TidBits, ManBoobs, and PodBeans

My "2-blogs-ago" about the proposed liquor reform initiatives in Washington State have drummed up sentiment, resentment, and conversation! THAT'S AWESOME. I'm ecstatic that people think, read-up, research, synthesize, and discuss these issues. I have great taste in friends and readers. DON'T STOP. While I will never be all-in on how any form of government is run, the wholesale stripping of liquor sales from the state's tax puddle is not the way to reform this area. This draws attention to it and hopefully that results in a more moderate reform, but a reform nonetheless.

MEDIA RELEASE!!! I recently recorded an interview with a great Seattle comedian, Mike Cummings on his podcast, "Table For One, with Mike Cummings." He's been hitting stages for about 5 years now, and has a candid perspective about stand-up. We talk about moving to/from Los Angeles, The Industry, and comedy as part of Married Life and Fatherhood. There's a lot of my subtle wittiness in there, too. I think. I missed some of it, it's THAT good.

Posed a Facebook status question the other day about what it means to be American. I'm not sure anybody knows, or can explain it in a way that doens't sound jingoistic, xenophobic, and/or racist. I think it's almost like asking what it means to be a Man; the definition could encompass so much that it really cannot, but NEEDS to be, simplified. I'm pretty sure both definitions include gun possession and split-rail fencing.

I accept the fact that I am built almost exactly like Fedor Emelianenko. Fedor is the most-dominant heavyweight mixed martial artist in the world (Brock Lesnar not withstanding), and has lost once, legitimately, in a decade. The picture below is from a weigh-in with his opponent Andrei "The Pit Bull" Arlovski, shown on the right. While I spend most mornings before 6:30 putting myself through a circuit workout that almost nearly makes me vomit each time, I have in my head a picture of the guy on the right, while my body resembles the guy on the left.

Fedor won this fight with a thundering overhand right at 3m14sec.

The next few weeks will be interesting, as I am transferring from one job to another, back into the mobile communications industry. I'm excited about the chance to go do something for an industry I don't despise, with a team of people who are interested in the possibilities of the future. Never have I been the type to lean back and say "Yeah, this'll be enough for me until the grave opens." All the same, there's a lack of work, a plethora of bandwidth right now while this contract wraps up, and frankly I am just playing out the streak. Back to work!

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The C Word

Months ago when I performed at a benefit show for the Amanda Knox Defense Fund, a cause I hope the best for and my right as an American to contribute my time to, I was called-out by a pseud0-journalist for "call(ing) women derogatory names."

The C-word, in particular, is what he was referring to. C. U. N. T. Let it rip in the car when you're alone if you like. See how it feels. It's stunted. It's the textual equivalent of stubbing your toe at 3 am trying to sneak outta the bedroom for a quick NyQuil-Tonic and cannabis brownie. It's a blurt. And my intent was never to derogatate the women of the world, my spheres, my past, present, nor future. And most of them never even saw the reference the other writer had stood next-to with his hands on his hips and called attention to.

The word was used in this context:

"If you'd like to let it be known how you feel about the benefit show or the fund or the comedy, you should show up instead of just wuss-blogging. Be a physical presence.

But don't take that as the GreenLight to overstep your bounds of courtesy and

get physical with anybody you don't agree with,

you C*nt."

~Geoff Lott 2010

I mean it, when I use it in the privacy of my own car and never around my son or wife, to fire a shot at both men AND women. I don't specify a gender with it. In my world, C*NT goes both ways, same way the British use it, CLASSY-like.

And the more I thought about the dude who misinterpreted my use of the word, the more I researched his work. He had a near-complete documenting of every step, print, slash, stab, splatter, splice, slice, and dying breath in the Meredith Kercher murder. He had pieced it all together for people to read. I wonder how Meredith's family felt about that information being out in the world?

Even more-so, if you're the type of person who takes it upon themeselves to dig up what you deem to be a dark, dank, depressing moment in Humanity which may have gone otherwise overlooked... if you take it upon yourself to try and stir outrage... if you decide it is your word and not the word of others that should be taken as Authority in their lives...

You're a total fartface.

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On Being Offended Easily

Hey folks, somebody may have been offended at some of the language I use in these blogs, on stage, and in line at Swapper John's. First off, remember that I label myself in this writing as a Comedian-Writer-Raconteur. I don't delve into Hallmark'ian, milquetoast Life-philosophies to pander to people looking for inspiration from Oprah and/or Dr. Phil. Sometimes my language, in text and tongue, can slide toward the "inappropriate for the funeral" end of the spectrum.

So here's the deal.

Some people are easily offended. They are looking to be offended. They are finding things in the world to be offended by, and if they aren't offended, they'll surely let everybody else know why THEY should be offended by it. By proxy, they'll also attempt to inculcate the morality of being offended, in case you think you're too good, too mature, or not the target of the arrow of offense.

If somebody stands in the middle of the street and screams for the beheadings of all DIPSHITS, FARTLOADS, and F*CKTARDS... well I'm going to think she's not talking to me because I don't see myself as any of those. At least not on a regular basis. In fact, I'd likely ask her if she needs help or to sit for a second and get some electrolytes balanced out. But I am surely NOT going to rush to this blog and tell people that the aforementioned unsavories should all rise in revolt against this woman who is clearly hoping we pass a national health care bill instead of sanctioning the incredibly heavy-handed Insurance Cabals.

So when it comes to being offended, rarely is it my intent to offend anybody. And if any of my defense mechanisms were to spring up and I say or do something that offends a person who I discern as a threat, then they SHOULD be offended. I draw a rather tight perimeter as to what I will offended or threatened by, so if I feel threatened, yes, you have gotten closer to me than most folks would have allowed without a low-inside leg kick.

So if ever I express myself and you deem it offensive, please understand that Offense was not my intent. I was merely expressing myself on a topic I felt strongly about. Because if I don't stand up for the F*CKTARDS and those who aren't easily offended, well... they'll have to get their own blogs.

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Rules Of Engorgement

Well SHIT SALAD I gotta drop pounds again, thank you 10 days in Las Vegas and 9 at home! It's coming off, but cripes, I need to stop fretting when I'm back-sweating and get back to what I know works.
Roasted chicken or salmon + vegetables + TurbulenceTraining - PeanutButter by the Handload = leaner Geoffrey.

I think the stress of body dismorphism or "lagging feelings of self-image" causes us more stress, and therefore more physiological damage, than the actual fluctuation of weight. I've had weeks where the scale reads +/- 7 pounds, dropping as much as 3 in one day after a long walk and workout and eating right. Human beans eat about the same volume... VOLUME as in SPACE-FILLING... every day. Good rule to remember. If I'm gonna eat, say, 10 cups of food, and wanna keep the calories low, I need to schnorf down the high-volume foods, like veggies and fruits and oatmeal and things that take a long time to break down. Throw in a little lean protein to keep the shouldermeats lookin' wide, thick in leg and loin, and BOOM, we're good.

Turns out, I need to STOP DRINKING MY CALORIES. Beers, of course, but I do love and won't sacrifice mine Guinness. BUT, I can lay off the sugared energy drinks (300cal in a can?!?!?), sweetened coffees and teas, and for the love of handles, drop my JambaJuice fixation. Their "PeanutButter Moo'd" is clocking 640cal for 24oz (it's okay, 180cal just from FAT). Then again, if I saw a PBM'd personified, walking down the street, it'd probably cause me to stop break-dancing, throw off those clown shoes, and ask "Hey is your father a jewel thief? BECAUSE I WOULD TOTALLY DO IT WITH YOU IF I WEREN'T MARRIED."

That being said, I have a lot to accomplish this year. A lot. Soon. I'll keep you posted on what I'm doing and how it's going, of course, with minor musings on the desire to see
1) Customer Service come screaming into the 21st Century
and
2) Mine enemies driven before me, crushed beneath my comedy.

In the meantime, switch to half-caf, half&half, save 10% of your money (JUST DO THIS), and for the love of Dulce de Leche, stop thinking it's about YOU all the time.

Go with your elves.

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