Guilty Pleasure Music

I'll be the first to admit, my musical tastes would make even the most kind-hearted "music snob" want to smash me in the face with a manhole cover. I don't seek out "indie" music, nor do I run away from it. To me, how many albums an artist has sold hold little sway when I'm deciding what I want to listen to. I can't honestly think of a time where I've ever said something along the lines of "Such and such a band really sounded good before they Sold Out". My only requirement for music is that it sounds good to me. However, this is where the trouble usually starts.

I'll raise my hand right now and proudly say, I do not like many of the older bands that are considered "legends" of Rock and Roll. I don't like Led Zeppelin (save for 2 or 3 songs), I don't like Pink Floyd (again, 2 or 3 songs by them are what I would consider "decent") and I absolutely cannot stand Rush. Sorry, but the lead singer warbles like he's got his ball-sack locked in a bench-clamp. He sings like a fat chick.

That being said, my musical tastes are varied and eclectic, likely more-so than anybody else you're able to meet. Come on, I have made mixed CD's that include the musical stylings of Frank Sinatra, Britney Spears, and Dr. Dre...it doesn't get stranger than that. But, and this is where things get embarrassing, I also have a slight affinity for some Soft Rock 1970's era Easy Listening music. My favorite "Guilty Pleasure" song is Carly Simon "You're So Vain". I don't know why I like this song, but if I'm scanning through the channel selection on the Sirius in my car, and happen upon this song, I'll listen to it. I have to listen to it, I have no choice.



Needs More Cowbell

Back when I was in my mid 20's and used to actually be concerned that people thought what I listened to was "cool" (ok, so I still feel that way to a certain extent....the Britney Spears doesn't get cranked up until I'm cruising out in the country where I won't have the embarrassment of being 33 and sitting at a red light with "Hit Me Baby One More Time" turned up and the sunroof open), I was totally busted out on this song at work one day. I put in a CD I had of all Easy Listening music to chill out, and forgot to plug my headphones into my laptop. Soon my office was inundated with Carly Simon music. Bad stuff.

Wait...what? I had an entire CD's worth of this Easy Listening CRAP? Dude, seriously....I don't think we should be friends anymore.

Well screw you! Yea, I did. And You're So Vain wasn't the most audibly offensive song on there.










It could be worse I suppose....it's not like I still have the lyrics to Ice Ice Baby memorized....only....I do. I'm gonna go drink some bleach now.

Enough Already

Is it just me, or will this winter just....not....END. When I was a kid, I always loved winter, because winter meant Christmas, and Snow Days, and Hot Chocolate, and afternoons spent sitting in front of the television trying collect all 7 pieces (or was it 8?) of the Triforce.

But I'm not a kid anymore. Sometimes, growing up really sucks. My boss won't take "Sorry, it's snowy, I'm gonna stay home and play video games" as an excuse. If I was Hot Chocolate, I either have to make it myself, or march my fat ass down to the gas station and buy it myself. Christmas was over almost 2 months ago. Now that I'm an adult, winter is a dirty car, shoveling out my driveway, trudging through 2 inches of black soupy slushy crap just to get from my car to the door of my office.

I'm going go on record right now and say, I'm miss spring and summer. I miss everything about it. I miss the loose freedom of driving around in shorts and a t-shirt. I miss the drive-in theater, I miss being out on the lake, I miss pulling into a gas station and hoping like hell I get the pump next to the 19 year old blond hottie wearing Daisy Dukes and a bikini top (oops, perhaps I went too far?)

Please be 18

But right now, that's all just a pipe dream. The car is completely encrusted in slush and salt and just gray dingy CRAP. Usually, Indiana Winters are fairly consistent. It's either warm(ish) and cloudy, or cold but sunny. This winter though, has been especially brutal. It's been the perfect combination of freezing cold (several mornings in the past month it's been in single digit temperatures) and suicide-gray overcast. Now, the weather professionals will tell us that when it's overcast at night, the temperature won't drop as much, but I'm thinking they are all full of crap. After all, these are the same geniuses who told us today it was going to be overcast this morning, and sunny in the afternoon, but no snow. So I wake up this morning, and there's 2 - 3 fresh inches of "no snow" covering my driveway, and it's still coming down pretty steady. This can't be right. The weather-chump told me it wasn't going to happen.

So I head to the weather website to look at the maps. I'll be damned, there is a narrow band of snow the exact width of my county right over top of us. OK, just bad luck, but it should end within the next 15 - 20 minutes. 2 hours later I head to work, and it's snowing just as hard as it was before. This can't be right.

So I get to work, E-mail my girlfriend to say "Good morning beautiful" and check the weather map again. I'll be damned. That narrow band of snow isn't moving west-to-east like normal. No, this thing is coming straight down out of the north like Satan's Middle Finger and moving straight south.

So finally, about 11 this morning the snow ended and sun came out. The roads and parking lots melted, and I saw the sun for the first time in what's felt like two months. Wonderful! Tomorrow is supposed to be 45 and sunny. Even better! Maybe I'll take my car through the car wash to have the crap cleaned off of it.

Wait...what's this? Another snow system set to move through the area on Friday? Oh, but the weather forecast says we won't get much. Batten down the hatches kids, knowing our luck, we're gonna get hit by a hurricane.

Al Gore can shove Global Warming up his fat ass!

Then & Now: My 3 Favorite 1980's TV Shows

Being in my early 30's (ok, fine, so I'm stretching the phrase "early 30's" to it's damn near breaking point) I grew up on mid 80's television. And yes, there were some real stinkers of TV Shows out there. Manimal anyone? Automan? Misfits Of Science (starring a very young Courtney Cox)? Yea, I doubt anybody remembers any of those.

However, there were three TV Shows that I couldn't live without growing up. As I got older, the business of releasing old television shows onto DVD began to grow. Soon, it wasn't long before my "big three" were put onto DVD. I purchased them immediately, anxious to relive my childhood. Viewing them as an adult was an eye opening experience. Much like seducing an old girlfriend with a bottle of Vodka and a Barry White CD, perhaps some things are better left buried in the past.

The Dukes Of Hazzard
1979 - 1985


Then: Next to Star Wars, The Dukes Of Hazzard was LIFE to me. Every week at 8pm on CBS, the Duke Boys would do battle with the evil forces of Jefferson Davis "Boss" Hogg, and his inept sheriff Roscoe P. Coletrane. Television entertainment just didn't GET any better than this. In my younger days, my main draw to the show was it's most popular and enduring symbol, The General Lee. Back then I was convinced that when I grew up, I do would own a bright orange 1969 Dodge Charger and enjoy the sort of river-jumping fun that the Dukes did on a weekly basis. Running from the cops wasn't a felony, it was just how Things Got Done. Once I got to be around 10 years old, my interest in the show faded away from The General Lee and more onto the Dukes hottie little cousin Daisy. Oh if only I could have met a woman who looked like that back then I....well....I wouldn't have known what to do with it.

Now: I have all but the final season of The Dukes Of Hazzard on DVD. I'm not ashamed to admit, I still enjoy this show very much. No, maybe not quite as much as I did when I was a boy. The plots are all almost identical (Boss Hogg hires two out-of-towners in bad tweed jackets to rob the local bank, frame the Duke Boys, and sieze the family farm. Bad Guys double-cross Boss, he ends up in a fight to save his life, and must count on The Dukes to save him). Rather than being indestructable, bad cuts and edits make it very clear that a 1969 Dodge Charger can NOT jump a river and continue down the road. However, I think I can make it work with a 2006 Charger. I'll be sure to blog the results of that. Overall, I think the show survives quite well to this day for what it was. An innocent bunch of Friday Night Fluff that is just as much fun today as it was in 1983.




Knight Rider
1982 - 1986


Then: If the Dukes Of Hazzard was real-life, then Knight Rider was just a Science Fiction Version. But nevertheless, my pre-teen brain was just convinced that somewhere out there a group of scientists had developed a Super Car along the lines of the Knight Industries Two Thousand (K.I.T.T.) as he was known in the show. I still remember seeing commercials on TV for when the show first started, and telling my dad that I just HAD to watch this show. He grabbed the TV Guide, checked Sunday night and got as far into the description as "Talking Crime-Fighting Trans-Am" before shaking his head and contemplating a paternity test. In the end, he relented, and I was instantly hooked.

Now: Lets face it, there is a mathematic formula to creating a hit TV Show, and of all the variables in that formula, none of them should be equal to "Talking Trans-Am", "Fighting Crime", or "David Hasselhoff". I couldn't wait to pop the first season of this show into my DVD player. Now that I'm older, I know about cars, and I know about crime and law, surely this show will mean even more to me now. However, by the fourth episode of season one, I came to realize much like wearing Atomic Underwear, this thought-process was inherently flawed. This show is so horrible, I feel like I owe my entire family an apology for making them sit through this every Sunday night. In fact, now that I look back on it, it was at about this same time that my parents bought a second television for their bedroom. At the time I wondered "Why?", but now I realize; in a very painful way do I finally realize the truth. Mom and Dad bought a second television to avoid Knight Rider at ALL COSTS. I am so so so very sorry for making them sit through this. Please forgive me, I was but a mere child at the time.



Miami Vice
1984 - 1989


Then:Miami Vice wasn't so much "my show" as it was my father's show. He watched this every Friday Night that he was home. I often got lost on the plots, but nevertheless watched for because of the cars, the music, and the cool clothes. As I got a bit older and entered Junior High, the plots began to make more sense to me, and I became even more of a fan of the show. Above all other TV Shows, I think Miami Vice was the most stereotypical 1980's Crime Drama. And there isn't a person alive my age who doesn't consider this to be one of the most memorable scenes in television history:


Now: Amazingly enough, for as stereotypical 1980's as this show was with it's fashion and music, the plots for each episode carry over very well. I have the first 2 seasons on DVD and will soon be purchasing the rest of the shows run. If you have the chance to go back and re-visit this show, I strongly suggest you do it. It was with great anticipation that I looked forward to the 2006 Miami Vice movie, and being that it was created by Michael Mann, the creator of the original series, it did not disappoint, and become one of my favorite movies of that year to be released.


While the 2006 Theatrical Movie bared little resemblance to the original TV show, in a nod to the fans from the 1980's, the lead-in to the final gunfight featured a remakes of "In The Air Tonight"

My Magnificent Rejection Part I

If it's one thing I try to deliver to my friends on a constant basis, it's amazingly catastrophic romantic rejections. I suppose I better get this story out there before one of somone says something about it and I have to run Damage Control to save my reputation.

It was a warm spring day in April of 2004. I'd been over and Bill and Peggy's that afternoon doing....something....I don't remember, probably helping Bill build something (a process that usually consisted of us standing there scratching our heads, smoking cigarettes, and guzzling Mountain Dew by the barrel-load trying to figure out WTF we did wrong). After we finished our project for the day, they asked me if I wanted to go to Indy with them. They had to go to Watson's to pick up a filter or pump or something for their pool, then they were going to out to dinner. I said "sure".

So we're on the way down to Indy, and Peggy half-jokingly said "Hey, maybe the Watson's Girl will be there". Oh, but I couldn't get that lucky. For those of you unfamiliar with The Watson's Girl, she is this cute little big-boobed twinkee who shills for Watson's Pools down in Indy. She's the type of girl that makes most women roll their eyes and say "Oh, whatever, look at Li'l Miss Fake-Tits thinkin' she's all that"...in other words, she's the type of girl that makes me drool.

We arrive at Watson's, and we're walking around the store looking for....hell I can't remember what they were looking for. All of a sudden Peggy says "Uh-oh Greg, there she is". I just smiled and thought "Nah, I don't think so, you're gonna have to get up earlier in the morning than that to get me to turn around".

"No, seriously, she's right over there!" I turned around and looked and....oh Holy Crap...there she was, in the (delicious) flesh....The Watson's Girl! Ok man, no time to panic, get your game face on, you've only got one shot at this, do not blow this. Just walk over, lay down some smooth, and you'll have her eating out of the palm of your hand. Breath check, pop a couple breath-mints. Slow your breathing, you got this playa. Take another quick glance toward the center of the store, looks like she's handing out balloons to little kids. Kids....kids....I need to find a kid. I looked down at Bill and Peggy's youngest, adorable little 20 month old Ty. Sure...why not. I reach down, scoop up Ty, tuck him securely under my arm like I'm running in for the winning touch-down in the Super Bowl with 10 seconds left on the clock. Breathe damn it, breathe, don't panic, don't sweat it, you are the pimp, you are the man, you can seal this deal.

I casually make my way up to the customer service counter (I suppose, in hindsight, "casual" would be a relative term here...but given the stress of the situation, we'll just call it "casual" for now). I reach the center of the store, swing Ty counterward, and plant his butt with an authoritative "fwump" onto the counter. Eh, so the blonde-headed little scamp doesn't look anything like me, nothing says I have to tell her it's my child.

"Hey there, can my son have one of your balloons" (well, ok, shit, apparently we've set the stage now that this is my kid....time for a quick recovery...where is his mom....maybe she died during child-birth? Sure, why not, play the emotional card if she asks).

"Awww, he's cute, what's his name?"

"Name?" Shit...can't think...what the hell is this kids name anyway, I can't remember....Bob? Ralph? Jackson? Mikey? Bjorn? Tyler....Taylor....Ty...TY, that was it...

"His name is Ty"

"Well hi Ty, would you like a balloon?"

Ty stared up at me in wide-eyed terror. He turned to start to point back to his legitimate parents. "Awww, he's just shy...Ty, take the nice ladies balloon..." Once again, in hindsight, I suppose there was a bit more authority in my voice than the situation warranted. The Watson's Girl (TWG from here on) flashed me a strange look. I heard a noise from the front of the store. It was my Game, running out the door and into the parking lot. Shit, I'm blowing it, don't overplay your hand on this one man, you gotta do this one smooth....gangsta style. Ok, now for the last chance to reel this one in. See, she's not going to be impressed if she thinks you technically just kidnapped a 1 year old to meet her...for some reason, chicks find that to be quite the turn-off...so act like you just came up here for the balloon without noticing her.

TWG turns to blow up the balloon (all the while keeping a somewhat nervous gaze cast on me). "So...handing out balloons tonight huh?"

"Yes"

"You know, you look kinda familiar, but I can't quite place you, are you from around here?" (stupid question since I'm not from around here...but screw it, lie your ass off man, deal with the fall-out later once you secure that phone number).

TWG flashed me a look that had "Restraining Order" written all over it. I glanced out toward the lot and saw my Game furiously trying to jump-start a pickup truck to put as much distance between itself and me as it possibly could. No, must regain control of this situation, must not show fear in front of The Watson's Girl....time to restore some damage, flash some sly at her, she'll take the bait...God put this girl here tonight for ME.

"Hey, I now where I know you from, you're that girl on the TV Commercials, you're The Watso....." WTF was that...of all of the possible sentences I could have put together with my expert command of the English language, and I lay down this amateur-hour bullshit? What the hell Greg, what is wrong with you?

The look in her eyes changed from "Restraining Order" to "Pepper Spray". At this point, I think she honestly thought I was mentally challenged or something. "Ummm, yea...."

Luckily, a commotion outside distracted us. I looked up in time to see my Game running down the middle of Pendleton Pike. Apparently it was unable to successfully secure a vehicle, and had now decided to just make a run for it. Unfortunately it didn't see the cement truck turning the corner and got run over. RIP Greg's Game...1974 - 2004. Ye Shall Be Missed.

I opened my mouth to say something, say anything, do something, just speak damn it. Unfortunately, the damage was done at this point as she turned to the next guy in line "Hi there, would you like a balloon for your son?"

Well shit....ok, so that didn't exactly go according to plan. Feeling rejected, I turned and started to walk away from the customer service counter. I didn't want to go out to dinner now, I didn't want to buy a stupid freaking.....man...what the hell were we down here to buy anyway. Suddenly, the clouds parted and I heard TWG's voice addressing me..."Excuse me...sir"

Rejoice! Maybe she was going to take pity on me and give me her phone number anyway. Sure, I can call her this week, take her out to dinner next weekend, that will give me an entire week to war-game this plan, I have been granted a second chance!

"Sir....ummm, your son?" Son? What son? I don't have a son. I looked up and saw her pointing at Ty sitting on the counter, looking confused, and holding a balloon. Well sonofabitch, just when it can't get any worse. Oh well, nowhere to go but up from here.

Young Ty looked at me with his big eyes "Geg?" he questioned. Yea, "Geg" is obviously Ty-speak for Greg. TWG opened her mouth to start to ask me why "my son" had just called me by my first name. One more glance out the front windows confirmed my worst fears. The Marian County Coroner had arrived at the scene of the accident and declared my Game D.O.A. No return-do's on this one. This girl would probably become a celibate nun before she would ever give me the time of day.

Feeling absolutely lower than an ant-turd, I unceremoniously retrieved a now very confused Ty off the counter, and drug him back to his mom and dad, who were looking at me with a mix of hatred and amusement in their eyes. I....had failed. Only this wasn't just any failure. This was a glorious monument to my ability to fail in a way that makes other failures look like success. This wasn't just "failure", there was going to have to be a new word created for the sins I had just committed. I knew what the next two years of my life would bring as well. Every time a Watson's Commercial came on TV, I got to hear all about this story. But at least I knew that I would never again suffer a rejection as monumental as this one.

Until 4 months later when I came within a hair's distance of paying $40,000 for a phone number...but that's another story for another day.