Jeepers, Am I Busy Or WHAT? Huh?

I'm like REEEEALLY busy lately, between homelife, comedy, and full-timing it.
That's why this blog isn't really meeting all your needs. But that should change soon. Next week I fully promise you more content, the kind you've come to expect and be disappointed in.

In the meantime, a TimeJacker at work called a meeting that I cannot go to for 2pm, and he's still at his desk at 2:10pm. TimeJackers are those who take conversations from Point A to Point B to Point ME ME ME ME ME! and then suck time off your life/work/Bocce! ball tournament with irrelevant stories. Not even a meeting I need to be at, seeing as how somebody else will take better notes than I will...

Okay, more later.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT, NPO

Another Blog About LOST

The Blogosweb and Narcissospheres are humming today with ideas both Great and Sigh-inducing about last night's Series Finale of ABC's Sci-Fi adventure, "LOST." For some reason, Charlie Sheen is still getting "sit-com" work after throttling his girlfriend and calling his ex-wife the C- and N-words (recorded proof!), but LOST has called it a Series. So yes, knowing when to walk into the great light of Syndication Royalties is very, very valuable. I still don't understand a Future with "Parks & Recreation," but let's move on. Aziz "I'msorry," I just don't see what is so funny about Ansari.

I bet there are many people more geeked on LOST than I am. I began to appreciate it for the subtext-sans-David Lynch'ian strides. The storyline was straightforward, but the storytelling left things wide open as to Where Whatever was taking place actually Was. Hell? Purgatory? Heaven? Parallel Universe? Omak? All of the none. And I don't have time for fan-fiction involving Kate and a bottle of organic almond butter.


It's also very popular in the world of "humor via contrast" to bash LOST for being too high-minded, too side-stepping, and/or overly narcisissitic. Wow, 2 self-involvement references... int'resting, Freud... The energy it takes to blog, speak, or effectively express your undying disdain for something - like "Justin Bieber's haircut" - is better spent bettering your own Self. Why? In the pursuit of bettering one's Self, you will likely turn your energy entirely towards your improvement, and that will, in turn, cause you to seek the object of your disdain to rub in their face your freshly-waxed gluteal curvature.

I won't delve into the characters and what they each meant to the story-arc. Wheelchairs, terrorists, thieves, murders, junkies, alcoholics, single moms, and... GASP... INTERRACIAL LOVING!?!?! Not to mention the Inhabitants/"Others" on the island. Oh, and the Dharma folks. Polar bears. Jacob, right, Jacob.

Anyway, I've gone too far to stop blogging now, so I'll end with this.

I had a comment on a YouTube video that said, quite simply, "definatly not funny."
This person got online, traipsed around the 'net, found my video, watched it, logged in to their YouTube account, and then left a comment to let other people know where that particular bit fell into their spectrum of humor. They also misspelled the word "Definitely" as "definatly," so I am not that hurt by it. I don't like everyone, why should everyone like me? And why wouldn't they keep it to themselves?

I really could use a chocolate-chip brownie right now.

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Two New Niceholes

NICEHOLE; n. A person who, in their own mind, is being jovial, funny, well-meaning, or polite, by being themselves, while annoying whomever they are around, speaking-to, or working with.

ElderHole
This old-ass hole is usually off the mark with comments ranging from race relations to politics to gang rivalries. Recently while on a walk with my son, we were Bjorn To Rock!, as I had him strapped to the front of my bodular personage on a sunny, cool day. I was wearing a cap with a large purple "W" on it as I am proud of the university from which I graduated, Go Dawgs.

Walking across a parking lot, a lady in her mid-60's (by the looks of things) was getting into her Buick LeSabre, and says to us:
"Oh what a cute baby. Did you know your daddy is a Husky? I'm sorry about that."
So apparently whichever school was allowing women to attend it when she was of child-bearing age and looks was/is a rival of the University of Washington. I'm assuming in Athletics. Nobody talks trash about the UW Medical Center.
So I respond with, "Yep, it's a great school for medicine, manners, and courtesy. Have a nice day."
ElderHole: Old people can be a pain in the ass.

SarcastHole
This is a very common 'Hole. This person is one who knows you were plagued by a recent "issue." While they could offer anything from Help to Silence in talking to you about it, even if it's none of their business, they go for Sarcasm.
Case in Pleats: The team I am working on had to come in over the past weekend to test a new system. I did not have to come in because I'm a Contractor and still green to the team, and wouldn't lend more than an upbeat attitude (outwardly) and a looooooooooong siiiiigh from time to time.
SarcastHole on the team sees me on Monday morning, and rarely ever speaks to me. Again, new guy-contractor-moderately ignorant... why WOULD he talk to me? I'm nothing to him. BUT... Monday morning he stops me, with a sly/dumb smile on his face so that he can ask...
'Hole: "Heh-heh... how was your weekend?"
Me!: (confused at the ask) "Uh, good, just enjoyed the weather. What about you?" (so now I've asked him how HIS boring weekend was like I give a fartwhiff.
'Hole: "Oh, you... uh... did you not have to come in?"
Me!: "What? Oh, no, I didn't have to test this weekend."

He just kind of nodded and walked off.
BAM, right there... PROOF that he was hoping to drive-further the knife of disappointment into my rippling man-body. Why not find somebody going through a divorce and ask them if they like having a big bed to stretch out in? Like living the weekend of work wouldn't have been enough to push the edge, this bag of farts on feet tried to make light of it by bringing it back up in a way that was neither witty nor gregarious. Just dumb. Hardy-har.

ElderHole
SarcastHole

Be on the lookout for these holes, people.

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For My Wife, My Son, and Those I Love

I start every day thanking God for another shot at It. Then I mentally make my way through the house and thank God for the two most important people in my life.

My Wife and My Son.

Then I get up and go work out so that I can stay in good enough shape to keep up with what I demand of myself, and to stick around for as long as possible, or to annoy teenagers.

The past 2 years have been ferociously outside the norm of most people's ideal path to realizing their dreams and stabilizing their future, financial or otherwise. Especially for a married couple in their 30's. And we did it. We lived.

I found this John Butler Trio performance and sat here crying in silence when his lyrics hit me. I am so very blessed to have the life, the wife, and the son I have.

My cup runneth over.

Well there's far too many questions to ask,
To answer any of them tonight.
For I wear too many masks,
Too tell if any of them are wrong or right.
And confusion casts a shadow up on me,
Like a great big cloud in the sky.
And now I pray for rain,
Cause it's been so long since i let myself cry.

For so long I've sang this sad ol' song,
And it feels like my time is up.
For she came and landed in my arms,
And she filled my half empty cup.
Yes she filled my half empty cup.

There you are right in front of me,
A brand new day sunrise over sea.
No longer my cup half empty cause there you are,
You and your mum in front of me, in front of me.

And now I look up above me,
And I thank that great ol' God in the sky.
For tellin' me my cup ain't half empty,
It took my little boy to show me why.

for so long i sing this sad ol' song
and it feels like my time is up
for she came and landed in my arms
and she filled my half emty cup
yes she filled my half emty cup

there you are right in front of me
a brand new day
sunrise over sea
no longer my cup half emty
cause there you are
you and your mum in frount of me

You're peaches & cream to me.
You both are peaches & cream to me.
you and your mum in front of me
peaches and cream
yo

all i know is
all i know
and i love you
ya i love you
all i know is
all i know
and i love you
ya i love you
all i know is
all i know is
and i love you
i love you

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The Super Beyond

The painful illness of my friend's father has cut-loose enough of an emotional oil-slick in me to devote some time to a Life piece. My blast on Justin Bieber's ridiculable haircut shall wait for another day.

Having lost my dad in November of 2008, and later becoming a father, I have a much greater appreciation for life, babies, mommies, and the duties of parenting. I see how much influence I may have on my son some day. And how difficult it can be to live with integrity and coolheadedness when you haven't slept much and can play 183 arrangements of "Old MacDonald" on a 1-octave plastic piano. And this is WITH technological advancements as outlets of frustration and socializing.

As I'm wont to do, time to time, I pray to God about my life. Usually I am thanking Him for keeping me alive after a litany of moves equivalent to Justin Bieber's haircut (it seemed cool at the time, but then we went on two wheels, and the gas can tipped over, and my cigarette...). Seriously close calls in my life that would have given my parents synchronized cardiac arrest had they known about it. And for some reason I am here with a beautiful wife, wonderful baby guy, awesome friends, and a bright future in a number of careers. And I have to Thank God for a lot of it.

Some people love to jump off their Agnosticar or Atheistar Van long enough to bash and/or ridicule my choice of spiritual pursuit. I pray for them, too. I don't point a finger back and tell them they're wrong for believing - or not believing - the way they do. I accept them as people, and move on. But all the same, I don't condone nor defend the Crusades, the Catholic Priest scandals, nor any other atrocity committed by a person wrapping themselves in the gossamer layers of Christianity, Religion, Islam, or Professional Wrestling. Every group's got their shit-heads.

And for every shit-head there are 1,000 fantastic people. And knowing that everybody, great and not-so, good and bad, weird and conformist, will all biologically die some day just makes me realize that our relationships to one another are the MOST IMPORTANT thing we can have in life. Especially if they are good, healthy, self-actualizing, loving, and mutually beneficial. We don't have to be close to step on toes. And we don't have to step on toes just because we're close. And I only ever wear close-toe shoes.

So if you're gonna live a long time, have some stories to tell when you get there. If you're not gonna live a long time, give everyone else a story about how you went out big. But for the sake of dead rockstars, don't just muddle about doing squat in hopes you'll just make it to 90 with a full tread on your tires. Nobody wants to hear about how you never swam the rapids or farted in your hand to smother your friend's face when camping. Especially God. No time for it.

Go live. Do one thing today that scares you or somebody else.

Justin Bieber's hair is really stupid, though. I'm happy my dad isn't alive to see it. And if I'm a "hater," I include Bieberfolliclegate among my other instances of "hating," including "Dane Cook's Act," "Fans of Insane Clown Posse," "Guys Who Make That KissyFace To The Camera," and "Misquoting PseudoJournalists Obsessed With MurderCases."

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Top 10 Ways To Celebrate “Walter Jones Day”

Walter “The Wall” Jones, the Seahawks left tackle for the past 13 seasons and easily The Best to ever protect a quarterback’s blind-side, is retiring from professional football. From his first day on the practice field for the ‘Hawks, back when they wore royal blue jerseys and were dominating their way to 6-10 seasons in the AFC West, everybody who watched Walt in practice and on gameday knew this guy was usually “the best athlete on the field.”

He took 245-lb men running full-speed, and leashed ‘em down.
He drove 300-lb behemoths 30 feet backwards, their arms flailing on the TV’s they bought their mother, embarrassed.
He spoke softly and jokingly about his accomplishments. He erased whomever was the best pass-rusher on the other team.
The toll it takes on your body, however, is probably like being run into by refrigerator coming down the stairs 65 times on a Sunday for 12 years. I hope that he’ll live a long life, happy and healthy. Great to watch a legend in our city.

And so, in his honor, here are 10 Ways To Celebrate “Walter Jones Day”
1. Leave every room with a hand-clap and shouting “Break”
2. Push your Cadillac Escalade around the high school track for an hour. (This was Walt’s off-season conditioning program of choice)
3. Throw in some up-downs in the hallway at work.
4. If somebody crosses your face without saying “pardon me,” drive-block ‘em until you hear a whistle.
5. Repeat “Backer Backer Backer SLIDE SLIDE BLACK SLIDE BACKER” until the person next to you responds “CHECK”
6. Wear your mouthguard to all meetings.
7. Stairs, baby. Run ‘til ya puke.
8. High-knee run through the strip-mall.
9. Throw flags on offending parties, be it holding a meeting at 3pm on a Friday or offsides in coming for your dinner.

10. Post-up outside the restroom in a squat-stance with your hands in front of you, fending off potential entrants for a 3-count. The ball should be downfield by then.

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Customer Disservice - Coffee Maker

Inez isn’t really into her job anymore. She’s in her 60s, wears a contracted company’s pre-approved, mandatory outfit on a daily basis, and like anybody with a badge around her neck that doesn’t legally back her use of a pepper spray/taser/attack dog/firearm/mustache… well, she’s just killing time until time kills her.

And it shows. For somebody who’s main responsibility is “stand at this register, push the buttons on this screen, and take money from people trying to pay for their spinach & oat-bran omelet,” it’s rare to see her there for an entire quarter hour. There’s a table to wipe in an unbusy café-seating area. Did anybody count Splenda today? What’s the respiration rate of the imported strawberries on the parfait bar, do we have a baseline on decomp? Inez’ll be on that stuff like mud on flaps, slaps on chaps, mustaches on your kicked asses.

God is good. God forbid that I HAVE TO WORK at Inez’s age. I hope to work at that age only out of desire to be out of the house and supplement my royalties from my forthcoming cookbook, “Eating Indoors; Eating Healthy When You’re Shit-Freaked About A Crumbling Society.” Pretty much every time I want to get through a line, I avoid Inez’s line. Sometimes there’s no other way, she’s the only one running reg at that point and there’s no “honor system” for dropping a dollar in a bucket for a cuppa.

Case in pants: This morning I was one of three people in the café selection area, among imported pastries (Safeway, I think), yogurt buffet, and coffee bar. Ah, that’s where I wanted to get to. I went half-caf, half-Bold. One of the carafes was making like a VP and empty inside, so I went to the backup carafe for the Bold, a freshly-brewed silo of hot, dark, capillary-tightening coffee. Gimme. Well, Inez saw me go to the backup carafe as I walked away from topping off my cup. Another person headed for Inez’s register as Inez FOCUSED INTENTLY ON THE EMPTY CARAFE CRISIS OF BUILDING 4, and, passing myself and yet another person (3 now)… walked at a very relaxed pace to the coffee area 20 feet from her register.

Inez strolled into action and took the empty carafe off its foundation, replacing it with the fresh one. Then she grabbed the two full, used coffee filters and the empty carafe and headed off to the back-stage area of the café. She turned her head in time to see three of us waiting at her register for her. Realizing that people were waiting, she did the right thing immediately, by saying “I’ll be right back.” Maybe she thought we were all salaried. HA HAAA! I’m not good enough to draw a salary. Just a gross payment by an external contracting company from which I must pay taxes. So I waited, on the clock, for Inez to be right back.

I watched as she returned with a fresh carafe and two fresh filters for the coffee-making, which was welcomed by the loud exhale of the woman waiting to pay for her three bacon, two egg, one toast breakfast, and another fellow with a hard-boiled egg, cottage cheese, and a donut. And me. With my one dollar of coffee. Now in line for 3 minutes. Another person awaited a breakfast burrito.

Inez’s triumphant refresh of the coffee brewing and serving station and shuffling return to her register earned her a purse-lipped smile, a sigh, and this, from me; “What happened with the coffee?”

Inez: “Oh, it was out.”

Me: “All of it?”

Inez: “No, the one in the middle.”

Me: (playing dumb) “But the other one had coffee in it and there was a back-up carafe ready to go?”

Inez: (sighing) “Uh, yes. I had to get stuff for the other coffee to make it.”

Me: (pause) “That’s lucky. Oh, okay. I didn’t know you had to make more coffee right away. I thought you were just ignoring us. Here ya go.”

Gave her my dollar and left Café Ambivalence and their English-as-first-mumbling employees (Latinos to the kitchen!) to sigh their way into a layoff.

I thought I’d just go to the automated coffee vendor, but it’s so inattentive and cold. And more importantly, there’s nothing to complain about there. I expect crap, and it never falls short. By my calculations, Inez’s coffee move cost the company about $25 in pay to waiting employees. Each carafe holds $30 worth of coffee if they bottom it out. So I waited on Inez to make her facility another $5 until she waited on me.

Jeez, what a waste of resources, huh?

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Montreal Showcase Update Thing

I literally just got back from Los Angeles where I was performing in a callback showcase for the "Fresh Faces" selections for the Montreal Comedy Festival. Last time I did a showcase was a miserable showing in 2004 at the Underground where I went after a heckler instead of doing my act, and felt just fine for it. You can never tell hhhWHAT these people want! GOLLY! Comedy is a fickle sister of merciful death.

My trip started Wednesday morning with a rain-soaked, 90minute trip to SeaTac airport, a trip that took about 60minutes longer than usual. I parked AT THE AIRPORT as if I could afford to. It saved me time, but not money. So no, time is not money, this time, Dollah Dollah billz, y'all. Traffic was horribly backed up, because traffic is made up of people, and well, people aren't very good at things they do every day, like drive a car.

I then speed-walked into the terminal like a freakpie, weaving and dodging old old people, and one family that from 50 feet away was hysterically funny as they tripped all over themselves. Being right behind them was the efficiency equivalent of being on in-line skates (NO ENDORSEMENTS), downhill, underwater. Idiots. When their son wouldn't pick up his bag and began a tantrum instead of getting in line, I just said "Excuse me" and moved right around them. I had no time for that.

People in positions of power usually are either under control and helpful, or they work at the airport. One guy was so gosh-golly jocular, dare I say... "Jovial!"... that he was ready to make me, a traveler, even MORE late to the gate. Everybody he spoke to got a blah blah blah blah he was a NiceHole, okay?
PICK UP THE PACE...

ShitHead Red-headed kid working for TSA who X-Rayed my wallet... you didn't give it back to me and left it unattended. I will speak directly to you and your supervisor in a private screening room the next time I fly, if you're still there. I had to climb over 2 women staring at, asking outloud "Did they just leave somebody's wallet here?" Yes... Yes they did.

I then had to run at 75% speed to my gate, feeling like OJ Simpson, especially for killing two people and getting away with it. Full flight with attitude, probably the last time I fly Alaska. Oh, and the return trip resulted in another 90minute wait while the pilots were sidetracked in Customs. Good thing they boarded everybody 20min early.


OKAY, Comedy...
Got to LA, met by buddy Todd for coffee and a peek at his new townhome. Then chilled out and went to my showcase at the Comedy Store in W. Sunset. The stage looks like this...

The room was pretty full in the main area, good crowd.
Again, I was reminded of two things after the first couple of comics:

1. Originality and Definability as a comic is tough to come by, but when it's come-by, it's stellar. Michael Kosta and Patrick Keane destroyed, and both always kill me.
2. Commitment to Content is not the same as AutoPilot. While I am pretty happy with my set, I am judging it based on the decibel volume of laughter instead of the laughter volume. I would only do one thing differently, and that is be thinner.

So there ya go...
Another trip to LA for 6 minutes of comedy, followed by 2-3 weeks of shrugging and having pretty much zero clue as to what will happen.

I do want to thank the producers and scouts from the Montreal gang for their input and professionalism. They truly give a crap about comedy, and are each just cool people in general. I am really grateful to have gotten the first shot, and the callback, after a year+ of not having anybody even stay in the room for my stuff while living in Los Angeles.

All you can do is the best you can do, and then power-mope when shit goes poorly.

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Workin' It: Good Intentions vs. Good Traffic

There are days, as a new dad, that getting out of bed before 6:45 anti-Meridian is as likely as Barack Obama second-guessing himself. But today I was DETERMINED to do so. Getting a good start on the day is vital to getting the F outta work early.

So I got up and got moving. With only the most-minor lollygagging, I was outta the house by about 7:45 so that I could get to work at a decent hour, so that I could walk the 1/4-mile from the off-site, across-street, near-campus parking afforded to me, the lowly contractor.

Normally I'll leave the house around 8:10-8:20 and, with but a few red light waits (great name for a bearded indie band NOW NOW NOW) I zip to work and arrive by 8:45. Today, ha HA!, I left around 7:50. There was a back-up to the on-ramp, through 2 lights, stretching nearly 1.5miles. I thought it was just a small backer at the crosswalk as some Immigrant youth made their way to the public transit stop so as to ride to their "America Today!" classes. NOPE... Big stinkin' backup. So I said a long stream of expletives about debt and mortgages and sleep deprivation and the entitlement of youth and people who buy Aplets & Cotlets and why can't I install a new version of an internet browser at work instead of the shit-pile that is IE6 which does NOT have tabbed browsing??? NO, it does NOT have it unless you bang-in the MSN Toolbar which I cannot do, as I'm lacking admin privileges on this machine. Otherwise I'd be elbows-deep in iTunes. Pssssh!

The huge back-up to the on-ramp ellicited a new circuitous route to 405-North.

Long-story short, when it comes to your morning commute, there are 2 things you must keep in mind.
FIRST, are you leaving the house at a time when you are accustomed-to, even if it gets you into the office a bit later, but absolves you of jams longer than Phish unspooling at Bonnaroo?
SECOND, are you knocking out your debt so that this morning commute will soon be a thing of the past and you can take that drive leisurely in the near future, driving in the carpool lane with your giant middle finger raised to the Rat Racers?

Had I not left for Los Angeles a few years ago we'd likely not be in a position where I'd have to go do this work or take this trip. But Life is funny the way bee stings are tingly. You gotta go and do a few different things to really remind yourself of why you gotta stay the F outta debt.

To paraphrase Thoreau, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams, thy traffic maps be damned." What an asshole. Probably telecommuted.



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Mock Nerdle Tech

Somewhere in my DNA are a number of genes that are coded to produce moments of comedy. These moments aren’t always in the presence of others. I can’t really choose when it happens, usually. I feel it happen somewhere in my lymphatic system and then the connection completes and zap… comedy. Hoo-ray. It’s like trying to keep magnets apart. You can do it, but nature is making it happen in ways you are in no way emotionally ready to comprehend. And when these moments happen, I am at my most blissful, while somebody around me is usually suffering for it. In other words, if somebody gots theyself a goat, hoo-dawggy, I’m-a wanna git that goat! I did not choose Comedy. I chose football. But Comedy chose Me, and I have fewer shoulder aches from comedy, and almost never have to do windsprints for it.

And this kind of humor doesn’t always go well with the sensitivities, not to mention tight-ass’edness, of what I’ve come to see as “other people.” For example…

1) The FreeRange Tofurky Incident (involving a woman who was covered in cat hair-covered fleece)

2) The “Ice, No, but We Sell The Ingredients” Sale (retort to a woman who resembled a potato)

3) The “Is My Wife In Here?” Bartending Moment (wittiest comeback of my life followed that question)

4) Suggesting “Bring Your Child To Work” Day at Planned Parenthood (FIRED!)

But today was really a fantastic moment in my history of jerky humor.

At the vending machine at my new job, a guy’s purchase had hung-up on the way out of the rack. 6.5oz of $1 TrailMix held-back by the foil corner of the neighboring Oats & Honey granola bar. I suggested he either rock the machine, forearm-shiver the machine, or buy a cheaper item above or next to it, so as to “encourage” the release.

Me: Rock it a little. Like a baby.
Him: You can’t, it’s strapped to the wall.
Me: Bummer. Buy the granola bar, it’ll be cheaper than…
Him: … there we go… aw CRAP.

He bought ANOTHER $1 TrailMix, the one behind the first purchase. So the first one fell, while the one behind it HUNG UP ON THE GRANOLA BAR CORNER… Something about the definition of insanity.

So now he’s $2 in, and I say “Can you nudge it a little?”

Me: Can you nudge it a little?
Him: Why? It’s not gonna fall, it's stuck there Jeez. Well, somebody will get a free one I guess. (sulks away)

He turns the corner to leave and I shake my head, count to 5-IrishWhiskey, then blurt out “Oh awesome! FREE TRAIL MIX!”

He comes back around the corner with eyes wide, just as I start laughing and I say “Just kidding.” He wasn’t amused. I almost peed the inside of my pants with enough pee that it would show to the outside of my pants that very likely I had peed them through from the inside to the outside.

I don’t work or meet with this guy. But if I ever do, not matter what he tells other people about me, he’s the guy who paid $2 for crappy TrailMix, and didn’t have the balls to shoulder a 600-lb machine for what’s rightfully his.

All your TrailMix are ours.

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Insurance Policies & Other Horseshit

Greetings;

In the past, whenever I was an employee of a company, I had health coverage supplied by my employer. In the past 5 years since I began working on-contract it has become more difficult to guarantee coverage. There is often a 90-day working period without coverage. Monthly COBRA payments often cost over $1,000 for "peace of mind." I am currently working on-contract again, and have to supply my own health coverage entirely. And cannot get it. And I'm not sure I want it.

Health Insurance companies generalize and blanket a judgment of a level of care a person may need, based on a questionnaire you must fill out for the insurance provider. Proof-positive that we are looked at as statistics, not patients, and especially not people. This is true when they "score" a person's health history questionnaire. That score determines whether or not you have the ability to pay into the pool of money you may need to cover a doctor's visit. Or a hospital stay.

I recently paid out-of-pocket for a doctor's visit and my prescriptions. Total was $290. Had I paid into the plan I had applied for, I would have paid THE SAME payments toward the deductible, as well as the monthly $170 premium for them to keep track of my money for me. I had to go to a walk-in clinic instead of my choice of care-provider. I got most of what I needed. $170*2months = $340 + $40 of co-pays = $380. Simple math.

So sit tight if you have health coverage already. Don't set out on your own. Don't skydive, or drink too much, or take up Tokyo Drifting or self-tattooing. Do nothing whatsoever. Let your government make the case for you that you are worthy of a health care plan, THE WETNESS OF THE AMERICAN DREAM... and force you into taking one.

Ironically enough, I am currently on-contract for a major Health Insurance company. They shall remain nameless out of courtesy to those I work with, and the round-about ways money makes it to my pocket. So don't ask. From what I can tell, this company (also a non-profit firm) is doing all it can to keep things flowing, and as complicated as the Inflow and Outflow of claims and money goes these days, I'm amazed we don't just give our favorite doctor $1000 at the beginning of the year and say "tell me when I'm down to the last $200."

That kind of stuff'll make you sick, crazy, and in need of in-patient psych work. More than you need now, I mean.

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MC, MASTER OF CEREMONIES, HOSTING, HOST, COMEDY, SEATTLE, EVENTS, ORGS, EVENT, PARTIES, FUNDRAISING, NPO, NON-PROFITS

Customer Disservice - DirecTV Again

Like the title says, DirecTV has again proven itself to hold the highest standards of minimal effort in handling customer issues. Please get rid of DirecTV if you have it, or at least don't ever get it at your love bunker.

First it was the issue where a guy with almost an entire month of a court-mandated trade school course in Screwdriver Management put the dish practically in my neighbor's shower. Then, to have it moved, I would have to pay $50 (AMERICAN) because I "approved" the install by not supervising the installer's "work." Then I made the horrific mistake of - from what was implied in my call to their customer "care" office - not leg-sweeping and triangle-choking said installer to show my displeasure. So, hey, that was all my fault I guess.

Tonight we tried to order the Sandra Bullock-led movie for which she won an Oscar, "The Blind Side." DirecTV has a limited catalog of PayPerViews at any given time. TONS of movies that will show you the pink parts of people from bad families, but as for decent films? Yeah. No.

Like other times, I tried to order the movie on-line with a few button-pushes. Nothing. Tried it at another timeslot, and again, SQUAT. Went on-line to order and still got an e-quivalent of being slapped in the face with a turd-covered hand. Still NOTHING. So I had to call to tell 'em I NO LONGER WANT TO WATCH SANDRA BULLOCK PUT ON THE SOUTHERN ACCENT AND EMOTE, AND MY BILL WAS ALREADY CHARGED AND THE CAPITAL LETTERS ARE WHAT MY BRAIN IS FEELING WHEN I HAD TO CALL...

1) The bill was charged before the movie was active.
2) The phone number to talk whomever was gonna want to quit after I called was hard to find.
3) The system "was updating key records and was unavailable until tomorrow morning"

So to get the charges reversed... it was up to ME to call back. They couldn't write anything down, make a log of ways to HELP THE CUSTOMERS AND AGAIN MY BRAIN FEELS HOT.

So I told Megan at DirecTV... "Okay Megan, I'll reschedule my life because your supervisors haven't come up with a way to make a list of work items you can handle when the system comes back on-line as a courtesy to the people paying the bills there. Sound good? Oookaaaay byyy-eeeeeeeCLICK."

I know it's not Megan's fault. But unless Megan gets a verbal fart-slapping every once in a while, she'll never get her ass to mechanic's school and run her own diesel engine-rebuild shop the way she told her high school couns'lors.

DirecTV is NOT the bag of farts. It is the half-bag of Oreos & a half-pound of buttered broccoli-fueled farts themselves.

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MC, HOST, SEATTLE, HOSTING, CORPORATE, EVENTS, NPO, GEOFF, LOTT, PUGET SOUND

Where Ya Goin' In Such A Hurry?

This weekend in the Puget Sound area all us drivers will be under tighter scrutiny by the Washington State's Patrol Officers for "Speeding." Speeding is anything over the posted speed limit for the area you are speeding through to get A) To Work or B) Home from Work.

Why are you speeding... TO GET TO WORK?

If you have a job you can't be late for, other than neurosurgeonist or my bartender or the headliner, you need to find a better job.

If you have a job on-salary, chill out, you've done your part.

If you're speeding home I hope there's a hawt love basket waiting for you, or expensive carpets and a small-bladdered dog. Otherwise, relax. Your neighbors will be there to bother you any ol' time.

In the meantime, here are a few ways to not deal with speeding tickets.

1. Stop hitting your snooze button 8 times. Every 5-8 minutes is adding to your commute and stealing your sleep. Sleep a little longer, hit fewer red lights, and stop tailing people in your shitty car.





2. Stop tailgating in your shittay car. If you can't afford a nice car, you can't afford to back-crack somebody who's trying to listen to their GPS directions. When is the last time you were tailed by a Mercedes E-class driven by somebody for whom English is the first language? Ever been rear-ended by a BWM 5-series? No. Not a 5-Series from the 2000's.





3. Go, like, SUPER F*CKING FAST. You can't get caught if they can't catch you. Although that Sanjaya from American Idol was recently nabbed for doing like 105 in a Mazda 6, so unless you can get beyond 106, don't even try. You'll just look like more of an asshole.

The state needs to generate revenue, and stopping speeders is a great way to do that. Tickets are coming, folks. It's going to be a bigger hassle to fight the ticket than it is to take your foot off the gas pedal and get within 10miles/hour of the speed limit. The people who bitch the most about the cops and their invasion of our rights aren't reading this blog, so I'm fine if they get popped for doing 75 in a 50 in 95 Neon. This doesn't target "poor people," it targets people who make BAD DECISIONS with money and cars.

Body kit = 2 months rent outside of parent's home.

Hey... let's be careful out there...

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Top 10 Reasons You're Not Working

1. It's like 8:45 at night. Where are you working, Necrocomicon's Comics & Cards?
2. You're reading this while dorkatrons steal Magic: The Gathering sets.
3. F*cking short-sighted manager, man. Dude couldn't see how you work better when you're, like, "lifted."
4. Because you told some old bag that you didn't sell ice, but if she bought some water and hit the walk-in for 3 hours, she could Do It Herse'f.
5. HAVE YOU NOT USED AN iPAD YET? HOLY CRAP.
6. That super hot guy in application design just walked by and you think he smelled your toot and even though you know you shouldn't have eaten all that broccoli it's ALIVE and now you're freaking out and can't work, you just CA'... NOT.
7. Not Facebook, nope, that's not it so don't even check the other Firefox tab.
8. Watchin' Geoff Lott tear it up on Y'allTube. Dude's got mad MC skillz. No.. SQEELZ
9. Getting the last of your papers in order for support of your thesis, "Geoff Lott's Comedy As Metaphor Of Seattle's Frustration With Lack Of Courtesies To Hosts At Restaurants."
10. It's this economy, man. Got that taco truck converted to the first-ever Sushi-grade Chicken van and pfft, everyone got tight on you.

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Customer Disservice - Verizon Edition

Soooo... I got hooked up with Verizon for home phone, innernat, and a TV package through DirecTV which was a whole different bag of lazy. For some reason - likely a major miss on the part of the web-design team at Verizon - they aren't updating their billing system when they receive my money. In effect, their record that I see - "my bill" - shows I'm 2 months behind on payments, while my records and those of my bank show the payments having been processed every month.

WHILE I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FULL TIME JOB, in case any of you are lenders. I make payments, monkey face. We do money right!

SO, I finally track down a number to call in to Verizon with so that I can discuss why THEY are behind on my payments and YES that makes sense, and here's what happens:

1. The underpaid person I speak with tells me she has to transfer me to somebody who "handles my area," which I assume is Kirkland and NOT my "fundle." (3min)
2. The next guy I talk to is also likely underpaid, but makes up for it by being nearly unintelligible while speaking. I tell him what's wrong and he says he has to transfer me to a Billing Specialist. Unlike a medical, military, or culinary specialist, Billing Specialists eat lunch at their desks and have a fondness for books with Fabio on the cover. (7min)
3. The Billing Specialist, in the tone of whose voice I could hear an earring and a number of silk shirts, tells me... everyone now!... he HAS TO TRANSFER ME TO SOMEBODY WHO HANDLES MY AREA. Kirkland must have a special corral of friendly, caucasian-sounding reps on the ready at Verizon.
4. The Real Billing Specialist tells me that she shows my payments have all gone through, but the website version of my bill doesn't reflect it. She admits a few weird things going on in updates to the billing and website infrastructure (my word, not hers). Then tells me they have my payments, and that I should speak to the Web team, then tries to transfer me. Hey, I'm not paying you AND doing UAT, assholes.

So now... Verizon IS aware of this problem. It's going on 2 months now. And it's not fixed. While reflecting that customers are behind on payments. Some customers may very well be paying and paying, waiting to see the balance get zeroed. BUT IT WON'T, and if Verizon is aware of this and not doing anything about it, HELLO LAWSUIT. It's 2 months and hundreds of thousands of dollars = Gross Negligence.

So there you go. Verizon isn't showing a lot of wherewithall in getting their shit together to make it easy to deal with them. Ideally, the best customer service is never having to contact customer service. So if you can avoid 'em, stay away from Verizon until they get a few dorks off their chairs and on to fixing the billing updates.

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Read This If You're Unemployed!

I start my new job next Monday, and after a 19-month sabbatical/hunt, I am REALLY excited to get out of the house for a few hours a day. And provide more for my family, also. It's been a weird ride, but not one that I'd trade for the world. Maybe a couple grand, but overall the past year and half was really great.

• I was in a movie, a commercial, and a radio commercial.
• I drove to and from Los Angeles with my wife and a cat, seeing the gut of Oregon (GROSS) and the Coast of California.
• I played 10 shows in Las Vegas.
• I became a father!

All you need to know about Los Angeles in under 3 minutes. Not Safe For Lame-o's.

But in all this time I was searching for a job, also. A day-job, a real job that would allow my talents in writing, direction, and hand-farting come to the front of the fore.


And I learned a lot in the past 5 years of being both a Consultant and a Full-Time employee of companies. I can't really designate the difference based on the designation by name, as it seems that most everyone is there "full time." But looking deeper, it comes down to the fact that the benefits one receives vary greatly. I have written a book about this that I'll be publishing shortly and it will make a bajillion dollars and I won't have to work anymore, which is the point.


ANYDOO...
Here's a MAJOR news break I saw this morning and MUST share with you, especially if you are receiving unemployment checks from any state, and are also looking for work.


Your payment is based on your most-recent pay-rate at a full-time position. So if you were making $35/hour, WHY ON EARTH DID YOU COME TO WORK DRUNK AND GET FIRED, YOU DIPSHIT? Another time, sorry...


...then your check would likely hit the max rate for the weekly pay, around $500 from what I remember in the state of Washington.


BUT, if you are unemployed and take a part-time job ("part-time" will vary based on your location, check that out) it can GREATLY REDUCE YOUR UNEMPLOYMENT PAY-OUT if you leave that job. Your $35/hour designation will be wiped out in place of your $12/hour, just to help make ends meet until you sell your book, "Cooking With Whine."


The full story is below:
DON'T CUT YOURSELF TOO THIN.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20100329/ts_csm/291284d

So you may think twice before taking that part-time job. Some companies allow part-time work and dish out benefits.

As always, save at least 10% of every paycheck, pay down your highest-interest rate debts first, and don't ever, ever move to Los Angeles.

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My Blog About My Son, Graham

Health, Care?

Not that I know all there is to know about the machinations of working through the nooks and/or crannies of the Health Care Industry, but there are surely some changes that must be made on both sides of the receptionist's desk.

I have had moments in life where I surely needed my health coverage to handle the paperwork and bills that would have otherwise submerged me. Leg carpentry, wisdom teeth, child birth, and general quality of life stuff, thankfully, have all been handled by my health insurance. For the past 19months I have been without my own insurance (THANK YOU, horrible economy, bad borrowers, bad lenders, and California!) while working under my wife's insurance policy (Thank you Touchstone and later, the $1100/month COBRA Payment, and thankfully we had the money to pay for it). Not everyone has been in our position.

In 1999 I was in Ireland where I had a fantastic golf trip completely sideswiped by the evils of having to go to bed early in the morning after a few drinks. One night I was bowled-over by a couple of dorks wrestling in a nightclub (not a lot of women around), which ended when my knee went sideways. The next day it had swollen to the size of a grapefruit, and a trip to the local emergency care was in order. 2 hours later I had X-rays, crutches, and a couple of minor painkillers. It cost me $60, American.

There are so many facets of health care that I cannot go into right now because I have to fold laundry, but I'll tell you this:

* If you have a job that supplies health care, even on just a subsidized basis, think of toughing it out before you bail. It's tough to get coverage if you've been without it for a while.

* If you pay taxes, you should be entitled to getting at least enough coverage to keep you from throwing up too often, keeping your teeth in your head, and surely keeping your kids in good health. A healthy human is a happy human, and that's a productive human. And we gotta produce something sooner or later.

As I move forward with getting private health insurance via LifeWise, there have been some speedbumps, but I've been through much worse. The amount of $ one must pay varies greatly, but with this new plan, hopefully, when you need that $ returned to cover a claim, you won't have to fill out more than 5 forms.

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What Twitter Is

If you're wondering about what Twitter is, you're likely well-versed in things other than the latest how the internet is using all 9 hands to shovel your free time (i.e. bandwidth) into its gaping pipeline. Frankly, I'm not sure what Twitter is, NOW. I know what it was intended for. But like every piece of technology, from the wheel of cheese to the atomic bomb, idiots get their stinky fingers on it and skew the intended use of it.

There's a "trending" section in Twitter that states what people are talking about. By adding a "#" to the beginning of a word or words, Twitter begins logging which words are "#"ed and sees that "trend" and makes a "list" of who "is" tweeting about the topic. For example, "#GeoffLottIsAnAss" should, but won't, make the top 10 topics.

So the sociological aspect of Twitter is found in that you can see who is using it by looking at the Trending Topics. Twitter is a way for people to feel that other people are hanging on their every word. So yes, it's narcissistic - unlike blogs, which are almost narcissistic but mostly masturbatory. It's more take than give. (thank you)

And by looking at microcosms of society you get to see snapshots of what the "hoi polloi" think, feel, speak of, and want to have sex with.

Here are some recent high-points under the topic "That's Why You Hate Me"

• I'm not the fAther of ur baby #ThatsWhyYouHateMe (he may not understand "hate")
• i took a shit when you were in the shower &#ThatsWhyYouHateMe ever seen a grown man cry <#funniestshitever #epic #smh (this was from a woman)
• I tell you the reality of ur life and#thatswhyyouhateme.. bt come 2 think of it, do u really hate me or are u just angry at the truth..lol (did you really just Laugh Out Loud and need to document it?)
• I ghost hunt to get your Boo snatched#ThatsWhyYouHateMe (I have no clue...)
• 'Cause I can't do nothing right#thatswhyyouhateme (such as construct sentences)
• I see myself as a superior being #ThatsWhyYouHateMe But I'm don't a superior being (thanks for clarifying)

There are times I hop in the top trends to tweet to the idiots who may be reading it, and that shows what I think of myself and the people trending: They're dumb, and I am better than them, but not secure enough to not tell them, so I have to let them know in they own language, whaaaat?

So that's Twitter: A snapshot of short thoughts thrown into the webosphere by people with nothing better to do. That must suck.

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How To Not Do Good At Stuff

I found a position I would fit well in, with a company for which I would like to work.

I've applied there before via the web, per usual sources of application these days.

When I tried just now to apply, I entered the wrong password, and it said "USERNAME NOT REGISTERED, PLEASE REGISTER" as an error message.

But there's no place for a username, just an email address AS the user name.

STRIKE 1 - Username vs. Email Address

So I tried to find the password in my archives. No dice.

I tried to register said username, and got the error message...

"Account cannot be created. Username already exists!"

Wait, what? It DOES? You just...

STRIKE 2 - Internal Database vs. Error Message Accuracy

So I go to get the password reset for an account that apparently IS in the system, and got THIS error message...

"The Username you provided is not registered ! Please register." Yes, it's not. Because it is. Not.

STRIKE 3 - I am outta here.

If anybody knows the owner of the Clearwire.apply2jobs.com pages and database, please tell their boss that "Attention to detail" was probably fudged-about in their interview.

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AGAIN - The Ray/Lee Files

Something about having the middle name of Ray or Lee for a man fuels a life of crime.

The most-recent find was this guy, ERIC LEE GARNER, accused of threatening a Muslim woman and her son with a large knife... just for being in the same place as him.

Is it the shortness of the name?
I wonder if there was somebody named Lee or Ray who made fun of Jesus in trade school?

ANYWAY, enjoy. And don't name your kids Aiden, Caden, Kaiden, Adan, Jadyn, etc... Trendy. Over it.

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