Also, tim has a blog now. I’ll put up the link tonight.
#1 Did you ever find yourself totally in love with someone? What was it that really attracted you to them?
Er, WTF, over. I’m not sure I understand this question. Have I been in love? yeah. So I guess that’s totally? It built over time like anything.
#2 Have you ever driven a car at a speed in excess of 100 MPH? If so, did you enjoy the experience?
I refuse to answer this question on the grounds that I may incriminate myself. Lets just say, the Jeep gets real jumpy over 80.
#3 What was the first alcoholic beverage you ever drank? (If you answer “sloe gin,” you are disqualified.)
Beer, probably? Recall, I spent my formative years in germany. No shit, we’d go and buy booze at twelve. So, probably beer, maybe apfelkorn.
#4 How old were you when you lost your virginity?
~o/When I was seventeen, it was a very good year…./o~
#5 How often do you have really crazy dreams that make perfect sense while you are dreaming them?
No, my dreams are always fucked up, and I normally recognize it at the time.
#6 What is the CRAZIEST thing you ever dreamed that made perfect sense as you dreamed it?
Uh? I forget.
#7 If you could change one thing about your physical appearence, what would it be? Explain why you want to change, please.
Oh, there are so many……umm, first and foremost, dropping the flab, especially the love handles would r0ck.
Author: sean
What I'm doing
Essentially, I’m setting it up so I can use movable type on users, and cross-post all of those entries over to livejournal. Only problem I see so far is that the comments are posted two different places. Hmmph.
Speaking of which….if anyone needs an LJ code, or wants to do this, let me know.
What I’m doing
Essentially, I’m setting it up so I can use movable type on users, and cross-post all of those entries over to livejournal. Only problem I see so far is that the comments are posted two different places. Hmmph.
Speaking of which….if anyone needs an LJ code, or wants to do this, let me know.
Shit is bobo
This shit is bobo.
Continue reading “Shit is bobo”
My Connection With Spiraling Terrors
I’ve never been much of a spiritual person, but if there is any kind of shamanistic connection with weather, I’m one with hurricanes.
A hurricane is directly responsible for my spawn. My parents knew each other in high school–they were friends, but little more. The setting is Biloxi, Mississippi, 1969. Hurricane Camille comes ashore. They really haven’t elaborated much on the events following the storm, but my grandfather (mom’s side) had an artesian well. Since there was no power, artesian wells were really important. My mom’s family provided water to many people after the storm came ashore, including my dad’s family. Things kind of took off from there.
In my first two weeks of life, my family was chased from our home in Cocoa Beach, FL due to a hurricane. My parents evacuated back to Biloxi. While in Biloxi, I was baptized. Shortly thereafter, however, we were chased back to Florida by yet another hurricane.
But today, whenever a hurricane is coming, I can feel it with all my being. I’ve mentioned that my joints ache. My sinuses hurt. My pulse races at times, yet I’m amazingly calm otherwise. I’ve mentioned that I get, well, horny. I mean really bad. Other things go on. I just have these feelings. In the past few years, as I’ve dealt with more hurricanes, I’ve learned to rely the sensations I’m getting. I’m inclined to think you folks in Florida are going to get some, but not the brunt of the storm.
I’m feeling that the storm is about four days out from here. Somewhere on the Southern North Carolina coast. This is not at all good. Not good at all. But no matter where it comes ashore, I feel something is going to happen here. I’m not excited about it. But I’ll be on the air keeping people safe, and that makes me feel better about it. We’ve just dealt with Dennis, and soon Floyd. Those of us, the generic announcers, we don’t get a lot of credit for what we do. But I can assure you we care. From this broadcaster, to all of you threatened by Floyd, be safe.
Seagulls Flying Backwards
Yep, you read that correctly. This is what I saw on my drive home.
Well, Dennis the menace is coming ashore. I’m gonna try and keep y’all up to date, but I make no promises. I had a rather harrowing night at work (top and bottom of the hour updates on one station, hourly updates on three others), so I’m gonna sleep soon.
She e-mailed me back……arrgh. She’s still in town, and I’m not really as strong as I’d like to be right now. I really need to resist the temptation to see her.
For those of you who are a little slow on the uptake…if I see her, and she’s not still banging my friend, chances are I’d bang the crap out of her given the opportunity.
Night all.
Blindsided
It’s a stunning realization…….
There are passions in life. For many people, those passions are fulfilled only in spare time, while the business of life continues.
But for a lucky few, the passions can be the root of the business of life.
I’ve wanted to be a disc jockey since I was about eight years old. While everybody else was off watching television, I was listening to the radio. Besides, you can listen to the radio and play video games at the same time.
The first time I opened the microphone at the cheesy high school radio station, my heart was going a thousand beats a second. It’s a feeling which I wonder if I’ll ever match again. I enjoyed doing volunteer work there–learning the ropes. I even didn’t mind spending hours in a ninety degree, closet-sized production studio cutting senseless sweepers.
I had much the same feeling when I got my afternoon drive gig at the local community radio station. Sure, I was playing Michael Bolton and James Taylor (If I could hit them with one round….), but I enjoyed it. I was crestfallen when school forced me to curtail my hours on the air.
And then the station was sold to the Evangelists. My last break on the air there was absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever done–harder than losing relatives, harder than breaking up with my girlfriend of two years. But I did it. I even sounded okay…….but I started bawling like a baby when I powered the transmitter down that night. I cried the entire way home.
So I bounced around for awhile. A man without direction, basically. When I got the job at the television station, things were a bit better, but the feelings weren’t the same. I like television, but it doesn’t hold the same power as Mr. Marconi’s invention to me. Sure, I was kind of bummed out when I got laid off, but it was nothing like when I had to give up my radio gig.
And then I ran into my current boss…..and got the job. The first time I went on the air here, I had many of the same feelings as I had the very first time. I still get butterflies the first time I flip on the microphone every night.
But this isn’t what really suprises me–the nervousness keeps me sharp anyway. What suprises me is that I’m acutally getting paid to do it. There are people who actually think I’ve got some talent. People tell me I have a wonderful voice, even though I can’t stand to listen to my own air checks.
I really can’t imagine doing anything else with my life now.
Sure, I’m alone most of the time, and my hours suck. Despite all that, I’m happy and amazed right now.
Partially Hydrogenated Vegetable Matters
Have you ever read the label of something you ate right after you ate it, and wondered what exactly you ate?
I think I just ate some peanut butter crackers.
What are crackers made of? Last time I checked, you can make crackers with:
Flower
Water
Baking Soda
Salt
Okay, Peanut Butter? I thought Peanut Butter was made of heavily ground peanuts, like on the Jif commercials.
Now, I’m not gonna go to the trouble to actually count how many ingredients went into this 50 cent pack of crackers, but it’s well over twenty.
“Packed With Preservatives and stuff you’ve never heard of in your life…..Peanut Butter Crackers really satisfy.”
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