2.4.2018 (first posted this week 2002)
As a freelancer, I sometimes have spare time between paying gigs. I've got a lot to do on my own during this time, but I also cough up some of it to charitable causes. So far I've done volunteer work at the donut factory, the local brewery and the coffee roastery. I had to quit those places because they actually have paid docents who are very territorial. They've banded together into quasi-government states within the institutions, doling out assignments like NEA grants. One would have to submit a written proposal (of no less than 500 pages) and three years later would be forced to answer a battery of questions in front of their tribunal of Elder Docents. All of this to have the "privilege" to survey the employees' opinions about the recent switch from conical paper cups to flat bottom cups. Who the fuck can write 500 pages about that horseshit?
Anyway, like I said, I quit those joints, but recently I found the Mother-of-All-Volunteer-Gigs: Driving folks around in a little van. It's great! Most often I drive the little van around parking lots and help people find their cars. I'll be damned if I didn't learn an important life lesson soon after starting this: Most people who can't find their cars in a parking lot are in fact NOT drunk. This was a surprise to me. I don't have much exposure to parking lots to base my predisposed belief upon, but whenever I found myself in a big parking lot for, say, a mall, I would see dozens of people wandering around the lot looking for their cars. They all looked slightly dazed, confused, lost and, frankly, drunk. Now that I shuttle them around and talk a bit to them, it's revealed to me that they're mostly not drunk, but certainly forgetful.
The mall lot gig is good, but I've found a new gem. The neighborhood I live in here in SF (as are many in the city and in big cities in general) is a frikkin nightmare when it comes to parking. If you find a spot (and that's a big IF), you often need an airport shuttle to get you to the front door of where ever you're going, as it is fifty blocks away from where you found a spot.
Many of you savvy List Members can see this one coming. My new gig is to drive folks from their cars to their front doors. I started small, with only one or two clients, but word of mouth referrals pushed their number up into the high hundred fifties. And growing! It's really simple: Client Mary makes a quick once-over of the potential spots around her pad to no avail. She rings me on her cell and tells me where she's off to look and shortly thereafter I tuck in behind her Miata. When she finds a spot, she parks and I zip her back home. Easy-Peasy. And like I said, this is volunteer work, so I do it for nothing but gas money. In this tough economy, though, tips are appreciated.
Tonight - The Homestead
News: No news is good news. Welcome Lola and Heather.
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Members: Mary Haring, Jimi Simmons
Porn Title of the Week: Tender Tubbies
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Thumbscrews
2.3.2018
Did I ever tell the story about the hospital collections dept calling me one day and was geared-up for a fight to get her dough only to read the amount, stumble and start swearing about their recent software update? No?
The phone rang. I answered and a bulldog asked if it was me. I said yep. Bulldog said, "This is the collections department of Bisbee General Hospital." She had the voice of an pissed-off enforcer who only called shifty deadbeats who dodged her calls, or made empty promises to pay or had every excuse under the sun. She'd heard it all and wasn't going to take any shit. The time for "pleases" and "thank yous" was over. No more Miss Nice Bulldog. She continued, " You have an UNPAID, OVERDUE balance owed to the hospital! The UNPAID BALANCE is in the amount of ... " She choked on whatever she was about to say. "uh ... You have a balance ... " Her voice was one of total confusion. "You ... Oh god damn it!" she said.
From the moment I said yep I just sat there and listened to her. I was interested in hearing the way she talked and knew immediately the kind of jerk she usually has to call. I also knew that I didn't owe her anything.
She composed herself, "Okay. I'm so sorry. I didn't read your file. You have an unpaid balance of $6. Our system is not supposed to elevate the account to collections for amounts under $20. We had a god damn systems "upgrade" six months ago and we're still trying to sort out some bugs. I'm really sorry to have bothered you."
I told her that it was okay. I'd always wondered what an approach to trying to get money from someone over the phone sounded like. She laughed, 'Yeah, ya gotta be an asshole from the start." I said, "well no offense, but you nailed that." She laughed again, "Ha. No offense taken. I trained hard to get that, uh, hard."
I asked her if she'd talk more like that and she said no.
Tonight - St. Mary's Pub (1 time!! 2 different requests)
Kickin' it Bernal/ Missio .
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Did I ever tell the story about the hospital collections dept calling me one day and was geared-up for a fight to get her dough only to read the amount, stumble and start swearing about their recent software update? No?
The phone rang. I answered and a bulldog asked if it was me. I said yep. Bulldog said, "This is the collections department of Bisbee General Hospital." She had the voice of an pissed-off enforcer who only called shifty deadbeats who dodged her calls, or made empty promises to pay or had every excuse under the sun. She'd heard it all and wasn't going to take any shit. The time for "pleases" and "thank yous" was over. No more Miss Nice Bulldog. She continued, " You have an UNPAID, OVERDUE balance owed to the hospital! The UNPAID BALANCE is in the amount of ... " She choked on whatever she was about to say. "uh ... You have a balance ... " Her voice was one of total confusion. "You ... Oh god damn it!" she said.
From the moment I said yep I just sat there and listened to her. I was interested in hearing the way she talked and knew immediately the kind of jerk she usually has to call. I also knew that I didn't owe her anything.
She composed herself, "Okay. I'm so sorry. I didn't read your file. You have an unpaid balance of $6. Our system is not supposed to elevate the account to collections for amounts under $20. We had a god damn systems "upgrade" six months ago and we're still trying to sort out some bugs. I'm really sorry to have bothered you."
I told her that it was okay. I'd always wondered what an approach to trying to get money from someone over the phone sounded like. She laughed, 'Yeah, ya gotta be an asshole from the start." I said, "well no offense, but you nailed that." She laughed again, "Ha. No offense taken. I trained hard to get that, uh, hard."
I asked her if she'd talk more like that and she said no.
Tonight - St. Mary's Pub (1 time!! 2 different requests)
Kickin' it Bernal/ Missio .
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 08, 2018
Jules Verne (REDUX)
2.2.2018 (first posted this week, 2002)
So I got one of them little peeky-peekys. Some folks call them satellite dishes. A fine, fun-loving List Member set me up with the hardware and I called the programming company and got me about 500 channels. Now while this might sound like a lot of stuff to watch, truth is there's nothing. A whole lot of nothing. The Home BO replays the crappiest movies ... ever. The Food Channel, while somewhat interesting at times, torpedoes its best show, Iron Chef, with that campy English voice over. (In the old days, Iron Chef was on a SF cable-access channel DIE-rect from Japan. It had no English VO, but rather these English subtitles, translations from Japanese, and reading them, the viewer had the feeling that the translator didn't quite saavy Japanese-to-English. And that he was stone drunk.) But at any rate, 500 channels or not, I could scarsely find anything to watch. That is, until I stumbled across the "Operation Channel."
Pop on the Operation Channel and you're in for a treat, if you can stomach it. Well I can't. The close-ups of the gall bladder surgery or the intra-cavity camera's shots of the hernia operation frankly make me want to hurl. The strange thing, though, is my inability to look away. I'm grossed out, completely, but fascinated (discreetly).
I threw on the Operation Channel the other night and found someone's toe being reconstructed. Someone had apparently dropped a heavy object, perhaps a bowling ball, on their toe and some enterprising surgeon figured they could salvage the little piggy. Dang but the inside of the toe is icky-looking. The doc was packing what looked like orzo or wee-little shipping peanuts into the meaty, pink, split-toe and I forgot that I needed to look away often and ended up staring at the screen for a long time. Nose wrinkled, squinting and about to puke, I remembered myself and looked at the back of my hand just in time.
Moments later, as the nausea washed away, I returned to the screen. This time, they showed some fella sitting in bed, reading aloud crappy Laughter Is The Best Medicine jokes from Reader's Digest. The jokes weren't funny, but the guy was enjoying them. I was about to ask what happened to the toe when the camera panned down the bed and the Doc and a bunch of lackeys were down there working on the toe. The dude wasn't even konked out! That threw me for a loop. What a miraculous time we live in, when we can simultaneously enjoy the worst jokes on the planet and get our toe operated on. Oh joy!
Tonight - Vesuvio Cafe
(Julie's pinky can now drink legally...)
News: Arg! Mateys! Robot feels like a pirate!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Member: Moss
Satanic Word of the Week: Error [(Venue Announcement not verbose enough to constitute Satanic Word of the Week. Error No. 666)]
Porn Title of the Week: Whore of the Rings
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So I got one of them little peeky-peekys. Some folks call them satellite dishes. A fine, fun-loving List Member set me up with the hardware and I called the programming company and got me about 500 channels. Now while this might sound like a lot of stuff to watch, truth is there's nothing. A whole lot of nothing. The Home BO replays the crappiest movies ... ever. The Food Channel, while somewhat interesting at times, torpedoes its best show, Iron Chef, with that campy English voice over. (In the old days, Iron Chef was on a SF cable-access channel DIE-rect from Japan. It had no English VO, but rather these English subtitles, translations from Japanese, and reading them, the viewer had the feeling that the translator didn't quite saavy Japanese-to-English. And that he was stone drunk.) But at any rate, 500 channels or not, I could scarsely find anything to watch. That is, until I stumbled across the "Operation Channel."
Pop on the Operation Channel and you're in for a treat, if you can stomach it. Well I can't. The close-ups of the gall bladder surgery or the intra-cavity camera's shots of the hernia operation frankly make me want to hurl. The strange thing, though, is my inability to look away. I'm grossed out, completely, but fascinated (discreetly).
I threw on the Operation Channel the other night and found someone's toe being reconstructed. Someone had apparently dropped a heavy object, perhaps a bowling ball, on their toe and some enterprising surgeon figured they could salvage the little piggy. Dang but the inside of the toe is icky-looking. The doc was packing what looked like orzo or wee-little shipping peanuts into the meaty, pink, split-toe and I forgot that I needed to look away often and ended up staring at the screen for a long time. Nose wrinkled, squinting and about to puke, I remembered myself and looked at the back of my hand just in time.
Moments later, as the nausea washed away, I returned to the screen. This time, they showed some fella sitting in bed, reading aloud crappy Laughter Is The Best Medicine jokes from Reader's Digest. The jokes weren't funny, but the guy was enjoying them. I was about to ask what happened to the toe when the camera panned down the bed and the Doc and a bunch of lackeys were down there working on the toe. The dude wasn't even konked out! That threw me for a loop. What a miraculous time we live in, when we can simultaneously enjoy the worst jokes on the planet and get our toe operated on. Oh joy!
Tonight - Vesuvio Cafe
(Julie's pinky can now drink legally...)
News: Arg! Mateys! Robot feels like a pirate!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Member: Moss
Satanic Word of the Week: Error [(Venue Announcement not verbose enough to constitute Satanic Word of the Week. Error No. 666)]
Porn Title of the Week: Whore of the Rings
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 01, 2018
Bloated (REDUX)
2.1.2018 (first published this week 2001)
I've been overrun by crappy music lately. I've been ice skating a lot; once or twice a week. For some reason, the folks at the rink insist on playing oh-so-god-awful music over the loudspeakers. Stuff like "Walk like Mr. Egyptian," "Bang the Warrior," "Only the Lonely Can Play" (I used to sing "get laid" instead of "can play." Ha ha.) In all honesty, though, I sorta liked that "Only the Lonely" song way back when. It was by the Motels. I thought they had a cool band name. Even though I can't play a note on any instrument and I'd be hard-pressed to hold a guitar properly I always thought it'd be cool to have a band. Most folks'll start a band by, y'know, learning how to sing or play the drums or something. I figured that a good start would be finding a cool name. Some reason I liked the Motels' choice for a name. Kinda corny, but kinda sexy too. Oh well. They had another hit aside from "Only the Lonely." Anyone know what it was? Yeah, so, the rink's speakers are pumping out this crap. I'm hearing stuff I'd prefer not to hear again. 38 Special. Seger. Anything by Journey. Where the heck they find this shtuff? I didn't go killcrazy because they'd pepper that shit sandwich of a playlist with gems like Leppard, Quiet Riot and Gary Numan. Gary Numan? Man. That was some good stuff. I dug out a cassette with "Are Friends Electric?" on it. That song kinda rules. All this reminds me of this time - a while back - in '77 when my family was on vacation in upstate New York and we were skating at this outdoor rink during the day and they too were playing crap. I remember I was just about to hurl because prolonged exposure to bad music made me boot back then too when all of a sudden they threw on that disco version of the Star Wars soundtrack. They had samples of the C3PO and the R2D2 and everything. It was inspirational skating music. I skated as hard and as fast as a little fella could. Ya think all the music that's played at the rinks around the globe's inspirational to at least one person? Nahhh! I defy you to find someone inspired by "Arthur's Theme."
For drinking pleasure, join the TNSC at:
Make Out Room (by request)
cash only - no cover
Joining the list tonight are Naomi and Rebecca. Say "hey" to Naomi and Rebecca at the venue tonight and buy them a drink. Jer's new roommate and her sister would be on the list, but they didn't cough up their email addresses.
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: "Bite The Big One" Contest. (Thanks for the suggestion, Teensy.)
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: This cool dream I had a while back. I was at lunch with Robert Plant and this weird little waiter with an eyepatch and a limp kept giving us drinks that we didn't order. There was an old-fashioned bomb with a lit fuse for the table lamp. (Editor's Note: This super-lame reenactment is the result of the funding cuts levelled on the TNSC TonDramReen Foundation by the new Administration. It is this editor's opinion that this is but the beginning.)
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: The aforementioned Jeremy Johnson. That sucker is back in town fer good this time. He blew into town last night with a truckload of stuff that didn't get moved into my apartment, so I figure he's serious. Welcome back!
"Wiplash" by Metallica is a good inspirational skating song. I'm not sure why they don't play that one. Come out to the bar tonight and see your pals, new and old. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
Here we go!
I've been overrun by crappy music lately. I've been ice skating a lot; once or twice a week. For some reason, the folks at the rink insist on playing oh-so-god-awful music over the loudspeakers. Stuff like "Walk like Mr. Egyptian," "Bang the Warrior," "Only the Lonely Can Play" (I used to sing "get laid" instead of "can play." Ha ha.) In all honesty, though, I sorta liked that "Only the Lonely" song way back when. It was by the Motels. I thought they had a cool band name. Even though I can't play a note on any instrument and I'd be hard-pressed to hold a guitar properly I always thought it'd be cool to have a band. Most folks'll start a band by, y'know, learning how to sing or play the drums or something. I figured that a good start would be finding a cool name. Some reason I liked the Motels' choice for a name. Kinda corny, but kinda sexy too. Oh well. They had another hit aside from "Only the Lonely." Anyone know what it was? Yeah, so, the rink's speakers are pumping out this crap. I'm hearing stuff I'd prefer not to hear again. 38 Special. Seger. Anything by Journey. Where the heck they find this shtuff? I didn't go killcrazy because they'd pepper that shit sandwich of a playlist with gems like Leppard, Quiet Riot and Gary Numan. Gary Numan? Man. That was some good stuff. I dug out a cassette with "Are Friends Electric?" on it. That song kinda rules. All this reminds me of this time - a while back - in '77 when my family was on vacation in upstate New York and we were skating at this outdoor rink during the day and they too were playing crap. I remember I was just about to hurl because prolonged exposure to bad music made me boot back then too when all of a sudden they threw on that disco version of the Star Wars soundtrack. They had samples of the C3PO and the R2D2 and everything. It was inspirational skating music. I skated as hard and as fast as a little fella could. Ya think all the music that's played at the rinks around the globe's inspirational to at least one person? Nahhh! I defy you to find someone inspired by "Arthur's Theme."
For drinking pleasure, join the TNSC at:
Make Out Room (by request)
cash only - no cover
Joining the list tonight are Naomi and Rebecca. Say "hey" to Naomi and Rebecca at the venue tonight and buy them a drink. Jer's new roommate and her sister would be on the list, but they didn't cough up their email addresses.
TONIGHT'S CONTEST: "Bite The Big One" Contest. (Thanks for the suggestion, Teensy.)
TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: This cool dream I had a while back. I was at lunch with Robert Plant and this weird little waiter with an eyepatch and a limp kept giving us drinks that we didn't order. There was an old-fashioned bomb with a lit fuse for the table lamp. (Editor's Note: This super-lame reenactment is the result of the funding cuts levelled on the TNSC TonDramReen Foundation by the new Administration. It is this editor's opinion that this is but the beginning.)
TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: The aforementioned Jeremy Johnson. That sucker is back in town fer good this time. He blew into town last night with a truckload of stuff that didn't get moved into my apartment, so I figure he's serious. Welcome back!
"Wiplash" by Metallica is a good inspirational skating song. I'm not sure why they don't play that one. Come out to the bar tonight and see your pals, new and old. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!
Here we go!
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