that Quarter Life Crisis.

Or maybe I'm simply psychic and I knew MCI Wireless would tank...naw.

Had to be done...

Unless you're blind, you'll notice I overhauled the place. Flipped the layout, did some house cleaning, and switched over to Bloggers new blog link function. Enjoy the overhauled goodness.

Not Bad Prognasticating! (part 2)

I wish to revisit this post for a moment.

I have heard from people who have seen this already that Indiana is a mix between the Indy we remember, and his father played by Sean Connery. He even says at one point, as his father did in "Last Crusade," "This is intolerable!" But that's not what I'm going after here. Apparenately, he's referred to more as Henry in this movie than Indiana. So, I'm gonna go right ahead and say I called it again.

Not Bad Prognasticating!

So, a little over a year ago (April 12 2007) I spoke of how I was looking forward to the new Indy movie, and how I thought it should embrace his age and not overlook it. We're a little less than two weeks away from it arriving, so let's look back on it with what we know. Now, I got some things wrong, obviously. It doesn't seem like he "hung up the whip" at all. But I did say they should set it in during the Cold War era and have the enemies be the Russians. Nailed that (though I did say 70s...missed that by 20 years, but still). Said he should have a hot shot son. Well...I might have nailed that. We won't know what Shia LeBeouf's actual role is until May 22nd, they're being pretty secretive about that, but it's widely rumored that he's the child of Indy by way of Marion Ravenwood, being played once again by Karen Allen (which is awesome by the way). But his character is definitely a hotshot guy, so if he turns out to be his kid, I got that, too. Plus, in the trailer, they definitely had a moment where the music kicks in as he puts the hat on, which I said would be a goosebump like moment.

That's not bad for knowing ZERO about the movie at the time.

And a big shout out goes to Chewy, who in the comments suggested maybe an alien artifact could be used, also a good prediction. Now, the Crystal Skulls may or may not be alien, but it's definitely been reported that the movie itself will definitely explore the possibility that they could be. Which is a parallel to the time period, it's going to be a little more sci-fi than the others, because it takes place in the 50s when sci-fi serials were popular, since the other movies were based on Lucas and Spielbergs love of serials when they were kids.

For those Indy fans that poo-poo the sci-fi thing...oh shut up. You had no problem with the Ark of the Covenent spewing avenging angels and melting faces, or with Mola Ram ripping out the still beating hearts of sacrifices with his bare hands and the victim still living to be burned alive, or with the Holy Grail healing the gunshot wound of Henry Jones, Sr. There's always been sci-fi elements to these movies, but they were masked by "religious mythologies" (whether Western or Eastern) Now they're dropping that aspect (maybe). Don't get all worked up. I understand that it's trepidation from what Lucas did with the Star Wars prequels and such, but lets remember that Spielberg was on this, too, and actually directed. Not to mention that Harrison Ford is a bit of a persnippity guy and wouldn't sign off on something simply to do it. He's said he wanted to play Indy again, but he also had been turning down the script treatments for awhile.

For those that haven't seen the trailer. Take note of a few things...one, looks like the warehouse from end of Raiders, doesn't it? Also, there is a shot of a box that says Roswell, NM on it...a clear indication of the alien aspect. I love the "Damn, I thought that was closer" moment. That's classic Indy. But yes, note that thing with hat and the music kicking. Damn that gets me.

My New Endevour:

I've decided to try my hand at a little side business.

What business is that, you ask? Killing. Killing is my business, and business is good. Just kidding, I had a random moment where I felt like quoting a Megadeth album title.

No, this is my new project:
http://www.myspace.com/bart_rs_setups


Basically, minor guitar work. For those that don't play, guitars need to be periodically "set up" and if you have the know how and equipment, you can do it yourself. Most guitarists don't bother and go to a guy, or usually, a music store, and have it done. I've decided to try to become "the guy" for people in the area. I've already had a few clients, and they seemed pretty pleased. I'm hoping something comes of this, because I enjoy doing this stuff, and you really meet some interesting people doing this sort of thing. Like this cat: www.allen-jones.com Helluva nice guy, and he's one of those "done it, seen it all" kind of guys that you could talk to for hours.

So, wish me luck with this foray in to uncharted territory, and for my local friends...talk me up, man!

Also, are you enjoying the Twitter updates? I think I may move it down one slot because it looks like it sits high and weird to me.

Goodbye Spidey?

A while back, I talked about how I was a rock star, facetiously of course. I think I mentioned how my guitar was modified to look like Spider-Man's mask. Well, I think I also mentioned that I'd put a picture up some day. Well, now is a good time as any because I have decided to get a new pickguard. I kinda want to play a guitar that looks like an adult owns it. I still think it's cool, but you know. Have to get the pickguard custom made though, because the guitar is long since discontinued. Gonna go matte black, which I think will look nice with the the dark blue of the guitar. I saw the exact scheme on another guitar and liked it.

Well, anyway, here it is. Spidey, as he looks today.

You Take Better Pictures!

Took these from the plane on the way to Vegas. Rocky Mountains from way up high.

Yeah, I rule, I know.

I'm Not Saying...

But I'm saying...

I'm a Marketing Genius

With all these new low-cal hydrators hitting the market, like Gatorades G2, completely marketing themselves as having lower calories as the "in game" hydration drinks, or whatever, I think I can make a killing.

I'm gonna sell my tap water.

Here you go folks. Natural hydration, with zero calories! YOU CAN'T LOSE!

Christ, people are stupid. Drink water, take a separate vitamin. Unless you're an athlete, you don't really "need" Gatorade. Even the low cal stuff.

Important Announcement:

I'm awesome.

Carry on.

Tales From The Past: We're Clean, Officer!

So, my friend Ben (that sorta rhymes...maybe I'll start calling him Bend simply so it does) posted about his trip to a WV club to do some comedy between sessions of a (from the description) a competition that was a mixture of karaoke and American Idol. On the way back, he got pulled over under slightly dubious circumstances, as he described it. It reminded me of a time I was pulled over about 10 years ago. Let me take you back then...

diddladiddladiddladiddladiddladiddla

diddladiddladiddladiddladiddladiddla

I was driving down a secondary road in my town. Coming from an acquaintances house, with this guy. He was decked out in similar clothing. He definitely had that large floppy hat on. See, Erik (that's what I call him because that's what his name is) is a blues guitarist, and is a very big fan of Stevie Ray Vaughn. So much that he liked to emulate him in more than only playing. No biggie. Well, I get pulled over. Also, no biggie. Officer comes up to the window, gets my info, tells me that I wasn't speeding that much, but they changed the limit and they're pulling people over to get people used to the new drop in posted speed. I'm like "cool, no prob, I'll look out for that in the future." He then tells me he's gonna run my info per standard procedure, but I'll only get a warning. Cool. He goes back to his squad car.

Five minutes later, he's still in his squad car.

Two minutes after that, another squad car pulls up. Erik and I start to get a bad, yet humorous, feeling.

Another minute later, another squad car. They're all congregating now, chatting and looking at me and Erik.

Another minute, and a freaking K-9 unit pulls up. Erik and I are practically in hysterics, though we're trying not to show it. For good reason: we know what's going on. We got profiled. Only one thing...they profiled us wrong.

They think we're dealers. I'm giving him a raft of shit about it being because he's decked out like a pimp. He's telling me it's because I look like I just emerged from a Walden sabbatical. But either which way, we aren't holding. I'm not gonna lie and say we were innocent guys or anything, but there was nothing on us, or in that car.

First officer comes back to the window, and we act "cool." He asks us that we've been randomly selected for a car search. I act like I didn't know that was coming, and that I believe him that it was "random." I know my rights, and I know I can deny them the request. But at this point I want them to learn a lesson, so I'm like, "sure thing Mr. Officer, sir." We exit the vehicle and go through the whole rigmarole. Popping the trunk. Getting patted down. Having our crotches sniffed by the dog.

Of course, they found nothing. Well, they found a knife, but the blade was short enough to be considered pocket, and while it looked like a switchblade, it was just a spring loaded flip, which is legal (yeah, I know that). Even still, since the car was registered to my dad, I feigned ignorance just to get a rise out of the cop. If he hadn't seemed so damn pleased about finding something, I probably wouldn't have and just pointed out it was legal. He gave me a bunch of crap about it, but in the second most telling part of the tale, put it back where he found it and continued to search.

The single most telling part of the tale? I never got that written warning. After ten minutes of searching my car up and down, they found nothing, like I knew they would. They then muttered half assed apologies and got the hell outta Dodge. And Erik and I proceed to tell all our friends about how Grizzly Adams and the Stevie Ray Pimp beat The Man.

More Things I Did At Work That I Shouldn't Have:

Look hard in this picture. You might be able to see me. I'll give you a hint...it's somewhere I shouldn't be. Dangerous like. Such is life as an event tech. Things aren't always in convenient to get to places.

Happy Saturday everyone.

I'm Pretty Sure I'm a Marketing Genius...

So, even though retail establishments now start gearing up for Christmas pretty much on December 26th, there's a period when you reaaaaaaally know it's that glorious holiday shopping season. The week of Thanksgiving. Why? That's when three sets of commercials start becoming unavoidable:

1) Jewelry
2) Toy
3) Fragrances

Now, I have nothing against toy ads, though since I watch a little bit of children's programming I tend to get deluged with them. I do have a really big problem with jewelry ads at any time of year. I'm sorry, but diamonds do not equal love. Stop selling them like that. Plus, this year, there's been this onslaught of patronizing jewelry commercials where somehow the man is seen as either ignorant of jewelry stores altogether ("wait, how did he know about Shaws?") or just flat out superior ("He went to Jared.").

But it's the fragrance ads that really crack me up. Has there ever, and Bart means eeeeeeever, been a more pretentious advertisement than one for a perfume or cologne? The presentation, the voice overs, the production values that are better than some shows on television. All for smell juice. Are you kidding? And this has been SOP since at least the 80s. It's like they figure if the scent is going to have a really ridiculously pretentious name, they might as well go whole hog.


I said this to The Queen the other night, and I meant it. A company should have a fragrance ad where a guy or gal is standing in a very plain background (like the I'm a PC, I'm a Mac commercials, which by the way, even though I'm not a Mac head, I find funny, if pretentious), and they say "Choices. Cologne or perfume. It smells nice." Commercial over. I'd buy that shit on principle alone. And think of how much money they'd save. They could probably afford to sell the scent for way less, and make it up on volume from the millions of people refreshed by the honesty and simplicity of the ad campaign.

By the way, if there isn't a cologne or perfume named "Choices" and it comes out in the near future, I will be demanding restitution.

Get off my TV, Rachael Ray

So, can't stand her. Her being Rachael Ray. Wasn't really fond of her before her over exposure, but now that she's everywhere (and Bart means EVERYWHERE!) I really want her to have some sort of horrible scandal where we find out she sacrifices babies for her fame and fortune or something.

No one is that damn happy. I don't care what anybody says. She's on uppers or something. It's Kelly Ripa like bizarre. Like her face is permanently frozen in a Joker grin. Frown woman! Get angry!

I mean, I swear to jeebus, every time that one Dunkin Donuts commercial comes on and she says "Delish!" with this stupid wink look, I wish I had super powers to reach through my TV so I could slap the smile off her face.

I don't quite hate her as much as I do Celine Dion (the anti-Christ), but she's working on it. Hopefully in the very near future, her and Dr. Phil can become afterthoughts in the Oprah generation juggernaut.

I remember a few years back, when I barely knew who she was, but was already annoyed with her, they had these Ritz crackers adverts in the grocery store, and someone had drawn a fake mustache on it. That cracked me up. Still does when I think back on it. I'm smiling as a recollect that glorious defamation.

Oh, I'm supposed to mention that even though she's heinous and so damn chipper I want to hurt her, at least she isn't waif thin and is a "real woman." So, there's like, one positive to about a trillion negative.

The Garden Sheet...

So, I got my mom sheets for Christmas. I'd worry about announcing this on my blog when we're a week out from Christmas still, but she doesn't have computer access. Plus, she's fairly computer illiterate, and probably thinks a blog is a naughty euphemism for poo. And plus, her MS has given her the memory of goldfish. She probably already forgot that I even gave them to her already, so I can maybe give her two gifts for the price of one this season. I'm an awful, yet awesome, person, I know. I got her jersey knit sheets. Why? Why not? Jersey knit sheets are effin' awesome. I can't believe you people don't use them. I can't believe that jersey knit isn't the standard, instead of those...uh...other kind. I can't even feel those things anymore without feeling like I scratched my skin all up from the coarseness of the devil fabric.

Anyway, I also got them for her because I wash her sheets for her (most of the time) and one of her sets is pretty much obliterated. I figured she might want a much softer set, because she's crippled and all. Oh, sorry. Handicapped. Oh, sorry, handicapable. Jesus, that's a nuisance. When did we start giving a shelf life to positivity? Give it a few years, and the term will be something ridiculous like handicripple. Simply because handicapable will have earned this perceived negative stigma. Getting the train back on the track here...anyway, she can't move her legs and tends to get like, you know, bed sores. So while I seriously doubt the power of the jersey knit will stop her from getting sores, I figure it might make her at least a little more comfortable. Am I an awesome son or what?

Anyway, jersey knit rules, and you drool.

Next time...my out of nowhere hatred for Rachael Ray.

As Promised:

A picture of a Light in a Tree.

You Want Us To Do What?

Allow me to share with you what my boss and I officially classify as "one of the stupidest things we've ever done."

As my boss and I are working the initial stages of an arena setup for a large charity dinner/concert tomorrow night (Children's Cancer Fund), I get a phone call from my co-worker. "Hey, A and B are over at the Pavillion, and they want to know if we can put some small lights, like music stand lights or something, in to some Port-a-Pots they have set up for some event tonight."

I'm already dumbfounded at this point. But my boss shrugs resignedly, and we go over. After a five minute conversation, where we try to point out the absurdity of the situation (starting with how little light those music stand lights put off, how we'd have a cord going in to each one and is that even "code compliant," and that there's a pretty decent amount of ambient light from the Pavillion and the street lights.

We were over ridden, but we did come up with something better than the music light stands.

Ten minutes later, I was standing on the forks of a forklift, attaching a parcan (a type of light) to a tree branch.

That's right. I put a light in a tree. To illuminate portable bathrooms.

I'm still shaking my head about it. I wish I had taken a picture. I have to go to work tomorrow, and if my coworker didn't take it down yet, I'll take a picture then. But even still, I'm not sure even a photograph can capture the sheer absurdity of a production lighting fixture attached to a tree branch, focused on two spotapots.