I joined a gym.
As the calender continues to flip and I get older by the minute, I'm starting to notice funny changes in my body. You tend to notice these changes when you find yourself heavily wheezing on the bus because you had to run 40 yards at a full sprint to catch the damn thing. Also, I've found myself saying things like, "Huh. You didn't have that 3rd chin yesterday".
So, I joined a gym. Many moons ago, when I was gainfully employed at Steppenwolf Theatre Company, I was relatively healthy. There was a YMCA down the street from the 'Wolf that was everything I looked for in a gym: it had two basketball courts. About 3 or 4 times a week, I would drive the half mile to the Y--in retrospect, this might have been part of the problem--and I would lace up my hoops shoes and run around for an hour. Since they had two courts, I would let all the kids from Cabrini Green dunk on one and I would shoot hoops with the older white guys on the other. Occasionally, they kids would need a 10th for their game I would run over and try to keep my guy in front of me. Usually by fouling as hard as I could. Sure, I never scored much but they respected me because they liked my hustle! They must have; they only pants-ed me once.
Sadly, they tore the place down and I think there is a retirement home on the land now. On that day, back in 2006, I stopped exercising.
Since then, there have been an awful lot of Kraft dinners, whiskey, pizza and couch. And since then, I've gained an awful lot of weight.
So, in a continuing effort to please my wife sexually, I decided it was time to shed those unsightly pounds. I found a gym a half-block from my house and, really, if it was any farther, I would just give up and climb the escalator of weight gain to 300 pounds or so. But since it is directly across the street from where my bus lets me off each night, there really is no excuse. I have a choice each night: White Castle or B&W Gym. I appreciate my intestines too much to be a patron of White Castle.
The Gym itself is hilarious. It is a gym for "serious" weightlifters and has dozens of pictures up of dudes with vein-busting muscles. The first night I walked in, I was immediately taken back to high school: the gym, in a basement beneath a discount furniture store, smells exactly like the weight room in the basement beneath the old gym at Benet Academy. I've never been there when there were more than 5 or 6 people walking around, lifting weights, flexing into the mirrors, etc.
What did I do? I rode the exercise bike. Manly, I know, but remember, I haven't exercised in 5 years. At all. Seriously, the most exercise I've gotten was walking around the French Quarter for 3 days while I drank heavily. Feel the burn!
Last night, in my first trip to B&W Gym to actually sweat a bit, I rode the exer-cycle for two miles, got winded and quit.
This might take a while.
Showing posts with label Steppenwolf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steppenwolf. Show all posts
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
One final note on Home Alone while I wait to be fired
Did you know that Elvis Presley was in Home Alone? It's true! You know, if we're to believe the bat-shit crazy fringe of society (speaking of which...I'm going to miss Herman Cain and Rick Perry and Michelle Bachmann and Rick Santorum. They brought so much light to my life).
Seriously. They were the best.
Anyhow, back to the subject at hand. Yes! Elvis Presley--despite the normally-severe disadvantage of having died in 1977--appeared in the greatest Christmas movie of all time. If you take the time to Google "Elvis Presley Home Alone"--and why wouldn't you?--you come upon all sorts of websites dedicated to the long held belief that ol' Elvis is still alive and kicking and appearing in Christmas movies.
At the time of Home Alone's release in 1990, The King would have been 55 years old. In the scene where Kevin's Mother is arguing with Steppenwolf Ensemble Member Alan Wilder at the Scranton Airport (just before she meets John Candy and the rest of the Kenosha Kickers), there is an extra standing in the background that is, apparently, Elvis Presley. A not-dead Elvis Presley. Don't believe me? As they say, the proof is in the pudding:
I did a cursory check around the interwebs for further, photographic evidence that Elvis is alive and well, surviving in a new career as an extra in movies shot exclusively in the midwest, but could not find any such proof. Well, actually, I just got bored with the search and quit altogether to re-review the Lindsay Lohan pictures at i.playboy.com.
Seriously. They were the best.
Anyhow, back to the subject at hand. Yes! Elvis Presley--despite the normally-severe disadvantage of having died in 1977--appeared in the greatest Christmas movie of all time. If you take the time to Google "Elvis Presley Home Alone"--and why wouldn't you?--you come upon all sorts of websites dedicated to the long held belief that ol' Elvis is still alive and kicking and appearing in Christmas movies.
At the time of Home Alone's release in 1990, The King would have been 55 years old. In the scene where Kevin's Mother is arguing with Steppenwolf Ensemble Member Alan Wilder at the Scranton Airport (just before she meets John Candy and the rest of the Kenosha Kickers), there is an extra standing in the background that is, apparently, Elvis Presley. A not-dead Elvis Presley. Don't believe me? As they say, the proof is in the pudding:
See him? Over her left shoulder?
Not buying it yet? Well, let's compare Elvis and this fellow, shall we?
Prooooooooooooof!
Further prooooooooooooooof!
I did a cursory check around the interwebs for further, photographic evidence that Elvis is alive and well, surviving in a new career as an extra in movies shot exclusively in the midwest, but could not find any such proof. Well, actually, I just got bored with the search and quit altogether to re-review the Lindsay Lohan pictures at i.playboy.com.
I've reluctantly come to the conclusion that Elvis is, in fact, dead. The interwebs overwhelmingly told me so. I have nothing further to say on the subject other than this is a pretty funny picture:
There's a "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Cross" joke there somewhere.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Happy Pearl Harbor Day! I've been laid off!
On Sunday morning, December 7th, 1941, the Japanese Navy launched an air assault on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, thrusting the United States headlong into a world war since made famous through the tireless efforts of Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett.
"Only" 2,402 Americans died in the attack that day but the damage had been done: for the next four and a half years, the United States would find itself in the lowest of lows before eventually climbing back up and achieving a bittersweet, ass kicking victory. And it all started 70 years ago today.
If you know a WWII vet, give him a hug.
In other news, I was given my 60 day notice last week, although--we've been informed--it might not take nearly that long for me to find my fat ass sitting on the couch every day. We're really "working" day to day at this point.
A few years back, I found myself in an unadvance-able job at Steppenwolf Theatre Company. I loved that job but they couldn't promote me any higher and I eventually grew frustrated and quit. Now, lots of people have quit their jobs over the years but I was in the odd position of not having any real prospects when I did so. I did not have a job lined up nor was I thinking of going back to school. I just up and quit.
I wasn't at all nervous when I did so. I gleefully drank my way through 3 awesome months of unemployment and then depressingly drank my way through 3 terrifying months of unemployment before landing my current position electronically jerking-off old dudes. Being forced into unemployment during the worst recession since, what, the outbreak of World War II while I have a mortgage and a wife who can already do better than me? Again, terrifying.
When I left the 'Wolf, I considered just applying for a job at Borders for a while to take advantage of their discount or at Taco Bell for a few weeks since I thought that would be hilarious. Borders is out now (damn you Amazon!) but I suppose Taco Bell is still on the table. Although that won't really jive with how much weight I've gained. What should I do in 2012? Let's bring it to a vote:
What should Mike do in 2012 before the Mayans destroy the world?
1) Get a job, deadbeat!
2) Write a screenplay called "Evil Jesus" that has a tagline of "He'll convert you...straight to HELL!" (and a poster of Jesus, in sunglasses, aiming a .44 at the reader with a caption of "Nail this")
3) Sit around and make Newt Gingrich jokes
4) Develop a meth problem
5) Develop a math skill
6) Declare for the NBA Draft
7) Launch my porn-star career under the name "Johnny Thursday"
8) Gain 60 pounds
9) Lose 20
10) Work at Taco Bell. Is it your destiny
Take the poll in the upper-right hand corner of the blog and let me know what you think. I've even made it so you can select multiple answers. Enjoy!
(seriously! Go hug your WWII veteran! You don't have much time left...)
Veterans will say that the real heroes are the 405,399 Americans that died over the course of the war but we all know it was these dreamy fellows.
"Only" 2,402 Americans died in the attack that day but the damage had been done: for the next four and a half years, the United States would find itself in the lowest of lows before eventually climbing back up and achieving a bittersweet, ass kicking victory. And it all started 70 years ago today.
If you know a WWII vet, give him a hug.
In other news, I was given my 60 day notice last week, although--we've been informed--it might not take nearly that long for me to find my fat ass sitting on the couch every day. We're really "working" day to day at this point.
A few years back, I found myself in an unadvance-able job at Steppenwolf Theatre Company. I loved that job but they couldn't promote me any higher and I eventually grew frustrated and quit. Now, lots of people have quit their jobs over the years but I was in the odd position of not having any real prospects when I did so. I did not have a job lined up nor was I thinking of going back to school. I just up and quit.
I wasn't at all nervous when I did so. I gleefully drank my way through 3 awesome months of unemployment and then depressingly drank my way through 3 terrifying months of unemployment before landing my current position electronically jerking-off old dudes. Being forced into unemployment during the worst recession since, what, the outbreak of World War II while I have a mortgage and a wife who can already do better than me? Again, terrifying.
When I left the 'Wolf, I considered just applying for a job at Borders for a while to take advantage of their discount or at Taco Bell for a few weeks since I thought that would be hilarious. Borders is out now (damn you Amazon!) but I suppose Taco Bell is still on the table. Although that won't really jive with how much weight I've gained. What should I do in 2012? Let's bring it to a vote:
What should Mike do in 2012 before the Mayans destroy the world?
1) Get a job, deadbeat!
2) Write a screenplay called "Evil Jesus" that has a tagline of "He'll convert you...straight to HELL!" (and a poster of Jesus, in sunglasses, aiming a .44 at the reader with a caption of "Nail this")
3) Sit around and make Newt Gingrich jokes
4) Develop a meth problem
5) Develop a math skill
6) Declare for the NBA Draft
7) Launch my porn-star career under the name "Johnny Thursday"
8) Gain 60 pounds
9) Lose 20
10) Work at Taco Bell. Is it your destiny
Take the poll in the upper-right hand corner of the blog and let me know what you think. I've even made it so you can select multiple answers. Enjoy!
(seriously! Go hug your WWII veteran! You don't have much time left...)
Friday, September 23, 2011
Blog Traffic
Like any mildly narcissistic dude, I occasionally crave a little attention. I say "mildly" because I'm definitely not an attention seeker. In fact, when the focus of an event is entirely on me, I get a little uncomfortable. That is why I loved sharing birthday parties with my old roommate Mel, but have not hosted such an event since she and I parted ways. Turtle Races will do just fine for my birthday, thank you very much. I do still love receiving gifts, however. **cough, cough--October 23rd--cough cough**
Being mildly narcissistic is also why I don't have a Facebook page, so you can stop asking. When I first started my MySpace page as a means to keep in touch with my old Steppenwolf pals, I became obsessed--as many people do--with gaining "friends". A few months in, I looked over my "friends" list and found dozens of folks--sorority girls from Tulsa who didn't like me even then, guys from my dorm freshman year I hadn't spoken to since freshman year, acquaintances from the theatre world I had shared beers with once--and realized I didn't actually like any of these people on any level. So I sheared my friends list from triple digits to something like 60. I didn't care if these folks read the latest dick joke on my totally inappropriate MySpace blog. I didn't need them. I'm uncomplicated like that. Coincidentally, shortly after I met my future wife, I stopped going to MySpace altogether.
However, I found I did miss blogging and that I craved the digital attention that came along with it from the people I did care about. On this blogger, you can track how many people view a certain post and from what section of the world they viewed the content from. It's kind of cool to see someone in Germany access the blog. Conversely, it terrifies me when someone from India looks at the blog...I just know it's some disapproving relative of Krishni's that is making a list of all the many things wrong with me to present to my Father-in-law upon my first visit to his home town.
I have to come to realize, though, that visitors to my blog are not always arriving at my blog intentionally. Sometimes it's just a misfired Google search. I do use a lot of random photos pulled off the internet that I'm sure folks are now pulling off my blog to use. This can skew the results of the "pageviews today" section of my stat sheet.
There have been 4 posts where I saw a sudden and dramatic jump in the number of page views, and the last one troubles me:
1) My very first blog post. This makes sense since I sent a link to just about everyone with whom I'm still in touch.
2) The post about my Mother's memorial service. Again, I forwarded this one to many people, and quite a few folks from the Benet community passed it along the network.
3) My recent post about the check I sent to Mary Kate's Dad for the Notre Dame tickets. This one baffled me. Within an hour, my stat sheet blew up with about 20 pageviews. And that number kept ticking up. This is still my most "popular" posting. I liked that post very much so the results pleased me to no end until my much-smarter-than-me wife pointed out that people were likely just doing desperate google searches for "Notre Dame Tickets". Damn it. They must have been crushed when their searches took them to a blog that can best be described as "Meh".
Which brings us to what troubles me:
4) Last week's post about the obnoxious "child porn" caller I kept getting here at the Rabbit.
This troubles me for many reasons. First off, the level of the spike was kind of insane. I posted that story shortly before I left work (about 4pm CST) and when I checked in later that night, there were something like 30 pageviews. Again, I initially said "Huzzah!" Posts about the insanity of my work--even dating back to my totally inappropriate blog on MySpace--always seemed to generate traffic. People loved passing those types of posts onto their friends with email subject lines like "See? Your shit job could be worse!" and "I told you 29 months of unemployment wasn't so bad!"
But the more I thought about it--and the more I stared at the "viewed countries" on the audience map section of the stats sheet--the more I kept coming back to one thought: "What if people were just googling "child porn" and it brought them to my blog?"
Of course, this then conjures the next thought: "Huh. If pedophiles are finding their way to my blog, so is the FBI."
Krishni will tell you this: when I got home that night after talking to that sicko, I had trouble with it. I rarely carry my work home with me--in my "profession" you have to be able to laugh heartily at this type of stuff--but something about that caller really got to me. Maybe it's because I have 9 nieces and nephews or that I am Godfather to two of them or that all of my friends are pushing out babies at a frightening pace...I dunno. But I spent that evening trying to work it out in my brain why that caller disturbed me so. Eventually, I just drank a bunch of vodka, killed things on a civilization game on my computer and hugged it out with my wife.
Of course, maybe--just maybe--I was bothered by the fact that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the FBI was at that very moment parking a surveillance van outside my condo. If so, they are going to be bored to tears for however long they have to maintain their vigil.
Being mildly narcissistic is also why I don't have a Facebook page, so you can stop asking. When I first started my MySpace page as a means to keep in touch with my old Steppenwolf pals, I became obsessed--as many people do--with gaining "friends". A few months in, I looked over my "friends" list and found dozens of folks--sorority girls from Tulsa who didn't like me even then, guys from my dorm freshman year I hadn't spoken to since freshman year, acquaintances from the theatre world I had shared beers with once--and realized I didn't actually like any of these people on any level. So I sheared my friends list from triple digits to something like 60. I didn't care if these folks read the latest dick joke on my totally inappropriate MySpace blog. I didn't need them. I'm uncomplicated like that. Coincidentally, shortly after I met my future wife, I stopped going to MySpace altogether.
However, I found I did miss blogging and that I craved the digital attention that came along with it from the people I did care about. On this blogger, you can track how many people view a certain post and from what section of the world they viewed the content from. It's kind of cool to see someone in Germany access the blog. Conversely, it terrifies me when someone from India looks at the blog...I just know it's some disapproving relative of Krishni's that is making a list of all the many things wrong with me to present to my Father-in-law upon my first visit to his home town.
I have to come to realize, though, that visitors to my blog are not always arriving at my blog intentionally. Sometimes it's just a misfired Google search. I do use a lot of random photos pulled off the internet that I'm sure folks are now pulling off my blog to use. This can skew the results of the "pageviews today" section of my stat sheet.
There have been 4 posts where I saw a sudden and dramatic jump in the number of page views, and the last one troubles me:
1) My very first blog post. This makes sense since I sent a link to just about everyone with whom I'm still in touch.
2) The post about my Mother's memorial service. Again, I forwarded this one to many people, and quite a few folks from the Benet community passed it along the network.
3) My recent post about the check I sent to Mary Kate's Dad for the Notre Dame tickets. This one baffled me. Within an hour, my stat sheet blew up with about 20 pageviews. And that number kept ticking up. This is still my most "popular" posting. I liked that post very much so the results pleased me to no end until my much-smarter-than-me wife pointed out that people were likely just doing desperate google searches for "Notre Dame Tickets". Damn it. They must have been crushed when their searches took them to a blog that can best be described as "Meh".
Which brings us to what troubles me:
4) Last week's post about the obnoxious "child porn" caller I kept getting here at the Rabbit.
This troubles me for many reasons. First off, the level of the spike was kind of insane. I posted that story shortly before I left work (about 4pm CST) and when I checked in later that night, there were something like 30 pageviews. Again, I initially said "Huzzah!" Posts about the insanity of my work--even dating back to my totally inappropriate blog on MySpace--always seemed to generate traffic. People loved passing those types of posts onto their friends with email subject lines like "See? Your shit job could be worse!" and "I told you 29 months of unemployment wasn't so bad!"
But the more I thought about it--and the more I stared at the "viewed countries" on the audience map section of the stats sheet--the more I kept coming back to one thought: "What if people were just googling "child porn" and it brought them to my blog?"
Even now I'm thinking about what kind of sickos are in Russia
Of course, this then conjures the next thought: "Huh. If pedophiles are finding their way to my blog, so is the FBI."
Krishni will tell you this: when I got home that night after talking to that sicko, I had trouble with it. I rarely carry my work home with me--in my "profession" you have to be able to laugh heartily at this type of stuff--but something about that caller really got to me. Maybe it's because I have 9 nieces and nephews or that I am Godfather to two of them or that all of my friends are pushing out babies at a frightening pace...I dunno. But I spent that evening trying to work it out in my brain why that caller disturbed me so. Eventually, I just drank a bunch of vodka, killed things on a civilization game on my computer and hugged it out with my wife.
Of course, maybe--just maybe--I was bothered by the fact that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the FBI was at that very moment parking a surveillance van outside my condo. If so, they are going to be bored to tears for however long they have to maintain their vigil.
"Dear God. How may episodes of Tosh.0 can they possibly watch?"
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Only 2011 Travelogue You will Require
People often ask me what it's like to work at the Rabbit. The question most often asked is can I get the questioner free porn. The answer is, of course, yes. All you have to do is ask. The second question I most often hear: "Are there, like, naked ladies just running around your office?" That answer is, "Not most of the time." While there are occasionally scantily clad women in the office--for photo shoots and seasonal parties--I have to crush the fantasies of dudes everywhere when I tell them that this really is just an office. My cube looks a whole lot like yours. Only the top of my monitor is graced by one of my all time favorite Onion headlines:
They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan. Can you even imagine?
From left to right as we travel across my desk:
I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:
In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple. He had a very nice hat a long time ago. He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next.
Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:
You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:
Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him. Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama. Only the best show ever for nerds.
Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World. Sigh.
I'll get back there someday...
I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football. Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons.
"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?" No worries! She's here too. With a pirate:
Arrrrrrrrr!
Bonus terrible fact: the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world. In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower! I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.
See! Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!
There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life. One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home. The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program. I graduated with honors:
To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers. Seriously. Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped". So we have that going for us.)
Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day. Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:
And a new one that came off the calender today!
Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:
It is my understanding that this is not allowed in many offices.
Without further ado, welcome to my desk at work:They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan. Can you even imagine?
From left to right as we travel across my desk:
Are you in one of these photos? If so, drink!
No work space is complete without a series of photos of the ones you love. Or the ones you love to drink with, as this case may be. We have Mel and Panhandle up there sporting some nice bling after winning the Steppenwolf Gala King and Queen. We have Brad and Nathan drinking beers at a brewery in stinkin' Boston. We have Hank sporting a theoretical wooded spoon. We have the last picture of my Godmother I own where she had any real dignity. The 'Wolf softball team is present along with an underage drinking party on my Parent's back patio back in 1997. Speaking of underage drinking...there is my sister Peggy contributing to the delinquency of a minor! Thanks, Peg! She's a doctor now!I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:
In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple. He had a very nice hat a long time ago. He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next.
Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:
I guess my shit job could be worse.
You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:
Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him. Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama. Only the best show ever for nerds.
Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World. Sigh.
I'll get back there someday...
Swinging over to the lower right hand corner of my desk, you will find a rather creepy selection of items:
That doll will murder you in your sleep. It's why the Stormtrooper stoically stands ever vigilant. That, and he's sitting on top of a naked lady.
I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football. Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons.
"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?" No worries! She's here too. With a pirate:
Arrrrrrrrr!
Bonus terrible fact: the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world. In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower! I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.
Whoopsie.
See! Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!
There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life. One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home. The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program. I graduated with honors:
Yeah, University of Tulsa. You can go to hell.
To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers. Seriously. Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped". So we have that going for us.)
Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day. Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:
"While the directors of the Palomar Observatory admit the nebula had an unusual shape, they do not believe you caught God masturbating."
"When times are tough and the world around you seems grim, don't be afraid to turn to religion for a good, hearty laugh."
"Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it will be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above the waist with the first nine volleys."
"Your love of all living creatures will be on display this week when you open the world's first Animal Rescue Steakhouse."
And a new one that came off the calender today!
"Turns out your nightmarish descent into alcoholism and drug abuse will be a lot more fun than expected."
Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:
Yeah, that's my 2005 World Series Champion Rally Sock. Maybe if I started wearing those, Adam Dunn could get a damn hit.
So that's that. I realize that technically none of you asked to see what my desk looked like at work. But that has never really stopped me before when it came to stupid shit like this. Plus, I'm going to make an effort to blog a bit more seeing how my life has slowed down a bit after a frantic July.
And not every post can be a winner.
And not every post can be a winner.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
M-F
As we all know, the clock is ticking here at the Rabbit; it is inevitable. At some point--probably before the end of the fiscal year--I will be out of a job. And as much as I've enjoyed helping thousands of grown men masturbate for the last few years, it will hurt losing this job. Not because I truly enjoy the work. No, it's more because I truly enjoy money. I wish, though, that I had some more money. We all would like to make more money at what we do but I think we also can agree that limited money is better than no money.
Which brings me to the perks of my current job. I get some pretty amazing insurance. Krishni is kind of blown away by that. I get lots and lots of free porn. Brad is excited about that little benefit. Occasionally we have big, drunken "Cube Crawls" here at the office that feature scantily clad models running around the office doing jello shots with the pasty tech guys. Not gonna lie: that's pretty fun.
But since I've gotten married, there has been one major problem beyond being a technological fluffer: my schedule. You see, when I 1st started this job, I was just coming off my "work" at Steppenwolf Theatre Company. I worked an odd schedule there where Tuesday and Wednesday were my "weekend". When I started here, I told them I could work weekends because that was what I was used to. As a result, I was given a Sun-Thursday schedule. I actually liked that a lot since Sunday, especially during football season, was a super-slow day filled with ESPN.com, South Park episodes and computer games.
Since my marriage, however, I've realized how fun it would be to have an actual weekend and be able to do stuff with my wife, friends and family on Sundays. For the past year, I've been bugging my boss to move me to a regular Monday-Friday schedule. You know, like a normal person.
I finally got my wish. For the 1st time in my life, I will have a regular M-F job. I can go out on Saturday nights again! I can attend Mother's and Father's day! I can watch the Bears! Provided I still have a job in October! Ha ha!
Seriously, this will be the 1st time I've ever worked relatively normal hours (I will be working 8am to 4pm). The only other time I worked M-F, was when I worked at KJRH in Tulsa on the morning show. And I had to be in the studio at 4 freakin' 30 am. Those are not, what one would call, "normal hours".
Color me happy. At least until the next Jonestown blood-letting here at the Rabbit, that is.
Anyone have any job openings anywhere? I can work weekends!
Which brings me to the perks of my current job. I get some pretty amazing insurance. Krishni is kind of blown away by that. I get lots and lots of free porn. Brad is excited about that little benefit. Occasionally we have big, drunken "Cube Crawls" here at the office that feature scantily clad models running around the office doing jello shots with the pasty tech guys. Not gonna lie: that's pretty fun.
But since I've gotten married, there has been one major problem beyond being a technological fluffer: my schedule. You see, when I 1st started this job, I was just coming off my "work" at Steppenwolf Theatre Company. I worked an odd schedule there where Tuesday and Wednesday were my "weekend". When I started here, I told them I could work weekends because that was what I was used to. As a result, I was given a Sun-Thursday schedule. I actually liked that a lot since Sunday, especially during football season, was a super-slow day filled with ESPN.com, South Park episodes and computer games.
Since my marriage, however, I've realized how fun it would be to have an actual weekend and be able to do stuff with my wife, friends and family on Sundays. For the past year, I've been bugging my boss to move me to a regular Monday-Friday schedule. You know, like a normal person.
I finally got my wish. For the 1st time in my life, I will have a regular M-F job. I can go out on Saturday nights again! I can attend Mother's and Father's day! I can watch the Bears! Provided I still have a job in October! Ha ha!
Seriously, this will be the 1st time I've ever worked relatively normal hours (I will be working 8am to 4pm). The only other time I worked M-F, was when I worked at KJRH in Tulsa on the morning show. And I had to be in the studio at 4 freakin' 30 am. Those are not, what one would call, "normal hours".
Color me happy. At least until the next Jonestown blood-letting here at the Rabbit, that is.
Anyone have any job openings anywhere? I can work weekends!
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