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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!

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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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