Saturday, October 30, 2010

Posts About Babies: Eating for Two

Here's my problem. I live with a pregnant woman. And as you may know, pregnant women eat a lot more than regular women. That shouldn't mean that I have to eat more food, but when the person I'm married to eats all the time, so do I. It's just the way it works, I guess. She needs to eat a snack, I do to. Therefore, I'm eating a lot more often, and it often happens to be food that's not exactly healthy. This is my choice, and I'm just a weakling who wants to eat delicious food, without really thinking about the consequences.

Well, as it tends to happen, when you increase your calorie intake, you also increase your waistline. This is happening. I see it in my reflection. I'm gaining weight at an alarming rate, and I don't really have the motivation to counter the calorie intake with exercise, even though I know that must be done if I want to keep my chiseled bod in tact. For some reason, I just don't care.

But I do care, or else I wouldn't be writing this post right now. So now I have to concentrate on either cutting my ridiculous intake of food, or start walking my ass to the fitness center. I can't get super fat. I just can't let myself get to that point. Because shit rolls down hill, and it's so hard to get back to where you once were. We Americans are so good at putting weight on, because it's so easy. We have some really convenient choices in food, that also happen to taste awesome, but also will put pounds on you. I need to start thinking about it again.

I don't have to eat for two, but I am anyway.

Monday, October 25, 2010

A Changing Day In Your Life

What can I say, people? My world just got flipped on it's ear. I was told that 3 members of my band that aren't me are "leaving the band." They want to go in different direction, musically.

This left me to wonder why me? I guess I just wasn't good enough.

That's all. I'm depressed about it. The end.

I'm Not A Bazooka, and I'm not a band either.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Street Savvy

Where to begin, this morning?

We played a gig last night in Clarksville, TN, and it was kind of a disaster. As soon after the first dude started playing, (he was a solo acoustic act) there were suddenly a bunch of people hanging around the stage and what not. I was optimistic about this, as this was early and there were actually people here. Well, as soon as he got off stage and exited the building, his crowd followed him out. When we started playing, there were about 15 people on this like, bench thingy, on the side of the "floor" just chillin'. They were listening, but quite frankly, I doubt they liked what they heard. We screwed up a few times. There were tuning issues, you couldn't hear the violin, and we had to stop in the middle of the fucking song. It was awful. I fucked up a lot, but tried to play it cool. It sucks, because we're better than that.

We got some nice applause, and in all reality, they probably dug it. We're just hard on ourselves.

After we got done playing, most of the band did our usual thing of bailing immediately afterwards like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. That's perfectly acceptable after that show. Again, I'm not saying it was a totally disaster, but we've felt better after other shows, for sure. Well, Sean, Bethany and I stuck around for a minute to check out the next band. They were called The Savvy, and I don't know where they were from but they were FUCKING RAWKSTARZ DEWD! The had their merch table set up, with a TV painted with their little logo on it, so when it was on, the static was a background with the paint over it. It was pretty sweet, actually. They had CDs and T-shirts and blah blah blah. They had a van, and all their gear had their name stenciled on it, like a real band! The guitarist and bassist had their synchronized head bang moves down-pat. The singer had his skinny ass flailing around stage, swinging his mic around like every other band he's ever seen, ever. The drummer was doing this little stick twirl/wave thingy, like he's so cool. The singer was drinking/spitting water all over the place. The guitar player jumped up on his amp to play his little effect-laden solo.

It was all bullshit. It was all a big show. Fuck those guys, man. They really didn't have any talent, they just acted like they did. It didn't matter what they played or what words they sang. It was all about how they looked. They tried so hard to look like a real band, that has a record contract and goes on a stage in front of thousands of adoring fans. But in reality, they were four dudes in an all-ages venue in Clarksville, TN, with FIVE people watching them, not including me, Sean or Bethany. C'mon, dudes. You're not fooling anyone, partly because there was no one to fool. I will hand it to them that they have a lot of energy, and what they lacked in real talent, they made up for in showmanship. But when you step back and look at it, you could just tell these guys had seen these moves pulled off by their musical heros, and said, "Hey man, I could do that, too!"

Some people/bands bring it when they play live. Some bands just look like they're copying what those bands did. These guys were trying to fool people into believeing they were legit, when they weren't. Like James Dean Wells once said, "If you sound like every other band, do the world a favor and break up immediately." I say that goes for looking like every other band out there, too.

I'm looking at you, The Savvy.

Whoever the fuck you are.

Whoever the fuck you think you are.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

I Can See I'm Going Blind

Yesterday, I had a pretty scary moment. I was playing with the dog on the bed, wrestling with him or whatever, playing, you know. Well, as we were playing, he got a bit panicked as I tried to pull him in a direction he did not want to go, he flailed his paws around and hit me square on the eye. At first, I thought he had for sure done some serious damage to my eyeball. It stung like the dickens. Not like, flail around like a stuck pig or whatever, but like, an "oh shit" kind of feeling. This moment I'm speaking about lasted for about 2-3 seconds, when I realized that he must have missed, but barely. I got up and went to the mirror in the bathroom, and saw that he had cut open my lower eyelid with one of his razor toes. Like, right below my eyeball. There was a little bit of blood, enough to warrant putting a tissue on it. This made me realize how lucky I had just was. If he had hit me in the eyeball with that nail, it would have done some serious, serious damage. Hospital trip damage. Surgery damage. Life-changing damage. Just like that, my entire life could have been altered by one dog claw to one eyeball, in one split-second, without me even realizing what had happened. It amazed me that he missed, because it was so close. It's these lucky moments we tend to forget, where we nearly had something really awful happen to us. It's the actual shitty events we tend to remember, mainly because we would have to deal with whatever fallout comes with the shitty event. Like, we remember an actual car accident, because it actually happened. We don't remember the time that guy pulled out in front of us and nearly caused an accident. Know what I'm saying?

It got me thinking about this paralyzed guy who came in and talked to our 7th grade health class. He talked about how you should never take life for granted, and your ability to walk for granted. I often think of that guy. Do I take my sight for granted? I could have gone blind in my right eye. I know I was really lucky yesterday, and I hope I don't forget this incident.

Another thing that amazed me is how quickly the eye can react to something flying towards it. I didn't even try to react to my dogs paw, but I must have done so, at least a little bit, because he didn't hit the eyeball. Unless I was just that lucky. Either way, it made me realize how quickly shit can turn for the worst, when you least expect it and when you can't control the situation.

Well, try to enjoy today, okay?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The Horse, I Has Fallen Off It

I haven't written in far too long, and I'm sorry. My regular life got put on hold, while dealing with the combination of getting the time off of work to travel, then actually traveling north. It was pretty rad seeing all those guys again. I haven't seen most of them in about 18 months, or in the case of my brother, 21 months. That's way too damn long for me to go without seeing the people I'm used to seeing everyday.

Anyway, other than that everything is alright here. I still don't have a topic to cover, and I think you should be aware of that going into this. I just realized in the past week or so that blogging is something I do on the side, and lately, there has been a pretty major moment in my life with that visit up north. Blogging has been the least important thing on my to-do list. I'm sure I'll get back into the swing of things, but for now, I leave you with a hearty good day, to you! Have a good one, sirs and sir-etts

Monday, October 11, 2010

Shedding Tears

Yesterday was quite a miserable day for me. Quite miserable, indeed.

I get very emotionally involved with my favorite sports teams. I mean, I really get into it, and I want to see them win so badly, and it hurts so badly when the eventually fail me, and lose on a big stage. I am very passionate about my sports teams I follow.

Atlanta Braves
San Fransisco 49ers
Nashville Predators
and to a lesser extent, the Chicago Bulls

I have been a fan of the Niners and Braves since I was a little boy, and the Bulls, sort of, as well. The Predators just about a year now, I've been a fan. Anyway, the main focus of my emotional conneciton to these teams is the Niners and Braves. Well, both of them happened to be playing in big games yesterday, with the Braves in a very important playoff game and the Niners on national television game on Sunday Night Football. Both teams provided a moment of great joy, followed by a huge letdown.

First off, the Braves were being the Braves for about seven and a half innings yesterday, by looking like a minor league team, not playing well, getting beaten by whoever, and then they were just being themselves again when Eric Hinske hit a 2-run go-ahead homerun in the bottom of the eighth. I was fist-pumping and hootin' and hollerin'. The dog looked at me like I was nuts. I was so happy! They have done this sort of thing all season, with late game heroics, getting it done at the last minute. Just get three more outs, and this baby is OVER! Then...

Brooks Conrad can't play second base, and let's down an entire fan base with one error...no three errors, in the entire game...that directly lead to runs scored. Braves lose. Giants lead the series 2-1. We have to win both the next two games to advance...It's not likely. A great season, washed away by one guy who makes errors a lot. FUN

Anyway, so once that fiasco was done, I wanted to improve my mood with my favorite football team on NBC. They started out great, then proceeded to fall apart faster than my false hopes and dreams. They were getting pwnd in the third quarter, and then rallied to make it a game, then eventually blew it anyway, which I kind of figured they would do.

A fitting ending to a shitty day. The Niners are winless this season (0-5) and the Braves are one loss away from ending the season altogether. I get very emotionally invested to these teams, and it would be a lot easier if they would just fucking lose all the time, but no, they have to win some, make me happy, then blow it when it matters. These two teams had success when I was a child, and that's why I liked them. I haven't seen either of these teams do well (I mean champions) since 1995, when they both (in the same calender year) won championships! 1995 was a great year for me! Now, they hint at being a good team, then fucking die, just as I get my hopes up.

Good thing the NHL season started last week. Go Preds...Until you disappoint as well.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Posts About Babies: The Smoking Gun

I really think my wife thinks I've been buying cigarettes, even though this is not the case. I had a wallet full of cash starting last week, and it has slowly disappeared, and I can't explain where it has gone. She's not the type to accuse me of doing dastardly things with the money, like lying about quitting smoking, and smoking behind her back. I have not done this, but when she asked me what I've been blowing all my cash on these last bunch of day, I had no good answer. I find it hard to believe that I've blown that much cash on snacks and Coke Zero, but I'm pretty sure that has actually happened. I'm a fat kid, I suppose.

But I quit, or I should really say, I am quitting. I said I would, and I'm sticking to my word. I said I would in about 2002, when she asked me to quit, and I said I would quit when I know I have a child on the way. I said, "as soon as I am going to be a father, I will quit immediately." I am living up to my word, and this was the only way I was going to quit. So no, I am not buying cigarettes. I am buying potato chips. A lot of potato chips.

I'm not sure why my wife wouldn't ask if I was spending money on cigarettes, as I am a terrible liar, and she would know in an instant if I was telling the truth or not, but I noticed she often avoids asking me questions like that. Not sure if she just wants to avoid dealing with a problem she has with me, because that's totally the opposite of how we run things in this relationship. We communicate, and that's why it has worked for so long. I wish more people understood the importance of communication. So when she was sort of hinting that she was wondering where the money was spent, I know the thought came into her head that I was spending it on cigarettes, and not telling her I was smoking. But she didn't confront me, and just believed me when I said "I have not idea where the money went, honey." Because that's the truth, but a weird answer to give, and one that I would imagine would garner some follow-up questions.

But yes, I quit because of the pending fatherhood. I actually started quiting the day before we found out, but I continued with full force because of the fact that I wanted to live up to my word as a 19 year old. I'm doing great, by the way.

Everyone is doing great. All is well here.


Friday, October 8, 2010

The Old Me's Dead and Gone (to you)

I just wrote an entire blog post, edited it, reread it, and deleted it. I simply could not put those thoughts and feelings out on the internet. I'm not that kind of person. BUT, I will touch on the subject, without blasting someone in the process.

The subject I refer to above, is the feeling of being forgotten, like out of sight out of mind, sort of thing. Now, as I have made it painfully clear in the past year or so, I am a transplant from one part of the country to another, and that means I moved away from a lot of people that I love and care about. The feeling is mutual, even if they don't quite say so everyday. Or even if it's very rare that you hear from them at all. I know those people back home are my friends. There's no question about it. Some people have a harder time than others understanding this, and that's okay, they didn't expect to be "forgotten" about after they moved. I was expecting it, because I had a friend go through the same thing, so I knew what to expect. He didn't, and that's how I learned what to expect. His misery is my gain, sort of, I guess.

Well anyway, I feel bad for the guy, man. He still feels forgotten about after all this time, and it really shouldn't be that way. I know that people back home are busy, and have probably moved on from you and I. They don't have time to call or text or message you on facebook, because they have lives that we're not a part of anymore. It's a sad reality, but nonetheless, reality. You can't go harboring grudges against the people you once called friends back home because they never contact you. You're just not around anymore. You're out of sight! I understand this, and I hope someday you will too.



Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The FCC Is Gonna Take A Shit Right On Your Head

As many of you probably know, I'm a pretty big fan of a band called Band of Horses. Recently, as in the past 5 or 6 months, I've been listening to a radio station here in Nashville called Lightning100, and they've been playing the shit out of that band for the most part of my listening experience. They've especially ramped up their plays this week, because the station sponsors a free outdoor concert every Thursday called Live on the Green. Band of Horses is playing it this Thursday, and I'm pretty bummed out that I won't be able to see them. I have to work, and getting out of that shift is unlikely. Additionally, I just saw them this past July. All of this is besides the point, I suppose.

Well anyway, as I say, they keep playing them on this radio station, particularly, their lead single from their latest album, Infinite Arms, a song called Laredo. I couldn't help but notice that in there appeared to be a line in the song that probably shouldn't be on the radio. I looked up the line in the song, and according to the lyric website, the line says "a kitchen knife, fucked in the face." While that line really doesn't make any sense, that is exactly what it sounds like he sings. I noticed that they were definitely not editing the song on the radio, therefore, I must be wrong. Well, yesterday, as I was listening to the station, like I do, I noticed that they had edited out one line, and inserted one from another part of the song. Well, that would tell me that I was right, and they finally realized it. They were broadcasting the word fuck on the radio, over and over. Or were they? What I needed was another source. I looked up the lyrics, but what I found was a mixed result.

Some sites said "Kitchen knife, fucked in the face." While others said "Kitchen knife, up to my face" which makes a little bit more sense. So, the Lightning100 radio edit makes me think that either they were fooled by the internet as well, or vice versa. I don't know what the real lyric is, but either way, the song is badass, and I'm really just glad I can hear it on the radio somewhere. Whatever the lyric is, I hope it's fucked, because that means they were broadcasting the word fuck for months and months, and that's hilarious.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

#PBtoast2010

I'm 95% sure that I have spent some time talking about #PBtoast2010 on this blog before, but as I tried to look back and find when I did that and what I talked about, I can't find the post. I'm don't think I went into a great amount of detail if I did, but if I did, I'm sorry for repeating myself.

My friends and I have been doing this #PBtoast2010 campagin for a while now, almost exclusively on the Twitter, with mostly positive results. The results are positive because if you eat peanut butter on piece of toast, your day will be infinitely better because of it. Today, I have taken #PBtoast2010 to a new level of confidence and power.

You see, as Big Dave had pointed out during his Popularity Issue promotion, America loves them some Jif. I grew up on Skippy, but I'm not allowed to purchase it, because my lovely wife is a big Jif fan, herself. Well as I had commented in the comments section of that post by Big Dave, I really like peanut butter that comes premixed with honey. Jif makes one that has honey in it, and it's very good, indeed. But if you want to take your peanut butter experience through the fucking roof, may I suggest Peter Pan honey roast creamy peanut butter.

**I really wanted to take this time to insert a picture of the jar, but I can't figure it out/don't care enough/couldn't find the right picture. Just imagine a picture of peanut butter right here. Thank you***

I've never tasted a better peanut butter, and I'm not fucking around. I'm currently eating it out of the jar with a knife as I type. It's so goddamn tasty, I could scream. I just want everyone to try this shit. It's so good! It's way better than the Jif kind, so if you were considering buying some of this, and they only have the Jif version, don't fucking bother. Don't waste your time. Just buy whatever you buy normally, and wait until the time you are shopping and they actually have the Peter Pan Honey Roast peanut butter available. Buy it, and then kiss your old brand goodbye, because you just had a religious experience in your mouth. You just had an experience.

Please listen to me on this. If nothing else, just listen to me on this subject. I promise I won't lead you astray!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Posts About Babies: Required Reading

So I decided to go with Posts About Babies as the running title of the posts about the pregnancy. Why the hell not? No one suggested one, and I can't think of anything else, so go with that.

Last night, I almost lost a limb at the hand of a pregnant woman. Not that I felt that she would actually harm me, but I couldn't believe how quickly she turned on me. She was on the phone with her mother, and there was a dog on a couch cushion in between her and her glass of ice water. She politely asked me if I could get up and grab it for her, which I got up and did. When I grabbed the water glass off the table, I took a sip of it, and she ANGRILY whispered to me "Give me that water I'm really thirsty and all I want is that water."

Woah.

Where did that come from? One minute she was fine, next she was whisper-yelling at me. I suppose that happens with this pregnancy thing. According to my book, this is normal.

I got caught up on my book this morning, The Expectant Father. The book goes month by month, so that makes it easier to read because I only have to read a chapter a month. The thing is, it's not really telling me anything I couldn't have figured out myself at this point anyway. Basically it says "don't be an asshole, don't worry if you feel left out, try to stay involved and educated. Also, talk about stuff you are going through with your wife as well as with other people who've been through this already." Yeah, I got it. I do that. I'm that kind of person anyway. Though, I'll keep reading it, even if I don't really feel like I need to. It's not going to hurt anything, right? I'm sure I will some things from the book.

So that's what I deal with, getting whisper-yelled-at, and all in all, it's not bad for me. I feel really bad for my wife, because she is going though all this, and I just want her to feel good. There's nothing I can do about this, but according to the book, that's normal, and I will experience that feeling for a while. I guess I learned that. So that's good.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Wrong Address

We have this on-going situation here at my wonderful apartment in Nashville. For those of you that are aren't familiar with the National Football League or what teams play where, we have a team here in Nashville called the Tennessee Titans. On that team are real people, who have real residencies and mailing addresses and livelihoods. Sometimes, pro athletes have a hard time knowing how to change their address, apparently because we keep getting mail and deliveries for a certain NFL player named Jacob Ford. Mr. Ford is a defensive linemen and wears number 78 on the Titans. He plays occasionally, and I've watched him play on TV while sitting on my couch in his old apartment. Pretty neat, if you ask me.

I know he used to live here because the mailman told me so on the day we were moving in. He said, "You know, one of the Titans used to live there." I was all like, "Really? Cool." A day or two later, I decided to check the mailbox to see if we had gotten any mail at the new apartment yet. There was not, but instead of any or our mail, it was stuffed up with a bunch of mail for one Jacob Ford. That's when I had to Google him, and that's when I learned who he was. Slowly, but surely, his mail began to stop coming, but every once in a while, we get his mail. We got his NFL retirement package paperwork once. We got a Christmas card, sent from the family of the Defensive Coordinator, Chuck Cecil. We got his Eastbay catalog. Things of that nature.

This had stopped almost entirely until today, when I got a package from FedEx, addressed to Mr. Ford. Now what? You can't just write "wrong address" on the envelope and stick it back in the mailbox. No, there is no mailbox for FedEx. So I called FedEx and they're coming to pick it up. It's just another reminder that someone who made it to the NFL used to sit right where I'm currently sitting, but I got his FedEx'd shit. At one time I wanted to keep a pile of his mail, and when he did a public appearance, I was gonna show up and ask him to autograph it. But I chickened out. Plus I think that's sort of illegal, but I don't know. Would have been pretty funny though.

so anyway, next time you're watching a Titans game and you see #78 out there, Jacob Ford, know that at the same time, I am writing "wrong address" on an envelope somewhere.