A Letter To Santa

Dear Santa,

I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye in the past. You say it's "naughty," while I inevitably say "nice." You say "coal," and I say "candy."

It's a viscous circle, Santa, and it needs to stop this year. I have a few issues we need to discuss.

First, we need to discuss the whole "coming down the chimney" thing. Since we have no chimney, and I really don't feel comfortable leaving my door unlocked, I think it would be best if you give me a call before you come to my house. I'm sure you have a cell phone so Mrs. Claus can call you five million times during the night, so it shouldn't be a problem for you to give me a call.

Secondly, I will not be leaving cookies this year, Pudgy, cause I've seen your waistline, and it isn't exactly svelte. I'll leave some milk...skim, but the cookies will be replaced with a nice Rice Cake.

Thirdly, with all of the aforementioned weight you've packed on from those cookies, I would appreciate it if you didn't land on the roof, cause last year I had a heck of a time fixing the structural damage you caused...and do you know how hard it is to get frozen reindeer "presents" off of grey shingles?!? Yeah, Rudolph may love the extra stop you make at White Castle, but trust me, the White Castles don't like Rudolph!!

Fourthly, I dig the red and white hat...the red and white coat is even alright. But the red pants? Overkill. And with black boots? Looks like someone needs to sign you up for "What Not To Wear," or "Queer Eye For The Santa Guy."

Fifthly, dude, can't you do something about this damn cold weather? I mean, seriously, it's cold here in Indiana!!

I've added my Christmas Wish List via an attachment to this email, I hope your computer can support it's size. Let me know if you can't open it...Oh, and if you let me know the addresses of the "naughty" girls, I would be happy to give them a visit and put some coal in their stockings (girls over 18 only, please!!)

Have a Happy Christmas, Santa, and a prosperous New Year!!

Love, Tony

(PS, I mean it about those White Castles!! I've never had Reindeer Jerky, but I'm willing to try it!!)

Gloves vs. Mittens

If you live in in the Mid-West, the Cornbelt, Up North, or the Bible Belt, you know a thing or two about cold weather. I live in Indiana where cold weather is abundant come winter-time. Having a job that requires a lot of outdoor activity, you will often find me with my trusty toboggan and a pair of warm gloves.

While driving to do some Christmas shopping this past weekend, Becky wondered aloud which would be more warm, gloves or mittens. The choice seemed obvious to me, gloves. But the debate that followed has made me question the very foundation of all I thought I knew about hand warmth.

Let's see the tale of the tape.

GLOVES


Finger Holes: 4
Thumb Holes: 1
Pros:
*More dexterity due to the separation of all four fingers.
*Ability to make hand signals like "thumbs up!", "OK", and "*@&# YOU!!"
Cons:
*You still think you can grasp things with gloves on...until that soda slips out of your hand and into your lap. Not that it's ever happened to me...I knew a guy, ok?
Style: You can be cool rockin' out in gloves.
Warmth argument: With each finger individually wrapped, it's like a heater for each of your digits.

MITTENS



Finger Holes: 1
Thumbs Holes: 1
Pros:
*You always have that "Grandma knitted my hand-warmers" look.
*A mittened wave is way cuter than a gloved wave.
Cons:
*You can't pick up anything without the use of both hands.
*Unlocking doors is difficult.
Style: You may not look sporty, but you will have that "cuddly" quality.
Warmth argument: Fingers can generate body warmth by touching each other.

CONVERTIBLE GLOVES



Finger holes: 4, or 1...no, wait 5
Thumb Holes: 1
Pros:
*You have the best of both worlds...glove or mitten.
Cons:
*These gloves are also known as "Glittens" and that's a pretty gay sounding name for a product (not that Convertible gloves is much better).
*Loss of all respect while wearing the "Glittens".
Style: HA HA HA!! You're kidding, right?
Warmth Argument: Since the glove half is fingerless, I would say, see Mitten section.

While some people enjoy the flexibility of the glove, the confinement of the mitten, or the public ridicule of the "Glitten", the question isn't look or functionality, it's warmth.

Does the individual finger warmers of the glove or the body heat furnace of the mitten generate more heat? Being a glove guy myself, I thought gloves. However, a recent study was done by a group of 5th to 8th graders who were sent out to brave the cold to determine which actually kept hands warmer.

THE RESULTS

Believe it or not, Mittens keep your hands warmer than gloves because mittens "cut down on the surface area that is exposed to the air."

Ed. Note: "Glittens" were not tested in this experiment. Those little bastards!!

So, next time you are going to be standing out in the cold weather, bring a pair of mittens. If you need to actually use your hands for anything except waving, bring some gloves.

TONY'S TOP TEN GREATEST MALE SINGERS IN ROCK N ROLL/POP HISTORY

Some musicians are great guitarist, like Jimi Hendrix. Some are great performers, like Bruce Springsteen. Others are just plain genius, like John Lennon and Bob Dylan. But only some can be classified as great SINGERS. Without further ado, I give to you:

TONY'S TOP TEN GREATEST MALE SINGERS IN ROCK N ROLL/POP HISTORY

10.



STEVIE WONDER

Stevie Wonder almost falls into another category all by himself. R&B genius, Wonder crossed over into pop with a lot of his songs...just enough to make this list, even though I see him more as an R&B guy. Wonder SHOULD be higher, vocally, but the lack of Rock/Pop roots makes him #10.
(Key Songs: Superstition, Isn't She Lovely)

9.



JAMES TAYLOR

His smooth delivery made it easy to understand why he was one of the first artists to record on the Beatles Apple label in the '60's. While time has past, and his hair has gone, Taylor's voice remains as strong today, as it was way back then.
(Key Songs: Fire and Rain, How Sweet it Is)

8.



GENE PITNEY

Forget for a second the "popular" music of the '60's. If you want a voice that was not only flawless, but underrated (in my opinion the most underrated voice on this list!!) Gene Pitney was your man. A love song specialist, Pitney still belts out the tunes to this day...but still doesn't get the respect he rightfully deserves.
(Key Songs: Town Without Pity, Only Love Can Break a Heart)

7. TIE



BILLY JOEL / SIR ELTON JOHN

It's almost impossible to mention one name with out the other's coming up soon after. Few people have made the piano cool, like Billy Joel and Elton John. Strip away the guitars, the drums, and the bass, and you'll unlikely hear a more melodic ballad as the two of these men have produced with piano accompaniment.
(Key Songs: Billy Joel: Always a Woman, Piano Man)
(Key Songs: Elton John: Your Song, Rocket Man)

6.



CHRIS CORNELL (TEMPLE OF THE DOG, SOUNDGARDEN, AUDIOSLAVE)

Lost in the shuffle of the "alternative" scene is one of the greatest voices to ever step behind a microphone. Pushing the limits of lung capacity, Chris Cornell has the voice of an angel at times, and a demon at times, but regardless of which way he's swingin', it's always magic. It you don't believe me, listen to his solo album Euphoria Morning.
(Key Songs: Hunger Strike (Temple of the Dog), Fell on Black Days (Soundgarden), Show Me How To Live (Audioslave)

5.

FREDDIE MERCURY (QUEEN)

Flamboyant, check. Outrageous, check. Great Singer, check. Freddie Mercury's voice was as pure as his songs are timeless.

(Key Songs: We Are The Champions, Bohemian Rhapsody)

4.

PAUL SIMON (SIMON AND GARFUNKEL)

Simon and Garfunkel no doubt performed some of the most beautiful love songs ever to grace the airwaves. But most of those songs were Paul Simon's. A genius with the pen, and a master of the vocal, Paul Simon is truly worthy of # 4.

(Key Songs: The Sound of Silence, Still Crazy After All These Years)

3.

SIR PAUL McCARTNEY (BEATLES, WINGS)

Paul McCartney almost needs no comment. With the Beatles, he penned a dozen or so Top Ten hits...and that was in the first 8 years he was a recognized musician. Spanning over 40 years, McCartney not only personifies great longevity, but also the timelessness of a great writer, performer, and singer.

(Key Songs: Hey Jude, Long and Winding Road, Yesterday)

2.

ROY ORBISON

Before Overstock.com came to existence, The Big O was Roy Orbison. Singing songs for the lonely, Orbison honed his famous falsetto voice and took his songs and his always present black sunglasses straight into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. The pureness of his last album, Mystery Girl, cemented his spot as # 2.

(Key Songs: Crying, It's Over)

1.

ELVIS PRESLEY

The King. Some people can learn to sing, and some people were born to sing. Elvis was born to sing. Storming onto the scene in the mid-50's at a time where Rock and Roll was in it's infancy, Elvis created a legacy that will never be matched. A voice from above, Elvis made every song feel as though it were the most important message you could be hearing in that 3 minute span. Gospel, Rock, Country...Elvis could just flat out sing.

(Key Songs: Heartbreak Hotel, In The Ghetto)

NOTABLES:

Almost making the list, but barely missing out were:

Lionel Richie, Jim Croce, Cat Stevens, Jeff Lynne (ELO), Michael Jackson, and Layne Staley (Alice In Chains).

Def Lep

You all know I like records, and if you don't then you probably should read my blog a little more. Anyway, I like records, and subsequently, I also enjoy making gifts for the friends of mine who enjoy music using records as a focal point.

My friend Dan is a big Ted Nugent fan, so for Christmas last year, I framed an autographed Nugent LP and gave it to him. For his birthday, I framed a 45 rpm record from each of the Nuge's musical projects...one from the Amboy Dukes, one of his solo 45's, and one from the Damn Yankees.

You get the idea.

Well, my buddy Brian is a BIG Def Lep fan, so I constructed this for him...



FRONT VIEW



ANGLE VIEW

As you can see, this is a LARGE Def Leppard framed art piece!! It's made of the one 45 record (top left corner) and 7 45rpm Picture Sleeves which, when put together, build the cover of Def Lep's Hysteria album. The frame is probabply 2 ft x 2 ft total. I was so pleased with the outcome, I almost kept it for myself!! In fact, if I can find another frame like that one, I may make one for myself...

After seeing that, don't you wish you were my friend??

You're Outta Here!! (Almost)

I know I shouldn't talk. I shouldn't complain about this, but sometimes things happen that are beyond acceptable...

I will be the first to admit, when I am on the volleyball court, I get excited. I get heated. I get defensive, and I complain about bad calls. I try to only do it when the play is terrible. I try to only do it because we try to be relatively honest and call our imperfections when they occur. Usually, I don't bitch at the ref, I turn it to the opponents, and call them out for their lousy play/plays.

I have been more aware of what I do ON the court since I've been ABOVE the court...that is, since I've been reffing. I ref the women's league, and I get some arguing, some grumbling...it's all par for the course. I try to continue on, and shake it off. But sometimes, just sometimes, some one will cross the line. It's happened only twice this year. The first time wasn't very major. the lady argued that she knew the rules because she was a "coach."

"Well," I responded calmly, "I'm a ref."

The second occurrence happened Tuesday...and the lady doesn't even know how close she came to getting booted from the game.

It was the first round of the league tourney. Game one went smoothly. The losing team, however, began to get a little nervous knowing that if they lost another game, they would be eliminated from the tourney. With this urgency, came a little bickering, some eye rolling, some moans and groans. All typical "I-want-the-ref-to-bail-me-out" kind of whining that comes when you're losing. One lady in particular was giving me some gruff, but I shook it off.

Then, the fireworks started.

The Complaining Lady's teammate took a good set and hit it hard over the net. The girl on the other team put her hands up to set the ball (perfectly legal). The ball hit her palms, but came straight out and in the direction she was aiming. The sound was bad, but the play was LEGAL.

The Complaining Lady started in: "Oh my god!! Come on you can't do that!!"

The play continued.

Her: "You've got to be kidding me!! That's a bad hit, that's not legal!!"

The play continued.

Her: huff, huff, bitch, moan, complain

The play went dead. Her team lost the point.

Her (loudly): "You can't let her do that! That's illegal!!"

Me: (sounding all professional) "No, on a hard driven ball, the first contact can be taken with the hands if it doesn't come to rest."

And her answer just about got her tossed...

She says: "EEEEE (Buzzer sound) WRONG ANSWER!!"

Ok, if you want to argue calls, fine. That's part of the reffing duties, to calm people down. Don't, DO NOT, try to make the ref feel like an idiot, under any circumstances. Argue your point, and shut up!!

I responded: "I've been reffing volleyball for 15 years, I think I know what the rules are!!"

Then I gave her a dagger stare and she didn't say another word. After the game, I walked to the side they were on, just ready for her to come give me some shit. I was just feet away from them. I was prepared, too. I was going to ask her what the rule was? What was the call on that play? When she couldn't tell me, and I'm sure she couldn't, I was going to say: If you don't know the rules, don't argue them! Of course, she didn't say a word the rest of the second game. They won, and were cruising through the third, so I calmed down enough to where she wasn't on the radar anymore. It's fine now, but she better watch herself!! I do ref the finals, and I don't forget!!

The Big Time, Baby!!

I am super, duper excited. Cherry on top excited (oh, yeah, that's the big time, baby!!) I just found out that I have been included in the Blog Pound...that is, Miss Jenny Amadeo, one of the funniest bloggers in all the land, has included a link to my blog on her website, Run Jen Run!!

For those of you not in the know, Run Jen Run is located at www.runjenrun.com, and is very funny. Bust-a-gut funny. I highly recommend reading it.

Thanks, Jen, for linking me to your site, it is truly an honor to be included with such greatness!! If I were smart enough to know how to add a link, I so would have you on my site. But, alas, I am not that cunning.

To all my blog reading friend (s)...please take a moment to check out Run Jen Run, you won't be sorry!!

Hold the Lettuce

Dear Fast Food Establishments,

You know what I hate? Fast food lettuce. I mean, seriously, who wants to eat that crap? It's almost always either gone bad, or they give you that white lump of lettuce that comes up by the stalk...you know what I'm talking about, quit pointing and laughing cause I don't know the right word for it!!

Why the heck do you in the fast food places use lettuce anyway? I would think that, besides under cooking the meat, and improper sanitary conditions, lettuce would be the most prevalent cause of food bourne sickness.

Also:

--Lettuce doesn't have a taste, so just leave it off!
--Lettuce always makes the other, better toppings slide around the sandwich.
--Lettuce gets all over the car if you are eating on the go. (stupid sliced lettuce!!)
--Lettuce doesn't make the sandwich any more appealing. Honestly, when was the last time you said, "I'm not eating that unless you throw some beautiful, leafy green lettuce on that bastard!!"
--If every restaurant in America put one less leaf of lettuce on each sandwich, the restaurant could save over a million dollars a year!!

Ok, so I made that last one up, but who likes lettuce anyway? I don't see any hands, but i'm gonna assume some people out there like lettuce, so I'll compromise. You lettuce lovers give me a burger without lettuce at the fast food, and I'll give you the garden when you go to the fancy place (like Applebee's) and drop a Hamilton on a "gourmet" burger. Ok?

(PS, if anyone responds that I could just order the sandwich without lettuce, I'm gonna hunt you down and rip your arms off!! I've been ordering "no onions" for as long as I could order, and those fast food workers ALWAYS PUT ONION ON MY SANDWICH. No, you can't always get it your way!)

Love,
Tony

On the Shelf

I'm a terrible at judging the amount of time a project will take (seems like I've said that before). Ah, I can paint that room in 30 minutes. Two hours later, still painting. I really thought this time I would get it right, but alas, I was incorrect again.

The plan was simple. Take a week off work, build 6 rectangular shelves, sort through my records, and voila!! Basement is finished. I planned a day to build the shelves, a day to stain them, and 3 for records.

I was way off.

The shelves took a day to cut, a day to build, and almost a day to stain and clear coat. TWO AND A HALF DAYS!! I was very pleased with the results, however. I really took my time to pre-sink all the holes, putty over the screws, sand, stain, clear coat...

The records themselves went fairly quickly, and I was able to almost get the basement cleaned up in the week. Of course, the addition of The Beast didn't help matters, but now I believe all is well in the basement.

Here is a photo of the LP Record Collection as it stands currently...now, on to those 17,000 45's!!!


I made the top 2 shelves on each side of the stereo. You can't see them
very well, but they came out pretty good, I think!!

Pictures of The Beast

Ok, kids...As promised, here are pictures of "The Beast." Very special thanks to dad for wiring the beast up, and helping to put it into place. (It wasn't your fault that the Beast took off my toenail, either...I think he was just hungry for blood!!)

Without further ado, pictures!!


The Beast (Full View)


The Beast (Side View)


The Beast (Side View - Close Up)


The Beast (Front View - Close Up)

Word Verification

Friends of my blog...I recently have been getting a lot of spam comments in my comments section. Thusly, I had to enable the Word Verification.

Yes, this takes an extra second or two for you to post, and that sucks, but please, pretty please with cherries on top, don't let this stop you from posting to my blog.

Oh, and if you love me, you'll still post comments. (Gotta throw the guilt in there!!)

That is all.

T

Slaying the Beast

Sunday was a cold, rainy day...perfect for laying inside under the covers, nestled by the fireplace. Ah, remote in one hand, soda in the other...the Colts game tugging at my senses.

But it was all a dream.

Instead of the warm blanket, the Colts, and the neverending bliss of a Sunday morning at home, Becky and I found ourselves in the trenches...the auction trenches. Although the rain and the cold were abundant, we still felt the urge for a 5 hours romp in the memories of other's pasts. But today, I was in hot pursuit of "The Beast"...a monstrous 4 foot wide, 7 foot tall lighted glass display case.

It would be mine.

We stood around and watched as the glassware and household goods were snatched up, and then some small furniture was sacrificed, before the Beast was offered. Two of these mammoths were inside the house, ready for sale, but I only needed one. The auction opened for choice Display Case, and the bidding war began.

To the far right, an older gentleman in a three piece suit. To his left, a farmer and his wife, in front, one of the auction workers (which, for the record, I think is crap that they can bid to a certain extent...feels like they're running up the price to me.)

The farmer opened up the bidding at $30, followed by the Old Man's $40. I jumped in at $50, and the circle continued. At $100, I bowed out, and the auction man jumped in. When the dust cleared, the Auction Man was victorious with his $150 bid. I stopped because that case was HUGE, and I was nervous about the weight, getting it in the basement, etc.

The Auctioneer asked the Auction Man if he wanted both, and he said no. There was one Beast still needing to be slayed. The Auctioneer fired up again. This time, the farmer didn't even bid, neither did the Auction Man. It was me and the Suit, mano-a-mano.

In the end, I had the stamina that the old man just didn't possess. The Beast was mine at $90. Then, as always, the troubles began.

Problem #1

I had to wait until the auction was over to get any help. I had a game in the Burg at 6, and it was closing in on 4:45 when the auction concluded...I would have to work fast.

Problem #2

The display case must have been constructed in the room where it layed, because no amount of twisting and turning would get that damn case out of the house. It just wouldn't go. One of the auction guys tried taking the top off of the case, but it wouldn't come off. I looked around the room and only saw one option...

The window.

After some convincing, the beast slid out the window into the waiting hands of two other auction guys. Time, at this point, was of the essence. I waved at Becky to pull the van in close, and as soon as she did, the auction guys stopped her, and informed me they had to take the tent down first. An agonizing five minutes past as they de-constructed the tent. Finally, the tent was down, and me and 2 auction guys loaded the beast into the van.

It barely fit.

I scooped up the glass shelves, while Becky combed the room for the brackets and a plastic tub full of hard plastic display stands. They probably weren't included in the deal, but I'm sure they were in the case at one point, so I felt entitled. I carefully sat the six shelves and the glass doors in the belly of the beast, and we were off.

Problem #3

I took a quick measurement of the beast to confirm its 4 foot by 7 foot advertised gerth, and sure enough, it was exactly as described. I then measured the spot I had planned to put it in the basement.

The spot was a mere 3 foot wide! Damn...

The basement ceiling only measured 6 foot 11 inches! Double Damn...

We left for the game amidst my cursing and screaming. Becky assured me that it would work out fine, and, as always, she was right, but at the time, I just couldn't see the light at the end of this long and heavy tunnel.

I enlisted the help of my best friend, Shannon, to help me carry the beast to it's resting place. I was paranoid that the thing would be a royal pain to get downstairs, but Shannon's confidence was all it took.

"Don't think about it, just grab it and let's do it!" he said, sliding the beast from the back of the van. Two minutes later, we sat and marveled at the size of the beast as he lay sideways on the basement floor.

A little cutting from the bottom, a quick wiring of the lights, and the beast will be ready to display. Stay tuned for pictures of the finished project. Hopefully, I won't leave you waiting for long.

For the Birds

TV: Tonight at 11:00, we analyze the bird flu pandemic on the Night Cast.

Becky: "The flu is coming from birds?"

Me: "Yeah."

Becky: "Does that include chickens? Like, if I eat a chicken could I get it?"

Me: "No, it's from bird poop."

Becky: "Oh, then I definately won't be eating any of that!"

Me: "I would hope not."

5, 5...Who'll Give Me 5?

All of you who know me know I'm a big Ebay fan. A lot of times, however, you buy something on Ebay only to find it wasn't as described. Man, that sucks!! If only there was a way to have items up for bid and you could personally hold the things and inspect them BEFORE you bid...

Ah, yes...AUCTIONS!! I have heard a lot of people gush about going to auctions and estate sales, but I was always too afraid of the fast paced nature of the "game." I tried it once years back, and had a bad experience.

I went to the local auction barn in the 'Burg because I was tipped off they were putting some records on the block. I went and searched the 5 boxes of records and put together a box of records that were good ones I would like to have. Since I only found one good box, I was going to concentrate on that box. Well, the bidding started, and me not knowing anything about auctions, tried to keep up.

"Alright we got some records here, choice of box...who'll give me 5, 5, 5, who'll give me 5."

I got a stern look from the auctioneer, the man who tipped me off in the first place. I raised my number and started the bidding. Another guy was with me and we bid it up to $20. When the dust finally settled, I had won!

That's when the trouble started.

"You want all of 'em?" the auctioneer asked?

Well, yeah I want them all!! Sweet, I got them all for $20!! Damn, that was a good deal. So, I get up and go to pay, and the lady says..."$100, Sonny."

"No, I just bought the records...$20."

"You took 'em all, $20 times 5 is $100."

I was stunned. I didn't have $100!! I thought they meant...OH!! I begged for forgiveness, and they finally granted it to me. I took my one box, paid $20 and slunk off into the night never to return. As I left I heard the Auctioneer and all the auctionees laughing at me as the Auctioneer explained how stupid I was.

Fast forward 7 years.

Becky and I went to an auction close to home. This time, I knew the lingo. Becky got us started with a win on a glass plate.

I set my sights on some old video cameras that my cousin collects, and some larger items in the front yard. I was running back and forth, to make sure I won the cameras, before bidding began for the larger items. Finally the cameras came up...but first, it was hair curlers. No one wanted them, so they drug in a camera. It wasn't the one I wanted, and no one bid, so in came the second camera, the Super 8 hand held I wanted. I bid the dollar.

To my surprise, no one challenged. My first win!! Two old cameras and some hair curlers for a dollar! I made my way back out front and prepared to wage war for a beautiful console stereo. This thing had no scratches on it. I opened the bidding at $20 and bids came in fast and furious.

$25, $30, $40, $50, $60...I pulled myself out of the running. But Becky nudged me and put me back in...she always knows when I should keep fighting. I threw myself back in at $80, and won!



We tried to get some recliners that went for an unbelievable $500 each, and a table that went out of our range. Then it was Becky's turn. Her sights were set on a small padded rocking chair. There were 2, and the auctioneer called for choice. Becky and another lady duked it out, and Becky finally succumbed and gave it up at $50. The lady took her choice (which was also the one Becky wanted) and left. The other one was up for grabs. The bidding stated again, and Becky won for $25.




A few more things went out of our price range, and I bought a plant stand to sit my Steve Timmons 1984 USA World Championship Volleyball Jersey on. (Yes, he actually wore this jersey!! I guess it's more exciting to me than you...)



After that, Becky took our number to the back, where they already knew what we bought (isn't technology great?) and she paid the lady. I carted the stereo down to the street and waited for Becky to pick us up. We loaded the stereo, but didn't have room for Becky's chair, so I picked it up and started walking home.

I thought the house was closer than it was. A half a mile later, I arrived home. We now officially have the auction bug. We went to our second on Sunday, but won nothing. We will be back...oh yes, we will be back!!

Got Them No Brakes Blues Again

I am not a huge fan of cars. Don't misunderstand, I love getting in a car and it taking me to my destination so I don't have to walk, but I prefer it to be simple.

Get in.

Insert key.

Drive.

No headaches, no hassles. Change the oil? Not this guy. I'll pay someone to do it. Camshaft, crankshaft, tie-rod, piston...just words to me. No idea. This is probably why I really hate when my car has a problem. I know nothing about them, so I feel like someone is always taking advantage of me.

Wouldn't you know it, Becky came home the other day (actually about 4 months ago) and said her brakes were "squealing." After months of putting it off, I finally took the car in to the shop.

We needed:

Brake Pads, Rotors, and a new front tire, as ours had a gash in it. Total = $370.

Ouch.

Then, the guy calls back and says:

"the piston is cracked in half and is leaking brake fluid...I need to put a new caliper on there, and it's another $70. Do you want me to go ahead and do that?"

No, moron, slap some duct tape around it and let's call it a day. YES, I WANT YOU TO FIX IT!!

After waiting all day, I finally called to see if the car was finished at 4:45 pm. They informed me that it was. Thanks a lot for letting me know!! At this point, I had no one to take me to pick up the car, and they closed in 15 minutes, so I took the work van, drove it to the Brake place, paid my $470 bill, drove our car home, had Becky (who was home at this point) drive me to the van, follow me back to work, and take me home.

What a nightmare!!

I sure hope they did all they said, cause I wouldn't know the difference anyway.

Under Attack

SQQQQUUUIISSSHHH...

Me: "I totally just smashed a huge spider."

Becky: *yawn* "Good for you."

Me: "Did you see how big that thing was?!!

Becky: "Yeah."

Me: "Does that make me a killer? A murderer, maybe?"

Becky: "Nah, it was self-defense."


(Self-defense...where does she come up with this stuff? She's so funny!!)

Concert Tour 2005: The White Stripes

Date: September 9, 2005

Time: 8:00 pm

Location: Murat Theatre, Indianapolis, Indiana

Seats: Balcony Center, Row K, Seats 16 and 17

"Every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me." White Stripes - Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground


I can't, at this point, say The White Stripes fall in the catergory of "Living Legends," so including them in the LL Concert Series would be inaccurate. I WILL, however, go on record right now as saying this band deserves all the respect and accolades of any current band, and several bands of the past.

If there was ever a band that should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 20 years, it is The White Stripes.

Now, on to the concert. Before we arrived, I knew this was going to be like no other concert I had ever been to. I was expecting weird looking people, loud music, and in general, an atmosphere unlike the shows we were accustomed to attending. After all, this was one of the first concerts I have ever been to featuring a band from my generation. (except Counting Crows, and John Mayer...but they are a lot lighter than The White Stripes).

We weren't disappointed. Becky and I immediately began noticing things. We were shocked by the number of:

1. Odd looking couples...i.e. two people you wouldn't expect to be together.
2. Red pants (Jack White wears red pants frequently, hence the trend.)
3. High fives (must have been drunken frat night)
4. Gay people (The White Stripes must have a BIG gay following...not that there's anything wrong with that!!)
5. People younger than us (which is weird since we are use to the McCartney, Springsteen, Petty, James Taylor type crowds.)

The opening act, The Greenhornes, were decent, but oh so loud. I couldn't understand them at all.

After they left, the stage was transformed into a visual delight. Everything from the lights, the amps, the guitars and the drumset were red and white, except for the piano, which was a stark black. It was by far the most visually stimulating set i've seen.

Then Jack and Meg hit the stage. They immediately ripped into the Hardest Button to Button, and didn't come up for air until at least 6 more songs were played in a medley format...one after the other. The sound was loud...so very loud. But I knew the songs, so I could understand them all.

Meg's drum kit sounded like a sonic boom with each bass kick, while Jack's guitar brilliantly outlined the familiar sounds of songs I knew and loved. I was constantly amazed that it was only 2 people making these songs come alive.

Jack White is a genius.

They continued to tear through songs. Jack would stop only to switch guitars, or when he would swing his guitar to his back, and sit at the piano to play the melodies of Apple Blossom, and the other piano driven songs. At one point, Jack went to the front of the stage, and defiantly tuned the guitar, while the static from the amp hissed at the audience.

The balcony was rocking. No, literally, it was rocking. People were jumping and the balcony was bouncing up and down enough to make me grab ahold of Becky's arm, and give her a sideways look. If the balcony collapsed, I thought, the people below us are screwed.

The show, overall, was nothing short of amazing. Pure and simple. If you don't have a White Stripes CD, buy one, and if they come to Indy again, go see them...I guarantee you will enjoy the show!!

The Dreaded Three Day Weekend

Ah, the three day weekend. Sometimes it's great to have three days of fun, relaxation, and in general, no responsibilities. But every once in awhile, you have the dreaded "home improvement" weekend.

Yes, the 3 days of back-breaking labor, all in the name of updating your home's appeal. Usually a three day weekend is great, but the home improvement three days weekend sucks more than a Hoover vacuum.

Mom and Dad came down to help, since I am notorious for not being able to measure things with any accuracy whatsoever. I had a plan to get a lot accomplished in only 2 days, leaving the third day, Monday, to recover. Well, the projects ran a little long...

PROJECT #1:

KITCHEN: BEFORE




The plan was simple. Mom and Becky would paint, while me and Dad did some other stuff. Dad and I would then add new counter tops and the project would be complete. The painting went smoothly. It was the counter tops.

Dad says: "It shouldn't take more than a half hour."

After mis-cutting the counter-top, going to Menards for a new one, and finally getting the stupid sink back in, the task was accomplished...

IN 3 HOURS!!

KITCHEN: AFTER



PROJECT #2:

BATHROOM: BEFORE



The bathroom wasn't very bad before, as we just remodeled not very long ago. The problem was, when we put down the vinyl tiles, the nails holding the sub-floor down started to pop up, creating a very unsightly problem. The solution? Ceramic tile!!

None of us had ever layed ceramic tile, so it was a new experience. I figured since our bathroom is about 50 square feet, it shouldn't take much more than 4 hours.

After precisely cutting tile around the toilet, the shower, the angled walls, the sink...and after Dad cut his hand on tiles 5 TIMES, and his toe once, the task was accomplished...

IN 10 HOURS!!!

BATHROOM: AFTER

PROJECT #3:

GROUTING THE BATHROOM TILE

It was about midnight on Sunday, and the list was still long with things to do on Monday. So me being the genius that I am, decided that Becky and I should grout the bathroom, so we could put the trim up Monday.

Tony says: "Being this bathroom is so small, this should only take about an hour or so."

I am an idiot.

At 3 am, some 3 hours after we began, the bathroom was grouted to excellent results. We popped some popcorn (our dinner) and went to bed.

PROJECT #4:

LIVING ROOM: BEFORE

We needed to re-paint the top half, and add wainscoting to the bottom. Again, the painting went well, probably because Becky and mom painted. It was the dang wainscoting. I really thought it would take 5 or 6 hours to do the entire room. However, because you had to measure each piece, cut, put in place, re-cut if necessary, glue, adhere...

well, we worked for about 5 hours and got half finished. It looks fantastic, but we aren't finished quite yet. Here's a sneak peek, just for you!!

LIVING ROOM: AFTER (ALMOST)

We still have half a living room and trim in the bathroom, but all in all, a pretty productive weekend. I am super sore, but I can't image how Dad feels. After all, he did the largest percentage of the work!! Thanks, D!! Sorry about all the cuts...floor, hand and toe!!

D's Poor Toe

What you Crave

Have you been to White Castle lately? In the drive-thru, they have the credit card machine hooked to the outside of the window, so you can swipe the card yourself...kinda like a grocery store.

This sucks. Especially it you have a small car, short arms, etc.

Well, every machine is different, so when we pulled up to pay, Becky waited for instruction from the White Castle guy. Does he have to push a button inside first? Can we swipe away?

When he finally came to the window, Becky held up the card, and the guy began to walk away.

Becky: "Do I go ahead and swipe it?" she called in the half closed window. No response.

Becky: "HEY!! Thanks a lot for your help!!" she screamed as she angrily swiped the card.

Me: "Becky, don't do that, it's rude."

Becky: "RUDE?!? What's rude is that guy NOT HELPING ME..." she continued as she turned her head towards the window.

Me: "Ok, maybe it's not rude of you, but could you calm down, I don't want them to spit in my food!"

Spit in the food is always bad...but ladies, if you ever want to start something with a rude guy, please make sure the following:

1. They aren't in food services, where they could do something to my food.
2. The person isn't big enough to kick my ass, because no guy is going to try to kick yours.
3. If the guy does try to kick yours, make sure I would actually step in and save you.

Becky should know better...I'm a wuss, but I would take a beating for her.

I don't think he spit in my food, in case you were wondering. If he did, then it tasted like chicken!!

Dolls to Dollars

I decided it was time. I held on as long as I could, but it was finally time to sell my dolls.

My Britney Spears dolls...my Wizard of Oz Barbies...my Christina Aguilera...my Charlie's Angels which looked like Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz and Lucy Liu...

I'll give you a second to laugh.

Ok, time's up.

So, I drug them out of hibernation, dusted them off, and scanned them for sale on E-Bay. Are you still laughing? Well laugh at this, I made $350 sucka!! All those years of Becky telling me to get rid of them, or "open them up and let the nieces play with them..." Well, who's laughing now?

When the bidding ended, I noticed something that made me wince. Several of the auction bidders where from foreign countries. A few from Australia, a few Canadas, Netherlands, California...

Well, in order to ship abroad, you have to delicately break it to these people that shipping is gonna cost them an arm...and insurance is gonna cost at least a few toes. Most take it well, because they know how the game is played. They buy from half way across the globe, they pay the price. Others, are not so friendly.

One of the Britney dolls was going to the Netherlands. I check the postage, $15.50. With insurance, $19 something...so I tell the fella shipping = $20. He e-mails this response:

I don't want shipping by air, because there's a cheaper way. Why don't you use that one? I can't understand that. Besides I have a box here, only 11 dollars for shipping, so I don't believe your answer.

I don't believe your answer? Yo, buddy, I am looking at the flippin' scale, and it says $20. So, before I had a chance to calm down, I wrote him back and told him he had 3 options:

1. Send me $20, and he'll get the package in one piece, insured.
2. Send me less than $20, and get the doll in a paper envelope, quite possibly in more than one piece, and tough titties on the insurance.
3. Send me nothing, and get a negative feedback telling the world that you are a jack ass for not asking me BEFORE the auction was over how much shipping was.

He e-mailed me back and said $20 was fine. The moral of this story, kids, is stick to your guns, and don't take no crap from an old man in the Netherlands who is buying a Britney Spears doll!!

Rat-a-"tat"-"tat"

My Tat: Location - Right Calf
(Shamrock with the colors of the Irish flag)

Before you ask...YES, IT HURT!!!



Becky's Tat: Location - Right Wrist
(It's says "peace" ... so the book said!!)

Crashing Wedding Crasher's

I like Vince Vaughn. Not so keen on Owen Wilson, but Vince Vaughn's my boy. The dude's hilarious. So, naturally, I wanted to view his new movie, "Wedding Crashers".

I'm not going to give you a scene by scene re-enactment of the movie, but I do warn you: If you haven't seen the movie, and plan on it, (which I really think you should, it's really quite funny) I would stop reading now.

Ah, who are we kidding? I know you people reading this can't get enough of my posts, so you're going to read it regardless of my idle threats. Bless your hearts!!

The premise of this movie is, duh, Wilson and Vaughn crash weddings to pick up unsuspecting females who, naturally, succumb to their willy charm. Ok, we all get this. After the "season" begins for the two (the wedding crashing season, that is) they decide to pull off the "Big One"...

...The Senator's daughter's wedding. (Or maybe he's a congressman...doesn't matter, it's the big time.) Lots of important people, lots of hot women. Here's my problem:

In the "wedding" scene, the guests are sitting in the church, awaiting the bride or some-such thing. A couple of guests turn to Wilson and Vaughn and ask them how they are related to the bride.

"We're Uncle Ned's kids." (Or Uncle Ted, or...quit busting my chops here, so I can't remember the exact names, I'm not Rain Man!!) The guests shrug and the movie continues. Later, the duo introduce themselves to the bride's sisters (the objects of Wilson and Vaughn's affection), also as "Uncle Ned's kids."

The sister combo eventually hook up with Ned's kids for some "under the cover fun." But wait...if these two are Uncle Ned's kids, doesn't that make the two sisters...

THEIR COUSINS?!?

Why would:

1. These experienced "Professional" wedding crashers use the alias of a long removed Uncle's kids when trying to pick up the bride's sisters?

2. Why would the sisters go for their cousins?

3. Why would the Senator allow such a thing? I can't imagine it's good for his re-election!!

4. Why the hell is Vince Vaughn so funny?

(Sorry about that last one...)

Maybe in "high society," hob-knobbing with your cousins is acceptable. If you are among the ranks of Kings, you can probably even boff your sister. It's all in the societal hierarchy. Sometimes it's better, morally, to be one of the working class stiffs!!

(Stiffs...no pun intended)

Oh, Baby!!

My good friend from the east (Ohio, that is) just had a baby boy yesterday.

Congrats, Jean, Larry, and baby Noah!!

Born: August 18, 2005
Time: 10:12 am
Weight: 8 lbs 10 oz.
Lenght: 20 1/2 inches
Hair: Full (I'm so jealous!!)
Eyes: Baby Blue

(everybody leave a comment for the proud parents below!!)

In Search Of George

I happened upon the fact today that TV Guide has released a 4 issue Collector's Series set featuring the Beatles. Since it has been 40 years since their historic Shea Stadium concert (August 15, 1965), TV Guide decided to run 4 issues, one cover featuring John Lennon, one with Paul McCartney, one with Ringo Starr, and one with George Harrison.

Of course, me being a Beatles freak, I had to have them.

So, I sacrificed my lunch hour to go to Target to pick up the issues. One John, one Paul, one Ringo and ... "where's George?" I searched through the stack of Guides at every register, but there was no George to be found. Hesitantly, I threw the 3 mags on the register, paid for them, and left.

I crossed the street to Wal-Greens to find the missing mag, to no avail. So, I went over to Osco drug...nope.

Marsh...no.
Kroger...no.
CVS...no.

I was running out of options. I could go to the mall, and hit K-Mart, and if they didn't have it, my only choice was the dreaded Wal-Mart. I haven't been into the Columbus Wal Mart for a long time...once since the new Target opened it's doors a few years back. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

In desperation, I entered K-Mart. I made a quick flip through the Guides, and came up empty handed. I was devastated. Ugh...Wal Mart...NNNNNOOOOOO!! As I was making my way back through the mall, I crossed paths with Walden Books. "They have magazines," I thought to myself, so I gave it a try.

After looking at all they had to offer on their racks, I turned to leave, defeated. But as I crossed the counter, a display caught my eye. Various magazines...and one of them was TV Guide. I lunged for the stack, flipping through the copies of John and Paul with the fury of a madman.

And there it was.

GEORGE!!

I slapped the Harrison issue on the counter, and with my head high and my wallet out, the cashier swiped the bar code. Nothing.

She made a second swipe...

and a third...

and a fourth...

George didn't want to be sold!! I swooped up the copy with John's face on it and handed it to her. "Maybe this one will ring up," I said. The cashier smiled, and swiped John. SUCCESS!! I handed her the money, and she handed me change. Then she picked up the John Lennon Guide and put it in a sack and slid it to me.

"Ma'am...I really want THAT issue," I said as I pointed towards George.

"They're all the same, right?" she questioned.

I grabbed a copy of the Guiness Book of World Records and began beating her. "No, they aren't the same!!" I cried.

Ok, I didn't do that. I told her I needed the George Harrison cover, and she gave me a look like I was crazy, but she understood. She slid John out and put George in it's place. I would have hated to see what would have happened if a cashier at Wal Mart would have tried to pull that on me!!

Casting Call

Did any of you catch the Teen Choice Awards last night on Fox? Ok, I didn't actually watch the show, but I did happen to be on Fox when it came on. The show started with Gwen Stefani singing "Hollaback Girl."


Maybe it's just me, but I was a bit uncomfortable watching a half naked Gwen and her "Gichy-Gichy-Ya-Ya-Da-Da" girls (you know what I'm talking about) sing a song to TEENS which contain the following lyrics:

Uh huh, this my shit
All the girls stomp your feet like this

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
Cause I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl

Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit

I heard that you were talking shit
And you didn't think that I would hear it
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up

So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out
That's right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up

A few times I've been around that track
So it's not just gonna happen like that
Cause I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl

Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit

So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers
No principals, no student-teachers
Both of us want to be the winner, but there can only be one
So I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my all
Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust
A few times I've been around that track

So it's not just gonna happen like that
Cause I ain't no hollaback girl
I ain't no hollaback girl

Oooh, this my Shit , this my Shit

Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
Again, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
This shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S

Of course the "shit" was replaced by "shhh" and "uhh", but I think we get the idea. After she was done singing, (uh, yeah, I was still watching...I said it was uncomfortable for the TEENS, not for me!!) the presenters came out.

Hillary Duff...ok, good choice. And...

ROB SCHNEIDER?!?

What are we trying to teach our kids here? We love slutty dressing women and old, pervert Giggalo's!!

I thought it was bad casting...but what do I know?

Prove it All Night

I'm not a big "gamer." I don't spend hours trying to conquer Halo, nor am I ever first in line for the newest X-Box creation. But I do like the occasional marathon of play. Like my NBA Ballers marathon while I was on vacation...

A couple times a year, I hook up with my friends Hank and Sue (frequent blog contributors, I may add) and we burn the X-Box up...stopping only for pizza, restroom breaks, and daylight. Even though I was physically exhausted from my records excursion, I decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get my game on.

Becky and I arrived at around 4:30, and we all fired up the Box. Hank and I started with some Driv3r, but I sucked at that, so I suggested we switch games. Being more of a Nintendo kinda guy (I can tear up Marios Brothers, recognize!!), I wanted to play something that required less moving around, less 3D graphics.

We decided on Big Mother Truckers.

We had a grand time with that for a few hours, stopping for some pizza, and I must admit, I had to turn the game off for an hour while Big Brother came on (Sorry Hank and Sue!!) We played awhile longer on BMT, and decided to break out the steering wheels and compete in a few Nascar races.

Let me take this opportunity to say I suck at using the steering wheel. Ok, I would have sucked with the controller, too...maybe I just suck. Anyway, Hank usually did well, and Becky was the surprising underdog...but Sue...well, she liked to crash...usually into me!!

I didn't mind, because I decided we would crash into each other, and then I would have an excuse for losing as bad as I did. I actually think Sue was decent at the game...until she crashed into me the first time, and then I had to retaliate!! Over and over and over...

I finally pulled the plug at about 1:30, I was just too spent to continue. It was a far cry from the 6, 7, 8 am finishes Hank and I pulled off in the past, but it was still a nice relaxed ... well, as relaxed as Hank could be ... evening!!

(No shirts were torn off during the evening, no sunglasses were broken, and no animals...except whatever animal pepperoni is made from... where harmed).

A Mountain of Records: My Day in the Sweat Box

If you know me at all, you know that I am a bit loose in the wallet sometimes. A great deal will come along, and instinctively (NOT IMPULSIVELY) I have to buy it or else pass on what could be the deal of the century.

Wednesday, I made one such instinctive purchase.

Lounging around work Wednesday, I decided to pop over to Ebay and look at some records...my favorite past-time. I did a search for records within 50 miles of my zip code, and saw there was a lot of records being sold in North Vernon.

It advertised "Approximately 1,000" LP's (that's the 12 inch, 33 1/3 rpm records, for those of you not in the know) all for $300. In looking at the picture with the posting, I counted roughly 25 boxes. 50 records per box...yeah, that's around 1,000. I emailed right away and asked where in North Vernon he lived, and if he would allow me to come have a "sneak peek" at the lot. He agreed.

I went straight from work with the work van, in case he decided he wanted to part with the records right away. When I arrived, I was lead outside, where the owner opened the right half of a two-car garage. Inside I saw a stack of boxes, just like the picture on the ebay listing. In front of the boxes was a rack that contained a bunch of loose records. I started thumbing through, and after about 5 minutes, I had seen enough good stuff to know I wanted to take the plunge.

"What'd ya think? Name me a price, and I'll close the auction right now." the owner said as I removed my hat and scratched my head. I knew at this point, I was going to be able to get these for whatever I wanted...why would he end the auction early, if he wasn't hoping for a quick sale?

"Well, Jim, I'll tell you what..." I opened my wallet, and counted out some $20's...making sure to count and re-count, to build the tension.

"I have $160 in my wallet and I'll give that to you right now for the whole lot." Jim hoped onto the tailgate of his truck and countered.

"How about $200?"

I had him. I would have paid the $300, but now I got a deal. I agreed I would Paypal the rest of the money to him when I got home, if he would go ahead and let me load the records up now.

He looked puzzled...not because I asked to load up without paying in full, but rather because he was adamant that I wouldn't be able to load them in one trip. 25 boxes in an empty van? Yeah, that'll fit, i'm sure of it.

Then, he hopped from the tailgate and opened the left half of the garage. There, behind door number 2 was the mother load. A seven foot high mountain of boxes spanned five rows wide, and three rows deep.

What have I gotten myself into? Where will I put all these records? What the hell am I thinking?

I loaded up the first 25 boxes, and had barely made a dent. Did I mention that Jim had a water cast on BOTH feet, making it impossible for him to help me load? Well, he did. So, I called for some back-up, as I knew this would take several trips.

My back-up wasn't home, so I sucked it up and called Becky, whom I knew would KILL me for buying these. Surprisingly, she was very cool with it. I promised to put them in the shed, and get them out ASAP. She helped me unload the first pile into the shed, and followed me out for round 2 in the Cruiser.

The look on her face when Jim opened up the garage was priceless. And it made me feel about 2 foot tall. I knew it was a look of "what the hell?." We loaded the van and the Cruiser down and headed home for the night. It was about 9 pm when we got home, and Shannon came over to help unload. I settled in for a few hours of searching.

The Plan

The plan was simple. Search for records I wanted to keep for a few hours, and the next day, I would take the morning off work, return for the rest of the records, and take Friday off to look through the rest. I had to get the records I wanted out of the hot shed, to prevent warping or total wrecking of the albums with the humidity and such.

Wednesday night went as planned. I looked through about 25 boxes, and pulled the records I wanted. Thursday morning, I returned to the scene...twice...to pick up the remaining stash. On the way back from the final load, I counted the records in a box that sat next to me.

90 records. I then counted 80 per milk carton, and roughly 75 in a smaller set of boxes. Then, I started to count the actual boxes. I roughly estimate there weren't 1,000 records in this lot...but rather between 7,500 and 10,000!!

Once I got all the records in the shed, I made a startling discovery. I had NO ROOM to move in there. I was going to have to figure out a new way to tackle the project. Friday morning, I set to work, having decided to work a three box system.

Box 1: Records I wanted to keep.
Box 2: Records I didn't want to keep that were in good shape.
Box 3: Records that were trash.

Box 1 records, once full, would go to the house. Box 2 would go into the van. Box 3 would go to the trash.

It was so hot in the shed. 90's outside, probably close to 100 inside. Sweat dripped from the bill of my hat. A sweat soaked towel layed close. Beside me, the remains of a 12 pack of Coke...I swear I drank 10 sodas and several glasses of water Friday...but I couldn't get enough. In the end, I sweat 8 pounds off. But don't worry, most of them found there way back!!

At 9:30 am, I knew I had to make a very difficult decision. The van was nearly full and I had to decide between option A...take them to a storage unit, pay the big monthly fee, and hope to sell them. Or option B...Goodwill. It was the only options, as I couldn't put them all in the house, and the shed would only serve as temporary housing.

I couldn't decide, so I opened a few more boxes. The van was getting full. Then, my answer came for me. I opened a box that showered me with a gold rush of big artists...Beatles, The Who, Zepplin, Stones...in all, if I were to buy all these records on ebay, it would cost me over $700. I found a stash of Beatles 45's with there picture sleeves, one of which was on ebay that very moment for $150!!

I felt so blessed, that I decided, on the spot, that Goodwill deserved my overflow. I hopped in the van, and drove a load over. Poor Goodwill guy...we unloaded that van for 20 minutes, filling a skid, a cart, and leaving the rest on the ground. Another donator pulled up and went straight to work helping unload, what a nice guy!! I returned the favor and helped him with his load when mine was finished. He only had clothes, though, so it wasn't a very fair trade.

The receipt said 60 boxes, but I bet there were only about 35-40. When we pushed the cart inside, the lady in the donation center said: "Good, we needed some records." The kid looked at her and said, "We haven't even scratched the surface yet!"

I returned home and loaded the van up a second time with non-keep albums, and I finished my last box around 5:30 pm. Near the end, I pulled a red vinyl Beatles White Album (Japanese pressing) which is a BIG dollar piece in it's own right. In total, I think I kept 2-3,000 records for myself, of which I will try to pare down (due to doubles, condition, and the fact that I grabbed some stuff I probably don't really want.)

I took van load #2 to Goodwill...another 40+ boxes. Two skids worth this time. I bet they didn't want THAT many records!! But they unloaded with no complaints, thanked me, and I was on my way. The basement is full of boxes, but it's fairly organized still. I worked on getting everything together yesterday, and I hope to make up a lot for ebay, to recoup my investment.

Anyone want to build me a storage unit for these records?

Crying, Waiting, Hoping

It should be here today. Today or tomorrow. Today, tomorrow, or Friday.

It better be here by Friday.

What is it that I so anxiously await? Finally, after months of unanswered e-mails, and impatiently waiting, my jukebox is coming home from the repair shop. Well, I didn't send the entire jukebox off for repair, just the amp, but by golly it should be in my hands this week.

I sent it to a guy in Chicago to rebuild, hoping this would finally put an end to my jukebox troubles. The problem is, I sent it to him in FEBRUARY!! Yes, I have been sitting, waiting, hoping for six dog-gone months for this guy to rebuild my sloppy amp. Each month I would e-mail him...

"Any news?"..."How's the repair going?"..."Hello?"

Every other month he would respond.

"Waiting for a part,"..."Testing it,"..."What'd you want done again?"

It was a viscious cycle.

Hopefully, all will be well. He said if it didn't fix the problem, he would fix my pre-amp for free. Maybe I'll have that back before Christmas.

I won't hold my breath.

Pain Don't Hurt

It took me almost a month to complete the cycle, but I did it.

It started as a far-fetched idea that my brother and Becky dreamed up. I never would have dreamed I would actually agree to it, let alone follow through. But I am a man of my word (most of the time), and I knew I couldn't let them down in our moment of BONDING.

I got the ink.

I know all you non-believers out there didn't believe me for a second when I said I was going to get a tattoo, but I was determined to finish what I had started. I said I was going to do it, and by golly I did it.

I woke up Saturday morning with the urge to go and get the "tat." We drove to Mystic Ink in Seymour (which I highly recommend...very clean, and comfortable) and after about a 10 minute wait, I was up.

I described a "4 inch by 4 inch" shamrock design that I wanted on my right calf. But the tattoo artist had other plans.

"No, man, you want that much bigger...you have a big calf, and you want it to fit the whole thing."

"Um...ok," I said.

He proceeded to blow up my design to about a 6 inch by 6 inch monster tattoo. Hey, he's the artist, I guess he knows what he's talking about. After a few minutes of prep, I entered the tattoo room.

"How many tattoos do you have?" he asked as I tried to figure out how I was going to lay across the tattoo chair.

"This is my first," I said. The tattoo man looked over to his protege, a young kid who was looking from behind a half door, and said, "Ever seen a grown man cry?"

I finally was able to wrangle myself onto the chair, after having almost knocking it over once, and having kicked the tattoo guy two or three times. I layed face first in the chair and closed my eyes as the needle began to purr.

The outline of the shamrock wasn't very painful. It was the color that hurt like the dickens.

I decided to put the colors of Ireland's flag in the shamrock, green on the left (a symbol of the Catholic people), Orange on the right (A symbol of the Protestant people), and white in the middle (a symbol of peace between the two.)

When the color began, it felt as if the needle were plunged into my calf, and a circular "joystick" motion was being used to drive that sucker deep into my leg. Waves of pain radiated throughout my body, but after about 90 seconds or so, my calf went numb, and the pain wasn't intense at all.

After what seemed like an hour, but which was only about 5-7 minutes, he stopped. I thought the whole thing was over. Then Becky looked down and reported:

"Ok, he's about finished with the green..." My mouth dropped almost as much as my spirit. Only one color finished?

Damn...

Double Damn...

He started in on the orange with the same joystick motion. Argh...the pain!! Then, the 90 second window of pain closed, and he was able to complete the orange with relatively no pain. The white was the easiest, because the numbness of the other two colors pretty well numbed the middle. I was home free.

In total, it took about 40 minutes to complete. He applied some stuff, and wrapped my leg in saran wrap. Blood trickled from the wrap, and collected on my sock. I felt like Curt Schilling in the World Series.

It's Monday now, and the tat's still a little tender, but I know in a week or so, it will be good to go. I'm glad we were able to bond...maybe next time, we can bond through something that requires a little less pain...bowling maybe.

It's Hard...Not Real Hard, But Hard

Neil Sedaka once said, "Breaking up is hard to do."

Boyz II Men quipped, "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday."

And that talking Barbie was heard to mutter, "Math is hard!!"

But the fact remains, there is nothing harder, than trying to cancel a Credit Card.

My problem was a double-headed Discover card...one Platinum, and one Classic (and, no you don't have to be rich to get a Platinum card...even schlubs like me can get approved.) Finally, I got wise to the ways of the interest gobbling giants, and decided it was time to cancel them.

I dialed the 800 #, entered the 16 digit account, and the last 4 digits of my Social Security number. After listening to the menu 3 times, I finally hit 0, to talk to a real person. I was greeted by John, who gave me the balances for both cards, but who also was going to charge me $15 PER account to pay the cards off over the phone. He said you can pay via the internet for free.

I went to the internet, but couldn't pay the FULL balances, because it was higher than they had listed. Not wanting to have the problem of getting billed later for the interest, I once again called the 800#.

When I called back, I talked to Amanda, who said she would be happy to wave half of the $15 fee per card, making the total $15. Ok. Of course, after she took the payment on the first card, she tells me that the $7.50 fee would be applied to my Discover card!!

"You mean I can't close it today because I now have a 7.50 balance?" I say,

"Yes, you can close it, but you will have to pay that balance...in 8 business days" she says, because you can only make one payment every 8 days. That would have been nice to know...

So, I pay off the other account. BEFORE she takes the payment I asked if the 7.50 can be added in, thus making the account ZERO. Yes, done. She transfers me to Christine.

"Christine, I need to close this account."

"Sir, you have a $20 cash back bonus award, would you like me to credit your account?"

"No, I want to CLOSE the account...please mail me a check."

"I'll transfer you to Jennifer, so she can get that check to you."

Did I mention that each time they transferred me, I had to state my name, mother's maiden name, and birthdate? Yeah.

Jennifer agrees to mail me the check, and asks if there is anything else. Well, I say, there is still the matter of closing this card.

"Ok," she says, "I'll transfer you to Travis."

ARGH!!

"Hi, Travis, this is Anthony Gillespie...mother's maiden name is...birthdate is..."

"Sir, I need your home phone number."

Are you shitting me?

He tries for 10 minutes to persuade me (in vain) to keep the account active. NO, close it mo'fo before I get mad. Ok, it's done...

John, (remember him, the first guy?) told me that I cannot close the Platinum card because I am just a user, and that Becky is the only one who can close it (ok, a schlub like me CAN'T get a Platinum card, Becky had to...are you happy?). I tried to persuade Travis into letting me do it, but no can do.

After an hour on the phone, being shuffled from person to person, I had finally cancelled one of two cards. Wow, what an accomplishment, huh. I shot an e-mail telling Becky to call and cancel the other card.

Five minutes later she e-mailed me back. Done.

FIVE MINUTES!!

"They asked me if I was sure I didn't want to leave it open. I said yes, I'm sure, and they said ok."

Next time, I think I'll have Becky call in the first place.

Living Legends Concert Tour 2005: James Taylor

Date: July 26, 2005

Time: 8:00pm

Location: Verizon Wireless Music Center, Noblesville, Indiana

Seats: Pavilion, Section E, Row T, Seats 27 and 28

"I've been walking my mind to an easy time, my back turned towards the sun...Lord knows when the cold wind blows, it'll turn your head around." James Taylor -- Fire and Rain

Dearest V: (before you send your letters to Becky, "V" stands for Verizon, and Becky knows all about us!!)

I know you probably read the post about the Tom Petty concert, and how I said all those nasty, nasty things...I was just angry, I didn't mean them. I could never swear you off forever, and you know that, baby.

I have a confession to make. I tried to avoid you last night. I tried to sell you to another, so I wouldn't have to face the shame of seeing you face-to-face. But, no one wanted you. Don't take that the wrong way, V, they just didn't want to see you with anyone but me.

I know we've had some good times...like the Counting Crows concerts, and who could forget Bob Dylan?...and some bad times. (Do I have to mention the Dave Matthews butt grabbing incident? I swear I'm still a little upset that you didn't stand up for me!!) But all in all, it hasn't been too bad.

Even though it took me FOREVER to get to you Thursday, last night was different. Just an hour! Maybe I could forgive you, I thought. Maybe we could make it work. The crowd was smaller...the restroom was empty...and then James Taylor came out.

Fire and Rain.

I cried.

But I knew, deep down, the parking situation was looming. We can't just avoid the inevitable. So, I think we should end it here, V. Oh, I'm sure I'll be back...and I hope you take me back, even if I reek of Murat, or you find the long blonde strands from Conseco on my shirt...

I hope we can get past all of that, and be friends.

My Love to you always,

Tony

Lance Armstrong: # 7

On October 2, 1996, Lance Armstrong was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer. The condition spread to his abdomen...

...and his lungs...

...and his brain.

But Armstrong refused to let that stop him.

October 8, 1996: Lance Armstrong Press Conference

"I want you all to know that I intend to beat this disease, and further, I intend to ride again as a professional cyclist."

Lance was dropped from his sponsor.

He didn't give up. He worked harder.

He was signed to the United States Postal Service team, and in 1999, Lance not only lined up at the Tour de France, cycling's biggest race, he won it.

In 2000, he won it again...

...and in 2001...

...and in 2002...

...and in 2003...

...and in 2004...

...and in 2005.

Seven in a row.

Lance has made it clear that this will be his last Tour de France...not because the disease beat him, but because HE has decided it was time to step down.

Congratulations, Lance...you are a true champion.

No Pain, No Gain...(Actually All Pain, No Gain!!)

WARNING: In the post below, you will get a first hand account of a "Poor Me" situation, in which I will, at every turn, try to incite pity, empathy, and a strong sense of need for you to feel sorry for me (isn't that what pity and empathy are?) If you do not wish to be subjected to those things, please, go read the newspaper...

Ok, so I warned you.
..............................................................

FIRST ANNUAL BURCH VOLLEYBALL TOURNAMENT

My good friend, Shannon, invited me to be among 7 players who would compete in a "Kings of the Beach" format volleyball tournament this past Saturday. For those of you not in the know, a "Kings of the Beach", or KOTB, format tourney is where, in this case, the 7 people each play one game of doubles volleyball, with each of the other players as a partner. You are scored by wins/loss, and then by a points system, where if you win game one 21-11, you get +10 (because you won by ten)...

Get the idea?

Anyway, you are basically playing 6 matches, and the top 4 finishers go to the finals, where you play 3 more games (one with each of the other 3). Top score wins the whole thing.

Now that I have put you all to sleep, let's start.

I started a bit slowly, losing my first game, but picked up steam winning the next two. I really thought I was in a good position going into game 4. I had the momentum, and I was playing with a guy who was doing well, against a team that I didn't figure to be much of a threat.

unfortunately, we played extremely poorly and got our butts kicked! I was now 2-2. The heat wasn't really to big of a factor, but my hat was so wet, it was dripping in my face...that's never good. I was also beginning, at this point, to stiffen up. Also, not good. I had two more matches, just to make it to the Finals, if I were so lucky.

After losing game 5, my chances of making the Finals were very slim. I had to not only win my last match, but I had to do it BIG. I was playing against the man who stood between me and the Finals, and I was determined not to let him steal the coveted "last spot."

All I wanted was Fourth. Forget winning the would tourney, if I could make the Finals, I felt I had accomplished my goal. I hadn't, after all, played in 3 months.

Luckily for me, the other team served my partner, and my setting just happened to start clicking. I would throw it up, and he would knock it down. Victory!!

A final tally revealed that I had made the 4th spot in the finals...barely.

The #1 seed, Toby, and the #2, Sean, played Shannon (#3) and I in the first game. We felt like underdogs, but came busting out of the gates like champions. We switched sides up 17-13, and feeling invincible. Then our house of cards came crumbling down.

Toby and Sean started to heat up, digging and pounding the ball consistently, leaving only sand in their wake. We still held a 19-18 advantage, when Shannon rolled the ball mere inches off the net. Toby made a grand charge, dove and popped the ball up. Sean rolled it to the back line, and our fate was sealed.

We lost 22-20 (games were to 21, win by 2).

In game 2, Sean and I held court until 11-11, then Toby and Shannon pulled the plug, defeating us 21-12. I was out of the running to win, but I wasn't finished playing. Toby had helped me win a similar tournament a few years back, and I was determined to repay the favor.

The game was neck and neck all throughout. At 17-17, I called a sand timeout, to clean myself off.

"Come on, Tony, you have to do this!" I told myself. With a newfound 5th Wind, I received the next serve and hit it at Shannon harder than I had hit a ball all day long. 18-17. The score went back and forth, each time I mustered the strength for one more hit.
19-19.
20-20.
21-21.
22-22.

They went up 23-22, and the serve came to Toby. His pass was excellent, and I broke fast to set. Instead of the great sets I was putting up, this one was a bit too far off the net. Toby hit it, but it was dug. Shannon passed to Sean, and then Shannon rolled it in front of me for the game.

We lost 24-22.

Shannon and Toby ended up tied with a +9, and Shannon tried in vain, to give the title to Toby (Toby is way too modest to admit he was taking us all to school!!) Sean and I finished with -9, but he had 2 wins, so I came in 4th with my ZERO wins.

I only wanted 4th.

Today, I can barely walk. My legs are swollen from the knees up. I feel like Barry Bonds took a home run swing at my right knee, and followed it up with a Grand Slam on my left. My knees are so swollen, I can barely bend them, and the pain is so intense, I slept for 15 minutes at a time last night, because everytime I turned over, I would wake up.

It's agony. Was it worth it? I could say no, but I know I'd do it again, so I guess that answers it. I love the game...and I had a great time with the guys. I hope to be able to walk by weeks end, but I'll make no promises!!

Living Legends Concert Tour 2005: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Date: July 21, 2005

Time: 7:00 pm

Location: Verizon Wireless Music Center, Noblesville, Indiana

Seats: Pavilion Section G, Row AA, Seats 21 and 22

"There's Pigeons there in Market Square, she's standing in her underwear." Tom Petty - Last Dance With Mary Jane

It's been a few years since I swore off Verizon. It was the Dave Matthews Band show. The show was sold out, it was absolutely packed, and it was miserable. Parking sucked...it took three hours to get out of the parking lot at the end of the show.

As the years ticked by, we started to make amends with the venue. But never again in the lawn (as we were for the Matthews show). We saw a few shows there, and it was ok...

Then came Tom Petty.

We left Columbus at 4:45. The venue is roughly an hour away. At about 7:00, we were still 1/2 mile from the exit. Stopped in bumper to bumper traffic. For 45 minutes! We finally entered the venue in time to see the Black Crowes play 2 songs from their set. It was, after all, nearly 8:00 at this point.

It had briefly rained, also, and our "pavilion seats", were not really under the pavilion. Needless to say (but I'm gonna say it anyway) the seats were soaked. Becky and I decided to make an exit strategy, because of the sold out nature of the show, and the impending second coming of rain, which loomed ever present during the night.

"God's Own Little Light Show"

When Tom Petty took the stage at 9:00, the thunder and lightning was crashing all around.

"Let's leave at 11," Becky said.

"I think we'll look at things at 10:30." I responded.

Well, we listened to about 6 or 7 classic Petty songs (and one Traveling Wilburys tune), when I turned to Becky and said, "Let's hit the road."

It was just before 10:00.

We got to the car, out of the parking lot (very quickly...duh, we left early!), and no sooner did we hit I-69, the rain hit us.

Hard.

We couldn't see the road. Cars pulled to the side. Not Becky, of course, cause she was unafraid. We got home around 11:45 or so, and hit the sack. The Black Crowes were really good (what we saw) and Tom Petty was excellent. It's just that damn Verizon. I'm going on record right now...unless someone else is driving, I will not return there. PERIOD. (it's too bad really, we had James Taylor tickets for this Tuesday...)
....

The next day, we found out the rain knocked out the power at the show, not 10 minutes after we left. Petty was mid song when it happened, and I guess the crowd kept singing the song. Tom was proud. He tried to play some more when the lights returned, but it wasn't happening. The power went out again, and the show was cancelled, leaving a sold out shows worth of people scrambling, wet, to the exits.

I bet that was fun.

Thank goodness we left when we did.

Run, Fat Boy, Run!!

It was hot Sunday...or maybe I'm just lazy, yeah, that's probably more the truth. Well, whatever the reason was, I decided to put off mowing the grass until Monday. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Monday at work, the sky was bright, the sun was hot, and there was no indication that a storm lurked. I got home around 5:20, threw some shorts on and headed to the basement for my mowing shoes. While I was there, I made what I now realize, was my fatal mistake.

Laundry.

What does laundry have to do with mowing grass? Keep reading, and it will become clear.

As I was bouncing up the stairs, mowing shoes and a basket of towels in tow, Becky arrived home from work.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as it was odd I was actually doing laundry, and that I was thinking about mowing with the impending storm (which at this point, I still was unaware of.)

"Just thought I would grab these towels, and then go mow the grass like I promised I would."

She said the storm was racing our way. It relentlessly doused her on her trip home, and she suspected it would be hitting us very shortly.

I should have scrapped the plan, but at this point, I was pysched for mowing (oh, yeah...I have to get pysched up to mow...I'm lazy, remember?) I got the mower out and began.

The sky still looked clear. In the back of my head, I was laughing at the craziness of the thought of rain. I finished the back yard, and pulled the mower to the front, when I heard the crash of thunder in the distance.

I looked to the sky, and saw the black clouds rolling, slowly in my direction...I panicked. I started to jog the mower around the front yard.

"Come on, Tony, you can beat this..."

As the clouds got closer, my pace quickened. I made my way down the last row of grass, killed the beast, and made my way for the back. I was going to win. As I jogged, I noticed a tuft of grass I had missed. In a split second, my options were clear:

1. Forget the grass, no one will notice.
2. Fire up the beast and swipe that missed area.

I looked at the small section, and even though that grass was like a soldier, begging for me to save myself, I couldn't. I pulled the chord to the mower, and made the cut. Just as I had killed the beast, the first drops of rain started to fall, large and slow at first...

I made my way quickly across the front yard. With a mighty pull, I picked the beast up the stairs to the side porch and into the back yard. The sky opened up. The rain beat down fast and furiously down on me. I gave thought to ditching the mower, but it was pointless...I was going to get wet, I may as well go all the way.

I slammed the beast into the shed, and pumped my legs towards the house.

"Run, fat boy, run!!"

The house seemed so far away. I ran hard. I ran fast. (Ok, I don't run fast, who am I Carl Lewis?) I opened the door to the house and bounded into the towel draped arms of Becky, who had a compassionate look on her face...even if she was thinking "I told you so." I thanked her...not for being right about the rain, but for the towel. Come to think of it, if I hadn't brought those towels up from the laundry, I would have been greeted with only arms, because:

1. I wouldn't have needed a towel, because I would have beat the rain.

and

2. The towels would have still been in the dryer!

I ended up just slightly wet from the rain, but more so from the sweat. It took me a minute to catch my breath (the house is, like, 40 feet from the shed, people!!!) but then I muttered to Becky...

"Damn that laundry!!"

Living Legends Concert Tour 2005: Mark Knopfler

Date: July 14, 2005

Time: 7:30 pm

Location: Murat Theatre, Indianapolis, Indiana

Seats: balcony Center: Row U, Seats 13 and 14

"I can't do everything, but I'd do anything for you." Mark Knopfler - Romeo and Juliet

For those of you not in the know, Mark Knopfler was the lead singer/lead guitarist of the '80's band Dire Straits...you know, "Money For Nothing," "Sultans of Swing,"...ok, if you don't know Dire Straits by those two songs, then let's just move on.

The night opened in the beautiful Murat Theatre with the musically stylings of Bap Kennedy, an Irish singer noted for his song "Moonlight Kiss" on the Serendipity movie soundtrack. Never heard of him? Yeah, don't feel bad, I haven't, either. His 30 minute set included songs about, custom written for and tributed to Hank Williams and Elvis Presley. He also had a weird penchant for singing on the off beat of the music...not that I really know what that is, but it seemed odd.

Since he was on stage with his acoustic guitar, and accompanied only by a musician with an electric guitar, it was rather cool. Anytime someone can hold an audience without a backing band, they get my respect.

Mark Knopfler took the stage a little after 8. A greying/balding man with a black tee shirt and fresh blue jeans, Knopfler looks like your dad, but is probably way, way cooler. (Unless you are me or my brother...cause we all know my dad's the BOMB!!) The concert was very musically pleasing, maybe the most musically pleasing show I've ever been to. The Show was mixture of stunning piano arrangements, accompanied by Mark Knopfler's husky British voice, and smokin' guitar work. Some Blues, some Easy Listening, and some Rock and Roll. I would like to go on record as saying Knopfler is HIGHLY UNDERRATED as a guitarist. He is very skilled in making his axe sing.

The set list included several songs from Knopfler's solo career, interspersed with classic Dire Straits tunes. Some of the songs were lengthy...but the pureness of the music made them worth the pain in my knees from the lack of leg room. Knopfler definitely entertained, even though I wasn't familiar with his solo work. I must admit, I went on the basis of his Dire Straits catalog, but was pleasantly surprised with the concert as a whole.

After the concert, we walked across the street to our car, got out of the parking lot and on the road in less than 10 minutes. The Murat is not only a pleasing, intimate venue for a show, but it is also very easy to get into and out of. We were home, in bed, by Midnight. I highly recommend YOU go to see a concert at the Murat.

Becky and I have been waging our "Living Legends Concert Tour" for several years now, and I was reluctant to include Knopfler into the catergory of a "Living Legend." However, after seeing the show, I am proud to include him along the ranks of Clapton, Springsteen, Sir Paul McCartney, Dylan, and the ever increasing list of Legends we have had the pleasure to have seen.