Tuesday, April 29, 2008
But tonight, in my endless quest to watch the shittiest television humanly possible, I think I found a new way to waste away my life on reality TV.
Yes, simpletons, a reality show about women's golf: The Big Break
The whole premise is that the viewer subjects themselves to a hour long episode where several ladies duke it out on the golf course...
I'll give you a second to wipe off the vomit that might have escaped your mouth as you read that.
Oh, did I mention they are all FREAKING HOTT?
Yes, smoking-hot golf girls is something I am more than willing to watch on basic cable on a Tuesday night.
This girl wielding an ass-chompingly huge driver is Cirbie Sheppard. She dresses for each competition as if she might suddenly be whisked away to some rave or goth three way there on the shores of Hawaii. She also refuses to wear shoes, unless told to by producers, which unnerves her other (read: less attractive) competitors.
(This is where I had a few paragraphs of what I really thought of women's sport as a whole. But I was luckily reminded — thank you, Facebook chat — that not only are a majority of my readers female, but also leaving this section up could actually impugn my ability to get with said majority lady population. Regardless, I think its worthless on many fronts. Fundamentals my ass.)
I think the whole show can be summed up by its major sponsor: Waste Management. That is right, kiddos, the company that picks up and hauls trash is sponsoring this show. Not beer, not cola, not shoes. A garbage company.
For a show I will probably watch on mute, Waste Management's sponsorship seems fitting.
Friday, April 25, 2008
I have been on a recent Star Wars kick again.
Part of it has to do with the fact that Spike — The Not-quite-porn channel — spent an entire weekend running all six episodes of the Star Wars saga. I did not really see the sun that weekend.
Being a complete freak with no life, I then busted out some of the old Star Wars book and comics I had tucked away in a mold box in the closet. Yes, I own Star Wars book. Yes, i do still get laid...sometimes...OK, not really.
I knew it was a new low point when I became engaged in an argument in a bar about why there are only two Sith Lords in the galaxy. Not only was I able to buttress my argument with a complete history of the Sith, but could also name specific important Sith that helped form the policy of only two.
I will not bore you, but if you want to know more point your lightsaber this way.
So, it was only natural when I found this on another blog that I had to share it with you all, the masses, dirty and unwashed that you are.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
When people stand outside the door to my building and talk on the phone, I can hear every word they say. I live on the third floor, but with open windows I am privy to some of the most interesting conversations. Let's listen in on one such conversation...
"Naw, man, I don't want to be the reason she don't get no education."
"Yeah, she needs to do it and not because of me. I can't be the one to support us both. I need her though. You really only get once in a life for something like this."
"Well, in Missouri it's 17. Yeah, she turns 17 the day after my court date"
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Each week, reporters had to submit to the Web site a preview of coming attractions for their respective City Councils. I got to a point where I realized no one, I mean no-flipping-one, was reading these.
So, I would try to see what I could get away with. Here are a few examples:
Olathe City Council, Sept. 25
It is the title bout in this ongoing fight between two Olathe heavyweights.
In this corner we have the rough and tumble Olathe City Council, weighing in with a decisive effort to try and rid the city of billboards.
In the other corner we have a rag-tag bunch of local businesses, lawyers and the Chamber of Commerce all fighting to keep those skyward advertisements firmly planted along the highways.
Both sides say they have the city’s best efforts at heart. The Council says it wants to clean up the highways. Businesses say those signs help direct commerce to the city.
On Tuesday both sides will fight it out. Two will go in to City Hall, only one will come out.
Will Olathe have a full billboard ban? Will the city prefer a cap on any new billboards rather than a full ban? How do you really get ketchup out of a white t-shirt?
All of these will be answered and more at the Olathe City Council meeting,
Tuesday, Tueday TUESDAY!
7 p.m., Olathe City Hall, 100 East Santa Fe.
Olathe City Councl: Sept. 18
Gaining new land in the mid evil times was so much more exciting.
Valiant knights and hoards of armies would storm into an area and declare it theirs by the will of the king.
Well, I don’t think anyone on a steed will be marching into south Johnson County to declare anything for Mayor Mike Copeland. Instead, the Olathe City Council will accept a report and continue its discussion about how to further annex land south of the city.
The report was designed to give council members options about how to move forward with expansion of Olathe’s border south to as far as 191st Street. It also will give the council a plan for annexing those little pockets of county land that are surrounded by city land.
Don’t expect Councilmen Jim Randal or Bob Montgomery to don any shining armor for this meeting, but it should be interesting for those living on land that might be consumed by Olathe’s city limits.
The meeting will be at 7 p.m. at the Olathe City Hall, 100 East Santa Fe.
Olathe City Council: May 29
Burnt out from all the hot dogs you wolfed down at your Memorial day Picnic?
Well, kick back and take the night off - the Olathe City Council is.
Being the fifth Tuesday in the month, the council traditionally take this week off, but that does not mean city staffers have the week off.
Officials from the city' finance office and other department heads are rushing to put the finishing touches on the city's annual budget.
City Manager Michael Wilkes is expected to present the 2008 budget to the council around the first of June. It will be followed by several public hearings and other meetings thought out the month to finalize the budget sometime in August.
The council will return next week
Same Bat Time! Same Bat Channel! (That's 7 p.m. on Tuesday at City Hall) 100 East Santa Fe Street.
Friday, April 18, 2008
#5 — Dr. Strangelove — where T. Boone Pickens rides a missile like a rodeo bull. Or, maybe, good sir, the rodeo bull rides the missile like T. Boone Pickens.
"Brother, you just blew my mind!"
With my outstanding set-making skills you can easily tell this is the sky above Russia as a Communist Cold Front makes its way over Moscow.
That is right, cats and kittens, Kansas City today had its very own Earthquake. This is kind of a big deal for some since journalists love the idea of covering God-made events.
Hell, I'm sure Katie Horner, local weather witch doctor, was up as soon as the first tremors hit and stayed around to help direct traffic after this wopping 5.2 shake up.
The Star is already irrelevant since today's papers were already on the street vibrating under the quake. But its Web site took a good poll of who felt what, when, where and was it good for you, too...
Seems like only the elderly and police officers are even up that early anymore.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
I grew up with a Nintendo.
Hell, I remember the Christmas when I got not only the Nintendo, but also the power pack, power chair and all necessary video games to catapult me into pale, pimply skin for the rest of my natural life.
My cousins had Segas and Cubes and even Dolphins, if i remember that correctly, but nothing measured up to the sheer brilliance and depth that Nintendo had when it decided to pit an Italian plumber and his brother against a a prehistoric dinosaur in an endless search for a princess.
But what will really blow your mind is this historical little clip i found from an ACTUAL video game pitch meeting.
Watch it and prepare to have your mind blown. Or maybe it will give a little perspective to those tweeked out games we used to play as kids.
If only our parents knew the truth.
This little glimpse into history also gave us the best line that I now shout to everyone in my office...
"Leisure suits and group sex at my place in 10..."
Of course it was quickly ruined/enhanced when my publisher then announced that he still owns a leisure suit.
The longer I spend in this industry, the more I begin to understand that the average person has no fucking clue what I do in a given day.
It's not all drive-by shootings and hookers begging for work in any given day out in Northeast. No, my uninformed rube of readers, my day is literally chocked full of newsworthy tasks and important events that require my attention.
For example, as a professional journalist, today my co-worker and I painstakingly recreated the final, climatic scene from Back to the Future.
(spoiler alert, bitches)
In this scene Doc is standing atop the clock tower as Marty drives by at 88 mph in the time machine just as lightening hits the clock tower (or my ornamental clock given by some organization for something we did as a newspaper). That's Lego Doc up top there, too.
This project took us roughly three hours after I had to spend the earlier half of the day being yelled at by a man who, for the most part, is batshit crazy.
But then again, dealing with people out Northeast-way might make just about anyone batshit crazy.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
They drove by slower than most of the traffic that speeds though the hyper-active intersection at St. John and Topping.
The old car, apparently, had been sitting one block up waiting, watching and hoping that the two middle school kids would follow their same route home.
From my office I thought it sounded like fireworks at first, but even Black Cats have a subtle sounds of random noise. This, somehow, sounded like deliberate and even an angry noise from the street in front of our building.
In their tinted nest of a Jeep, they were taking pot-shots with a .45 caliber handgun and knocking holes into building. The two kids they were aiming for managed to duck down and alley way.
They emptied the clip and sped off down the street and into oblivion.
I have been amazed at how brazen some of the residents in the Northeast seemed unphased by the activity and random acts of violence around them.
The old asian woman standing outside while everything happened stopped to talk to me, but when her bus arrived she had no second thoughts about talking with the police if/when they showed up.
"What am I going to do?" she implored as she disappeared onto the bus and down the street as well.
But after this past month, nothing, at this point, would surprise me.
We were sitting at Mike's Tavern swilling our usual dark beer and continuing our usual bitch fits about inconsequential things. We seemed to usually get stuck on points that really, we knew, would not matter come the next round and could even laugh off the notion that we would ever be having an adult conversation in this place.
But I managed to shatter even that this time around.
"I think my co-workers husband is dying of cancer."
"Wow. How do you even deal with that as a co-worker?"
"I have no clue."
My co-worker is one of the nicer people have met in this foul industry. She sells ads but rarely has she ever come off like the glossed over and frosty haired sales reps that used to infest the old paragraph factory.
She is sincere when she talks and about as scattered in life as she is in her office ornaization. goes to punk shows and does not hide the fact that she was lost kid in the foster care system in this state.
She is tough, but watching her cry in the office when she got the news was something that not even the hardest of counselors is prepared to deal with.
But adding to the frustrations was an already dead computer system that meant all the work we had done in the last month was now lost. Our cars were being broken into and neighborhoods.
Another co-worker was having her own relationship problems that seemed to be only exacerbated by my own as we would sit and vent during office hours, on deadline, after work with a drink clutched in our hands.
We, as an office, were not doing well and we knew it. We joked and called it the Bizarro Editions. We hated what we were putting out and the tools and those who supported us out side of this institution were all failing — one by one.
But deep down, beyond the jokes and the attempts to get it together though booze, pain killers and other stimulants, we knew we heading for disaster. This couldn't last long; but if it meant i could stop feeling like shit each day, then I was more than happy to see it end.
I think I was becoming a downer to my friends. We were suddenly haveing very adult conversations and each of those conversations left us a little more dead on the inside knowing what was crashing down around us was inevitable.
This is not a diatribe about getting old or growing up, fuck, we have ranted about that far to many times.
This is, if you are even here still, is about how there are a great many of us still hoping and searching. Thinking that the next great adventure is still out there. But we, hell, I am constantly disappointed.
Some writers much more famous than myself call it a quarter-life crisis. The idea that now at 23 going on 24 I was supposed to be doing much greater things with my life. I was supposed to be in a relationship or married at this point, right? I was supposed to have the love of my life both professionally and personally right at my side and everything was supposed to be figured out.
But it's not.
"You want it all and you want it now..." I have been told. And what the hell is wrong with that.
We are young, untested and idealistic in a world that values age, experience and critical reasoning to the problems before us. How do they expect us to be happy in this heap of a world. Even our own presidential election is pitting the youth and idealism of one side ofhte party against teh aged and
I stood at the bar down in the ritzy new entertainment district here and watched as those around me seemed to have it all and were getting it right hten and there. But that is the crux of this crisis that these writers have concocted. We see everything that everyone else has and want it too.
But the central failings of this crisis is that there is no fix. There is no solution outside of recognizing that, yeah, life's a bitch sometimes. People die, politicians continue to fuck around and the price of milk will always go up.
I had avoided making adult decision or dealing with this kind of shit in the past. But too many friends are getting sick, divorced, pregnant or unemployed to ignore that fact that we will never be as good as we thought we were going to be.
You can't have it all.
It's been one year since I moved downtown. From this new Department of GOnzo HQ we have launched some of the most insane moments and take this foul beast of a life for a hard ride.
While most look back on their lives year-by-year,around Christmas or the New Year — as is only natural. I kind of like to look at my year as starting this May.
MayDay will prove to be the begining, not only of year 24 for me, but also of the second chapter in my downtown adventures and mas of people who make up this area. I might not get it all at once, but knowing that its at least out there and ready for the taking makes me feel a little bit better about the next turn in this truly bizare life.
This summer promises to hold some very interesting stories. The winter had gotten to me and I think much of this malaise — and even part of giving up on this blog — was the desire to make some significant changes. Regroup and come back to you all with some more of my patented wit and wisdom; not these five-page long blatherings that really only benefit me.
But it even as we lookc back on this fun little experiment we can see some central themes that usually get missed when reading only one or two of the entires at a time. The lows seem to equal the highs and even though we have hada low month or two, that means once the sun comes back out and the temperature heads back into the 80s and 90 then we will see some of those adventures return.
As the new horizons and opportunities. Maybe this time around we can learn from this past year.
The Election judge took my ID as I was signing in to mark my X for a new candidate and another smoking ban.
"my goodness, boy, you look so young in this picture," she said looking at my driver's license, which was taken only two years ago.
It could have been the beard or the glasses, hell it could have been the clothes i was wearing that day. But seemed to think that this man standing before her was much older than the kid in the photo ID.
It will be hard to accept that not everything it going to come up aces, or that my business plan with my attorney will ever pan out, but at least I can take solace in the fact that whom ever came up with the term quarter-life crsis is making money somewhere off my own confusion when really all i need is another drink.
The only thing I can wish and hope for is that I will not be like that woman who simply boarded the bus after something as life shattering as a drive-by shooting.
"What can you do?" Well, hopefully there is a lot you can do and will be willing to do as we get ready to buy the ticket and take the ride time and time again.
I thought originally I would be ending this by saying I would be right there with here on that bus. Giving up and getting the hell out of the crime scene, but I won't. I don't think I even could.
Fear not, folks. I know what you have been thinking.
No, I am not dead.
We have been on hiatus, sabbatical, whatever you want to call it. But we will return with some of the most mind-mending, drug induced and sex depraved stories we can think of.
I know that's what you all want out there in this wide world of interwebs...