Oh, You Also Missed This...

Big Ups to Paula Faris!

A few weeks ago I was helping one of the writers hook up his HD set. On the TV while I was checking the picture was the Olympics. It was some spot about these athletes having a shopping spree in Torino. On the fringe of the picture I thought I kept seeing someone I thought I knew. I even mentioned to the writer that I think I might know that person, but she never came on the screen again. Still, she was a sports broadcaster in Cincinnati. I guess they could've sent her for the Olympics, but NBC and national coverage? Anyway, I forgot about it.

Cut to Monday night, and I'm talking to Eric. During our conversation he mentions he's been staying contact with Paula, who I thought I saw at the Olympics. Turns out it was her on TV. She apparently took a new job as a sports anchor at an NBC affiliate in a top 5 media market. Can you guess what city she's in now? That's right Chicago. Chicago! Sure I'm little bit jealous. It's Chicago! Paula also completely deserves it. As Eric stated, she has always worked her ass off. Ever since I first met her at Cedarville she's always worked hard. It's a few months late, but congratulations Paula. You really do deserve it. Now, can you do something about getting Dusty fired?

Big Ups to Corinne Marrinan!

I personally know an Oscar winner! Congrats to Corinne Marrinan who produced the winning documentary short "A Note of Triumph: The Golden Age of Norman Corwin."

Cedarville Flashbacks

Since absolutely nothing is happening in my life worth bothering even myself with, and with Adam and Eric recently becoming a part of Throwaways, I'm going to throw out a few Cedarville stories for the rest of the week. It actually may be just one big post, we'll see. Mark your calendars accordingly.

Give it Up for Our Office Spouses!

I don’t know how I’d survive the work place without them. If you don't know what an office wife is, here's a little article. Every office job I’ve had has required me to attain an office wife. Sometimes I find them. Sometimes they find me. The point is we find each other in the crazy corporate world. We listen to each other’s problems and give advice. We give knowing looks when the boss says or does something stupid. We cover for each other when the boss goes on a rampage and stick-up for each other when the other is getting the shaft. Thanks to them we don’t bore our significant others with office talk, we don’t go postal at the office, and the day moves a little quicker. Through the years, all of my office wives have helped me become the tolerable person I am today. While I love them all, none have excelled at being an office wife as Megan has.

Megan came in at the beginning of season two. At that time my office wife was Annie. I was trying to get Dal the job that Megan was applying for, so I was slightly disappointed. Then she kept talking to me and asking me questions. No matter how short my answers were or how grumpy I was she didn’t relent from being friendly. Then Annie got fired and I needed another office wife. The office divorce is so much easier. Anyway, with Megan’s gift of baking and the flowers she gave me after my Mom died she won me over. We then proceeded to become
office husband and wife.

She taught me to notice when a women changes her hair or wears something new. I helped her and her husband with their stereo set-up. She knows my moods and how to handle them. I let her discuss her frustrations when work gets her down. When I had a big date she stayed late and covered for me. But best of all, once a month I get a personal batch of Megan's brownies. It's a wonder her husband's not Orca fat. Currently, Megan has moved on to bigger and better things in the production building. Still, we try to visit every day, and share our gossip and complaints. Eventually, I will need to find another office wife. I apologize to whoever that will be because you'll have some big shoes to fill.

Side Note: There is one possible negative if you become my office wife. If a certain old flame and I bump into you in Santa Monica, the old flame will probably act like she wants to rip out your jugular. But the chances of that are like one in a million unless your name is Megan.

A Sign I Perhaps Have No Soul

Last night coworkers and I had our yearly exercise in morbidity. We had our 2006 Dead Pool Draft. If for some reason you don’t know what a Dead Pool is, let me briefly explain. Basically you pick famous people you believe are going to die during the year of 2006. Whoever gets the most right wins the cash. Like I said it’s morbid. Though really what else would you expect from people that have to come up with creative ways for people to die every week?

Last year I came in second place with the whopping total of 3 out of 10 correct answers. Brian D. won with 4, and has been proclaiming himself the “Lord of Death” for the past three months. I plan to make that stop this year. In our format nobody can have the same person twice, which made this year somewhat difficult because we have 13 people playing this year. But, it’s also a keeper league so people who were on you list last year and didn’t die you can swap over to the next year without them going into the draft pool.

I’ll be honest and say that my keepers are so strong I kind of slacked off in the draft. My keepers were:

Brooke Astor

Mitch Miller

Lady Bird Johnson

Dolores Hope

Billy Graham

That’s a pretty solid list, especially the women. So, I didn’t really prepare that much. I picked out a few solid picks and the rest were all not so familiar names along the lines of Brooke Astor. So the rest of my list played out with:

Estelle Getty

Claude Levi-Strauss

Peter O’Toole

Judge Wapner

Sean Connery

Not bad. Estelle and Claude are solid. Connery’s a complete gamble. But really what was the last movie he was in? My major problem with the draft is that nobody knew Billy Preston. Sunil did, and Steve confused him with Billy Ocean. But you need at least half of the group to know the person for them to make the list. Anyway, that was one of the locks I was counting on. Billy Preston! The fifth Beatle! He wrote “Outta Space,” “Nothing From Nothing,” and “You are so Beautiful.” That through off the rest of the draft for me. He’s on dialysis too. Man, we are really building up some bad karma with this.

The Most Disgusting Thing I’ve Ever Done or How to Stop Someone from Stealing Your Newspaper.

During my final year in Va Beach, I lived with one of the greatest guys ever, Dave. It should be known that I’m always a sucker for kids selling stuff for their school. Whether it’s magazines, candy bars, or newspaper subscriptions, I usually end up being suckered in. I had recently been suckered in to purchasing a useless newspaper subscription to the worthless Virginia Beach Pilot.

A short time after the newspaper subscription began they started vanishing. I called the newspaper to make certain they were delivered. They confirmed that I was still receiving the paper. Obviously, somebody was stealing my newspaper. Dave and I suspected that it was the next door neighbor. To catch the thief Dave setup a video camera. Yes, I realize this is a lot to go through over a newspaper I rarely read but I paid for it dammit.

Anyway, the next morning we checked the videotape and sure enough it was our next door neighbor. Dave politely went next door and asked for the newspaper back. We got all of it back except for the sport’s page. Bastard. With the confrontation I thought the situation was put to rest. I was wrong.

The guy kept stealing our paper no matter how many times we confronted him. During every confrontation the jackass kept playing dumb. After the umpteenth theft, I finally snapped. After closing Papa John’s, I stayed up all night till the newspaper was delivered. I brought the newspaper in, removed it from its plastic baggy, and put an old newspaper in its place. Inside the sports section of the old newspaper I placed a piece of note. On that note I wrote: “I Peed On This! Stop stealing my newspaper!” I then proceeded to make certain the note wasn’t an idle threat. That morning I watched with glee as the neighbor snuck over and stole our newspaper. I’m not proud of this even if it did bring me some satisfactory revenge. I admit it was immature, but he wouldn’t stop stealing my newspaper. An extreme course of action was needed because he wouldn’t listen. I refused to think Judge Wapner was a possible solution. And you know what? It worked. He never stole our newspaper again. Of course this meant I had to set my alarm to 5am, so our neighbor wouldn’t return the favor.

Snobfest 2205: The Blog Posts

This is it. The last recap. I'm so sick of these. Snobfest has worn thin like a drunk date. Here are some of my favorite posts this past year.

What the World Sees: The Day of Papers

Not only did this bring back awful flashbacks, but the output of pages impressed me.

Krystal Ball: Gettin Presidential

I only wish I could apply it.

Tales from the Keymaster: Christmas Tradition

Often times I've heard friends talk about how crazy their family is. Often I've been disappointed by the level of craziness once I meet them. Somehow I think part of Keymaster's family would not disappoint.

Mol Jr.: 10/26/43-4/23/84

No explanation needed here.

3CT: To the Happy Couple (TS)

Classic Tim. I still go back and read this for a good laugh.

3CT: Skyr: Icelandic Yogurt / The 3rd Chair Trombone Interview (JD)

It raised the bar on 3CT.

3CT: Gilligan in Purgatory (BH)

And this one cleared the bar easily.

Now back to this blog's regularly scheduled boredom.

A Link Suggestion

I meant to put this in today's Ramblings but I forgot. See, I'm going senile. Anway, I just wanted to suggest taking a look at a friend's blog. CBS has asked one of our Executive Story Editors to write a blog about the show. Corey Miller has been pegged, and has been doing a great job at giving you an insight into the TV making business. I highly recommend it. But, please, please, don't email him with story ideas.

Ramblings

As with most people on the west coast, work at the office came to a halt to watch the Jet Blue plane make an emergency landing. I came with away with a few things after watching the amazing landing. First, Jet Blue owes that pilot whatever he requests. You couldn’t ask for a better landing. If I was on a plane that he was flying I’d feel completely safe. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if Jet Blue advertised the flights he flew. Second, I found it slightly disturbing that the passengers were watching their own footage on the plane. Sure, you’d probably like to know what’s actually happening but it still seems morbid to me. Finally, with the reported jokes made by the pilot and passengers to alleviate the tension, and my co-workers compelled to quote Airplane it seems humor once again is the biggest defensive mechanism. I'm also never fyling anything with "bus" in its name.

So season premiere week is nearly over. There hasn’t been any series premieres that have really grabbed me. I had high hopes for Threshold, but they were quickly dashed. Supernatural makes a good effort but still falls a little flat. Invasion has promise. Prison Break came out of the gate strong, but has quickly bored me. I’d also like to thank ABC for moving Lost to 9PM which is the same time as Veronica Mars. Thanks for forcing me and my Tivo to make a choice. I’m sorry Miss Mars. Miss Bell is so cute too. Still hoping for Night Stalker to come through. I was also sad to see Diane Farr on Numb3rs, which means she really is no longer on Rescue Me.

Enough time has passed that I’ve come to terms with the Cubs not making the playoffs, again. It’s now time for me to pick teams to root for during the rest of the year. My AL choice is the Indians. I’m hoping they actually catch the Whitesox. I like to share my misery. It seems odd but my NL selection is the actually the Phillies. I hate the Astros so much that I’m actually going to back a Philly team. I do like the Chase Utley though. Overall, I’m for the Indians winning it all. Still hate the Yankees. Does any team for the NL West even deserve to go to the playoffs?

On a whim I picked up the new Rolling Stones album. It’s actually pretty good. They’ve seemed to have finally realized they don’t need to try to compete with the new bands musically. They simply need to rock. There are still a few stumbles along the way, but this is their best album in quite awhile.

Looks like Fiona Apple is finally releasing her album…YAWN.

Bought the bizarre trippy Jap-pop game We Love Katamari. If you’re a fan of the original, you’ll love this. There are no big changes. The worlds are more unique (underwater, zoo, space, etc). Vs. mode has been beefed up. There’s also a great co-op mode that will make the perfect drinking game. Basically it’s you and a friend trying to work together to roll the Katamari. Imagine the good times watching two drunk friends attempting to coordinate their motor skills. I was also pleased to hear they kept the same theme song. Kitschy Joy!

For some frightening and comical reading I recommend checking out the last few posts on Paper Graffiti and Potential Lunch Winner. It will give you a good glimpse into the mind of someone who needs some serious help. Who knew someone could love Kids Inc. that much? C! R! A! Z! Y! Incorporated!

I’d also like to welcome Krystal back to the blogging universe. If you need party ideas or want to know where pop culture is headed next I suggest you give it a read. Plus, her posts are much better written than mine.

The Girl for the Trees

A few people have asked about the identity of the girl in the picture. Maybe it’s the defiantly displayed middle finger. Most likely it’s that I’m in a picture with a girl…and we’re touching. Whatever the reason, she’s a good story from my life, so I’ll share. Her name is Nancy.

Since I was on the unintentional five year program at Cedarville and my first core group of friends were a year older, I needed to find a new core after my Junior year. Thanks to my best friend Eric, I was able to find a core in the broadcasting department. Part of that group was Nancy. At first she was on the fringe. Even more than me she strayed from the Cedarville standard. Her penchant for go-go boots, and the provocative put off many of the yuppie raised students. Lucky for her, those in the broadcasting department were the black sheep of Cedarville. Actually, it was lucky for the broadcasters.

It wasn’t till after the first quarter of my Junior year that I actually got to know Nancy. The broadcasting department went on it’s annual retreat to a kids camp. The goal was to help clean up the place, and get it ready for some kids. For some reason one of the groups consisted of Nancy, myself, and every other goofball in the department. Thank goodness we were only put on raking duty. We didn’t do too much damage, but we didn’t do much raking either. I think we lost a rake to the elements, but that was about it. Nancy and I bonded on music and movies over that weekend. One movie though led us to be friends. Nancy loved disco, Manilow, and basically all things 70’s pop culture. Her main crush though was John Travolta. Even before “Pulp Fiction” she was all about Travolta. So, when “Pulp Fiction” did come out, she had to see it, and see it often. At that time, Cedarville students were not allowed to see movies at the multiplex. That of course didn’t stop Nancy and me. I can’t even remember how many times we saw that movie. In between our viewings of Royales with cheese and severed ears our friendship grew.

We started hanging out more. We’d actually go see other movies. We’d edit our projects together blaring Manilow and the Bee Gees till 3 in the morning. Giving each other the middle finger was our sophomoric and endearing way to greet each other. Still, she was distant. A close friend of hers died during my second senior year, and it shook her pretty hard. She struggled with eating after that, but her wall was too thick to accept help. She also had a life outside our group that she never let many into. Even though she was a blast to hang out with, and we had a certain bond, she was never willing to share. Not that I was the sharing type either. That’s probably one of the reasons we were friends.

I don’t have any regrets when it comes to my dating life. I may have said or done the wrong thing, but it never really bothered me much. If it wasn’t to be, it wasn’t to be. As long as learned from my mistakes I was happy with that. Nancy though is a regret because I was never able to find out what could have been. Something or somebody always got in the way of me asking her out. She would have a boyfriend or had a crush. When she was single I’d have a crush. That’s my own fault. Nancy and I met up in D.C. for spring break but my mind would be so caught up in another girl I didn’t see what was in front of me. Even when I was over that, I’d hesitate because we both had self destructive leanings. I also thought she was too cool for me. I didn’t think I measured up with her cool friends at the time. Again that’s my fault. I didn’t get a sense of what could have been till after I graduated. On a whim I decided to visit Cedarville after I graduated. I was living in Columbus at the time, so it was only an hour and half drive. Most of my friends were out of town at the time, but Nancy was there. We hung out that evening and made plans to have breakfast before I went back. Not to be an inconvenience I broke into an old professor's office and crashed on his couch. We met for breakfast at Perkins, and she did something I’d never witnessed before. She shared. She opened up to me, and I shared in return. We discussed our fears of the future, and our dreams. We said goodbye in the parking lot, and she gave me hug. She then said she wished she’d known me better. Talk about a kind word with a dash of pain. Even though I went to most of our friends weddings and get togethers, I never got to see her again. I’d get letters every now and then. Some only had a drawing of a middle finger. Last I heard she was married with kids, and living a good life. She’s still the only regret of my love life. I never really saw her among the others till it was too late. She taught me to be more comfortable in my own skin. She also gave me an idea of what I’m looking for. So maybe it’s not really a regret but more of a constant curiosity of what might have been.

There was one other minor regret. Eric later told me that Nancy and her best friend had asked Eric if he and I wanted to go skinny dipping with them. Apparently knowing what’s best for me, he said I would probably not want to. Thanks Eric.

Nancy also had one of my favorite celebrity sightings. After she graduated, she stated working for CSPAN. She would set up the cameras for the House and Senate meetings. Walking down to a camera, she was singing “Staying Alive.” Behind her she heard someone start singing with her. She turned around and sure enough it was John Travolta. That could only happen to Nancy.

To Geekdom and Back

Hello Ladies! This picture was taken during the peak of my life. Notice the arrogant pose. That look of disinteresst. I knew I was the shit! From kindergarten to the 3rd grade I ruled the roost. I bullied the younger kids. The girls all wanted me to be Luke Skywalker to their Leia, which was ridiculous and creepy considering how that turned out. Besides, everyone knew Solo was the man, so I had to be Han. I had the cool toys, the cool clothes, and sweet ass bedroom loft all to myself. Even at church, I was the crème de la crème of the bunch. My Dad had helped started the church, so I got in on the ground floor. Again, I was the shit. Then it all went awry. It began with two events. First, there was my 9th birthday party. My Mom planned this lavish party, and I invited everyone. Unknown to me there was one problem. My best friend at the time, Brent was held back to repeat the 2nd grade. We went to the same school and church, so we always hung out. It got to the point were I was being called Brent and he Brad. Of course, I invited him first. I was later made aware by another friend of mine what an error of judgment this was. In fact, I was told that if I didn’t revoke my party invitation to Brent nobody else would come. I didn’t revoke the invitation but my “cool kid” card was. Only four kids I think showed up, but I’d rather had them then a bunch of kids wanting free cake. I still remember us modifying my new race track to see how far we could launch the cars.

The second thing that happened was my parents divorced. Any ego or confidence I had left was completely wiped out by that event. As the case with a lot of kids, moving to a new place, new school, and with no friends can screw you up. The preference towards Star Wars, G. I. Joe, and buliding forts was a hinderence. What didn’t help either was that I didn’t have my Mom to dress me anymore.That’s the best way I can explain the picture to the right. The one nice thing was that if it got too sunny I could just close the drapes to my haircut.

Five years later and things didn’t get any better. Again I had to move. This time it was back to Ohio. I thought for a moment that I would be able to get back together with my previous friends. A few of them were going to my new high school, and we started going to the same church. How wrong I was. I wasn’t the “Good friend” Brad anymore. I was the “I kind of remember you” Brad. It was also at this point that I spent most of my time buried in comic books, and listening to Weird Al. I was also the son of a teacher, which meant I was never invited to parties or other social events. So I collected my comic books, went to my art house movies, and worked as a janitor to pay for it all. I at least had my Mom in town who worked hard to improve my fashion sense. It didn’t really take till college though.

I was still a hopeless cause till my fourth year of undergrad (there would be five years total). It was then that I realized how to turn my shyness into the appearance of cool, and to not give a rat’s ass. I may have been too shy to talk. But, if you just lean back in your chair, and have the look of disinterest on your face, it appears you don’t give a shit and would rather be somewhere else. I relied on this numerous times till I worked through the overbearing shyness. I also stopped caring that I was apparently the only die hard Neil Diamond fan, or that I would get in trouble for seeing movies, or that jeans weren’t allowed to be worn in class. It took awhile but this was a big step. I stopped trying to be everything to everyone in an effort to make friends. If you didn’t care, or you thought I was weird, I didn’t care. I didn’t regain my lost coolness, but I didn’t care about the geek part. Grunge hitting the airwaves, and the underground becoming mainstream in the 90’s, also helped too. This was evident, when at my five year high school reunion I had numerous people talking about the comic books they are reading. These were the same people who laughed at my speech on “Comic Books Aren’t for Kids Anymore.”

That leads us up to present day. I dress a little better. Some people think I’m cool. I can function socially in a group of five or more. But, I’m still that shy skinny punk who needs a sign from God in order to kiss a girl. I guess I never got back from geekdom hell, I just learned to make it home, and enjoy the compant of my fellow inmates.

Jiff's Wedding w/ photos

To begin let us get a few non wedding moments out of the way. This being my first trip to Seattle, I was quite impressed. I could feel my lungs filling with fresh air with each drag of my cigarette. Also, you don't get many views like thise in Los Angeles:









I arrived at the airport early Friday. I had forgotten to set my alarm and I woke up with less than an hour to get to the airport. Thank goodness I flew out of LBC. Also, when the pilot say the current temperature in Seattle is 54, what's the first thing you think of? "Sweaters!" is what first went through my mind. I met up with Sara. She is a firend from the Regent days. She would be my travel buddy for the weekend. She's always good for a laugh.

Our first mission once we checked in was to buy some sweaters. Sara had not planned accordingly either. In the little visitors brochure at the hotel they offered 15% off at this mall. Here's a little advice. When a mall uses 15% offers to entice shoppers, the mall probably blows. This mall was no exception. The first problem was that it was located in Puyallup. The trip was worthless. How does any store in Washington not constantly carry sweaters? It was 54 degrees in September! Aren't sweaters needed year round? The trip did have one highlight. Here is the biggest pumpkin I've ever seen in person. It was HUGE!
I then went to the rehearsal dinner, while Sara did the wise thing and got some sleep. The dinner was nice. I hadn't seen Jeff in quite some time, and got to finally meet his fiance, Kristin.

The next day, Sara and I finally found a decent mall. We then went down to the Pike area in downtown Seattle. We ate at Etta's, walked around a little till we had to get back for the wedding. My whole time wandering around I kept thinking I have to come back and take my time with Seattle.

Finally the wedding:
The groomsmen:







"My Buddy Steven" sings:









Tim and Anna:









Bobby and Dal:









Me and Sara:









(I was caddying before the wedding, so I could buy a wedding gift.)

To explain this cake I will simply say that Jeff is from Texas. There was also a real wedding cake, but this one that warranted a picture:









Considering it was pouring buckets a few hours before the wedding, Jeff and Kristin were certainly blessed to get that window of sun. It was great seeing Lauren again. Jeff's family is always great. Missed Mol Jr. not being able to make it. One of the odd things is that Bobby, Tim, Dal and I were constantly getting recognized for the "Goodness" shorts we did. It was like being a mini-mini-mini celebrity. I hope this will somehow spur us on to make some more.

Overall, the trip was great. It was nice seeing the Jeff's side again. It's most likely the last time I'll see them. Who knows? I never did get to go to Safeco Field, but after hanging out in downtown I knew I'd be coming back to Seattle. So big ups to Jeff and Kristin. He finally found someone who he feels comfortable touching, and big ups to Seattle the land of rain, seafood, and really big pumpkins.!

Ode to Jeff

So, I’m off to wedding #2 this weekend. This time I only have to go to Seattle. He’s been my roommate twice. He goes by Jiff in the MOL Nation. I call him Jeff, or Jeffrey and sometimes Jimmy, but usually it’s Jeff. This is my tribute to Jeff.

I met Jeff at Regent University. I’ve bitched and moaned about wasting my time at Regent, but most of the friends these days come from some Regent connection. Hell, I even got my job because of a Regent connection. So I should stop bitching, even though it’s still the community college of grad schools. It was my first month or so into my MA. The only friend I’d made since being there was a Laurie Spadea. Hummana. Hummana. I’d seen Jeff in my other classes. He and Rob Strain were always sitting around and laughing. It seemed like they’d know each other before Regent. I forget what class it was, but the two of them started up a conversation with me. We talked about Beavis and Butthead I think. Jeff would later say it was because of my smiley face watch that he struck up the conversation. Finally, there were a couple guys who didn’t drink from the Pat Kool-Aid jug. In our Intro to Video class, (Yes, there was an Intro to Video class in MA Film and TV program) I gave of the hot chick (Spadea) to hang with Jeff. I wormed my into their production group, and it went on from there. I would later on become his roommate till Jeff wisely went to USC to get a real education. I would later join him, Bobby and Tim in LA, and we would be roommates once again.

My Favorite Jeff Moments:

Video Projects: Jeff, Rob, and I would always work as a group to do the assignments. We constantly got in trouble with either students or faculty with our projects. It began with our first project when we got notes that my comment on Michael W. Smith touching my ass was inappropriate. We came off as racist with Jeff’s Syrupee skit when in actuality it was more offensive to the mentally handicap. When my directing project had Jeff killing Sara with a lawn mower because he was scared to break up with her, it didn’t come across very well either. We even conspired with Jeff when he used his directing project to woo a girl he had a crush on. The culmination of all these were Rob’s projects. Somehow it was always Jeff and I working together to write them. I can proudly say Jeff was my first writing partner. Yes, Rob’s projects always came off better than our own.

Let’s Ride:

Sometimes Jeff just likes to drive with no destination in mind. I was privileged enough to join him on two of these trips. The first one was when the Regent group made plans to go to the Outer Banks. We stopped at Kitty Hawk (Location of the Wright Brother’s first flight) and walked among the sand dunes. Then we just kept going, and going. We drove all the way to the ferry to Ocacoke Island and then turned back. Jeff drove the whole way. The second trip was here in California. Jeff came into the apartment saying the guys (Tim, Bobby and Him) were going for a drive and if I wanted to come. Of course I did. The mountains had recently been hit with some snow, so certain roads were blocked off. Eventually we were able to find our way up to the Sequoia National Forest. There’s something about driving under a sign that says X number of people have died on this road. With no barrier and a sheer drop off I thought the number was a little low. Again we drove till we literally couldn’t drive any further. On the way back, we drove through a small town that was having some kind of festival. We stopped for dinner there, and took some time to walk around. Bobby, I think, even rode that “spin till you puke” ride.

The Christine Incident:

In grad school, Jeff had a slight crush on girl named Christine. Only he eventually got the girl. Since I had never seen the crusher get the crushee, I was rather impressed. There was one problem though. They were oil and water. Being the roommate, I was privy a seat to the arguments and frustration this relationship wrought. It’s quite an anthropological study watching the beginning and end of a relationship. The highlight being when they faked door slamming fight to see what I would do.

The Bus Strike:

When I first moved out here, I didn’t have a car. This meant I had to rely on LA’s wonderful Mass Transit system. My second year there, the bus drivers went on strike. Jeff, God bless him, drove me to work each day till the strike ended. Big ups to Chris too, who gave me the ride home.

My Mom:

Jeff was the first to know when my Mom took a turn for the worse. He knew even before me, because my cell phone had died, and my step-father had left a message on our phone. There was something comforting having Jeff know without me telling him. He also drove me to the airport. Jeff has a way of getting you to talk. Call it a gift. On the drive to the airport, he just drove and listened. I will always remember that.

Top Phrases Added to My Vocabulary by Jeff:

“Jews and Berries? I Don’t Understand?”
“Wheels Off”
“Gaia! Gaia!”
“What is Up?
“Dirty Pretty Girl.”
“Would you like 2 CD’s?”

That’s a glimpse into the impact Jeff’s had in my life. We never saw eye to eye on a lot of things, but he was there when you needed him. I always admires that he is always seeking. He’s always thirsty for knowledge. He is a good Godly man. He also does a top notch Ted Koppel. I raise my 2O fluid oz. bottle of Pepsi to you Jeff. God bless you, and may he give you the joy you’ve given us.

Bobs Wedding: Highs & Lows

Here’s a breakdown of my trip to Virginia Beach.

Wednesday:
As most friends of mine know, I am not a fan of the touching especially strangers. Lucky for me the man sitting next to me didn’t care. Before we even took off, he had his sandals off and invading my space with his dirty, dirty feet. He propped them up on the seat in front of him. He moved them over into my foot space. A few times he even jabbed his foot into my leg. It got to the point where it was Missile Command with feet. Also, I know sandals are big particularly in the summertime. If you want to wear them to the beach, picnic, to run an errand, that’s fine. But if you are in an enclosed space within close proximity of people, put some damn shoes on. I nor anyone else want to see you feet. Another thing with airplanes, just once I’d like to sit next to an attractive girl. Please, just once. LOW

Watched Oldboy on the plane. I was desperate to kill some time, so I bought the UMD for my PSP. Good movie, but very disturbing. It’s a Korean film about a man who has been held captive in a room for 15 years. He gets out, and tries to find those responsible. It does have one of those twist endings that leaves you feeling creepy.

Got to Bob’s late at night. We just hung out and caught up on things. Watched Entourage: HIGH, Watched The Comeback. I had never seen the Comeback, and I now know why. Where the hell are the laughs? It is such a completely unfunny show. It tries to be Curb or the Office, and fails in so many ways. I actually became less funny just watching that crap. Of course that's not saying much. LOW

Thursday:Hung out with Bob and Mike while they did their radio show. It brought back those days of doing my college radio show, except they’re professionals. It also confirmed my decision to get out of radio. HIGH

Had a nice dinner with Stephanie (Bob’s Fiancée) and her family. HIGH

Bob’s sister Erin and her fiancée came by later that night. I hadn’t seen Erin in five years, so it was nice to see her. She’s engaged to a Cub’s fan, and he’s also a good guy. HIGH

Bob, Andrew (Erin’s Fiancée) and I met up later with Mike and some of their friends for a poker marathon. It was one of those play till six in the morning marathons. It should have ended earlier, but Mike and I couldn’t put this kid away. He kept betting on crap hands but then hitting on the flop or the river. It was great playing poker again after so long. But it did have those irritating moments when the morons got lucky. HIGH

Friday:

This was my day to hang out with Melissa. We had lunch. We went to see Broken Flowers at the Naro. It’s a nice quiet and funny movie. It’s not outstanding but very good. Then we had dinner at Aldo’s. To top off the evening we went down to the beach, where there were a bunch of concerts going on. There was nobody I cared to see, especially when it meant standing next to high school kids spitting dip. Melissa’s neighbor works up in some bar called the Skybar. It’s at the top of the new hotel, and is their attempt to be a Miami bar. Because it’s only open to VIP’s and guests, I had to play the “I’m from California” card and asked to see the pool, which is on the same level. The highlight of the Skybar visit was seeing some European snobby twenty something getting thrown out because he wouldn’t leave with his underage girlfriend. He was acting “rich,” and was basically an asshole. Of course if he really came from money, why was he in Virginia Beach? The rich don’t go to Virginia Beach. During the whole day there was no bickering, complaining, or annoyance on either Melissa’s or my part. HIGH

Saturday:

It started off poorly when I locked myself out of Bob’s apartment for almost two hours. There’s nothing like sitting out in the afternoon heat with nothing to drink, smoke, or even kill time. I tried to find a way to break in, but was certain the neighbors would call the cops. LOW

After Bob finally showed up, I went to the rehearsal dinner. It was great seeing Bob’s Mom, and Dave and Billy. Bob’s Mom is one of those wonderful moms that all your friends love. I finally got a picture of Bob and others. HIGHThen came the “dogs got into the chocolate” episode. Bob’s two dogs, Mookie and Shea, got into two bags of chocolate during the rehearsal dinner. Mookie then projectile vomited all over the place. To make matters even worse he made certain to vomit in the most inaccessible areas. LOW

Bob had to drop off the music to the DJ at Peabody’s. We ended up hanging out there for awhile. There is no reason for a 33 year old, who doesn’t drink, to ever be at the meat market. I felt old when I’d go there five years ago. LOW

The rest of the night was spent at Bob’s. We played a little poker, ate a little pizza, and watched a chocolate tweaking Mookie go nuts. HIGH

Sunday:

The wedding was short sweet and to the point, as all weddings should be.
Stephanie looked beautiful. Bob didn't look too shabby himself.











Mike and Alfredo Torres were the life blood of the party.











Got to see Charlie after five years. He’s living in NY now, and just started working as a graphic designer. I recommend checking out his website. I never knew he was this good. There was dancing, drinking, talking baseball, and hugging it out.
A genius way to spend a Sunday and a weekend. HIGH

Side note: A few months ago, Bob and Stephanie had an impromptu engagement party at a Ryan Adams concert of all places. As an engagement present, Ryan Adams gave them some drumsticks and did the art on this drumhead for them. That is the shit.

For Bob

This weekend I’m going back to Virginia Beach for Bob’s wedding. Bob’s made it into a few posts, and has even left a few comments to keep me honest. Since, I’m a quiet heart in a tinderbox kind of guy, I’m going to use this space to say a few words about the greatness that is Bob, my best friend.

As previously posted, I met Bob at Casablanca. I met him through another guy I met their Josh. There were three things that our friendship first became based on: baseball, movies, and the Afghan Whigs. He’s also a funny, funny bitch. He gave me the first nickname I didn’t really mind: “Film School.”

So we’d hang out at the café for hours talking shit with friends and smoking cigarettes. We’d go to bars. Sing Karaoke at The Jewish Mother. Play poker till three in the morning. He’d kick my ass at EA’s Triple Play. We spent way too much time at Waffle House, and IHOP. Now I offer up my favorite Bob moments.

Baseball Trips: Being an avid baseball fan, yet never having any friends that shared the same passion, can suck at times. You want to complain about your favorite team, share your excitement for opening day, or bitch about the Yankees, and you get blank stares. We were both raised baseball fans by our fathers. Bob though is a Met fan. We don’t hold our team affiliations against each other. Three times we’ve done the baseball trip thing. The first one was sort of a warm up for big week long trip that was on the horizon. We went to Fenway to see the Red Sox play the Twins. We hung out around Boston for a couple days. The baseball gods were smiling down on us though. As we walked up Yawkey Way, we saw people passing out K’s. This meant only one thing. Pedro was pitching that night. I will also say this about Bob. The whole time there he wore his Mets hat. I thought for sure somebody was going to say something. Next to wearing a Yankees hat, that’s probably the worst hat you can wear in Boston.

Our big trip came in the next couple weeks. We hit four parks in a week, which really doesn’t seem that much, except the second park we went to was Wrigley. We did Baltimore, Wrigley, Shea, and Yankee. Wrigley and Shea were the obvious highlights. Shea though topped them all. Bob and I went early and just hung out at the ballpark parking lot. We watched some of the players come in. Hal McRae was our favorite because he played for both the Mets and Cubs. He also sucked for both teams. We both had great reasons to mock him, and mock him we did. The game was the Mets and Cubs. We had great seats. It was also of all things Meringue Night. The place was packed, and jumping. This was at the height of Sosa mania so there were also quite a few bandwagon Cubs fans. There was even a guy running around the park dressed to hilt as Sosa. The odd thing was that they honored Sammy Sosa. Which if you’re a Mets fan had to get under your skin. I know it got Bob fuming. The Mets won the game, so justice was served. We left as the Meringue concert was just starting. The place was still jumping.

The third trip was when Bob flew out to visit me on the West Coast. In between trips to Roscoe’s we hit the three Southern California ballparks: Dodgers, Angels, and San Diego. The best was easily San Diego. Even though it was an interleague game between the Mariners and Padres it was a blast. Eddie Money was playing a concert outside, we had great seats, and we saw John Olerud hit for the cycle. He is so slow.

Jail Time: One night I was arrested for supposedly driving with an expired license. I’ll share that story some other time. I ended up having to walk a mile to a 7-11 from the Police Station when they released me. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere and with my car impounded, I had to rely on my friends to pick me up. After one friend refused to pick me up, it was Bob and my roommate Dave that actually showed up. I hadn’t even been able to call Bob from the pay phone, but since I didn’t show up at the diner he came looking for me. That’s a friend. Big ups to Dave Baldwin too for showing up.

Late Nights: Because I worked nights as a delivery man for PaPa John’s I took full advantage of my night owl life style. My cohort was always Bob. We’d hit the diners or go to Taco Bell right before they closed. We’d wander Wal-Mart to see what new Star Wars figures they got. Good times.

My Mom: The first friend I called when my Mom died was Bob. He was the friend I needed at that moment. He understood. He knew he didn’t need to say anything. He knew I just needed a friend to talk to. Bob also ended up being one of my few friends to have actually met her. That seems fitting.

Top Bob Songs:

Prince-Let’s Go Crazy: The greatest karaoke performance I’d ever seen.

Any Afghan Whigs song: I should also say that this is one of my main regrets. I never got to see the Whigs with Bob. Every time we planned to go, something would happen. Dulli got hurt once. I got arrested. Etc.

Elvis-You Were Always on My Mind: This became the theme song of our week long baseball trip.

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion-Bellbottoms: Bob bought the Orange album on the trip to Boston. It became the staple album of that trip.

Easy-The Commodores: My last night in Virginia Beach, I said my goodbyes. Bob being the last. It was rather tearful. As drove back to my place, Easy was playing on the radio. I later found out that Bob was listening to Easy as well as he drove home.

One final minor regret is that during all the trips and other adventures I’ve had with Bob, and I don’t have one single picture of Bob. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have one of me either. I ended up having to steal this off the website for the radio station he works at.

There we go. These are really only snippets of the greatness of Bob, but I hope you get the idea. There are tons of other stories I may share along the way. So to Bob the best friend anyone could ever have. May God bless you as you start another chapter.

Speedy Delivery! Speedy Delivery!

I’ve been debating on which story would be the last in this line of embarrassing or awkward moments involving the opposite sex. I was going to go with the cold fish kiss when I was in graduate school, or the out of the blue kiss in undergrad. I decided on both. They both have their nice little comedic moments. We will start with Jen Fast, who lived by her last name.

My first few years of undergrad I hung out a lot with the some upperclassmen in my dorm unit. One of the guys, Tom, would invite us often up to Michigan for the short holidays like Thanksgiving and such. My first Thanksgiving with Tom is when I met Jen Fast. She was a friend of a friend of Tom’s that we hung out with one night. I think the most I ever spoke to her was “Hi. I’m Brad. Nice to meet you.” That’s it. There was no playful banter or even idle chitchat. Nothing.

Six months later, I travel up to visit Tom during the summer between my sophomore and junior year. Tom worked nights as a security guard, so it was just me watching a bunch of movies on VHS or playing Rogue on his ancient computer. One night, I was getting ready to put in “Nightmare on Elm Street,” when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I was greeted by Jen and Tom’s friend. I told them, “Tom’s not here.” Jen said, “We know. Can we come in?” I stammered, “Yes.” Before you start thinking in a certain direction, let me now mention that Tom’s friend’s boyfriend then followed them in after parking their car. I should also mention that it wasn’t till after we broke up into pairs and sat down to watch “NoES” that I finally remembered Jen’s name. Before then I was stuck using second person pronouns.

With the seating arrangements settled, I found my self sitting with Jen on the small couch, often called the “love seat.” Fifteen minutes into the movie, I glanced over to see the friend and her boyfriend making out. Something I thought was completely inappropriate. I turned to Jen to voice my complaint. There was that look in her eye. I’d never really seen it real life, but I’d seen it in movies. I believe it is often called the “come hither” look, or something like that. It should be known that I had not kissed a girl since Jill in the storage closet. That was in 1985. It was 1992 at the time. This would be the history of my romantic life: Long droughts followed by sudden bursts of heavy rain. Since it had been 7 years, I was slightly apprehensive. I was cutting and splicing all the kisses I’d seen in movies to create my blueprint of a good kiss. She smiled as her pinky finger wrapped around mind. She leaned in close, and closed her eyes. What could I do? I had no choice, no options. I quickly stood up and said, “I need a drink. Would you like anything?”

It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss her. She was cute, and sweet. The problem was I didn’t really know her. Who knows where her mouth has been. And this whole situation was just kind of thrust upon me. My wheels were off, and it had been a really, really long time.

Ten minutes later after a personal pep talk, I slid back in next to Jen. She grabbed my hand. I kept my eyes on the movie. She grabbed my knee. I kept my eyes on the movie. She turned my face toward hers. I really tried to keep my eyes on the movie, but my peripheral vision is limited. She smiled and said, “They won’t mind.” I looked over at the friend and her boyfriend who had at this point just fallen asleep. Obviously, they won’t mind, but I’m not much of an exhibitionist. But, I realized my fate was sealed. I couldn’t fight it anymore. So I went for it, finally. Fireworks exploded. Angels sang. My lips went numb, as did my arm that she was lying on. I was tapped. 7 years cleaned out in one kiss. She though wasn’t finished. She kept going and going. I wondered if this was her first kiss, or maybe her first make-out session as well. It kept going so long I was actually trying to catch glimpses of the TV because Letterman was on. Finally, after draining my soul, she said, “I need to get home before curfew.” Curfew? What college girl has curfew during summer? Oh shit! Yes, she was indeed still in high school. She was getting ready to start her senior year. Sweet. Now I was a cradle robber!

Anyway they left. She kissed me goodbye at the door, and said “Don’t forget me.” Obviously, I couldn’t. For a couple months we exchanged letters. I never gave her my address, she stole it off some of my luggage. Eventually, after a creepy phone call in the middle of the night, I lost touch with her. I never heard from her again. That is till my fifth year of undergrad, when one of the campus computer nerds ran up to me and asked if I was Brad Iten. After answering yes, he proceeded to tell me that he came across some girl on the message boards, who was looking for a Brad Iten. He said her name was “Jen Speed- something.” “Jen Fast?” I asked. “Yes,” he exclaimed. Creepy I thought. It would then be another seven year drought till I kissed another girl.

Excuse Me Sir, You Have Been Sequestered for Your First Kiss.

My oasis from attending Bob Jones as a kid was Clearview Circle where I lived with my brother and Dad. There were woods in the back to explore, a giant tree in the backyard to climb, and Jill across the street to adore. Jill Davis was my first crush. She was the first girl that made an infection of “cooties” seem desirable. She also happened to live right across the street. Jill was everything a young rebel would want in a girl. She went to a public school, listened to secular music, went to movies, and was an early bloomer.

Jill had always known I had a crush on her. How did she know? Oh, I told her when she asked. It was before the days I knew you were supposed to deny, deny, deny. On a certain Valentine’s Day, I was hanging out with her brother and my brother. At the time, Jill was in the backyard with her friend Allison(?). Allison was that mischievous instigator that always enjoyed toying with the fact that I had a crush on Jill. That is why I was rather suspicious when she walked up to me and said Jill wanted to give me a Valentine’s Day kiss. It was one of those “punch in the nose” moments. I was dazed and stunned. After giving myself a standing eight count, I asked why. Yes, I realize when a girl wants to give you a kiss, that last thing you should ask is why. But, I had seen my TV shows, and a few movies. This isn’t really how first kisses were supposed to happen. I envisioned lowered lights, or a starlit sky. Allison simply replied “Because it’s Valentine’s Day.” Good enough for me. After receiving my instructions to meet Jill behind the playhouse, I made the trek to the back yard. I would like to say I walked with a confidence rarely seen in a man except for Cary Grant. In actuality, I was practicing kissing on my hand.

With a racing heart and slobbered hand, I finally approached the back of the playhouse. As stated, there was Jill with a slightly nervous expression. Come to think of it, her expression was more apprehension than nervous. Anyway, I shuffled up to her and said “Hey.” She replied, “Tongue or no tongue.” At that point, my brain barely got off the mat before the referee counted to ten. It should be stated that as a kid growing up, I was never one to adhere to learning curves. Perhaps I should have said “No tongue,” and worked up from there. I like jumping the first few rungs, so I said, “Tongue.” Ok. I really said “Tongue, I guess?” Though, any guy in their right mind, when presented those options, is going to say “Tongue.” Who is going to say, “No tongue?” Who?

So, I set myself as she said “Ok. Now close your eyes.” Yes, I realize now that this is a common phrase that would lead to me kissing a dog, or some other practical joke. But, my brain had already thrown in the towel awhile ago. There actually was no practical joke to follow. I got to kiss my first crush. This is what movies are made of. This is the American Dream. This was one of those first steps to being a man. Except for one thing: It sucked. Perhaps it was her nervousness/apprehension. Maybe it was my lack of experience. It could have been the awkward 2 minutes of silence that followed, after which I said, “Ok. Thanks. Uh. I’m gonna go watch Stingray.” We then just quietly backed away from the scene. That is not how I pictured my first kiss to be. How could the TV and movies lie to me? Where were the stars and fireworks? Where was the choir of angels? Was that really French kissing? I thought there was supposed to be more tongue. Anyway, that was my first awkward lip contact with the opposite sex. Weird as it was, Jill actually made up for it a couple years later. The day I moved back to Ohio Jill gave me a goodbye kiss in the storage closet at the back of our house. That was how a first kiss was supposed to be. Except I think Allison was watching. Shudder.

Hello Ladies! No! Wait! Don’t Run! I’m Clean!

As my friends will attest, I have had a spotty record at best with the female population of our species. To prove my point, I will be posting the top five most awkward/uncomfortable moments over the next couple days. There is no real order to any of these, but you can do it if you want.

1. During my junior year in Cedarville, I was living in an apartment complex with four other friends. There were quite a few Cedarville students that lived in the complex, but none as beautiful as Claire. She lived directly across the courtyard, and was clearly the most attractive woman to ever attend Cedarville. The difference between us was tee-ball and the Majors, she was that far out of my league. I was too naïve and smitten to care.

One wintry morning I decided it was too cold to go to class...again. Watching a rerun of last night'’s Sportscenter, I heard a knock at the door. Who was there? Sweet Claire in all her naturally bronzed skin beauty. She needed a ride to class, and was wondering if I could be her chauffeur. Of course I said yes, because it'’s never too cold for love just class.

This brings us to my car at the time. It was a 1974 Ford Maverick in mustard gold, and with a brown vinyl top. It was my first car ever. I bought it for 900 bucks that summer. Like most men, I gave her a name: Claudia. As you may have noticed the name Claudia is a little similar to Claire.

After being a gentlemen and opening the passenger side door for her, I "school boy skipped" in and started up the car. Amazingly it started in the 20 below weather. The problem came when I tried to back out. The snow had turned to a thick layer of ice that night. Here I had the girl of my dreams in my car and I was left spinning my wheels. Trying to coax a little traction out my car, I started talking to my car. The problem is I kept calling it Claire rather than Claudia. I started saying things like, "Come on! Claire baby," and "“You can do it Claire." Whereas you can imagine her reaction, I didn'’t at the time. That is till I started rubbing the dash of a car and said, "“Come on Claire, you know I love you."” Finally realizing I was saying Claire instead of Claudia, I tried to talk my way out. After trying to explain that my car's real name was Claudia, but I got Claire on the mind because...It was useless. So, the car never got out of the parking space, and Claire was forever creeped out. I still had the balls to ask her out to a baseball game later on. Of course, she said no.

Tomorrow: My Shakespearean Comedy

Tales from Minimum Wage

I was thinking last night about the worst jobs I’ve ever had. It’s a long list but helps when I get frustrated with the new job. As Bobby, Tim and Jiff know, I have my share tales from minimum wage. This might work its way into being a once a month column. I know you’re supposed to save the best for last, but since I don’t know where this will go I’ll start off with the best I’ve got. This post has been rated MA for language and personally awkward situations.


As I’ve stated before, I worked the overnight desk at the smallest Best Western in world. Apparently, it’s now a Regency Inn. I worked there my junior and first senior year of undergrad. My job consisted of coming in at six and working the desk till midnight, when I could go down to “the den” and sleep. I did all the normal crap from wake-up calls to laundry. There’s nothing like washing sheets that strangers have slept in.

One night I was called in on my night off to cover for my roommate because he wanted to spend time with his girl. To greet me was the racist 65 yr old afternoon desk clerk, and the manager named Snookie. Yes, Snookie. They left with a warning that the church was paying for a homeless couple to stay in one of the rooms. I think it was room nine. If they caused any problems, I should call the church and Snookie.

The night was rather slow the first few hours. Then someone rang from room number nine. I answered it. Mistake #1. The first words uttered were, “Do you know why Montana went to Kansas City?” Imagine an 80 year lady who smoked since she was six with the drunk slur going, and you get a good idea of what she sounded like. She answered my “No,” with the fact that Montana was apparently a drug fiend and signed with Kansas City to get more money for drugs. Then she hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, she called up again asking if she could bring her puppy into the room. Sticking to my guns, I said she couldn’t because dogs aren’t allowed. She proceeded to give detail information of her life as a prostitute, about the guy in the room that beats her, and how she was proud of her daughter, who wanted nothing to do with her. She followed that up by asking again if she could bring the puppy into her room. What do you say after a story like that? We’ll just call it mistake #2.

I quickly followed that up with mistake #3, when I agreed to her pleads to meet me. She wanted to thank me for being such a kind person. I waited for half an hour. She called back, saying she couldn’t find the office. Now the hotel is in the shape of a rectangle, and she was on the bottom floor. The office was on the corner, literally fifteen feet from her room. I gave her directions and she still couldn’t find it. After giving her directions for the third time, I waited. Another guest of the hotel came in and was getting some ice from the bucket. Of course that’s when she comes in, barefoot, stumbling, and wearing a tie-dyed New Kids on the Block T-shirt. Thinking the guest was me, she gave the poor guy a big hug. By tomorrow morning, I was sure I would be fired or dead. Apologizing deeply, I got her off him, and was then given my own drunken bear hug. For those who don’t know, I’m not what you would consider a “touchy feely” person…at all. The smell of booze and a damp ashtray didn’t help.

She hung out with me for about thirty minutes telling me more of her life, her daughter and how she got from Kansas City to Ohio. Halfway through our chat, the man she was staying with rang. He wanted know if she was still there. This conversation then followed:

Man: “Has the bitch sucked your c*ck yet?”
Me: (Gag reflex) “No!”
Man: “What are you waiting for?”
Me: Unintelligible mumbling

After hanging up, she went into full detail about this hulk of man who was a complete asshole, and beat her repeatedly. It was at that moment I realized that for the sake of my life and job, it was time for her to leave. Trying to get her out of the office, she latched onto a necklace I was wearing. As stars stared popping in my vision from lack of oxygen, I asked if she wanted it. She said no, and pointed to the flannel shirt I was wearing. I gurgled no. She then pointed to my Huey Lewis and the News T-shirt. (Remember, I didn’t know better at the time). I asked if she wanted the T-shirt. Mistake #4. She responded by whipping off her New Kids on the Block T-shirt and handing it to me. At this point you might be asking yourself a question. Let me answer it by saying that she in fact was not wearing a bra. Is it sad that these would be the first real live breasts I would see in person?

When faced with a topless 50+ year old drunk woman handing you her T-shirt at your place of employment, you have two choices. Argue with the topless woman till she finally puts her shirt back on, or trade shirts. I made my choice with one factor in mind. What’s the quickest way I could get this woman’s breasts covered? Yes, I ended up with a tie-dyed NKOTB t-shirt that night. She got a Huey Lewis T-shirt. There were no winners.

I then risked life and limb, and ushered her back to her room. Mistake #5. I was certain I was going to be pummeled when this behemoth answered the door. Luckily he was out cold. The smell of booze, smoke, urine, and my own fear kept me at the doorway. She hugged me and I finally went to sleep, thinking this was the end of the ordeal.

My roommate woke me up the next morning and asked me what happened last night. I knew I was fired. I told my tale. He said the lady was picked up by Police when she kept jumping into people’s cars at the grocery store next door. Apparently, as they hauled her away, she yelled that the nice boy Brad deserved a raise. I never got the raise, but I also didn’t get fired. So it was a wash. And that’s it. They tales won’t get better than that. They will get shorter