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Customer Disservice Chronicles, No. 8

The Following Letter has been sent to Costco Wholesale Headquarters. News updates as warranted.

July 21, 2009

RE: Customer Service at
Costco Wholesale
13463 Washington Boulevard
Marina del Rey CA 90292


I visited the above-noted Costco store twice in the past week. In our first visit, my wife and I re-upped our membership dues, even though we shop less-frequently at Costco. But throughout the year, yes, the savings do come back to us, so it’s worth it! We’ve always had good experiences with Costco. Which is why today’s interaction with some employees threw me off a bit.

I arrived prior to 10a.m., which I thought was late for Costco to open, but I’m rarely shopping there at that hour so I don’t know the times well. As the doors lifted we were told this was the time only for “Executive Members.” There were perhaps 100 people there. I can’t imagine a large number of shoppers stayed away due to not being “Executive Members,” but instead were at work to earn money to spend at places like Costco. I didn’t check the hours on-line because I wasn’t near a computer, but also because 10a.m. seems like a reasonable hour to shop.

I was there to drop off a prescription for contacts. That’s all. I wasn’t allowed in either side, not the entrance nor the Member Services area near the exit. The only explanations were “Executive Members only!” and when I asked if I could drop the Rx off and pick it up later, the woman shook her head and said “Nope, sorry.” My time was shot, basically. I wasn’t going to wait an hour just to hand somebody a piece of paper. Was the Optical Department open? I will never know. I got a “Nope, sorry” and she turned to talk to somebody else. Should I come back another time? When is good for you? Are you looking for people who appreciate their jobs?

Perhaps I can have an explanation of why a Gold Star member has to wait until 11a.m? I’m hoping that the Executive Members are treated to special events inside, prior to 11a.m. Free coffee and a scone bar, everybody loves free food. Maybe a private concert by adult-contemporary legend Kenny Loggins, or perhaps a relaxing massage as they stroll the aisles in beautiful, Executive Membership Fee Paid-for Silence. No kids. No screaming. Nobody walking away from their cart which they’ve left blocking the middle of a main aisle while pondering the 3lb. bag of almonds (really a good deal, I have to admit) or make small-talk over a sample of a taquito (they have no intention of buying the taquitos).

Is this the utopian shopping experience I am missing?

I don’t really care. I just wanted to hand somebody my contact prescription and get it later, way out of my normal travel route. And what I left with was a “Nope, sorry.” Next time I want to be treated like my presence is pointless, I’ll do it someplace without a membership fee.

So I’m speaking for at least some of the Gold Star riff-raff when I say that I don’t mind paying my fee for the Savings I get from Costco, but perhaps some of the fee should be diverted to a class for “How to talk to Customers without coming off like you can’t be replAced”-types. Nobody’s perfect. But the effort counts.

Sincerely,

Geoff Lott

Bus, STOP!

Riding on public transportation, one is bound to see a number of abnormal happenings.

Guy staring at the floor while mindlessly sipping from the largest-you-can-legally-buy can o’ Iced Tea? Check.

Woman eating a single Reese’s PB Cup, though it’s been squished near-flat and she’s scrapin’ at it with her bottom tooth-stumps to get the what’s-left out of the cup? DING.

Black guy rollin’ his head and finger-pointing to the beat of music only he can hear… though he’s not wearing earphones? PO PO ZAO.

Mexicans? AY AY AAAAY!

Blacks? Unh. (na-na-na-nAAAA)

Asians? Hai.

White(s)? Yeah.

The Journey of Life is much like dealing with public transportation. Not everybody has to share the same journey, getting in and out, off and on here and 3 stops ago. See, what happened to me a few times the past 2 weeks is this. There’s a schedule drivers are s’posed to keep, from stop to stop. It keeps them from being a giant bus train all over the city, and keeps people from congregating for an hour until their bus comes… or doesn’t.

I was about 3 minutes behind schedule leaving work on foot a couple weeks ago. I walk a quarter-mile to the bus stop at Fairfax & Beverly, home of CBS TV Studios and the occasional transvestite slap-fight. At the corner I get to, I have bus option 1, the 217 that takes about 25 minutes in rush traffic to get to my home-stop. Option 2 is the 780, the Express that takes about 19 minutes and has fewer stops on the way to my destination. They arrive, usually, 7 or 11 minutes apart, then NOTHING for about 15minutes. So if you miss ‘em both, you got 15minutes to contemplate why you left work 3 minutes late. 780, 7 minutes, 217, 11 minutes, 780, etc. Miss one, and your evening drinkin skej goes pear-shaped.

Today, walking home from the store, with a schedule in my head to e-send something to My Wife!, I decided to make it faster and catch the bus. This time it’s a 3minute bus ride or a 20min walk. Bus runs every 12minutes, usually, so even if I miss one, I’m gonna make up the time. Well I hit the stop and wait. 8minutes past when it should’ve come, not bad. Took me 5min to walk to the stop and no bus passed me, so the bus is running late. I waited a few more, then realized, hey, by now, I could be WAY the hell closer to home and further from what botanists call “probably a hobo’s drying pee.”

The bus is late, way late. And things to be done are waiting. Where da bus is, yo?

And I said “well I can’t wait for this power trip, I gotsta GO,” but to myself. In a very H&R Block-friendly voice. And I started walking. I cross the street, parallel to the bus lane o’ travel. The bus stop, not 1minute behind me, is empty. Just me, a bit East of ‘er. Walking.

And then That Bus blazes by. I’m 100 feet from the bus stop. The bus, now 8minutes behind on the day before damn-near ever’bawdow has a day off and traffic is lighter than Heidi Montag’s “Thought Book,” rips by me. RIPS. 50 in a 35. Ain’t my fault.

And a theory of Life hit me as the wind rolled up my back while I said, “Mother ASS BITCH POO STAIN.” It may have gotten racial. Sorry. Public Transit is piloted by some WEIRD people. Would YOU wanna drive strangers up & down the street all day? No. You’re too busy thinking of ways to cook loin of venison with a red wine-cocoa nib reduction. So what was I talking about? LIFE.

We have stops in life. Moments. Milestones. Wait points. Who knows when you’ll get off at one. When another bus comes around, it may not be y’all’s. But those stops are there. As you wait at your stop, some may think, “Look, that sex-diesel is waiting for a bus!” or “If I were at that bus stop, I’d keep my distance from that one. But then again, my raw food diet means I rabbit-fart day long.” But there you are. Bus Stop Waiting.

Because you could just start walking, too. You could up and go. Sun on you. Wind at you. Rain soak you. Breeze cool you. Tiring you out. Because you cannot wait. You can’t. And That Bus isn’t coming around, or hasn’t, and if you walk, you’ll be closer to your destination, and can likely pick up a bus at another stop down the way there.

Or you could wait a bit more. Because when it does arrive, you’re then speeding along at a much faster rate than you can walk (no offense), and back to reading “The Outliers,” ironically, for your present sitch.

Do you know when it will arrive?

Or do you just Know it will, and when it does, you’ll be ready for the ride?

Sometimes it’s better to just hoof it and get there.

Sometimes you miss it by a second and your effort closes the distance.

You may wait much longer than you want.

You may hit it at the right time.

You must know it will come for you. Have Faith. You’re on your way, even if you aren’t moving. But… You can walk and get tired. Or!!! You can wait while others think you’re lazy for not just walkin’. Your faith that it will arrive can save you the effort of “doing it yourself.” And just a bit-more waiting as you read your hot book gets you to where you’re going much, much faster.

Or you can walk and see where a homeless guy OBVIOUSLY took a shit in a Von’s bag and didn’t seal it in front of what was once Culver Nissan.

And no, I’m not saying God is a Bus Driver, nor Black, Mexican, or Multi-ethnic. But he doesn’t have all day. Pay up, get on, and shut your taco-catch. If you can't enjoy the ride, at least enjoy your read.

And some. Well. Some never get on that bus.

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Nopen Mics

For the most part, open mics in the Los Angeles comedy scene are either very early, or rather shitty. I'm spoiled, I guess, coming from Seattle where there was usually some sort of audience consisting of other-than-comics. And I'm still amazed that there were nights at the Underground where 30 comics made the open mic bill and STILL a few were getting bumped.

GAAAAAAA, it's fucking frustrating to be in the midst of it, too. Not just Ego on the keys here. There are good rooms that start too early for me to get to them. There are bad rooms that are open but way the F out in the middle of Asserton. And seriously, here ya go.

FUCK YOU:

• Los Angeles Transit Shitheads who can't synchronize traffic lights, as I leave a green light and approach a red light within 100 yards
• Dipshits in fedoras, you are neither that good of a DJ nor a lesbian DJ
• Valet Parking turdloads who park other people's cars in the open street spots
• Westwood. The whole area. Eat a hot steam loaf.

There's so much more, but I'm too mad to even type well. My fingers are pounding the keyboard.

I am no longer FOR Assisted Suicide. I am now putting all my efforts behind Suggested Suicide. That list is growing longer by the moment.

So now, I'm about to do enough push-ups to drive the house an inch into the ground, and start some old-fashioned prison workouts.

I'm like Heavyset Black Lady on Maury-angry.

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Gesturing To The Heavens

Kindness.
To express kindness, truly, is to do so without the intent to do so, and to do so without an idea that you'd ever expect any sort of return gesture of appreciation. To do so that it is done, from the purest of intent, to be Kind.

It's really friggin' hard to be kind sometimes. I try to think of myself as kind, but I think, truly, I'm just courteous. I open doors for people, I try and let people over in traffic if they have a blinker and a commitment to GO. I try and say "excuse me" when walking between people who are talking but standing all over the place on a sidewalk like they own the thing like dickholes.

Doing nice things for other people isn't about what the Do'er gets out of it.
Don't do nice things for others because it makes YOU feel good.
Do nice things for others because it makes THEM feel guilty.

Then they'll buy you things.

And never mistake Kindness for Weakness.
To offer up your service, your help, your home, your money, your food, is to say "I care to give." It's not saying "Oh, no, you should take this from me, I am unworthy and you are more worthy and I'm a worm."
A "Thank You" card is in order.

We could all use some more kindness, that's for sure. And for whatever reason, I have to allow people to be kind to me on THEIR terms, and see the beauty of their intent. But really, if you send me a package through UPS that i HAVE to sign-for...
and you know I'm at work all day...
and I can't sign for it...
then I have to go TO the UPS thing to pick it up...
perhaps a gift card would be in order? Because if I go pick it up, and it's, you know, "cheeky" and I can't really do anything with your gift, you really just sent me an errand.

See how it all goes poorly? Cash. Gift cards. That's what I give.
Because I follow the Golden Rule. Treat others they way they ought to treat you.

Although, a couple years ago my Broham Of Law bought me the DVD set of "Band Of Brothers," and that was a phenomenal gift. THAT's some awesome man presents right there.

Okay, so be nice for the sake of being nice, but try and think ahead of your gift is going to be a pain in the recipient's assmeat. If your gift horse is eating my furniture, you're getting a returned gift horse skeleton, waiting your pick-up at the delivery centre.

Be nice. And be nice when you're being nice. Please.

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Why're You Sweatin' It?

Hey folks, here's the deal... You gotta try this plan. GOTTA! And it helps me get a little coin in my pocket, I won't kid ya.

I firmly believe in the Turbulence Training plans. They've helped me drop about 15lbs since the start of the year, all of it fat. It'd prob'ly be more but I'll admit my diet isn't always the cleanest. And lately I'm cleaning it up, and dropped another 2lbs the past two weeks, while getting leaner and smaller where it counts.

After all, you can't out-train a bad diet. It's impossible.

We need something better. And here are the 3 secrets to fat loss.

1) You need to forget about the weekend and get back on your diet of
whole, natural foods. One of America's top nutritionists, Dr. Chris
Mohr, gives you the exact plan to follow along with the Turbulence
Training workouts.

Get the best fat burning plan here:

TURBULENCE TRAINING!

2) You also need social support. That means going online, and
spending time in the Turbulence Training member's forum where you
can ask expert Craig Ballantyne any fat loss question you want.

Plus, you'll get positive support and encouragement from other folks
just like you all over the world who want to lose fat and change
their bodies too.

3) You need short, burst fat burning workouts that get you more 
results in less time...and that you actually enjoy doing.

That's why Craig Ballantyne is giving you FIVE free workouts this
week when you grab your copy of the NEW and improved Turbulence
Training for Fat Loss workout routine.

Find out more here:

FAT-LOSS MUSCLE BUILDING IS A CLICK AWAY


HOWEVER...


So grab your copy of Turbulence Training and start losing belly fat
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Click here for Turbulence Training and 5 free workouts:

CHECK THIS OUT, YOU DESERVE IT.

Don't wait another day to start transforming your body.

So go here and get started with Turbulence Training today!


Oh, and Craig Ballantyne follows his own advice, and looks like THIS...

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Do You Have 21 Days To Get Fit... -ter?

Yes, I'm gonna push this on you. For your own good, though, because I loves ya.

There's a 21 Day Trial-Offer, too, in case you need to try it out for a bit before you commit. You know, like all of your relationships. (awkwaaard)

Gang, I gotta tell you the truth. Last year I combined Turbulence Training with a clean-ish diet, and got great results. My weight tipped about 230lbs, and I was sick of it. I didn't look bad, just schlubby. Soft in the middle. I wanted to move faster and have more stamina, just for life. I wanted to look better on stage. I wanted my wife to say, "Yes, that's a hunk of man right there," and be pointing at ME.

And I didn't want to do 45min of empty-gut cardio in the morning, and an hour of weight-tossing antics with meatloads in the afternoon before eating a pound of steak and 3 yards of broccoli for dinner.

I found Turbulence Training, a plan incorporating Interval Training with Weight Lifting.

So I bought the package. And in 2 weeks, I had lost 5lbs. Of fat. That's 87,500 calories burned in 14 days. My bodyweight dropped 11lbs, and the bodyfat % dropped nicely.

After my dad passed away, hey, guess who did some stress eating? Then guess who was in Vegas for 10 days? And guess who put on 11lbs in 8 weeks?

AND GUESS WHO returned to Turbulence Training in February and just dropped his 12th LardBrick since then? Even though I did slip here and there, it's working. It works. It does.

Go. Go. Go. It's almost shirt-removal weather. You can look better, sleep better, feel betterin your clothes (or out!), and you can do it in under an hour, 3-4 days a week.

Q&A

1. Do I need a gym membership? NO, you can do this with your own bodyweight, like a gladiator.
2. I'm a woman, a hot one, so will this work for me? YES, with the Female Specific workouts. You're not going to look like a linebacker, unless you're on a ton of 'Roids again. You're gonna be a leaner version of YOU. Sexy.
3. I wanna pack on muscle. OKAY, not a question, but you can do this, too, with TT.
4. So Now what? GO HERE, CLICK HERE, DO THIS! You have nothing to lose but, well... you know.
   

CLICK HERE
Help you, help me. Help me help you. Help us both! You can do this. Give it a shot.

Wuss.


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Funny Blabbit

You want jokes?
Here ya go....

SWINE FLU recently captured our attention as a nation on the verge of giving a shit.
The entire news network machine could have told us ANYTHING at that point, and we'd have believed it and done it to keep ourselves alive to get to the of this recession and buy a gun and move to the hills.
Our media machine F'ed up BIG TIME.
Wash my hands and Cover my mouth when I cough?
WTF is THAT? Your advice to the world is to act like the kind of adult we should already be?
What about tacking on something we can USE?

1. Cover your mouth when you cough
2. Wash your filthy hands frequently, pig-toucher
3. Stay away from pigs unless "Pig" is in your job title or "the Pig" is your Mistress's nickname for you, as in "Shitcake the Pig."
   
4. Stop putting your empty shopping cart in an empty parking space you lazy shitcake pig.
5. Don't use the "N" word, even in private, nor in "quotation fingers."
   

Our media sucks H1N1 bawlz.
-------------------------------------
Kid wanted to party at his girlfriend's High School Prom. The kid went to a very conservative/Draconian Christian Mindbending Compound doubling as a school, and was told he'd be suspended if he attended the prom. It would be his experiencing things "counterculture" to his school's beliefs that would get him Red-Lettered with a big "S" for "Suspended," and more accurately "Sinner."

Like all of us are.
I can't see how this kid could stand the torment. Being suspended from the worlds most-boring school for the simple fact of Dancing!(gasp), hand-touching(MORNING AFTER PILL, NOW!), and hearing music that is NOT a hymn of any sort.

If I were that Christian boy's father, I'd march down to that Christian High School, into the Christian Principal's office, and punch him directly in his religious sojourner's bag. THAT will how we make decisions based on God's call for love and sharing of our gifts.

Sometimes Christians make me so mad I just want to tell them Santa Claus IS real.
-----------------------------------


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Maddening Nation

ESPN has gone to new heights to showcase talents that are good nowhere else but in a niche market.
World Series coverage? Yes.
World Series of Poker? 8 straight days of it.
Bass fishing. World's Strongest Mammoth. Billiards. Bowling. Women's Collegiate Rowing.
Why not?

A few years ago they hopped on-board with the Madden video game wave... about a decade late... and started hosting and broadcasting nation-wide tournaments. This is a major culture in the US gaming circles. I totally understand that.
When I was in college at Central Washington University (GO CATS), myself and 10 other dorm-mates did similar things. We spent hours running tournaments (I've won a couple) and practicing and talking sheeeeit to each other. It was a riot.

In watching the Madden Nation Finals the other day, 12minutes I'll never get back, I noticed how intense the...
1) Smack-talking was ("Don't even TRY that, SON" and "STUPID, try it again, DUMMY, see what happens, FAM'LY!", and that's the very tame stuff), as if they were about to punch each other in the face...
AND
2) How truly dumb the players were. My sad favorite was a fat, dumb kid from Tampa named "Bud." Bud is 19 years old. He weighs in excess of 300lbs. He plays videogame football. He is, in the link above, the kid at the far left of the group.
When they did the "player profile" interview, it went like this...
"My nayn Jayng Jone. When I's bo'n, m' mama inna hos'i'al jus' call m' Buud, so das what I'm called. Buuud."
"At firs' I wan' be a psychologis'. But then I wa' like, nah, I jus' wanna be free, so I kep' gamin' and look at me now."

So I think his name is James.
And he wanted to be a psychologist, and instead, NAH, decided to "be free" and turn it up for some video gamin'. He came in 4th. In the nation. Hopefully he'll parlay that placing into a career in Madden coaching or Madden play-by-play commentary or Madden Summer Camps for kids.
Or no, he can't.

It's truly the funniest TV show on right now. It's unintentionally so, but when a 20 year-old from Philly, with waxed eyebrows, wins the whole thing, and talks about getting plasma TVs for every room in his mom's basement, you know we need to bring back the Draft.




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If I Believed This Kind Of Thing

If I believed that the health care industry had the ability to cure certain ailments...

Such as cancer, AIDS, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, spinal injuries, and life-altering illnesses that cost the befallen many many dollars...

I would say that certainly, the Industry would by know have found pre-emptive ways to cure these things. I would also say that Nature holds a cure for every ailment of mankind. Starting with our own Beliefs of illness, and working our way through the apothecary of Earth's orchards, forests, and seas, I do believe there are better ways to defeat illness than, you know, drugging the bejeezus out ourselves.

In curing those things, the treatment schedules would dry up, the patients would cease returning to the clinics every day, or week, or other week, or month, and money would stop flowing like an emptied bag o' IV. And the pharamceuticals wouldn't be prescribed as often. And money wouldn't be goin' from Insurance Companies to Bank Accounts. And, hmm... seems like... healing would be a good thing for the patient, and perhaps bad for the system.

But isn't a healthy person able to do more in life, pay more of their taxes through not missing days at work, being able to pay their mortgage, etc.?

Maybe I'm backwards on that. If I believed in conspiracies, that would be one I would ponder from time to time.

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Big News!

Things are going better every day here in the City of Angels.

The past weekend of shows at Parlor Live, in case you didn't make it out, were Awe-and-then-some. It was a riot to come back to the homegrounds and play for a new group of people, and to work with the ever-hysterical Collin Moulton. That guy's good for any type of comedy. Political, goofy, smart, weird, he's got it all. And he can choke you out.

Majorly big Thanks! to all of you who came to the shows. We're working on getting back there in a few months. And if you're in a part of the country other than Seattle, let me know you want me to come see you, and I'll dial it up for your local club!

Other news!
I'm finishing The Book soon. It's been a couple years in the making, but it's going to be a great piece to get out to the world. Based on three influential experiences of my life (2 books + 10 years in corporate america), this book is for anybody who has ever worked in an office, worked as a Consultant/Contractor, and thought to themselves... "I must have done something awful in a previous life."
The goal of the book is to get it out there on the cheap, sell a ton of copies, and to do some touring behind it, sell it like crazy to big companies, and bring levity to a world where the workplace is sometimes the cause and cure of our ills. IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN HEARING MORE ABOUT THIS BOOK, EMAIL ME! I want to start building a group to push the book!

Los Angeles Comedy Festival! I have two nights at the Festival this year. Hopefully we'll bring a good number if Industry gangstas into the shows. This is my first "big" show in LA, and I'm excited to knock this thing outta the park.

And if you ain't heard yet... we're having a baby!

Stay funny, stay awesome, stay positive. It's gonna work out.

AND I NEED A JOB, so if you're a company looking to hire somebody smart, who knows how to be a team-player and will kick much ass... let me know, would ya?

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Last Night I Saw Giada

Yes.
Yes I did.
It was a great moment in my life.

Last night in Santa Monica, with my Wife! and our dear friend Kimb, we were checking out The Promenade for dining options.

Stuff happened.

Then IT happened. I saw Giada De Laurentiis. She was walking with her husband to a movie theatre. I was stunned, I was all like "Hey... hey... that's! She's! That's Giada De Laurentiis!"

I WAVED. Her husband nodded and smiled. I just looked like a big dork and WAVED at them. Nice people, from what I could tell. Bathed. Clean 'bout the hocks. Sharp dressing.

Seriously, she is gorgeous on TV. WAY more gorgeous in the setting sun of Santa Monica's shopping area. Beautiful.

Totally awesome. I saw Zach Braff a few days ago, pff, totally blew that outta the Vanilla Ice Blended blurb Zach quaffed at Coffee Bean.



Long ago

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Uggos Got Talent!

Susan "The Brow" Boyle rocketed into the first 3minutes of her fame 2 weeks back for a knock-out singing performance on "Britain's Got Talent." It stunned the judges - including Simon "The Brush" Cowell (he who made Clay Aiken gay), who we're slowly finding out may have had something to do with, oh, you know... keeping Susan in the basement until the world needed a Prejudice Makeover. Boyle heats it up, folks. Go watch! (can't embed the vid here)

Simon Cowell... a master marketeer and promotional wi-zar-do? >shrug< style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;">like a garage," and was once mistaken for a flock of bats. Yet we are so dearly impressed and uplifted at watching a person who is not "traditionally attractive"/traffic-stoppingly off-beat-looking express themselves in a beautiful way, especially through music.

If this person had been WWOOOHWOWOWOOOWOOOOOOOOOO on a didgeridoo outside the Pottery Barn, most folks would probably light one of them on fire. But under the lights, backing tracks swelling up and we are FOR seeing somebody we wouldn't give a second look belt out some showtunes.

Let's see...

• Shunned by most based on their looks
• Awkward because of the previous statement, yet wanting to stun the world somehow (without their own centrifuge... NOW I'm in The Database for sure)
• Plenty of time to practice

And that's what we get. A monster, uncaged, in the spotlight they've thought themselves into a thousand times in their life.

Paul Potts

CREED Shreds it up!



I'm out, GOOD NIGHT, Rock Ugly!

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Customer Reviews

Never in my life have I told somebody how to do their job.
I might have mentioned to my wife that her dishwashing could pick up the pace, but that's for another blog. Save your groans.
Unless I know how to do a job somebody is in the middle of epically F'ing up (e.g. being able to see human bone, and not being in an operating room or museum) I keep my mouth shut. If they are bothering me closer to rage, I may address something, but usually, no, I just keep it zipped. We can't be correct unless, sometimes, corrected. But to find out somebody is an Insurance Agent, or a Private Botanical Engineer, Fromagiere, or perhaps they have let judgment get the best of them and are now, how you say, "driving for public transit," I don't say a word. Do your job. Clean up that skid thing. Thanks for the ride.

Not so! for some folks when they find out I am a comedian. And don't get me wrong; I will talk shop with anybody about comedy. How I do it, how I got into it, what I get from it, where I see it in the world, etc. Every now and again, it wavers greatly from the topic of comedy, and gets weirder. People usually ask me where I get material from, and then tell me they could never do it. But now and then, I get somebody who tells me what kind of material I could be using. And who is truly funny, usually somebody who we haven't heard from in 15 years.

As in, everything happening in the immediate vicinity COULD be a bit, huh? Huh?! Gallagher could have done 10 minutes on that.

This has to be the only job where people don't know how to do it, are too scared to do it, but still will tell you how to do it. It's truly an annoying thing to sit through. But when people are saying "Look at that kid's hair. See, there's a bit for you!"
or
"I was in the grocery store and they had this sale on ice cream. In December. That's probably a bit there, huh? You should use that in your act."

But, what about the funny stuff?

The next step from there is that people want to come see me perform.
Great! There are 2 types of these folks, too.
1) those that want to come see me perform,
and
2) those that want to come see me perform, and then say "I'll come heckle you sometime!"

This happened recently. And the guy did all of the above. Soooo...
Not only could he not do my job,
but he can't write,
and wants to come bother me about my material.
OR
He's trying to be funny, and has Somali hi-jacked my Comedy Cargo.

He couldn't be funny, tried, and made it even more uncomfortable.
(I'd like to take this moment to apologize to some of the women I tried to get dates with. Now I know how you felt. I'm sorry you thought you were better than me.)

I love talking about comedy, I love watching innovative performers, and I'm always working to enhance and grow my act. I guess the funniest part about this is I'm telling people to not be what they are. I hate pretentious comics who think they are rebellious because, hey, not everybody can do 7 minutes - IN A ROW - about smoking pot and oral sex and Jesus sucks and you're dumb. But if that's what you are, that's going to come out.

Maybe I'm an asshole. Can somebody help me out here?

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What The Fat?

After my dear Dad passed away, I had what some people would call "weight gain." In fact, it jumped about 12 pounds between November and New Year's. I've never put on that much weight in such a short period of time. Throw in Thanksgiving, 10 Days in Vegas (NOT a crappy Martin Lawrence movie), and the Holidays and you can see why there may have been some el-beez smacked on to the rack.

But the past 3 months now I have altered my diet about every way possible. That may be a problem. Tried the low-carb thing, lost 3lbs in one week. Then flat-lined. South Beach, 2-lb fluctuation for 2 weeks. Flat-lined. This past week I've eaten mostly veggies and lean, lean, lean protein, and worked out harder than I have in a while (jumping rope, stair sprints mixed in with my normal circuits). Today I was 2 pounds heavier than I was on Monday.

So whatever you wanna say about whatever is popular for eating programs, save it. I'm done. I honestly eat better, smarter, cleaner than 75% of the people I know. And it's just not coming off, the fatness. And therefore, no more worry over it. I'll eat and exercise and go on with life.

Enjoy the cake.

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Decession

So this no job thing sucks salty honk.
Last year I made the decision to quit my corporate career and pursue comedy, writing, and all other things Showbiz. That was September. In October, we awoke to find our fan, shit-covered and wobbly, and a large number of banks staring at us from across the room. Their hands, caked in the crap of a million bad loans and debt-swaps, smelling of greed and ground-through predatory lending practices.

And I have yet to find a steady job.
I've been without work before. Not for this long, mind you. A couple months here or there, thanks to working on-contract from time to time. Prior to these past 7 months, I was only out of work for 2 months at a stretch. Those were harrowing times, pre-wedding back in late 2006. But a good, better-paying job has always come along.

I've applied myself. A LOT. An annoyingly-lot-a-lot. A recruiter did tell me that many HR departments interview candidates with no intention of hiring soon; because, Hey, HR gotta look busy, too, right? It's the state of the economy. If you got one, hold on to it.

I know that I quit my job for a bigger reason. I did like the work I was doing. The people were, in their own ways, hilarious and helpful. I had a fantastic boss who knew how to lead AND let you just do your work. And the money was great. Like GREAT-great. Like "I'll buy dinner again, no problem"-great. And I could very well still be there. Letting my Purposes have a dim light shone on them every-other weekend. No adventure to speak of. Just even-keeled, tamely-paced prose in the history of our Life. Security, yep. THAT's what it's aaaaaaaall about. My spine and Will to Live were succumbing to the weight of the flourescent lights.

I don't have any answers for you right now, sorry. I suppose I could tell you WHEN things will all shake out but doing so would likely result in me being a liar. I would like to see people stop whining so much and try to better their position, however. Every time I hear about somebody who pulled a lever getting laid-off and they'd start crying about "future-robots taking our jobs overseas in Mexica!", I wonder what would've happened if they'd pursued THEIR dream. Lever-pulling isn't a gig you take when you near the summit.

I have no choice but to keep moving my brain and my feet. In the meantime, the least I could do is get me some sleep.

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Lee or Ray, AGAIN!

If you've been reading long enough to be reading this blog long enough, you know that I have a love of stories wherein people with the names of "Lee" or "Ray" commit crimes. There's something about these names, especially if they are the mids, that drives a higher chance of using gardening tools in the bedroom, and not in the way your grandparents did.

Well, it happened again. It happened BEFORE, but here we go.
And this time... IT'S A WOMAN!!! Way to bring it back, ladies!

==========

Woman convicted of killing ex-boyfriend in Tacoma

TACOMA — A woman who cut up her ex-boyfriend with a chain saw 31 years ago was convicted in Tacoma of murder.

By The Associated Press

TACOMA — A woman who cut up her ex-boyfriend with a chain saw 31 years ago was convicted in Tacoma of murder.

The 55-year-old Renee Ray Curtiss will be sentenced April 24 in for the 1978 killing of Joseph Tarricone at a home near Puyallup.

The News Tribune of Tacoma reports the Pierce County Superior Court jury took about three hours Wednesday to return the verdict.

Her brother, 60-year-old Nicholas Notaro, also has been convicted of murder in the case in February and will be sentenced Friday.

Curtiss testified she helped cut up the body but denied asking her brother to carry out the shooting. (good to have boundaries - GL)

They buried the body in the yard. It was dug up in 2007 by workers clearing the property for a strip mall.

=================
Wouldn't it be great if there was a Stihl chainsaw store in that stripmall?

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QB Posts Memorable Workout Showcase For Detroit Lions

The Detroit Lions were winless last season, not an easy accomplishment in a league where Gus Frerotte still has a job. In this private workout, University of Georgia QB Matthew Stafford’s intent was to show the Lions, who have the first pick in next month’s draft, if he was the type of quarterback they should consider choosing, paying millions of dollars to, and bringing into the history of the Detroit Lions. After a stellar college career, he is considered the best quarterback available in this year’s draft.

RESULTS

Height: 6ft 3in.

Weight: 257lbs

Stafford appeared to have gained 32 pounds since appearing at the Scouting Combine in February. When asked about his weight-gain, Stafford replied, “It’s mostly fat and salt, I’m a prize pig, gotta look the part. I’m trying to conserve energy for the long season ahead. Detroit’s a cold place to live, gotta prepare the body for those late runs into December.”

40-Yard Dash:

In an unusual display, it’s believed that Stafford’s backwards-running of the 40 was a first in private workout history. Posting a time of 11.53, Stafford told Lion’s scouts “I run backwards. I think that’s a key behind your line.” His only attempt at a forward-facing run was full-speed afte 12 yards, until the 20-yard mark, where Stafford instinctively slid feet first, and laid on the ground for 10 seconds, visibly winded.

Vertical Leap:

Stafford’s 4 attempts at the vertical yielded results of 23inches, 25-3/4 inches, a strained groin, and a minor display of incontinence. It was at this point that Stafford powered-down a 36-oz. milkshake and dozed off for a 28-minute nap.

Throwing:

It appears that Stafford’s mechanics have taken a hit after hiring a new throwing instructor, former Major League pitcher Hideo Nomo. Now throwing left-handed, Stafford’s accuracy, velocity, and release were off, slow, and submarine-style. While completing all passes under 10 yards between the hash-marks, his percentages dropped steeply to all out-routes over 5 yards. He threw only 20 passes, the last 2 from a folding chair while finishing an avocado-bacon burrito. His longest “throw” was 31 yards, which, after releasing, a sweaty, red-faced Stafford grabbed his left shoulder in pain, then motioning for his trainer to toss him a beer.

Stafford’s interview with team officials was marred by constant eating, calling them “Judge Bongload” and “Assclown,” and eventually, snoring. His agent’s only statement was, “Matthew Stafford’s efforts today show exactly how much he would like to be a Detroit Lion. Now, it’s up to the Lions to decide what kind of team they are.”

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Grandma Victoria, Love you!

When I met my wife, and by Rule, her Family, I knew I was blessed. This is a fun group of people. Diverse in age and demeanor, yet so Family-centric that every dust-up comes with an apology soon after, and a few drinks and/or laughs. And then a "But you know I'm right," then a quick hang-up. The Anchor of the Family was a title bestowed upon Granny Vic, or Great-Grandma Victoria, officially.

With love, sadness, and prayers, Granny Vic passed away early this morning, at home, with her husband Grandpa Stan and daughter Pam near. She had been fiercely fighting the after-effects of some health issues that befell her a few weeks ago. Her determined spirit kept her going for two weeks, even after her body would no longer allow her to take food or water. I imagine she's got some questions for the loved ones now surrounding her in the Great White Forever.

My favorite memories of Granny Vic are when she told me that she, too, could tell funny stories, and when she was convinced I had broken her TV. First, she told my wife and I of the time she had a root in the garden she was trying to yank out, but it wouldn't budge. So she pulled, and pulled, and chopped at it, and pulled, and chopped some more, then pulled (and this is where she starts laughing too hard to finish) really hard... (more laughing)... and fell right back on her keister. Imagine a tiny white-haired woman waving her hands and trying to say "Keister."

The TV Incident happened like this. Vic & Stan bought a new TV but there was a mix-up of the wires in the back, and the picture was all screwy when they tried to get the DVD player to work. So I did the right thing after a couple of beers and got behind the TV. Just as I re-wired the DVD player and cable hook-up, the TV BLIPPED for a second... and oddly enough, the cable went out. It was rainy and windy, and FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS nothin'.

Granny Vic, her back to the living room while she was in the kitchen, wanted to know if I'd fixed it. We said "Yes" but that the cable was out. So she told me to hook the cable up. I said it was hooked up, but the cable was out. She wanted to know why I didn't hook it back up if it's not working. I said I thought it was working, but the cable was probably out so even it it was hooked up (I have to scream this, she's a bit hard of hearing) IT WOULDN'T BE WORKING. She told me to go check it a-gain. So after 5 minutes of haranguing and a couple of calls to neighbors, confirming that the cable was indeed out, she apologized to me.
"Sorry, Geoff." I told her "No good, Victoria! This won't cut it!"
She laughed it off, and I said "I ain't kiddin', I know home electronics, Granny!" We settled it over some pie.

My love and thoughts go out to all the Family, Stan, Pam, Stacy, Carol, Mitzi, Don, Casey, Larry, Lettie, and anybody else I may have missed. You guys have made it fun to be an In-Law, and Granny Vic will always be a part of some great memories for me.

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New Open Mic In Culver City

If somebody wants to express themselves, publicly, loudly, amplifi-edly... great.

And thus, with all compassion and encouragement due a child of God...

What the bag o' farts is going on here?

I'll tell you what's going on here...
This is the parking lot of a business across the street.
They've been holding some sort of A) Fund raiser, or B) Contest For World's Worst SwapMeet all day.
About an hour ago, this lady started setting up shop. In a totally-velvet cape and hat combo.
She's got a laptop pumpin' tunes into the PA, while she sings.
The black t-shirt guy works at the 'cross the street biz. The other 2 folks are haggling deals to purchase items found and fumigation-needed.

I.
Loves.
It.

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Bad Reception - Cell Phone Attack!

I despise 2 things in this world, and the 2nd one is people who yammer away loudly on their mobile phones in public places as if they are in a place that 1) Anybody gives a plop 'bout they talkin's, and/or 2) is acceptable to do so. I do it, time to time, to make sure I don't bring home "catsup" instead of "ketchup," because life would go into upheaval. But I try to stay outside with the smokers and other banished persons before nailing down the convo. This story has a totally different path than most of mine, and I'm linking it for 2 reasons.
1) I deplore loud talkers, we already know this. I do think they need to be publicly shamed and have some sort of penalty levied against them, because laws are take over where common sense stops being used.

2) READ THE COMMENTS of the article. I think they say a lot about the citizenry concerned about their community, as well as their feelings about other cultures. There's such a thing as bigotry and hate. But, what if your ill feelings about a group of people come solely from your interactions with them and their behavior? What Is, Is.
====================================
CELLPHONE SCOLDER SUFFERS A YAK ATTACK
It started with a simple request: Stop talking so loud (sic) on your cellphone.

But what happened next in a Borough Park bodega nearly put the woman who made the request in the hospital - with bruises to her body, coffee burns to her face and stiletto-heel injuries to her legs, police said yesterday

The victim, whose name is being withheld, was standing in line Wednesday morning at the store on Ditmas Avenue near McDonald Avenue, paying for her purchases, when Berta Rakhamimov, 21, started blabbing away on her cellphone.

The victim asked Rakhamimov to lower her voice, then walked outside. But Rakhamimov came after her, spurring a yapper-versus-scolder battle of epic proportions, police said.

First, the yapper pushed the scolder with two hands to the chest. Then the yapper threw her newly purchased coffee into the scolder's face, police said.

The yapper allegedly started boxing the scalded scolder, biting her on the finger and kicking her thigh with her high heels.

When the shaken woman said she would notify the police - and pulled out her own cellphone to make the call - Rakhamimov ran toward a bus that had just pulled into the nearby stop, police said.

The victim shouted to the bus driver not to let Rakhamimov on the bus, and Rakhamimov then fled down the stairs to a nearby subway station. The victim gave chase.

When police arrived, the victim pointed out Rakhamimov, and the cops told the conductor to hold the train.

Rakhamimov was arrested on charges of assault, menacing and criminal possession of a weapon the coffee, not the cellphone.

========

Whether you want to say it's immigration, immigrants, corruption, asshole-ishness, crime, or just plain stupidity, we all have to agree on one thing...

We are all to blame for people talking loudly in public on their cell phones.

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I Seek, And Therefore, I Find

From C.S. Lewis in his book "Letters To Malcolm, Chiefly On Prayer:"
(Lewis was a close friend of J. R. R. Tolkien, the author of The Lord of the Rings. Both authors were leading figures in the English faculty at Oxford University and in the informal Oxford literary group known as the "Inklings". )

"It seems to me that we often, almost sulkily, reject the good that God offers us because, at that moment, we expected some other good... On Every level of our life - in our religious experience, in our gastronomic, erotic, aesthetic, and social experience - we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting THAT up as the norm... But these other occasions, I now suspect, are often full of their own new blessing, if only we weould lay ourselves open to it. God shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it becaus we're still looking for the old one. And of course we don't get that. You can't, at the twentieth reading, get again the experience of reading Lycides for the first time. But what you do get can be in its own way as good."

In the past 6 months, I have thrown every comfort of my life to the wind.
Last August, my wife Alicia and I left our jobs and rented out our home in the Kirkland, WA township, busting South to California. Every time I asked of God, "What will I do?", I FELT an answer in my gut, not my head...

"Go. I will take care of the rest."

I read religious, philosophical, economic, and historical accounts all the time. The progress of the Mind in all societal progressions enthralls me. I f*cking DIG IT, the evolution of society, pushed ahead by the grind-it-out mentality and passion of a few folks who, in a quantum push, shoved us through a door into a new way of living. iPhone. Facebook. Stem-cells. Eight Varied Baby Plops. Space vacations. Can we PLEASE feed the Hungry, worldwide, however? Yes, we can.

In these days since arriving in California, Alicia has worked hard at 2 companies now (contact me if you need promotional products for your events!, and I have worked at writing and getting my life in the groove of comedy and writing and commercial acting... the first 2 being The Things which I Am To Do. It's a tough rope to grab when you question the validity of your passion, but that's for a totally different wine-fueled jag.

As ever I have been, I am grateful, humble, thankful, and understanding of Why we moved here. My wife, that amazing gift of a woman and partner, deserves The Best.

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Lent Me A Hand

It is Lent, for those that know what I'm judging you for, and I had to give something up for it. I figured I'd look at what I'm doing, vice-wise, and drop one of the top 3 things. I'm pretty lame, when it comes down to "serious partying" these days. I don't drink enough, smoke enough, eat enough, wank enough, or go roof-shooting nearly often enough to warrant any of them to be dropped.

And I figured if I had to give up something that I wouldn't have to trot out an explanation for at a party, that's the best way to go. If everyone's throwin' down like Kennedy's at a 90th birthday party, or carb-loading on their way to an emotional crossing of the English Channel... and I'm sitting there with tepid water and a cracker, well COME ON, I'm gonna be the 8-baby-bearing Ut'rus Jackson at the party. Ev'a'body gonna wanna know. If nobody's doing the thing I gave up for Lent, then it's my secret and I won't have to say a thing about why I'm not joining in at the Mitzvah.

Then a circle jerk broke out... Damn it.
Next year, I'm giving up Attrition.

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Experts Wanted... Recruiters Needed!

I keep getting job search results wherein companies are looking for "A-Players," "First Teamers," "Expert Minds," and "People Who Rock and Are Irreplaceable."

Because the Smartest, Most-Expert, First-Team, 2 MBA-having people are, of course, looking for jobs right now. They were all released by their companies after Jan1'09. They will take a pay-cut. They can't wait to go through 3 interviews with snooty recruiters who are likely "making busy" while their company isn't hiring anyway, yet HR has to look like they have a LOT going on. That would never happen! Even though I had 4 recruiters tell me that frequently happens in between margaritas.

Hey, look, I've applied for a LOT of jobs in Los Angeles. From Branch Manager of a Financial Planning firm (Underqualified) to General Mister Stocker Help at a grocery store (Overqualified), I haven't seen what's-what for me here. I know what I really SHOULD be doing here; full-time comedy and writing and entertaining us through the recession and on-up. But in the meantime, as that keeps gaining momentum, I apply for jobs as a Business Analyst on a regular basis. And ain't shit coming back.

When I have talked with recruiters, they say one of two things:
1) Great resume! Looks really good, but this company isn't really hiring right now.
2) I'm not sure you want to drive to Ontario, CA every day for $19/hour.

So look, the A-List Business Analysts aren't really available. I quit a job to get down here to make things happen, and it's happening more quickly (this town moves pretty slowly, unless you're a Judd Apatow project or protege). I'm no B-Teamer, and I'm willing to work.

I'd ask you to contact me if you're looking to hire an intelligent, white, English-speaking, responsible, educated, teachable gentleman, but why should I? That's what led me here.

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Lawbreaking ASSessor Gets DUI Investigationated!

HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Noble, county assessor, under investigation after car wreck

By SCOTT GUTIERREZ
P-I REPORTER

King County Assessor Scott Noble is under investigation for vehicular assault after a serious accident last month on Interstate 5 that may have been caused by driving under the influence, according to a Washington State Patrol report obtained Tuesday.

========
I am very thankful that nobody got hurt in this accident, after Fartbag Noble U-Turned on I-5 and went face-to-face with a Jeep Liberty and 2 young ladies. Very happy they are okay.

Here's why Noble's a mid-Summer's night bag of catshit on feet.
Home values in King County are down to lowest levels in 4 years.
Yet he raised the "assessed value" of properties, raising property taxes for the year.
In an already heavily-taxed state.
Therefore the Free Market is not in control, Capitalism is not in control. One office is in control. "We think it should cost X Amount."
If I could get somebody to buy it for X, then Y haven't I sold it yet? Because Zhit's sits for too long and ain't nobody looking to buy a condo in Kirkland. Yet. Again, a man with some shit to bury got hisself into a bad situation. Makes me hope my skeletons are in order.

It's very likely that he is right in some bylaw, but I know what's right.
And if I can, I will directly say it to Noble's face; "You murderous drunken sot, I was the one who shat-painted the inside of your mailbox. Shalom, dickeyes."

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DECLARATION

If you want me to do the work you know I need to do, that you've been demanding me to do...

you're gonna have to put some clothes on.

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Freedom Does Not Mean "Without Consequence"

We have the Freedom of Speech here in America, and from what I can tell, people cannot talk to save their lives. Luckily, long ago in our history, we defected from England, then beat the British to overcome many of their rules and laws. Otherwise we'd all be speaking English right now.

Having the protected right documented by the Government in the first Harry Potter book means you can stand on the corner and shout your brains out about how awful the neighborhood's cops, mayor, and bus service are and not be punished. As long as you're not swearing. Or lying. Or disrupting traffic. There are rules, after all, to complete freedom.

And that's where the system goes schizophrenic. The moment something is written down to "make it official," it gets mashed into molds to fit people's sensibilities. I appreciate we have the right to speak freely in this nation, but rarely do I speak as freely as I ought to, especially against people abusing Free Speech.

A girl, early 20's, in a laundromat, on her cell phone. Ending every sentence with "an' sheeit," or "like a bitch." Dropping F-bombs like they be NaPalm on the last run through Kai San. (That was kind of a phat rhyme) Ignorant yammering, but I'm the only one really paying attention to the language because, well, it's a laundromat in Southern California... I'M THE ONLY WHITE PERSON IN THE JOINT, if I have to spell it out for you.

Eventually, when I had heard enough of the F-laced tirade about she ain't be wantin' to go to no gay-ass party at Dontell's, we made eye contact for about 2 seconds. I just sighed and shook my head and said "Classy." She made some head motion and stomped away as if I were invading her privacy. Handled with aplomb, young lady. Kudos 'n' sheeit. Daymn.

We do have a protected freedom in our Speech in this country. It's time to start taking that away from people, at least in a public-shaming way. Just because it's okay, doesn't make it Right.

America is a really wonderful idea. Too bad it's full of shit.

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Better, Closer, Funnier

Last night I tripped northward with Todd Sawyer to check out a room he's been working with, the Ventura Harbor Comedy Club. I went for a number of reasons, most of them centered around my genuine personal growth that happens every time I'm around Todd. He has been endlessly rooting for me for years now, since I first worked with him at the Underground in Seattle. Todd's a smart, paced, calculatedly hilarious comedian, and on the grander scale, he's under 6-foot and tromps daily on size-13's. The guy's kind of a freak, but he's got basketball skillz, from what I've heard. And he bought me a footlong.

The first time I saw Todd in 2003, long after he'd started throwing show-closing heat on the regular, I re-realized that there is a place for smart comedy. It first hit me when I saw Joe Vespaziani in 2000, that comedy is not ONLY a fake, manufactured energy propping-up a soul-dead thrice-divorced "Veteran," hacking their way through local references and built-in applause breaks ("How many y'all got kids? Applaud if ya got kids, I got kids, who got kids?"). Todd's help in Los Angeles, and even before, when I was drifting my way into the Seattle Comedy Competition Finals in 2007. (p.s. Los Angeles doesn't give a SHAYT 'bout it.) And his advice has only ever helped me correct my direction. Especially when I talk with my wife about "What is next."

So I get up there and got a lucky spot, in that another comic didn't show up to do this taping for a local TV station. Boom, got 10min at the front. I reacquainted with Courtney Cronin, met Marla Schultz, dug the set of Dante, and talked more with Todd over the 6 hours we spent in the car yesterday. Y'ever feel like you grew so much in a short time you just go quiet in contemplation? It hit me last night on the way home...

This is closer to the stuff I moved here to do. Progression, growth, career on FORWARD. The leap was taken, the net may not have appeared yet, but that's because I'm in the freefall. And when you're in FreeFall, the key is to not keep looking for the splashdown.

The key is to turn your fall into a stylish dive. Flips, turns, back-saults, fireworks.

And when you accept your rewards, thank the good people who helped you in public, then party it up with them in private. Watches will be purchazzed.

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Lee and Ray = Bad News

For some reason, people with names of Lee and Ray in their CV's usually end up with some crazy schidt happening in their life. I've documented it before, HERE.

I think it may be that their parents gave them the shortest name possible, foreshadowing the darkness that would someday drip from the doublewide's wood paneling. Other than Ed or Al, this is as short as you can go without getting down just to the initials, which is an entirely different nametag job.

Ian Ith's Seattle Times Column HERE:

A 70-year-old West Seattle woman was choked and stomped to death in her apartment Friday by her grandson, possibly because she had been trying to get him to move out, police said.

King County prosecutors expect to file a murder charge by Thursday against Deon Lee Fillmore, 21, said spokesman Dan Donohoe. Meanwhile, a judge has ordered Fillmore held in King County Jail on $1 million bail.

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Smart, Good People Don't Do These Things

1. Leave a voice-message that says "Hey, call me back." Or any such form. You've given a command, nothing more. No information. No preparation. Nothing helpful. Help me, help YOU. Help yourself by helping me figure out what you are calling me about. (my wife is excluded from this)
2. Call me and ask, "What are you doing on Wednesday?" Leaving it there is to say "Unless you are willing to compromise yourself and LIE, you will say you are free, and I will then ask a favor that will likely put you out a bit." Here's what I'm NOT doing on Wednesday, or any other day in that inquiry: going to or near the airport, moving boxes, driving more than 10 miles for less than $100, vomiting, cleaning up vomit, hosing rendered parts towards a drain of any size, jogging, telling your boss you're in the hospital, clearing brush, donating blood/marrow/kidney, paying for your lunch.
   
3. Shop in the wrong direction at Trader Joe's. Go in the front door. See where it's pointing? That's the natural flow to the store. Go that way. It's not willy-nilly. It's clockwise or counter-so. If you see a row with one woman pushing a cart full of bags, you came in the EXIT and should be forced back into your vehicle. And don't give me some line of crap about how you "Don't know," or you've "never been here," or you're "87 years old." Follow the flow. If you miss the canned salmon paté, LOOP THE BLOCK, fart-saver! Don't make a u-turn into oncoming traffic. You can come back to it... but if you GO back to it... I swear to Jessica Simpson's dietitian that I will point you out.
   
   
4. Write blogs complaining about the generally under-important aspects of human interaction much? GOOD. Because life is too intense to deal with that stuff. Be a grown-up, for crying out loud. It's part of the gig. You sound like a wet, dribbly fart so KNOCK IT OFF.
5. Leave your semi-full shopping cart unmanned in the middle a store. Nobody got the news from your double-parked "Hers" BMW that you were all about YOU. The fact that your inability to muster the energy to schlep your bounty 'round the end of the aromatics is your statement that "Hey, the Royal You doesn't fucking matter to me. I'm lazy, I'm weak, I give 2 hard-pushed nuggets about anybody but the Queen Bee right here." The only way to get back at you is to A) Move your cart out of sight, or B) Quickly cram a couple of high-priced items into your cart that won't be seen until you ring out. Oh look, you just bought... WHAT?... $37 of SAFFRON? WHAT THE HELL? Yes. Enjoy.
   

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Alex Rodriguez Comes Clean And Lies About It

Alex Rodriguez is one of the best baseball players of all time.
That cannot be denied. Nor can his admission of using steroids for just a few seasons, 2001-2003. He did not use before nor after. NOPE. Not once. Not even when his legs went from "substantial" to "trunkish." Nor when his shoulders bouldered forward and out, looking more like a linebacker than an attention-needy third baseman next to, arguably, the greatest shortstop of all time, Derek Jeter. Nor when he summoned the Herculean strength to escape Madonna's harpy hatch, Alex was free of anything other than whatever God's Natural Chemicals (GNC) had been dumped into his system from his own endocrines. And horse aspirin.

Frankly, I don't care if professional athletes use steroids. It's entertainment, mainly, but there are 2 aspects we must look at.
1) Does the use of performance enhancing drugs (PED's) in SOME players go against Sportsmanship as it is no longer Organically-Developled Talents vs. ODT (see previous), and allows the user an upper-hand in the Strength & Reaction department?
AND
2) What if the player uses PED's and still blows? THEN what?

Alex Rodriguez was already a great player. Then did the PED's and started putting up unnatural numbers, in the retrospect of history. But at that time, when McGwire and Sosa were bombing through the 60's in the Home Run column, 57 homers didn't seem like much. So A-Rod wasn't the only one juicing his meat. That came out wrongly.

I think it's sad that we live in a society that demands so much from the undeserving-of-fame, and yet rankle at the first sign of their human-ness. Talentless girls all over the nation get boob jobs all the time, nary a word about their enhanced performance in finding a husband, or pole work of many, many interpretations. But then again, booballoons aren't illegal, simply immoral.

That's what it comes to; Steroids are a controlled substance. While they can have many benefits in healing injuries and recovering from normal-sized testicles, in the long run you're just gonna have great acne scars and a number of rage-related arrests.

So yes, A-Rod cheated. And in doing so, his opponents suffered, either in being thrown out at first, or getting their hanging curve knocked another 30 feet into the stands. These are things A-Rod could have done 90% of the time anyway, or maybe just hit the 12th row instead of the 30th. In history, he will be seen as a cheater. He will be seen as the martyr of the era that many players were using 'roids in. Football, baseball, basketball, MMA, swimming, all of it. Today, A-Roid said his cousin gave him the stuff. How nice of Alex to bring his family into the spotlight.

So we must go back to the youth of our nation, involved in sports and tell them that if they really care about their bodies, they will not take massive amounts of drugs of any sort to enhance their performance. Instead, they will stretch, eat properly, put in extra hours of practice, work out longer, go back to the practice fields, run a little further, work on their coordination, and if there's time, do some school work. Many are called. Few are chosen. Fewer can do it that well without drugs.

But if your team has lost 25% of their games by halfway through the season, they should all be eating pituatary stew until they get to .500. MILLIONAIRES, people. They can afford the organ transplants later.

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Workin' It Out

Last night was my birthday dinner, where World's Best Wife and I went to Rush Street in the downtown of our new hometown.
Red Zinfandel, Pan Roasted salmon, lobster-infused risotto with morels, baked 4-cheese mac (shared), and red velvet cake in a to-go. I'd banked calories the past few days, too, just to stay sharp for Go Time. Lots of veggies and tuna and chicken on the run-up. So I'd have a palate ready for the full experience.

We took our time, chatted about all kind of thing, and enjoyed each bite. It was great.
So how do I come back from that?

With a little bodyweight workout circuit, copped a bit from my Turbulence Training guru, Craig Ballantyne. You can get his newest edition of Turbulence Training by hitting the CLICK HERE! link up on the right there. It's about the only workouts I can adhere to. LOVE this stuff.

So, here's how I cleaned it up today:

1. Y-Squat (arms up, shoulders back, wide-stance), 15 reps
2. Push-ups, 25
3. Lunges, 12 each side
4. Bent Rows, 40lbs, 20
5. Squats, holding 20lbs, 20
6. Incline Push-up, 20
7. Side-plank, 30sec each side
8. Split-squat, 12 each side
9. Spiderman Mountain Climbers, 12 each side
10. Upright Rows, 40lbs, 20

So I did that twice, with 1min of rest in between circuits. About 10min of work for both rounds. It's as much cardio work as it is muscle breakdown. The past couple of days I had applied the Tabata Protocol (20 seconds of work, 10 seconds of rest, 8 rounds) to a number of different excerices, and my body had healed up pretty well with good eatin'. But this circuit, pretty much the same Craig threw down, kicked my own ass from the front. If you do these, and focus on the feeling of the muscle doing the work, and let your breathing dictate your pace, forget it, you're toast. You're gonna be pumped, burning a ton of gut cheese, and sweatin' like me at a Compton stoplight.

Have a great week. Do two things that are good for you this week, and maybe get a little extra sleep. You folks back in Seattle... get some Vitamin-D.

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My Blog About My Dad