Spook City USA

 


Ghouls and goblins and jack-o-lanterns... oh my!

The NC State Fair

 

So we went to the NC State Fair this past weekend. We opted for the early Sunday morning trip figuring - being the aethist heathens we are - that we'd beat the church goers by a few hours.

But it was still crowded as shit.

Kudos goes out to my kids who kept their chins up during 30-45 minute waits in line for rides, getting let down by not winning that giant, stuffed animal at the softball toss and long walks around the fairgrounds.

They didn't bitch once which is more than I can say.

We did see the racing pigs.

That's something you must see at least once in your life.

I believe they call it local color.

The Old School Tractor Exhibit

 


Was a pleasant surprise... even the kids dug it.

Fuzzy Bunnies

 


Two words: Donnie Darko

The Rides! The Rides!

 

My 7-year-old wouldn't shut up about going on the rides. From the moment he was informed that the family was going to the NC State Fair, that's all he would talk about.

Then we got to this junior roller coaster.

He changed his mind.

My wife was bummed.

We used to be coaster afficianodos before we had kids: Magic Mountain when we lived in Los Angeles and Kings Dominion in Virginia were once-a-year at best destinations.

Food Vendors

 


I kept it simple and stuck with a hot dog and a piece of pizza if only because they were $4 a pop each. My wife tackled a $7 turkey leg - a homage to the days when we were courtin' and we'd go to Rennaisance Fests for shits & giggles.

I dig this pic for reason I can't explain.

Rock Like War

 


Bill Buckley of Cobra Kahn...


Cobra Kahn played a reunion set last night at Hell on the east side of Chapel Hill. It'd been ten years since the band had graced the clubs of Chapel Hill. Back in the day - when Chapel Hill was a haven for indie rock and bands like Polvo, Archers of Loaf and Superchunk reigned supreme - Cobra Kahn was the one band I could rely on to shudder the foundations of any club with their thunderous dirge. They were heavy but they weren't metal. They had aligned themselves more with the Minneapolis Am Rep bands or NYC's Unsane than anything coming out of Chapel Hill at the time.

And like most bands, just as they were starting to be appreciated by the locals, they broke up.

But last night they returned for one brief night and for a fleeting moment, I was transported back to the mid-90s and the now defunct, long forgotten Lizard & Snake club when I used to watch these guys wretch and heave and spit vitirol and vile from their speakers and mouths.

Sometimes you don't know how much you miss a band until things like these rare reunions come along. I glad they returned, if only for a night, because within those foggy memories came inspiration.

And I'd forgotten what it really means to have your ears ring the day after...

City Of Manning

 





















A couple of weekends ago I got a speeding ticket in South Carolina.

So not wanting to pay a hefty fine and get some points tossed onto my driver's license and have my insurance go up, I drove over three and a half hours each way to go to court in Manning, SC, in the hopes that I would be able to get my fine and charge reduced.

I had to drive my truck, not the Buick Regal I got the ticket with, because my wife had to have the Buick to pick up the kids. My truck is a beat-up Ford Ranger I've had since '92 and has a tape deck with only one working speaker and no A/C. Needless to say, I wasn't stoked to drive this thing to South Carolina.

Oh and SC had record temps - it was 95 degrees.

When I got to Manning, a small town off the I95 corridor, I was shocked to find out just how small a town it was and even more shocked to find out the size of traffic court.


Here's some things I found out about Manning:

- It was first settled by the French Hugenots
- 63 percent of the population today is African-American
- The median household income in $22,483
- In 2003, the population was less than 4,000
- It is equi-distance between Maine and Miami

Fascinating facts about one small town in the Southeast US no?

I can tell you that my fine was reduced to $76.50 and that my points were dropped from 4 to 2. So you can guess that making the trip to this bucolic one-horse town was worth it. But I did feel like I was a bit character in some B-movie horror flick walking around town (one block!) passing three churches, the town's post office and the town's fire station.

I heart the South...

Religion Is Everywhere In The South

 

You can even find it in the shadows.

Mill Street, Manning, SC.

Seven Inch Vinyl Is Alive And Well My Friends

Over the course of the summer, I picked up a bunch of seven inch vinyl records. I have to say that when it comes to punk rock I find the seven inch to be the best way to have your music presented. Most songs are short, you can always opt out for 33 rpms if need be, and you still have the ability to make cool artwork and include a lyric sheet that doesn't need a magnifying glass to read.

During the course of my band's existence, we've managed to meet not only jaded old fucks like ourselves who still enjoy a good Flipperesque groove or hollerin' vocals but also the younger generation who still uphold and revere the finer traditions of underground punk music by still putting out seven inch records.

And even - gasp! - cassettes.

So now I've finally managed to get off my ass and write about some of these records because well I was moved to write about them.

Crossed Eyes
Rattled
(Sorry State Records)
This is the debut from the pop punk phoenix that rose from the ashes of Raleigh's Street Sharks. And when I say pop punk I mean that the music that lies here within contains melody which is often lacking and overlooked these days. This is the stuff fanzines like Razorcake go apeshit over. Smart lyrics and crisp art direction to boot. Soon to be Sorry State Records best seller.

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side one wins.

Wasted Time
No Shore EP
(Grave Mistake)
I recently saw these guys and was completely blown away by their enthusiasm and - most importantly - their delivery of old school hardcore. Reminds me a lot of Agnostic Front's early Victim In Pain record. This EP definitely takes me back to being 20-year's-old and mad at the world but without sounding contrived:this is angry music for angry people (with latent Negative Approach-isms].

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side 2 wins because the track "Ritual" is badass.

The Worst Kids Ever
Rot Shit!
(Big Neck)
Fuzzed out, in-the-red raunch 'n' roll with songs like "I Can't Wait To Hate You," "Spilled Beer," "I Wanna Fuck Right Now," and "I Spent The Rent." If yer not down with drunken lo-fi gee-raj rawk then please move along. You may need a Devil Dogs or Dwarves record for as a token for entry into the Worst Kids' world. Record comes complete with un-PC cut & paste cover.

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side 1 because it features the one-two punch of "Spilled Beer" into "Swimmin' In Hot Dogz"

Canadian Rifle
Hospital
(Squirrel Heart Records)
Chicago band with loose ties to ex-Hellbender, ex-Milemarker, ex[?]-Challenger and Burn Collector Al Burian. Punk but not hardcore if that makes any sense; this used to be called post-punk before the snarky goth math-rockers got a hold of the moniker. Green vinyl, great lyrics and top notch art.

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side 2.

Toys That Kill
(Razorcake Records)
Having been an on-again/off-again contributor to Razorcake over the last few years, I had always seen the name Toys That Kill in the fanzine and read the high praises lofted upon them but until now had never actually heard the band. Fucking shit I've been missing out on some awesome songs that dredge up the ghosts of the Replacements, Pegboy and Hot Water Music. Drunken Billy Goat Gruff vocals with real life lyricism.

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side 2, er in this case Side B because "02" could be the best song ever... right now... on my turntable.

Tiltwheel/Off With Their Heads
split
(Fast Crowd Records)
First off, this comes on orange colored vinyl. OWTH delivers one of the finest two-song sides ever. There's '77 Thunders in there, the drunken revere of the Dropkick Murphys (without the overstated working class cheese) and some Rezillos. You work. You play. You party... period. Tiltwheel does their best to keep up with OWTH on side two. Each band cover's a song from the other which helps shine light on what spectrum of the punk rock continuum these guys fall on. This is the sound of Minneappolis-meets-Gainesville; this is the sound of independent music and the sound of house party basement shows; this is the sound of now.

Side 1 vs. Side 2: It's a freakin' tie!

Appalachian Terror Unit
Armageddon Won't Be Brought By Gods
(Profane Existence)
West Virgina crust (with an umlot!) Bullet belts and anarchy my friends. Honestly, that Ford Econoline van and the acetate used to make your record is far more evil than halogen light bulbs, but like Oprah with James Frey I can overlook it! It is what it is and I tend to dig "is" stuff like this. At least for a song or two. Discharge anyone?

Side 1 vs. Side 2: Side 1... who ever gets to Side Two?

Ian's Not Dead

It's just a rumor folks.

Please return to your regularly scheduled programs...

A Good Ol' Fashion Grub Kick

So I've caught a few games of the rugby World Cup in the past week and I've got to say that rugby is - by far - the best sport I ever played.

Don't get me wrong, I grew up on Redskins football in a family that had - and still has - season tickets. When I was a little kid, the youngest of four, my father helped start the Olney Boys Club with some other men he knew at the time and went on to become a high school football referee.

So I like to watch me some football.

Growing up it was football, basketball and track (my dad coached me in track in 8th grade). I stuck to that formula for a long time. Then bmx entered into my world. I rode my bike everywhere and anywhere. I raced a few times but found it too boring in its quickness. And as much as I love to ride my bike over jumps, bmx racing just didn't interest me to watch unlike football, basketball and track.

Bmx led me to skateboarding and the concept of sport as an individual. I have to say that I still enjoy watching a good skateboard competition but after a few rounds I'm done.

By the time I got to high school, I opted out of my traditional spring sport for lacrosse. I loved lacrosse. It was like a combination of basketball, soccer and hockey. But it was also a sport of privilege much like polo and that turned me off of it. Plus I got kicked off the team my senior year.

College introduced me to rugby.

And to this day i still have a fondness for it. I played my freshman year for a university on the Eastern Shore and it was like that movie Dogtown- all a bunch of characters. Naked beer slides were involved but that's a whole 'nother story.

I went on to transfer to a college north of Baltimore and played fall and spring seasons for the next three and a half years and when I graduated and moved to Los Angeles I ended up playing for the Pasadena/Crown City Rugby Football Club for a handful of seasons.

So when I found myself with the rare opportunity to watch top-notch rugby during this year's World Cup, I gladly welcomed it: it's like my Olympics, my Tour De France, my Winston Cup.

While watching a game the other day with my boys, I said, "Ah man, nothing like a good ol' fashion grub kick" after a play by the New Zealand All Blacks, who are like the Yankees, Bulls or Patriots of the rugby world, and smiled.

A couple of days later we caught another game and my 7-year-old randomly belted out, "nothing like a good old fashioned grub kick," after a guy kicked the ball.

I tried my best to explain it but this rugby site does it better:

"a grub kick is using your feet to get the ball rolling forward. Important in the grub is that it actually touches the ground. It should not be a low drop kick. A grub kick should be done on the run with either foot. The classic grub will bounce twice close to the ground and bounce to waist level on the third. I have seen it, but very rarely. Like a drop kick, timing is very important, as you want to contact the ball just as the point of the ball hits the ground. You want your foot to make contact with upper third of the ball, essentially kicking it into the ground. A grub kick should be used when an opposing player is committed to making contact with you and is no closer than five meters. Do not kick to him, but off to his side (that ability to kick with both feet is very important). Grubs are useful because the opposing player has forward momentum towards you, is unlikely to react quickly enough to a kick, and cannot hit you if you do not have the ball. You should be able to cover your own kick."

Another site compared it to a grounder past the short stop.

Damn.

I could have summed that up quicker.

Me & The Lady

 


Rehearsal dinner.

Old Fort Jackson.

Too bad you can't hear the bugler or the fife and drums in the background...

Because Nothing Says I Love You

 


Quite like a racist tchotchke

That's Right Folks

 




















89 in a 70.

Dammit.

4 points and a hefty fine received enroute to wedding in Savannah.

Do you think I'm going to drive to South Carolina for my court date?

Savannah, Georgia

 

Cobblestone streets.

Watch your step.

Like Every Drink Is His Last

My seven-year-old son drinks ever drink like it could be his last and it is downright annoying.

He'll rush over to his cup, open the fridge, pour some juice into his cup and then stand there with the door open gasping, huffing and sighing his way through the juice like he was lost at sea for days.

He does this almost every time.

Drives me bonkers.

He eats cereal this way too... and does that clanking spoon thing right along with it.

I have to leave the room when he eats cereal for breakfast.

Shrinking

My wife and her friends have invented a new thing among moms.

They call it shrinking - which is shopping and drinking.

I'm not talking Paris Hilton style where you go into some high rent store and they give you a glass of wine or champaigne.

Nope.

I'm talking about going to the mall, having some drinks, browse the racks, maybe buy something, head back to the bar, drink some more, browse again and possibly buy something.

The key, said my wife is to go before the weekend dinner rush for the drinks, shop while most people eat only to return themselves for some appetizers/drinks when most are finishing their dessert.

Then return to browsing the racks.

Wild times for wild women.

Phantom Field Goal

I scored tickets to the UNC vs. Virginia football game at the last minute on Saturday (got the call at little after 10am for a noon kick-off).

UNC has a new coach, Butch Davis, who is seeking to elevate the football program to the status of the school much-heralded basketball program. It was a great day for football: the hot weather finally broke and fall was in the air.

But that didn't stop me from getting sunburned on my neck and knees - maybe it had to do with the metal seats...

The game got off to a slow start but ended 22-20 with Virginia coming out on top after Carolina missed the two-point conversion to tie the game as time wound down.

Of course there was that phantom field goal that Virginia got. I'm not going to say that it was the deciding factor in the team's loss but some fans sure felt that way.

Here's the take from Lee Pace over at Carolina's web site:

"Everyone was equally flummoxed by the review of a Gould field goal midway through the third quarter that was originally called no good by the officials but overturned upon review in the press box. The kick looked wide left from my view at the 30 yard line, but Virginia's ball boys were positioned in the end zone and felt the ball was inside the upright and over the cross bar. They immediately appealed to Groh to challenge the ruling. The video replay showed the official directly underneath the falling ball flinch--either at the ball headed straight toward his face or at the sun, or both. He wasn't even looking at the ball as it fell through the goal posts. Why he signaled "no good" instead of conferring with his partner standing under the opposite upright is a legitimate question."

It does beg the question: how does a referee call a field goal no good when it was good? From the stands it totally looked no good. After a few minutes the announcer balked "would the referee please pick up the phone" then the prerequisite huddle amongst the striped men and then the announcement that the call would be overturned. The field goal was good. Of course boos reigned down and cups and lemons and even small bottles of liquor (smuggled in by frat pledges!) were tossed on the field.

I don't believe I've ever heard of a field goal being reversed like that in all my years of watching football.

This one will go down in history and at least I'll be able to say I was there.

Another Classic Pic

 

By my 4-year-old.

Nice.

I Like To Cook

I took up cooking after I became an at-home dad mostly to give myself a sense of purpose.

I always dabbled in cooking - and of course like most men I am the master of the grill - but stranded at home during nap time in the early years of my tour I took to watching The Food Network.

Watching a kid, cooking gave me something to think about during the day.

Most recipes call for some sort of prep time and time was something I had a lot of and outside of reading and television I needed to find other things to stimulate my brain during the days.

I got a few cookbooks that first Christmas (Bobby Flay and Jamie Oliver) and I was off and running. One thing my wife and I had been doing for years was to replicate delicious meals we had at restaurants. For instance, after we moved from Los Angeles to North Carolina, we had trouble finding good Thai food. So we started preparing our own pad thai and a dish called pra ram which is a red curry, spinach and chicken meal. Or cribbing appetizer ideas from my work. One thing we often serve is a seared tuna, avocado and chipotle mayo on a crispy wonton that's a popular item at one of my jobs.

The first thing I learned was that you need a cabinet stocked with various herbs and spices especially when dealing with international foods. Another thing I learned was the value of using fresh ingredients (which also spun off into using seasonal and local ingredients as well).

In recent years I've been supplementing the family finances by working part-time for several local catering companies which allows me to see first hand how dishes are prepared. I also have access to chefs whom I can ask their advice on techniques, textures and the value of presentation.

I'm pretty up to speed these days and you'll find me cooking meals probably four to five days a week.

Last week I had some pork chops but I didn't know what to do with them. I ended up braising them in a pineapple juice and Worcestershire sauce served with steamed broccoli and brown rice.

Some other dishes I made was a olive oil, lime and green beans side that I pinched out of one of my wife's Better Homes & Gardens magazines which turned out to be freakin' simple and delicious. Grilling bread is my new thing that a neighbor turned me on to this summer. Over Labor Day I grilled a loaf (sliced) of rosemary olive oil and then the next day made some sunny side up eggs and use those to top off the bread. Yum!

Fortunately, my kids are pretty adventurous eaters and will try most things I make at least once. I'm not sure if it is because many times they are part of the food prep process whether it's just going with me to the grocery store to get some essential items, helping measure or mix ingredients or maybe just seeing someone preparing food in the kitchen that makes them interested in eating the food I make.

There's still the occasional raviolis and mac & cheese in their diet but not nearly as much as some other kids I know.

Maybe one day I'll open my own place. I've toyed with the idea on and off over the years. I'm not really into trying to do the restaraunt thing per se, but maybe some sort of upscale deli.

The Sniff Test

I've recently discovered that my 4-year-old has been putting his clothes back into their respective drawers when he changes.

And all this time I thought he was putting his clothes in the laudry hamper.

I came into his room this weekend while he was getting out of his pajamas and into his clothes for the day.

When he took off his pjs he opened the pajama drawer and put them back in there.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Putting them where they belong," he said.

Of course!

I then tried to explained that only the clean pajamas go into the drawer.

"Nope," he said. "They go in there."

As he told me this he opened his t-shirt drawer and pulled out the shirt he was wearing yesterday, then reached over to the underwear drawer and pulled out his Spongebob boxers I'm sure were wore yesterday and then he got out a pair of shorts.

So I guess it's all sniff testing from here on out.

It's Coming...

If you are an at-home home dad, father-to-be or the primary caregiver of your child please consider attending

this

I went last year and found it very insightful and full of laughs.

And that was after I got called a loser on the plane to KC by some bitch...

Wasted Time

 


Virgina's Wasted Time deliver the goods at BCHQ.

Pomp & Circumstance

 

I took the boys to the campus of UNC in Chapel Hill Saturday afternoon for they could see the football players make their pre-game walk from the Old Well to Kenan Stadium.

I have to say it was pretty cool.

The crowd was large and electric, clearly juiced about new head coach Butch Davis and the prospect of finally having a ranked football team.

Another reason the crowd was jittery was because of the announcement that Appalachian State beat Michigan.

WTF?

 

Only in North Carolina.

Cole Strikes Again!

 

Dude made off with the digital camera again yesterday.

And once again I discovered these amazing pictures on the camera while looking for the shots I took of the baby squirrel.

Charlie The Squirrel

 

Tuesday night after the family returned from the pool, a little baby squirrel came out of the shrubs next to our driveway and started to approach us.

It was a total Disney-like moment: you could almost see the thought bubbles over his head.

"Are you my dad?"

"Are you my mom?"

"Brothers??"

Now even though squirrels are everywhere in my neighborhood, I have never seen a baby squirrel.

This lil fella was clearly confused and scared.

And he kept looking at me like I gave birth to him.

When we went inside he followed us to the door like a puppy; all clumsy limbs and rocks for brains.

So I left a little bowl of water, some bread and some nuts out there for him and we called it a day. The next morning when the boys woke up they went out front to look for him but Charlie, as I had dubbed him because he just looked like a Charlie, was gone.

After I dropped the boys off at their respective school's I came back to do some laundry. The dryer didn't seem to be doing its job so I went out back to check the exhaust and was startled by a grey blob sitting on the lawnmower in my shed.

It's was Charlie.

And once again he looked at me like I was his parent and beagn to walk toward me. Once again I got some water and food and tried to place it near him but as I walked away he followed me.

So I went inside, did a little quick internet research, got a box, lined it with a towel and then went back out on to my deck. I picked up Charlie with another towel, he shrieked a shriek I've never heard, and I put him in the box. Then I ran some errands. A friend stopped by on his way running about town doing errands and I showed him Charlie. When we came out back Charlie again made a bee line toward me once he saw me and as I bent down to say hello I almost felt like he was about to jump on me.

By now it was 1pm and time to pick up Cole from playschool. He asked about Baby Jr. (his name for the squirrel) and I told him that Charlie was indeed still around and now on the back deck. When we pulled into the driveway, Cole barged out of the car, into the front door, out the back door and on to the deck to see the squirrel.

He was just sitting on the back rest of the bench chillin'.

Cole was totally excited to tell his brother so at 3:15pm we left to pick up Spencer from school and once united the two boys talked about the baby squirrel that was going to live in their backyard. When we got home Spencer went out back but Charlie was no where to be found. They boys played some before Spencer opted to ride his bmx bike around the back yard doing "stunts" dreaming of a day he'd be like Travis Pastrana. I went back inside to finish up the chili I was cooking for dinner when Spencer called out, "Dad! The squirrel! The squirrel!"

And as soon as I stepped out the door I saw Charlie in his rodent toddler gallop heading towards the deck. I scooped him up with a towel (more like he stepped on to it) and placed him back on the box. He was shaking. I then put on some gloves and held him and gently petted (is that even a word?) the little guy to comfort him. I guess it must of worked because after that he sat in the box and ate a raisan and an almond along with lapping up a bunch of water.

By then my wife came home and now Charlie was either trying to nap (my hunch) or dying (her hunch). Once again, after consulting the internet, we found a neighbor just a fews blocks away who was in the business of rehabilitating baby squirrels. So my wife and the boys took a short ride over to the woman's house to drop of Charlie.

The boys were bummed, and quite honestly, I was a little bit as well because we had all daydreamed about the pet squirrel that was going to live in our back yard yet be friendly enough to feed.

Once again a lesson was learned by my sons: wild animals should remain wild.

Twirling

 

"I was twirling Dad," said Cole of this picture he took.

"Twirrrrrrllllliiinnnnggg," he said.

Green Floor

 

I dig this kid pic for some reason.

I think I've got a budding art photographer on my hands.

Eye For Composition

 

My 4-year-old son has got an eye for composition.

I saw him walking around with the digital camera this weekend but only today did I discover that he was actually taking pictures with it.

The Loners

 

Eddie Taylor of The Loners.

Two-piece garage rock from Raleigh.

Tooth

 

J-ME from Tooth.

Metal from Durham.

Dedicated to Satan.

This Weekend

Aftering barely surviving last weekend's shenanigans, I now have to pony up tomorrow and play punk rock dad.

Click headline for link...

Last Weekend

I went to a bachelor party in Hollywood.

It consisted of the bachelor dressed in a Batman costume, a booze bus, a midget dominatrix, golden showers, a stop at a Mexican lesbian bar, a trip to what appeared to be a gay porn set complete with tranny lap dances for the bachelor, and well, soo much more.

Pretty much what I expected from a bunch of

Jackasses

Goin' Crazy From The Heat

Seriously.

I can handle a couple of one hundred degree days a summer but this year it has proved to be just too much.

We've had the better part of the last three weeks with temperatures cresting the triple digits.

There's not much to do when it gets that hot in the Southeast. A few weeks back we were blessed to be at the beach (sorta) but even being on the sand with an ocean breeze the temperature was still be unbearable at times and chased us into AC.

The heat has pretty much killed our herb and vegetables gardens. I guess the plus side here is that my lawn is brown and hasn't needed to be mowed that much during the past two months.

80 degrees is going to feel downright chilly when it finally comes.

The BHH, Merv and Me

Unless you live under a rock you probably heard that Merv Griffin passed away this week. I worked for Merv for a few years in the early '90s.

Sort of.

I was a pool boy at the Beverly Hilton in Beverly Hills that Merv owned.

At the time, I had given up on the prospect of finding full-time employment in the film industry and had taken the age old task of working part-time shit jobs and working as a freelance journalist part-time.

I had spent the better part of two months working as a bicycle messenger in downtown Los Angeles ferrying documents back and forth between law offices and the district and superior courts. I loved being on my bike all day and loved the outcome of that: I had legs of steel and lungs the size of the Grand Canyon. But the company I worked for treated us messengers like pawns and paid a wage that was barely livable(I think I was making like $6.50 and hour - in 1993 - in LA!). So one day while waiting for a delivery I scanned the Help Wanted classifieds and saw that the Beverly Hilton was hiring for valet drivers. I had spent the better part of my college days working as a courier in DC so I knew how to drive a car. And I figured the tips would be good.

I called in work late the next day and then went to the hotel and filled out application before arriving at work several hours late. The next day I got a call saying that while I wasn't qualified to be a valet because I didn't have experience with models like Bentleys and Rolls Royces. No shit! But the girl in HR did say, "we are looking for a pool attendant."

A couple of weeks later I found myself poolside at the Beverly Hilton passing out towels to guests and cleaning the Olympci size pool in the mornings.

This was the hotel that had the storied Trader Vic's.

This was the hotel that held the Golden Globe Awards.

This was the hotel that Heidi Fleiss got busted running her prostitution ring in.

There we a lot of odd happenings going on around that place and many stories - too many to delve into at this moment.

But I will tell the Christmas Tree story...

One year during Christmas, there was a celebrity tree auction held in the hotel of the lobby. Essentially, this meant that famous people sent their assistants over to one of the several ballrooms designated for tree decoration to do their work. For two weeks the hotel ballrooms were filled with queeny bitches and uptight wenches all trying to "outdo" each other with their fashion sense.

Rosanne was currently bitch of all bitches at this time so she had her personal assistant cover her tree in black roses.

Whoopi Goldberg was currently in some Star Trek movie so hers was appropriately themed.

We pool boys were called in to help move the trees to the lobby since we were under the guidance of the Maintenance Dept. A few assistants made the blunder of not considering the fact that the doorway out of the ballroom was 8 feet so their 10 foot trees had to be leaned through resulting in ornaments and decorations taking the plunge.

One tree in particular caused us a great problem: it was Bob Hope's tree and it was decorated like Carmen Miranda and had all this fruit on top of it thus making it top heavy.

So me and my co-worker very carefully guided this tree down the hall into the lobby where our boss, Rick, Merv Griffin, and a photographer from somewhere were discussing placement of the said trees.

We stood and waited as they labored over something truly not worthy of laboring over and at some moment in the conversation I saw my co-worker place his leg on the dolly. Then in the kind of slow motion you only see in movies, we all watched helplessly as the Bob Hope tree started to slowly fall. I glanced at the faces around me, then back at the tree, then back at the faces.

Everything not only appeared to be happening in slow motion but in total silence as well. A silence broken by the loud pop of ceramic bulbs exploding on impact.

I laughed. Not a giggle laugh. But a hardy bellow and then immediately had to cup my mouth, turn my back and try not to let them see my shoulders shaking.

"Well don't just stand there boys!" screamed Rick. "Clean that up!"

The damage was too hard to overcome and Bob's tree ended up nestled in a corner because that was the only way it could stand up. We wondered how much it went for in the auction.

It was truly one of the funniest and most surreal moments of my life.

Arrggghhh!

For some reason Picasa isn't posting my pics to Blogger.

I fucking hate my PC. It is shit. it blinks and hums and fades and flcikers and has more viruses than a Shanghai whore.

Part of the problem could stenm from being laid up after hernia surgery and having two kids on the ol' Dell unsupervised.

An error prompt has just appeared as I type this and I have no desire to sit on my Internet provider's help line for two hours like my wife did before we left for the beach only to have nothing solved.

WiFi cafe/library access with my MacBook is just a few weeks away when the boys go back to school.

The Cream Of The Crop

 

Some of the 200 plus sharks teeth we found during our week's stay in North Topsail Island, North Carolina.

Beach Themes

 

The family spent the last week at the beach in North Carolina. This year my wife and I decided that we would have a theme - musically speaking - and that it would be metal. Specifically late '80s metal like Junkyard (picture above), Danzing II, Judas Priest, T.S.O.L. and of course liberal amounts of Dio...