Thursday, June 27, 2013

TV Killed The Radio Star? HA! Hardly.

Yesterday I visited the local radio station. All morning I was so nervous. I practically had heart palpitations driving there and I got there without really remembering the drive. I was prepared, though. I, being me, had done research. Research. For a radio spot about Twitter. Twitter, for Pete's sake. Where was I? Oh, yeah, research. I had stats, interesting people that had Twitter accounts, and other details that were of really no consequence whatsoever. So, armed with my notebook and a facade of confidence, I entered through the gates. Actually it was just a door, but it was a big deal, yo.

The nice receptionist and I talked for a few minutes while Jason was making his way down to the lobby. I can't remember her name, but we spoke of gardening and the weather. She put me at ease when it was all I could do not to throw up and run screaming out the door. (*Side note: I need to get her name and send her a thank you card*) My heart was hammering in my ears. Now that I think about it, it sounded vaguely like the Jaws theme, except faster. So, during our lively discussion about the lack of rain, the inside door opened.

There stood a radio god. :) He wasn't all glowy or wearing a halo or anything, but still a god nonetheless. We smiled, shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I could all be see the energy pumping off of him. I think he mentioned one time on-air that he was ADHD. Or maybe OCD. Whatever. Anyway, to get to the studio I had to go through the building with the admin offices and stuff to a smaller building in the back. I could only think, "Damn! He walks really frickin' fast!". It dawned on me later that he probably has to walk fast because there is nothing worse than dead air and a song only lasts so long. But, I digress. After power walking through the admin building we entered the studio building. It houses 4 (I think) separate stations. I barely got a glimpse at the downstairs before we were hoofing it up a narrow stairwell to the top floor. Impressions from up there are: a bathroom, a small kitchen and a couple of heavy wooden doors with small square viewing windows. As I approached the hallowed door, my breath caught in my chest. Childhood games of playing "DJ" with a boom box/tape deck flashed in my mind. I was about to go where no me has gone before. He entered ahead of me and held the door. With a grand sweeping gesture, he bid me to enter. (Okay, that part was made up. Probably.) Garnering all my nerve I stepped through the doorway and into...

Hmmm.... A room about as big as a cubicle. It was waaaaay smaller than I expected. I mean, I was thinking it would be as big as a gymnasium. I figured it would have to be that big to hold all that personality. :) The desk was "L" shaped and each side had a big microphone. There were about 60 computer monitors (slight exaggeration) and that button board thingy with all the slidey buttons (yep, reeeeeeeal technical, aren't I?). The walls were covered in autographed pictures of musicians, most of which I am not hipster enough to recognize. Overall, the room had sort of a controlled chaos kind of feel.

It was less than a minute before he had to go on-air and change songs. I thought he walked fast. His hands were flying over the button board thingy (I *really* need to find out what that thing is called). While he did his thing I got out my "research". I had rehearsed my spiel so I could lay it all out clearly and concisely. The moment I had to sidle up to that mic, every thought in my head flew right out the one tiny window. Oh, no. My worst fears are coming true. My mouth dried up. My palms started to sweat. I knew this would happen. My only coherent thought was, "Ohmygod". How was I going to be my <ahem> funny and charming self if all I could do was stutter and groan?? My next thought was, "S H I T." Not only am I about to embarrass the bejeezus out of myself in front of this dude, I'm gonna be mortified live. On-air. For the whole city to hear.

What? What's that? Ohhhhhhh... We don't do it live. So you're gonna record and edit it into segments and then play it? Awesome. I may end up making an ass of myself, but at least it won't be for a gazillion people to hear. (Bad enough, yes. But oh so much better than the alternative.)

That was the point where he just talked to me. Like a normal conversation. My previously scattered thoughts began to find their way home. I was able to form complete sentences. And my proudest moment? I said something that made him laugh. Like, gut busting laugh. "See?" I told myself in my head, "I can be funny. Sometimes. Maybe. Sort of." Anyway, he put me at ease and I was able to accomplish (most) of my goals.

For over an hour we chatted and laughed. I "suggested" that he not log on to Facebook without first logging on to Twitter. Also, that he link the accounts. That way, when he tweets, it will automatically post as a status update on Facebook. As our time was winding down, he did something A-mazing. He gave me his Twitter info so I could monitor his "progression" and also find people he should be following. People! Do you understand what I'm saying?? He. Gave. Me. His. Info. Me! A perfect stranger. He had to know going in to this little 'interview' that I was kooky. I mean, who else researches and presents reasons to be on Twitter?! No one, that's who. Of course, it's probably not that big a deal to him because he often lets Brad take over his Facebook.

We wrapped up with promises (on his part) to tweet and warnings (on my part) that I will be watching.

On an odd side note: He played 2 of the 3 segments on-air while I was in the studio. The other one, however, came on while I was on my way home. Do you know how odd it is to hear yourself on the radio? Lemme tell ya. Weird. Especially since I sound like a total dork!

And, because this experience has been the coolest, funniest, most bizarre thing that will (probably) ever happen to me, here is the audio from 2 of the segments.


Segment 1

Segment 2

This post was not sponsored by either Twitter or Hits 96 (@Hits96Radio). But, if either of them want to pay me for these fabulous words and general pimping, I accept all forms of payments. Seriously, though, a great big huge THANK YOU to Jason Walker (@jasonwalker965) for an amazing experience. You guys should follow him <now that he is actually tweeting>. He is a big ball of awesomeness, hilarity and bad assery.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013


A couple of weeks ago I called in to the local radio station and inquired of (one of) my fave DJ(s) as to why he didn’t use Twitter. We bantered back and forth of the benefits versus the time/energy/desire. He said he had a Twitter account but just never used it. He also quipped that I could be his Twitter Social Media Director. Wellll….. no pay, no real responsibilities? Sign. Me. Up.

Taking my duties and my new title very seriously, I sent him a Facebook message the very next day telling him the easiest way to get going is tweet something inane first thing in the morning. I use Twitter a lot, but still, most mornings I tweet the name of the song that was playing in my head when I woke up. I suggested he do that with #WokeUpSinging.

Fast forward to this past Monday. It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard a *peep* (Get it? Twitter? A bird? Peep? HA! I crack myself up.) from him on his Twitter account. I then sent him another message via Facebook.

            “2 weeks on the job as your Twitter Social Director and I couldn’t get not *1* stinkin’ tweet outta you. I’m so fired. Now what am I gonna do with all those business cards I had printed??”

A few minutes later, his reply:

            “I am a Twitter failure. You must come to the studio to discuss our Jason Tweets, Inc. corporate structure.”

I then said:

            “Ha! 12:30 good for you?”  (**I was being totally sarcastic. Just in case you didn’t catch it.**)

Literally less than a minute later…

            “Today is not good, but any other day this week is fine.”

(**Me, starting to hyperventilate**):

            “Dude! Are you freakin’ serious?! I can’t be on the radio! I’m soooo not cool enough for that!”

A minute later he had this to say:

            “I have the trademark on not being cool. Come here.”

(**Me, silently running through all the disastrous scenarios that could occur**):

            “Ummmm….okay(?). Wednesday okay? And are you seriously serious?”

Then the word that had me quaking in my strappy sandals:


So, ladies and gentlemen, (or Val, since I think you are the only one who reads this crap I churn out), today I will be going to the radio station after work to probably more than likely hopefully (please God) not make a huge redneck-y ass out of myself.

Wish me luck! I may be able to post the audio on here tomorrow. Providing I don’t embarrass myself too much. Even if I can't do the audio you can bet your sweet bupkis that I will have a post documenting my foray.

Also, here’s the slightly bad ass business card I made.

It's 5 A.M. ..... I Repeat.... IT'S-5-FREAKING-A.M. (and I'm awake)

It’s 5:22 a.m. As in, 5 o’clock in. the. freaking. morning. I’ve been to bed 3 times, and 3 times I’ve gotten back up because my mother effing brain will not shut the hell up. It could have something to do with my first radio appearance later today. Or maybe the Sudafed I had to break down and take at 9:00 last night. So between the nerves and the meth, I’m wide a-frickin’-wake. And have been all night long. I should have put that time to good use. The dishes need washing, the bathroom could use a cleaning, and the dog needs a bath. Did I do any of those semi-productive things? Hell, no, thankyouverymuch. What did I do, you ask? Well, I watched some of my Big Bang Theory episodes. Oh, and I’m writing this blog post. Hmmm…. What else? Ummmm…I ate a spoonful of peanut butter? FYI, that stuff gives you wicked heartburn. So, great. In addition to being a neurotic insomniac, I also get to have acid indigestion. Isn't life grand? (*I know, I know. Pity party of one, right this way please.*)

Wanna know some of the things that have been shooting my overactive cerebellum in the last several hours? Okey dokey. Just remember: You asked for it.

            -I wonder if Mom found out how much a used Kindle is for me
            -How do you make those dots and that squiggle line over letters? Like in "uber", for example.
            -The new song “Blurred Lines” is this year’s “Call Me Maybe”. I can’t get away from it. And I never realized how some of it sounds like Fat Albert. (*HeyHeyHey*)
            -How many calories can you burn just by your mind racing?
            -Hmmm… I wonder if my lives on Candy Crush have regenerated yet? (They had, but now they are gone again. This game is like crack.)
            -I totally hope I don’t make a colossal ass out of myself on the radio tomorrow. Well, today.
            -The new catch phrase I came up with the other day hasn’t caught on. (*BTW, it’s: I don’t give 2 dead cats... For example: I don’t give 2 dead cats that my hair is nappy.)
            -I’m super excited that the season premier of Big Brother comes on tonight. Although, since I am apparently not sleeping at all I will probably be in a coma when it comes on.
            -How much is Botox?
            -Gotta remember to check the web tomorrow to see what classes to enroll in for the fall. (*I’m going back to school to study Criminology. So I can poke at dead people.*)
            -Wonder if I can find a ThighMaster on Craigslist? Well, on second thought, a used ThighMaster is kinda gross.
            -Wonder how much a *new* ThighMaster costs?
            -Jeez it’s crowded in here. (*All the voices say as one*)

Alrighty, it’s about time to get ready for work. Aaaaaaand, NOW I’m sleepy. Crap.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Warm Bodies Need A Safe Haven, Not A Broken City, To Call Mama

So last weekend, while the hubs was on a shoot in West Virgina, I had a movie marathon. Let me just say first that REDBOX IS AWESOME. Where else can you find 2 hours of -maybe- entertainment for just $1? One. Dollar. Nowhere, that's where. Anyway... So I go to Redbox and peruse the selection. Lo and behold, all of the new releases are in! Yay me! My taste in films runs the gamut. I don't really have a "type"... well, unless it's horror. Or action. I had heard Warm Bodies was good so I got it. I also got the Nicholas Sparks Safe Haven (even though in most of his movies someone dies), Broken City with hunkalicious Marky Mark, and the "scary" movie Mama. Here is my synopsis and critique of the above.

Warm Bodies:  4 out of 5 brains
     Recap: This was not a typical zombie flick. The story follows "R" (the dead don't remember their names) and his pack of airport dwelling flesh-eaters. Apparently if you eat someone's brain, you get their memories. There is a city of survivors and a gang of them go out scavenging for supplies. Pack of zombies descend upon human scavengers. Chaos ensues. "R" sees the girl and has some sort of epiphany. He keeps her safe and returns her to the city. Along the way he gets a little more human and falls in love with her. Other stuff happens. Zombies die. (Can the dead die? We'll save that existential dilemma for another time.) Humans die. Father/daughter relationships grow. Humans and zombies unite to fight a common enemy. Happy times for all. The End.
     Pros: I love zombies. I mean really love them.    
     Cons: John Malkovich, bony zombies that look like the ones from I Am Legend, hoarder zombies.


Safe Haven:    3 out of 5 Nicholas Sparks books
     Recap: Miss Ex-Ryan Seacrest leaves her abusive man. He's a cop. Full stage-5 clinging ensues. He uses all of his cop powers to find her so he can drag her back home. She hops a bus and decides to stay in this piss ant tiny beach town. Enter the sexy and sad widower. She makes nice with his kids then worms in to his life. Sexual tension, secrets and stalking. She gets to be a heroine, "find" herself and fall in love.
     Pros: Two words. Josh Duhamel. Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm Mmmmm! He'll never win an Oscar, but he's so pretty he really doesn't have to "act". ;)
     Cons: It's a pretty typical story. It reminded me a lot of Sleeping With The Enemy except she didn't fake her own death. It's worth watching, especially if you are reallllllly into chick flicks. Even if you're not, it's worth seeing a shirtless Josh Duhamel.


Broken City:    2 out of 5 Criminals
     Recap:  Marky Mark is a cop who has to resign due to a sketchy shoot-out that leaves a thug dead. Now he's a PI. Sketchy mayor hires him to get proof of spousal infidelity. Russel Crowe is the shady mayor. In my opinion, he hasn't done anything really good since Gladiator. Anyway, two hours of backdoor double crossing and trying to find out who is actually the bad guy (really they are all kinda douchey) later, it goes off.
     Pros: Marky Mark Wahlberg. 'Nuff said.
     Cons: It's slow. And dark. And predictable. It tries to be a John Grisham, but just isn't.


Mama:   4 out of 5 Creeptacular Kids
     Recap: Two young girls (8 and 2 I think) are left in a decrepit cabin deep in the woods. Five years later they are found and returned to their uncle and his rocker girlfriend. The kids are basically rabid, feral cat-like creatures who grunt and shriek instead of talk.(The older one is able to adjust quicker because she remembers her old life.) No one can believe they survived. Turns out this crazy lady escaped from the local loony bin a hundred years ago and her whacked-out ghost has been watching over the girls. Well, when the girls go live with the uncle, Mama isn't happy. And you know what they say.... "When Mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy". Least of all the rocker chick who never wanted kids to begin with. Weird shit happens and that youngest kid? CREEEEEE-PY! She pops up all ninja-like, scampers like a jacked up dog, and giggles at the walls. It's apparent something otherworldly is going on. They just have to figure out how to get rid of a  whack-a-doodle ghost with murderous tendencies.
     Pros: I love, Love, LOVE being creeped out. That littlest kid? Nightmares, I tell ya. Also, there is a surprise twist at the end.
     Cons: Some slow moving in the beginning. Plus, not nearly enough people getting slaughtered.


So, there ya have it. I may or may not review any other movies I've seen. Depends on if I'm coming up blank for a post. I mean.... Depends on... ahhh, whatever. I can't think of a legitimate reason.

Friday, June 14, 2013

In Honor Of Flag Day, I Bring You These...

If I had a house flag, it would be awesome. Here are some examples of what may be flying high at the ole homestead.

Unicorns at *my* house shit sunshine and rainbows

Zombie Apocalypse Ready

Yeah, bitches. I'm Irish. Sort of.

What proud freak flag would you fly at your house?

Thursday, June 13, 2013

One Of Those Days....

Ever have "one of those days" where you wake up pissy for no apparent reason? And then you get out of bed and it all goes downhill from there? Yeah. Today is like that. I've been having headaches. Not just annoying-grab-some-Excedrin headaches but the "bitch-I-will-stab-you-in-the-eye-and-then-laugh-about-it" kind. So these headaches have been an everyday occurrence for about a week and a half. Every. Frickin'. Day.Yesterday was no exception, so after crawling through the day at work I finally got home. I laid in the recliner for about an hour until I gave up and went to bed. I actually took a nap, y'all. I don't know how long it's been since I took an honest to God full fledged nap. Years, probably. But nap I did. For about an hour. When I woke up, the troll was still thumping in my brain but not as loudly. I managed to fix dinner (it was just hot dogs, so no *real* cooking involved) and spend a little time with the hubs and the kid. At 10:00 I declared myself ready for bed. This in itself is an aberration. I usually don't retire until around midnight because I know I only sleep for a couple of hours before I pop awake. But last night I went to bed at 10:30 and slept like the dead until 7:00 this morning. Here's the thing: I AM STILL TIRED. What. The. Hell?! I had the most (consecutive) sleep I've had in, oh, I don't know, about 10 years and I can barely function today. I've had my morning coke (the drinking kind, not the sniffing kind) AND an energy shot. I still feel like I could lay my head down on my table and drift off to dreamland. Well, if I shove my keyboard outta my way, but still. What is wrong with me???? Any suggestions on how NOT to be.... I dunno.... like this?

Or like this?

Me. Without the green skin and craving for brains.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Fever Dreams

So, last week was pretty crappy at my house. I had the plague so I felt like squished dog poo for several days. I may have a brain tumor because I'm still having terrible, horrible, no good, very bad headaches. But, I digress. The only upside to having an awful illness is the extremely colorful dreams I have while burning up with a thousand degree fever. Here are a few of my nocturnal escapades, as I remember them.

My grandmother has a dog, Kali. I haven't been to see her (my grandmother, not Kali. Well both, actually.) in a couple of months so this kinda came out of nowhere. So I dreamed (dreamt?) that I went to Grandmother's house. No Kali. When I asked where the dog was, G'mother's reply was, "Oh. Her lease was up." Hmmm... there may or may not be a potential business in there somewhere. Dog rentals: the new million dollar idea? Maybe. Anyway, she had another dog that looked just like Kali named Fred. And also a puppy. Who am I to argue with my feverish subconscious? No one, that's who.


Let me set the scene for you. It is a beautiful day. I mean one of those perfect days. Warm sunshine dappling the ground through trees full of green leaves gently swaying in the breeze. The birds are chirping a Disney tune. The air smells of springtime. A. Perfect. Day. I'm strolling along a tree-lined path. I don't feel rushed or even have a particular destination in mind. I'm just ambling along, stopping to chat with the wildlife and soak up the sunshine. From behind me on my right I hear the faintest noise. Wait. That noise doesn't belong here. Noise belongs out in the world, not here in the perfect corner of my mind. What IS that? Well, my question is soon answered as a guy (I think), so completely wrapped in bubble wrap you can't even see his eyes, comes barreling by. In a red wagon. He was laying in the wagon. While wrapped head to to in bubble wrap. What's even stranger is that after he passed by, Pip from Enchanted popped his head up from behind a mossy log, cocked his head, looked straight at me and said, "Wow. THAT was weird." Yes, Pip. Yes it was.

The moral of these stories? Fever dreams are super entertaining, but so not worth the brain damage.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Sleep. Or The Lack Thereof.

I think I would rather not sleep at all than to sleep in snatches a few minutes at a time. I’m pretty sure my bed is where time goes to die. Last night, it was storming. So instead of Maddie going to sleep by herself, I went and laid down with her. It was only a little after 10:00, so I thought I would lay with her until she went to sleep and then get back up for a while. I guess, since I didn’t sleep all that well the night before, I fell asleep too. I last looked at the clock at 10:11. Several hours later I woke up. I looked at the clock. 10:52. Hmmm… I slept less than an hour. And then I proceeded to wake up and blearily eye the hated clock every hour until I gave up at 7:05. I got up at 7 a.m. on. a. Saturday. Maddie, however, slept until 9:30.  And I’m sure my sleeping so poorly had nothing AT ALL to do with the heifer dog sleeping up my butt while holding down most of my covers. Also, I’m absolutely positive it didn’t have A THING to do with Maddie crocodile-death-rolling into a cocoon with what was left of my blanket so that all I ended up with was a stingy sliver of a corner of the sheet. Why, you may be asking, was I sharing my nice, comfy king-sized bed with my very wiggly, very long-legged six year old? Well, when Terry goes out of town I let her sleep with me. Bad parenting? Maybe. But I figure there will be plenty of time when she gets older where she doesn’t want to snuggle or even be near me. Right now, though, I will enjoy the way she wants me to face her; the way she curls her hands under her face while she softly snores; the way her long sooty eyelashes fan her face; the way her breath smells worse than a puppy’s butt and she is constantly in motion, even in the deepest sleep. I guess it’s worth not having a REM cycle for the foreseeable future. What I worry about most, though, is does not sleeping well give you more wrinkles??

Friday, June 7, 2013

I've Had Leprosy. Getting Better But More Importantly... BEHOLD! MY AWESOME BUTT MAN IN ALL HIS GLORY!!!

Last week I left a comment on one of the blogs that I read regularly. It is Misty's Laws, written by a highly intelligent (she's a lawyer) and freakily funny chick. You should check it out. Go ahead. I'll wait..... Done? Good. Anyway, I left a comment on a post and lo and behold, she drew MY name to win the coveted Butt Man. Well, I don't know if that's his name, but (ha! no pun intended) it is now. So let me set the scene so I can officially introduce you to him.

Picture, if you will, me, sick with the plague, dysentery, leprosy, SARS, and a sinus/ear infection. (Only one of these is true. Probably.) I have felt the impending implosion/explosion of my own brain for about 4 days straight at this point. I woke up around 2 am Monday with a splitting headache and a squiggly tummy. I went in to work but came home after only an hour and a half. I was half-dead Tuesday and most of Wednesday. I sucked it up and went in Thursday. It wasn't *all* that bad. As long as I didn't turn my head, or move, or cough, or breathe deeply. So anyway, I get home yesterday afternoon and a package was waiting for me. I was expecting it, of course, since getting the news late last week. I then proceeded to do a little jig, for that was all the energy I could afford to expend, and say "I won! I WON! IwonIwonIwonIwonI WON!" It was kinda like the scene in A Christmas Story where the dad gets the giant box of award from Fra-gee-lay and it turns out to be the awesomest lamp anyone anywhere has ever had the privilege of laying their eyes on. Same thing. I cut open the box, eager to hold my new treasure. I wait with bated breath as the last of the tape pops. I pull back the flaps of the box. I toss the tissue paper over my shoulder and onto the floor. THERE! There he is. Oh. My. God. He is MAGNIFICENT! Here. Just see for yourself.


I know, I know. He's freaking spectacular!! He is holding tape and his feet are the cutter. His mouth holds a pen, The potty has a slot for a post it pad and there is also a hole behind that for scissors. He's not done, though. I you lift him off the potty, the "bowl" is full of.... paperclips. And he has a tiny magnet on his tiny hiney. Canyoubelievethat?? It's a clever, multitasking, wonderfully weird desk organizer. If you want to find out how to own your very own Butt Man, head on over to Misty's  for the deets. Although even if you *do* get your own, mine will still be superior because I won him. From an awesome person. And THAT kind of coolness just can't be bought. :P