Runnin' With the Devil

A friend posted this link on MySpace and I had to share it with all of you because it is one of the funniest things I have ever seen online. Sammy Hagar must be so pissed. He needs to start his own sound board so fans can decide once and for all who the best Van Halen front man truly is. Singing aside, Hagar could never match Roth's high kicks, flying splits, and other various quasi rock 'n' roll ninja techniques, but Hagar had the perm, so the debate rages on.

TGIF, but Monday is Always Looming

"Did I do thhaaatttt?"

Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend" says it all. So, so poignant. Friday's are always such a cheerful day because two and a half days of freedom from work drudgery are a five o'clock whistle blow away. For those of us who don't enjoy our job, have no passion for it, and/or trudge there everyday only in the name of bills, bills, bills, weekends are everything.

Doing the math, weekends equal around 130 days of the year, meaning, if you work a five day work week, eight hours (if your lucky) of each day of the remaining 235 days (not factoring in holidays and "sick days"), are spent "working for the weekend." This doesn't include the time spent in preparation for work or the nights spent at home instead of at a show because it would be irresponsible/craptacular to stay out all night and zombie it through the next day.

The joys of the real world. Luckily, for the folks out there who aren't shackled to their cubicle with a one foot titanium chain, there are hilarious friends and co-workers to countdown the work days with.

I envy all of you who are passionate about your job and have employers who actually appreciate and reward your toil. This post is way too depressing for a Friday. To get back in the groove, for your listening pleasure, the theme song to "Family Matters." Ba ba ba ba ba do (music, not Robert Goulet).....It's a rare condition, this day and age to read any good news on the newspaper page. Love and tradition of the grand design (high and long on the -sign), some people say it's even harder to find...

1. Keep It Away From Bright Light 2. Don't Get Water On It 3. Never Feed It After Midnight

This is a picture of our cat Boston when he was a wee kitten. Even then it was clear he would grow to gargantuan proportions. I found it on the computer and put it on here because it is hilarious. He looks like Garfield now, but, back then, he looked like a nice Gremlin.

I'm a Boy

I was reading one of my favorite blogs and came across the Gender Analyzer. According to it, there is a 59 percent chance that my blog is written by a man, although "it's quite gender neutral."

Whoop, whoop, my masculinity is confirmed.

New Orleans' visitors/A Slightly Inappropriate? Edo to Primeveal

With Hurricane Gustav headed towards New Orleans, Chrissty's family members who live in the city and the surrounding area came to Valdosta while the storm passed over. Not the best reasons for a family reunion but it was good to see everybody. Interestingly enough, Chrissty's cousin Kaleigh was here three years ago hiding out from Hurricane Katrina when Chrissty and I first got together on the night of Sept. 15 on the beer soaked Mellow Mushroom floor.

Almost three years later, Kaleigh was back with her brother and brother's friend so we took them out to Milltown Groove, formerly Loozie Anna's, for a night of debauchery. The inside is still decorated with New Orleans garb, which seemed to make Kaleigh feel at home, but they took out the table and chairs that used to clutter up the stage front. The stage front is actually now a dance floor with a DJ spinning all the latest in beat driven hip-hop that drunkin' ladies love bootyshaking too. With this in mind, I wonder if this new bar will feature the great music that its predecessor was known for?

Also, they added horseshoes pits in the back (am I the only person who refers to Horsehoes, as Horeshoes? How funny would it be if you had to try and ring 5 inch Stellitos). I love this addition, but as Bunky and I enjoyed a few rounds, I couldn't help wonder what the liability coverage on something like that costs as drunkin' fools are tossing around weighted metal. Then I realized I don't own the bar and it's not my problem, so game on. This new establishment will do well with its size being the only thing that will impede its success, but, the people who own Flip Flops own it, for now paying a Milltown/Flops cover will also get you into the other bar, so it's looking like the Milltown Groove will act as a flood ditch for the people washed over from the Greek chaos of Flip Flops.

Long before Hurricane Gustave hit, I heard its name uttered as it was headed towards the Gulf and my mind conjured the gigantic killer croc of the same name from the ridiculously campy, Sci Fi Channel Aztec Rex of a movie released to theatres, Primeval.

Adam and I went to see this movie back in '07 thinking it would be one of the greatest slasher movies ever, based on the film's tagline, "Inspired by the True Story of The Most Prolific Serial Killer in History," but instead were forced into a poor man's Lake Placid that had no place in theaters, not that Lake Placid really did either. This movie is an example of some of the best marketing ever as we couldn't have been the only poor souls duped into paying the $8 plus popcorn and soda to attend this dirty diaper disguised as delicious curry chicken.

Bravo (accompanied by sarcastic slow dramatic clapping) for the suits who spent countless 3 a.m. mornings surrounded by empty Chinese food containers crafting this ploy. While you're drowning in 2 for 1 martinis celebrating, I'm still wondering what joys I missed on a glorious Valdosta night because I didn’t walk out as soon as I realized what this movie really was. I'm shocked not one seedy advertising during afternoon soaps lawyer hasn't tried making billions from a false advertising suit. If you're not to busy hanging out in emergency rooms or getting people out of blatant DUI charges, call me, but in the meantime, I'm appalled at the irresponsibility of the people in charge of naming hurricanes. If you're willing to name hurricanes after laughable movie monsters in even worse movies that take themselves way to seriously, what's next? Clearly, you need help naming these storms, so feel free to consult the following list:

T1000, Hannibal Lecter, Leatherface, or any other horror/thriller/action movie villain whose name causes Chuck Norris to cry – I'm sick of people trying to stick out category 5 hurricanes during mandatory evacuations, so if the threat of 200 mph winds and torrential rain isn't enough maybe these names will put the necessary amount of fright into them. I understand nobody wants to leave if they really don't have too. I get it. I'm all for drinking hurricanes at a hurricane party, but if there's a mandatory evacuation get your ass out of there; the Big Bad Wolf is coming to blow your house down.

Corporate Sponsorship – If you’re going to give hurricanes unjustified or boring names at least make some money doing it. Hurricane Microsoft, Hurricane Starbucks, Hurricane Wal-Mart. Get the picture. Bubby, these storms aren’t just blowing winds; they’re showering you with loads of cash. Sure, any PR director will tell you that it probably isn’t a good idea for their company to be associated with a destructive storm, but I defer to celebrity press secretaries who say any press is good press. On the same note, how about Hurricane Obama or Hurricane McCain? Name recognition is vital in an election people.

Bertha and Helga - My apologies to any hot and/or friendly, let's sit back with a brew and aimlessly chit chat ladies of this name, but, really, any reference to this name conjures some redwood tree of a woman with a menacing look in her eye, cracking her knuckles, looking to cause some form of pain to any and all bystanders around. Not even the promise of a happy ending could get me on the massage table with one of these ladies standing over me.

Nitro, Laser, Lace, or any American Gladiator name (the original, not the farce they're trying to peddle now) – These names just sound cool and any excuse to use them in a real world context should be taken. Hurricane names are the first step in the grander scheme of things. I want to see things in the future like the Nitro Public Library and The Gemini Champion of the Joust College Scholarship.

Guerrilla Charity: The T1000 of Solicitation

For those of you who don't have a cyborg sent from the future to protect you from weekend morning solicitors, turn off the lights, shut the blinds, and lock the doors.

Anybody who has walked through the city with me will tell you that I’m the kind of guy who looks the downtrodden in the eye. When they want something I give it. Call me what you want; my friends always blast me for my giving nature, but I don’t care how these folks have gotten into the mess they’re in. If I can spare some change or the rest of my bottled water I will. If a guy needs a buck to purchase a 40 of Steel Reserve, I’m like Superman swooping in and extending a crumpled Washington. But, before you start throwing Nobel Peace Prizes at me and spitting at Mother Theresa’s supposed generosity, when it comes to certain other solicitors, I’m not so understanding.

Until recently, my resentment scope has been aimed at the Jehovah’s as they are always willing to walk up in their white button up and black slacks and ruin a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. I remember as a kid working with my dad in the garage and us running inside when we saw them approach. I think my dad might have even shut the garage door but the brain cells holding that memory have been sucking on an exhaust pipe.

Not even my pop, a pretty tough hombre, wanted to deal with these characters. Upstairs, we wiped our nervous sweaty brows and chuckled, knowing we had pulled off a James Bond like escape, and watched them, shoulders hung, walk next door to terrorize our neighbors. We had escaped, but, like the ending of a good film-noir, there would always be the “Until we meet again…”

Also, in this same category, are the Sunday pamphlet wielders ready to ruin a good hang over as they push their beliefs on my just rolled out of bed, alcohol oozing, hair fairy self, forcing me to awkwardly half smile until I can make up some lame excuse of why I need to go inside. “Umm…yeah…I hear what you’re saying, but…ummm...I think my laundry’s done.” Most of the time they are easy to avoid as judges aren’t allowed to grant them warrants into your home, but they have a knack for timing their arrival perfectly as I’m putting the keys in the door, breakfast in hand. No wonder the Chinese don’t want missionaries in their country.

The two above solicitors cause my heart to plummet every time I hear a knock on my door, but this rant is really aimed at Guerrilla Charity. At least Jehovah’s and pamphlet wielders have the cohones to stand in the open and fight in a gentlemanly manner. But, lately, I’ve been bombarded at retail stores and fast food eateries by at purchase, Vietcong foot in a spike trap box style $1 donations. The charities launching these missiles from afar vary quite a bit and sometimes the name tagged solicitor just says the dollar is “for charity.”

Very cunning. Very sly. No longer can I shut off the lights or ignore the knocking door. They’ve taken the battle out in the open and have used my good-naturedness against me. Either I give the dollar or feel like scum for not donating “only a dollar” and worry about the consequences. At PetSmart I’ll usually give $1 to help homeless animals but today at Taco Bell I declined giving a dollar to the Boys and Girls Club. Clearly, based on my dollarmenuaire order I only had so much moola, but did my refusal cause a loogey to be donated into my cheesey double beef burrito?

I have nothing against giving to charity. In my current financial state I try to help out when I can, donating old clothes and what not, and, when things improve, I would like to help more. But, sadly, right now, all of those dollars add up. In the meantime, until I’m winning eight gold medals swimming in piles of cash, it would be nice not having to feel like an asshole whenever I buy a crunchwrap supreme or some cat food.

The Freshman's Guide to a Successful College Experience: 1st Edition

"Back to school. Back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool. I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight. Ohhhh, back to school. Back to school. Back to school. Well, here goes nothing." (Billy Madison, 1995)

Baytree is filling up with solemn looking parents driving empty mini-vans home, and beamers driven by 17 year olds way too young to deserve them; therefore, another Fall Semester must be upon us where Valdosta is bombarded by the newest crop of deer in headlights looking Freshmen taking their next step towards the Real World (of course not the drunkin’ orgy in a hot tub, but the business casual, jeans on Friday, maybe drunkenly hook up with the new hire after happy hour deal). I was them once. I was you. I remember those anxious nervous feelings, eons ago, back in ’01: the excitement of new found freedom, the anxiousness of new surroundings, the fear of making new friends, the anticipation for the future.

As the old-timer that I am, I want to take the lessons I’ve learned and act as your Sherpa (China sucks!) through the perilous mountain range that is the college experience. First, I applaud you for making it this far, but it isn’t all Van Wilder, Animal House, Back to School and Saved by the Bell: The College Years as the American media would like you to believe. In fact, the stakes are against you; about half of all college students who start with the best intentions won’t graduate.

Of course the “experts” will give you their reasons for this, but it’s simple really: successfully completing college is about finding a balance, the yin of studying and making the grades and the yang of having fun and paying the rent. That’s it. For the most part, those who find the balance succeed, and those who don’t are yanked off the stage with a giant cane. So, to help you find that balance, here are my tips and suggestions for success.

1. Graduate Past Your High School Relationship – This goes 10 fold if said person lives more than an hour away. Look, I know this sounds cruel, but stop getting all Notebooky on me. Honestly, this should have been done long ago, but, now that you’re down here, the dawn of text messaging will make the confrontation much easier. I know you pledged your undying love to this other person, but, realistically, it cannot work. You both are at two different stages in your life. Eventually, you will resent this person and break-up three months later anyway because you’ll feel obligated to pack up your room and return to mom and dad’s every weekend so you can spend nights eating pizza at your old hang outs and snuggling up to Touched by an Angel reruns before the long journey back to Valdosta. This choice of lifestyle totally defeats the purpose of going to college and will only stunt your growth. If you two are meant to be, life will find a way to make it happen. I don’t care how good the sex is, end it!
2. Form a Fellowship (Your Roommate Shouldn’t be Your Only Friend.) – I know you two have everything in common right now, but, as the college experience takes its toll, your straight-edge roomie will quickly turn into a smoking, rolling, techno vampire. It is vital that you make friends with as many people in your dorm as possible so you’ll have somebody to switch rooms with later. More importantly, your posse is your support system; they are the people you’ll laugh and cry with, and as Mystery might say, “Even the best pick-up artists need a wingman.”

3. You’re a Citizen, Not a Tourist. Assimilation: It’s the Tops! (Followed by a Foreigner’s Awkward High-Five and Thumbs Up) – Don’t lay your clothes out the night before the first day of school and become the Hawaiian shirt, Panama Jack hat, Velcro sandal wearing island visitor. While you may look smoking in your dress and heels or designer jeans and witty t-shirt, there is nothing sadder as VSU veterans will only snicker at you because it is obvious that you are a newbie and are trying way too hard to impress. For now, stick with gym shorts or sweats, a wrinkled t-shirt, flip flops and that “Oh, God am I really up at 9 a.m. look,” and learn from there.

4. Older People Are More Than a Good Game of Bridge or Backgammon –Where would Luke Skywalker be without Yoda? Dead. He’d be dead and we’d all be screwed. Therefore, making friends with upperclassmen, people who can show you the ropes, will help you avoid many of the pitfalls that trap newcomers as your newfound friends will always be ready with sage advice. Also, you’ll need someone to buy you booze because your fake sucks; it may have worked back home, but there’s no way you’re going to pass for a 55-year-old Asian here.

5. There’s More to Them Than Free Food – While it may be fun to play Halo all night with your dorm mates, you need to get out there and mingle with some actual living, breathing human beings. There are clubs and intramural sports abound on campus so take your passion and find others who enjoy it too, except if it solely involves a bar. If you find yourself skipping class at 10 a.m. to talk about “that damn war” with some Grizzly Adams looking guy named Shorty at the local pub, your passion and the club you have joined is called alcoholism.

6. HAMMERTIME! Whoa, Whoa – Walk, skip, roll or do anything necessary other than drunkin’ driving to get to and back from your favorite watering hole. But if driving is the only way to the fine establishment on the other side of town, find a designated driver. Seriously, it’s not worth your life or somebody else’s. Plus, that kid who plays Dungeons and Dragons down the hall would love any excuse to get out of his room; unless, of course, you’re interrupting his late night web cam date when things are starting to get very interesting. A quick tip: When a door is locked, always knock.

7. Ride the Rails: Hobo It!– There is no keeping up with the Joneses when you are in college. You are a student so you are supposed to be poor. Eat Ramen and drink Natty Light while occasionally splurging on the good stuff. Learn which restaurants and bars have the best specials on what days. Do not apply for a credit card “for emergencies” or take out a high interest private student loan for that 80 inch plasma to accent your room. While your loans may seem like free money now, you will have to pay them back with interest later and, sadly, a college degree, in this day and age, does not guarantee a high paying job. I’m starting to wonder if my $30,000 debt would have been better spent at the craps table throwing the bones.

8 If You Paid For a Clown You’d Expect More Than Cigarette Butts in Your Children’s Tears – Following up on tip #7, you more inquisitive types probably already noticed that your tuition includes a lot of other things besides classes like a rec center fee, an athletic fee, and a student activities fee. In a slightly underhanded way, you are paying so you can work out at the rec center, attend VSU sporting events, and participate in various student activities brought to you by the Campus Activities Board, even if you never had any intention of doing so. But, hey, if you’re already paying for these things, take advantage. The Rec Center is a great place to work out and master your peripherals with all of the hot ass to check out, CAB usually has finger lickin’ good BBQ’s at Palm’s Quad and if you’re stuck up UGA’s ass and aren’t aware, the Blazers are the DII National Champs so screw “Go Dawgs,” and take a Saturday morning walk down to Bazemore-Hyder.

9. It’s 2008. Shouldn’t We Be Able to Teleport By Now? – In my experience, finding an available parking at space at VSU is like finding a politician who tells the truth. I know the powers at be probably told you during orientation that the parking decks will provide more than 2000 new spaces and solve VSU’s notorious parking problem, but, as a veteran who fought in The Great Parking Wars, I’m not optimistic. I hope I’m proved wrong, but there are a lot more of you now and these decks should have been built at least five years ago. I say save your money and find your own special spot somewhere off-campus. This is where making friends with upperclassmen (even sophomores) is important because they may make their driveways available to you…for a price, muahahahah!!! Sorry. But, if that ain’t happenin,’ there’s usually some parking at random apartment complexes near campus, College Street, Boone Drive and Williams Street. Most importantly, if you’re going to park illegally, park in a marked VSU staff or reserved space because your fine will usually only be $15, which is substantially less than the more than $50 the city will fine you for parking on a yellow curb.

10 The Real World Can Wait (I Love Money and The Entertainer are the Shiznit) – Don’t be one of those overachievers who takes summer classes to graduate early. Similarly, if you took AP classes in high school I pity you. College is not meant to be a piece of paper balled up and thrown at you on the way to a house in the suburbs. Slow down and take it all in. College is two fold; it is a place for learning and a place for growing. Years from now you’ll forget mostly everything that you learned in those core classes you were forced to take, but you’ll always have the memories, the crazy stories and the friends you made along the way.

Photos taken from actual CD and movie covers, IMDB.com, music.aol.com and city-date.com. Article also published in Valdosta's entertainment magazine The Glass Onion. For those of you away from Titletown, I hope you enjoyed it here.