Please be aware that the video below is very suggestive and deserves to be played very loudly in the comfort of your home/apartment/cardboard box behind Starbucks with wifi reception. Not for work. Not to be shared except with me.
I like this video. I have watched it several times and have come to understand myself a little bit better because of this video. I can only hope that you learn a little bit about yourself or that you learn that I am creepy. More creepy.
Please absorb and remember to play this loud and alone:
Wow.
So here is my list of reasons for liking this, kind of in order as they appear in the video:
Great beat
Dancing girl
Pretty girl
No make up
Freckles
Clenched fist
Handjob suggestion
Eyes closed
Boob shake
Slow motion
Sweat
Awesome framing
Detail to the twisting leg
Hair stuck on lip
Crinkled nose
In the end, it's the crinkled nose that did it for me. I don't know why, but when a girl gives you the crinkled nose, it's pretty much on.
Belts and Babysitters
As kids, we had several babysitters. Three of them were
siblings from the same family. I remember disliking the oldest sister (Cathy), liking
the middle sister (Carla), and having a crush on the youngest (Darla). They probably did not
get paid enough to watch the four of us. As a matter of fact, I’m sure you will
think the same after reading this.
One summer day, while we were being watched by Carla, the middle
sister, my brother Steve and I decided to make a rope out of belts and climb
out the second story window. We attached the belts together by just taking the holey
end of one belt, and attaching it to the buckle of another belt. When we ran
out of buckled belts, we just started tying them together. We tested the “rope”
by pulling on it, and our little tug-of-war seemed to stretch the rope, but not
break it. At the second-floor window, we tied the top belt to the bunk bed that
we had slid over to the window. We threw the other end out the window and it
almost reached the ground.
This was a bad idea and Steve and I both knew it. He said I
should try it first because I was lighter. I said he should try it first
because he was taller and would fall a shorter distance if the rope broke. We went
back and forth and finally concluded that neither one of us would go first.
Instead, we decided to pull a prank on Carla.
We pulled the belt rope back up in the house, took off the
bottom half of belts, and tied them around my waist with some slack belts trailing
off. The rest of the belt rope was then lowered out the window where it now
only reached half way down the side of the house.
I snuck outside and laid down on the ground under the
window. Steve ran to Carla, told her I fell, and ran with her outside to where
I was on the ground.
I cannot remember the exact details of what happened in the
next few moments or for the rest of the day. As she put her hands on me, I
remember jumping up and saying that we fooled her. Her reaction was probably 1%
relief and 99% anger. We got in a lot more trouble than we expected and spent
the rest of the day in our room. Carla told our parents and the Atari was taken away from us, probably for a week.
Looking back, that was a pretty good prank. I think we should
have received lesser punishment due to the creativity. Of course, if my kids
did it, I’d take their phones away, probably for a week.
Dynamo
To say that
Dynamo is the greatest dog ever would be true, but Jenn and Eric know that it
is better to share the sun with others than to take it all in and cast shadows.
Let us just say that Dynamo is in a First-Place tie with a lot of other dogs.
Dynamo left
us suddenly last Sunday. He was a good boy.
But that is
not the first time that Dynamo left us. He’s quite good at it. This is Dynamo’s
story about when he died the first time. And like all good stories, this one
has a bear in it.
To ensure
that blame is not given and fingers are not pointed, we’ve changed Eric’s name
to “Bob” to protect his identity. And since the whole “Eric” thing is out of the
bag, I’ll just call Bob, “Eric,” for clarity.
Several
years ago, and many more if you were a dog, Dynamo
adopted Jenn and Eric when he randomly followed them home one night on one of
their walks. Jenn and Eric were happy to be adopted and saw many more walks and
adventures in their future together. Dynamo was completely on board with the
taking of walks and adventuring bit.
As part of
the adventuring, Eric, his sister, and brother-in-law took Dynamo camping
in Kentucky to an area called Red River Gorge. It’s a beautiful place and
I highly recommend you go and check out the rolling hills, thick forests,
dangerous cliffs, streams, dangerously steep cliffs, wildlife, and deadly-dangerously
steep cliffs. On a large, tree
covered hill, they all camped out, went hiking, and did things that humans and a rambunctious dog on a leash can do.
Towards
evening, the adults wanted to go watch the sunset and knew the viewing area was
too steep and dangerous for adventurous dogs, so they tied Dynamo up to a tree
and walked up and around and around and up to a ledge that was perfect for
not-dogs to watch a sunset. From their spot, they could still see their
campsite across the crevice and that gave them a sense of security that they could keep their eye on Dynamo and he would be OK. And as the sun does, it started to set.
But Dynamo
missed his friends dearly. They were just across the way and he wanted to be
with them. He escaped his bonds and went tearing off in the direction of his
friends. Dogs at that age only know straight lines, and in running with
blind joy directly towards them, he fell off a 75-foot cliff.
“Dynamo!”
Eric ran to
the cliff edge. There was nothing but a huge, 75-foot drop into darkness and
silence. The cliff reversed under itself and he could not see or hear any sign of Dynamo far
below.
Dynamo had to be dead.
Eric looked for a way down,
but the cliff edge ran hundreds of feet in either direction and only got
steeper as it went in either direction. Eric and friends tried calling for Dynamo over the edge in several areas and heard nothing. With nightfall fully upon them and
with a heavy heart, they headed back to camp. There was no way down from their
location to the bottom of the cliff and he would need to come in from another area of the park to retrieve
Dynamo’s body.
Eric called
Jenn in the morning to tell her the horrible news. Such an awful thing to
deliver over the phone. The three hour drive back to Columbus had to be
difficult. (Especially since Jenn’s last
words to him leaving with Dynamo were, “Don’t let him fall off any
cliffs.”) While all three of the sad humans had to get back to Ohio that
morning, Eric explained that he would head back down to the park as soon as possible to
find Dynamo and bring him back.
In
Columbus, Eric studied the back-road maps and trails to determine his best
route to go off-path and retrieve Dynamo. (Whether or not Jenn told him not to
come back if he was without Dynamo is unknown and will not be discussed outside
of this mention.) But before he could head back down, there was a bear attack on a
hiker and the authorities announced the entire park would be closed while the
rangers attempted to “take care of” the bear. No one would be allowed
in until the park was made safer by one less bear.
Days passed.
The bear threat stayed orange or whatever bear threat level it needs to be to keep a
park shut down. And they waited.
After two weeks, they got a
call from a ranger. While searching for the bear, there had been a dog sighting
by a ranger in another area of the park. Rangers went back, searched the area,
and found a dog that had about 5” of leash still attached to his collar. The
collar had a Franklin County dog tag registered to a Jenn and Eric, who were
owned by Dynamo. The registration had a phone number, and would you like to
come down and get your extremely friendly dog?
By the time
they got down to the park, Dynamo had made a few new friends, but was not
hesitant to jump out of the ranger’s truck and immediately into their
Jeep where he was quickly wrapped in Jenn’s arms, never to be let go
again.
Dynamo was a little tattered
(some scratches here and there.) A bit hungry (he lost 15 pounds.) Somewhat
tired (he slept all three hours home.) But overall, a not dead, good boy.
And he remained a good boy. He
was a good boy for so many people for many years. So many friends. So many
walks. A new little human to take care of! So many adventures. It’s hard to
have such a good boy die once, and Dynamo died twice. But that means he got to
live twice, and that is more than we can ask of any dog.
You Suck, Joe Show
It was September 15, 2001 and everyone was still reeling from 9/11. We
were standing in line outside the Newport Music Hall in Columbus, Ohio to see
David Byrne. It was his Look Into the Eyeball Tour. As we waited, a loud
religious nut, perched on a milk crate across the street, was prophesying the
end of the world. Many people in line wanted to make his prophesy come true. I
think everyone just wanted to escape for a little while. Jesus dude was not
helping.
We got inside as the opening band was finishing up. I bought a 32oz
beer, which is a great buy because you don’t have to get in line as often.
Problem is that the beer gets piss warm, so you have to chug it. Then you have
to go stand in line for beer. And for the bathroom. We made our way to the
front of the room and found a spot, stage right, back about 20 feet.
David Byrne and his band sauntered out in gas station outfits,
embroidered names and all. They played.
It was the best show I had ever seen. Still is.
It could have been the mental state that we were in or it quite possible
was the best show ever. Either way, we were all floating a few inches above the
sticky floor. I get goosebumps thinking about it.
Then at the midway point of the concert, the music stopped and Joe Show
came out on the stage. Joe Show is a DJ at a local Classic Rock station that
was sponsoring the show. For some reason, Joe Show was holding his bowling
league’s season wrap up party at the concert. He grabbed a mic and talked up
David and the band. He then started in about his bowling league and how special
it was to him.
The audience plunked back down on the sticky floor and began to mumble.
He then asked David Byrne to help him hand out bowling trophies to the
“winners” in the bowling league. He handed David a card with names on it. David
seemed slightly amused and a bit nonplussed at the whole bit. Well, it was the
Midwest. The crowd was pissed. Yells at Joe Show started. “Get off the stage!”
“You suck Joe Show!” “No mo’ Joe Show!” Add a smattering of boos and profanity
and Joe got the idea. Joe took back the list from David and sped through the
last bit of the trophy handing out. He cleared the stage, but not before
handing out other bowling trophies to David, the band and the string section.
You rock, Joe Show. Really.
Regaining composure, David jumped back into the show. In about thirty
seconds we all forgot about Joe’s self-indulgence. Again, the show rocked.
A few days later, I was reliving the story about the concert to my
co-worker, Kindra. On a side note, I mentioned the whole bit about bowling and
trophies. She suggested I write a letter to the editor of the local alternative
paper. So I did. The letter to The Other Paper went like this:
An open letter to Mr. David Byrne:
Please accept these apologies from myself and the hundreds of others who
attended your concert Sept. 15 at the Newport Music Hall. It seems that a local
radio station thought it would be appropriate to distribute their bowling
league trophies in the middle of your concert, bringing the momentum of a
tremendous show to a screeching halt.
I can only congratulate you for recovering that momentum with grace and
style, making the second half of your show even better than the first. Please
do not hold the actions of a few against the rest of us. We definitely want to
see you back in Columbus.
Doug
P.S. Idiots! Screw you Q-FM 96. And you suck, Joe Show.
I sent the letter in on a Monday. The weekly paper comes out on Thursday
and my letter was not in the editorial section. I was disappointed, but not
surprised. I had expected to get a phone call from the paper asking me if I
actually existed and if they could print my letter. And I mean really, who
cares about David Byrne anyways… Time passes.
The phone rang at 6:10 a.m. It was the next Thursday. The letter had
been printed.
(Who knew?) The call was from the morning jocks on the radio station in
question. They wanted to get me on the air with Joe Show and poke fun at him
for his antics. I said it was too early and I had to get ready for work. “How
about 9:00 a.m.?” Yeah, I can do 9:00 a.m.
Yeah! I was going to be on the radio and we were all going to make fun
of Joe Show. Hurrah! I called all my friends to tell them to listen in to the
verbal beating.
Little did I know.
Around 8:45 a.m. they called me. They quickly reviewed what they wanted
to go down. Waggs and Elliot would introduce the bit, ask me for my side of the
story and then bring Joe Show on to mock him. Easy. I waited on hold, listening
to the DJs banter as DJs do. Then I was up. They spoke about the letter in the
paper and read some excerpts. I was introduced and gave my side of the story.
We all laughed. They then said that there was someone on the phone who wanted
to talk to me.
“Doug, you are a dick.” Joe Show has a way with words.
Joe told his side of the story. He claimed several things:
1. I was a dick. (I can see that.)
2. He, out his own pocket, paid for the 60 or so bowling leaguers at the
concert. (I had accused him of using free passes that could have gone to real
fans.)
3. He claimed that there was no booing and that everyone in the audience
LOVED the trophy ceremony. (No comment.)
4. He said that the trophy handing out to David, the band and the
strings was done by him running home before the concert and gathering up 10 of
his personal trophies. (I can’t dispute this, but who the f*ck would want a
trophy with Joe Show’s name on it?)
5. He claimed that David Byrne had come up with the idea about handing
out the trophies. (Oddly enough, I can believe this. Byrne is an odd cat. My
issue is that Show should have said thanks, but no thanks. Of course,
egotistical assholes could never say no to an opportunity like that.)
And then the verbal beatings ensued. As Joe Show described his lame ass
side of the story, I tried to interject with my interpretations of his
recollections. The entire morning crew and Joe Show attacked and ripped me
sideways. I didn’t have a chance. They didn’t want to poke fun of Joe Show,
they wanted to make me look like an ass. Sadly, it worked. The volume on my
phone was turned down and no one heard my witty comebacks. I ended up looking
like someone who punched a quadriplegic in a wheel chair on her birthday.
At the end, I hung up and called my wife. She was very supportive.
“Honey, they made you look like an ass.”
Two years later during a reunion at Ohio University, my buddy Larry said
he had heard me on the radio six hours earlier. I said that was impossible. He
was positive. When his alarm clock radio went off in the morning, there I was,
talking about the David Byrne concert and how Joe Show had screwed it up. Turns
out it was a “Best of QFM-96.” Yeah, the best of. Larry said, “They made you
look like an ass.”
Sigh. David Byrne has not been back to Columbus since.
YOU SUCK, JOE SHOW!
(Author’s note: Joe Show unexpectedly died in 2016. As soon as I heard
the news, I felt bad for the resentment I held for him all those years.
Whenever I got to tell this story, I remember explaining what an asshole Joe
Show was and in my mind, what an asshole he still was. After he died, there was
an outpouring of positive remembrances of Joe and of all his work for charity
and local music. This is my opportunity to tell everyone that I was not happy
with Joe Show that night and for many years after, but that I forgive him. It
was all for entertainment, both on his side and mine. And while this story is
not a glowing memory of Joe Show, it is a memory and it is the only thing I can
give him now.)
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