WUMF: June 2013 Edition

Another month, another WUMF

Obligatory YouTube update

So, far, I’ve made a whopping $1.55   YAY!  

At this point, I am spending more money than I am making on the effort.   I am still working to pinpoint what I can do to increase traffic, outside of spending more money.    Is my presence on YouTube unknown?  Does my content suck?  Am I just not doing anything interesting?   Not sure.  As a YouTuber, or potential YouTuber, your mileage may vary.    

My videos with the most views were ones where I was unable to play a game due to technical issues with recording the video and what sucks is I spent $50 on a game I can’t record.  Which, had I know I couldn’t record it, I wouldn’t have bought it for Windows.  Granted, we’re still only talking 2000+ views. 

I enjoy playing video games and I like to have fun.  Maybe people don’t want to listen to me talk while I play.  Maybe I should focus on just presenting game play.   Yet, if I just produce the content and don’t inject personality into it, is there a point?  I’d basically be making money off of other’s work.    I wouldn’t be bringing anything new to the table.   What I need is some objective opinions about my work… but that means views.  You know what that means?  It’s a pity party and I want you all to come commiserate with me.

The Birds

Not one, not two, but four birds tried to commit suicide in front of my car this morning.  What the hell?  Not to mention, yesterday, on the way to dinner, I nearly saw one bite it on the front end of a truck at an intersection.

Why do they insist on hanging out on the roads or flying low.  THEY HAVE WINGS, GODAMMIT!  They can fly higher than the telephone wires.  They don’t need to be doing Death Star trench runs on PA highways.

Last of Us

OK, I think I know my YouTube problem.  I suck at games.  This is probably one of the most anticipated games this year and I’ve played all of 15 minutes of it.  Furthermore, I dropped $100 on a video capture device to record PS3 play but I can’t do stealth worth a damn.   At one point, I actually picked up a bottle and chucked it at a guy’s head by accident.   The game is also very slow to start, disguising the early action as a tutorial.  

However, my game time is limited because my kid has been up later due to it being summer.   When she goes to bed, I’m ready to go, too.  

Cabin in the Woods

I was hesitant to want to watch this because I didn’t think I would like it.   First of all, the trailer gave away the basic plot, which was a bit disappointing.  I usually would kill to see anything Wheddonesque but I was a not feeling this.  Then I went and spoiled the rest of the movie by reading the plot.

I found the answer though.  Watch this in a group… on someone’s back porch during Summer… while drinking alcohol.   It was a great time and I enjoyed the film.  It redeemed itself because it wasn’t trying to disguise itself as a horror movie.  It was an open faced cliché.   The fact that I could pick out so many references and a few that almost slipped by was hilarious.

Pittsburgh Geography By Bruce Willis

I am a self proclaimed excellent navigator. My wife will argue that, yet she’s the one that sent us up and over the mountains of West Virginia on our way to the beach. However, there are times when I will get turned around, believing I am in an area I recognize.

Now, when I was a kid, there was the great rescue mission in Prince Gallitzin. Not really a rescue, more like a search party for one of the kids in our group who had taken a walk and gotten lost in the campground. I took the remaining kids and fanned out into the various loops and managed to find our missing friend. After dark, we found ourselves on the other side of the campground with no sense of direction. Somehow, I managed to lead us to back to our site before anyone noticed we were gone.

However, last week, driving back from work, I realized I would never make it home with the amount of gas I had in the car and the Pirate game just starting. Traffic was pretty screwed up. I knew there was one gas station, just before the tunnels, off of 51 South. From there, I could catch a bridge back over by Duquesne and drop down onto the parkway before the Oakland exit.

I got the gas and managed to screw up and take the Wabash tunnel exit, following a car who seemed to know where I was going. I made a right, then another right, then a climb up a hill and I was lost. I could see the Steel Building and the rest of downtown, but could not figure out how to get down there. So, I just kept driving parallel, believing that I would magically end up on the Parkway East via Striking Distance movie logic. Unfortunately, I didn’t have Bruce Willis in the car with me. I managed to see two places I’d always about but never had been to. I never even knew how to get there; Mount Oliver and Carrick. I did a major detour and managed to come down into the South Side by Primanti Bros. I was home free… or so I thought.

I misread the directions on the bridge signs which said, “Oakland, next left”. I didn’t want to go to Oakland, I wanted back on the Parkway. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t an exit for Oakland but an exit for a road that led to Oakland, namely the Parkway. So, I stayed straight and was forced to turn left because I wasn’t a bus. Now, I was headed back downtown and managed to get turned around and head back the right way. What could have been a 45 minute drive turned into an hour and a half thanks to my sightseeing tour of South Pittsburgh.

Let’s just say, I’m glad I got gas.

The Techno Clutz

So, I’ve gotten into texting… little bit. I resisted as long as I could. My wife does a lot of texting with her piano students; rearranging schedules and what not. Me? Not a lot going on there. I text my sister and my best friend. I even text my wife… lol.

I don’t have a data plan or even a smart phone. I’m clutching my LG Cosmo for as long as I can. I’ve resisted because I don’t want to pay for a phone… Remember, cheap bastard here. I didn’t want a phone in the beginning, so why would I pay for one. That being said, whenever this one shits the bed, I’ll have to get a smart phone, which means data plan, which means rage quitting the mobile device world.

But back to texting. I don’t have the fingers or thumbs for texting. The banana hands or meat hooks I have make it hard to get the letters out. Thankfully, I have a QWERTY keypad, but I tend to stay away from T9word. I don’t want any autocowrecks. I usually take awhile to text back in most cases. I just don’t live on my phone like some people. Usually, by 9pm, my phone is on the counter or plugged in to be charged and I don’t pick it up again until 6am the next day.

I also don’t text while driving. The temptation has been there. I have an hour long ride to and from work, but it’s just not worth it. Case in point. Yesterday, I was walking through the office, texting my sister back about something and I managed to run into two cube walls and walked down the wrong aisle.

Needless to say, I do not need to be texting while driving. I could end up lost in Mount Oliver… again. Stay tuned for that.

WUMF: July 2012 Edition

Summer just be flying by.  I didn't realize it was time for another WUMF.

Olympics 2012
I’ve been waiting to watch the Olympics for awhile now, but since the games are not being shown on Qubo or Nick Jr. the odds of me actually watching much of them are slim to none. I did manage to get my kid interested in the diving and gymnastics events only because they were flashy. Once they went back to showing just the races, she tuned out and asked for her show. I sort of almost decided against the entire thing after catching a few minutes of the God awful opening ceremonies. That trip through history to return an iPhone was pretty awful.

Other than that, the Internet is doing a great job of covering the games. All of the results are coming in WAAAAY before NBC gets off their asses and airs the actual event. Waiting for NBC to show you the swimming competition is like working in IT and waiting to see Dark Knight Rises after the crowds die down a bit. You’re expecting your geek coworkers to not spoil it for you the minute after it comes out.

Does NBC understand that with Twitter and Facebook and oh, I don’t know Google and every other news site, that the results will be announced as they happen at the games and not during prime time when you choose to air the events? Maybe this is just proof at how vapid of a culture we’ve become, expecting the rest of the world to wait for us to show up… much like Michael Phelps at the pool. All that Subway made him slow.

Actually, I’ve got this vibe of treating this like it’s a reality show house competition. It seems very unpatriotic… or maybe uber-patriotic… like the bad kind of patriotism.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Beetles!
When we moved into our house in 2004, we were told by the exterminator who was doing work for the previous owners as part of the contract that we have a lot of bugs. Not in the house, but on the property. With two big oaks, two big maples, and a shit load of pines, there are plenty of reasons why there are lots of spiders, ants, and termites. Now, we’ve got beetles.

I had just cut the grass and we were relaxing in our patio chairs. I could distinctly smell the all too familiar scent of cat shit from our neighbor strays and it was pissing me off as usual. As my daughter wandered around playing and looking at bugs, she told me to come check out these strange, HUGE bugs. Sure enough, there was these gigantic beetles crawling in and around a pile of cat shit. Three to five of them were just frantically crawling out from under a pile of dirt and grass and poop. I walked throughout the yard and noticed another set of beetles doing the same thing. Apparently, I was lucky enough to not have stepped in either pile during my cutting of the grass.

We checked the Internet to try and find out what kind of beetles these were but no such luck. They are either dung beetles or hister beetles from what we could narrow down.

I went back out after dark with the camera but could find no trace of them.  I even looked again this evening and no trace of them. 

Squirrel Hill Tunnel Traffic
They have been working on the Squirrel Hill Tunnels for what seems like years.  This past weekend they closed down from Friday through to Monday at 5:00AM to do more work.  Traffic was still backed up at 6:30AM this morning as we were backing up to the Churchill exit.  I thought they had gone late or there was an accident.  No such thing.

Do you know what was backing traffic up so badly, this morning?  Hundreds of commuters didn't expect to see half of the roof missing on the inside of the tunnel and had to slow down to inspect it REEEALLLL close. 

Now, you may think I'm exaggerating, but for the 600 yards the roof had been ripped up above us, traffic slowed to a crawl.  However, when we reached the end of where the work had been done, everybody took off like a shot.  Literally no traffic exiting the tunnel.  It's like, "Is it going to fall on me? What the hell is that curved thing up there?"

I was inspired to parody a meme that has been done to death, but it's been selling pretty good in my online stores.

Keep Calm and Maintain Speed Thru Tunnels

I even got a shout out on Twitter from PittGirl

Best "Keep Calm and ...." shirt ever? Yes. #pittsburgh #tunnels skreened.com/mongoware/keep…
— Virginia Montanez (@JanePitt) July 30, 2012

I love this town and the people in it.  Just... not... the ones staring up at the roof of the tunnels instead of actually driving.

Drive on, Pittsburgh

Travellers Tales 2012: Round Up

Another vacation has come and gone. We got lost in the mountains of West Virginia, we set the grill on fire, we had the police show up, we drove through the ocean, we met Legally Blind Luke, we laughed hard, we ate good, we enjoyed company, and we said our goodbyes. It seemed this year went by faster than the rest. In the end, we all hated to leave, but were glad to be home.

Well, not without one last assassination attempt from Siri, formerly known as Matilda. This time, we decided to just follow our directions in reverse and skip the GPS. However, when we got to Route 17 in Virginia, Siri also told us to get off of 95. We couldn’t believe it. Siri didn’t want us to go towards the beltway in DC?

Since we hadn’t gone this way before, I decided to get gas as soon as we jumped off the interstate. When I returned to driving, Siri told me to head back to 95. This GPS that had just told me to get off 95 and onto 17 was now telling me to go back the way I just came and get back on 95. Well, after thinking I was wrong and doing a turnabout at a light and heading back towards 95, I said, “Shut up, Siri.” I then turned around and we went on our way. That was the last we dealt with Siri on this trip.

In closing, I want to offer up a few tips we learned this year. Nothing huge, but if you are planning to go to the OBX and want to know how to avoid the pitfalls, here’s what I can tell you.

• Depending on your ice and cooler situation, I highly suggest hitting the Food Lion right after the bridge on 158. It’s less crowded and you’ll save time on getting to your final destination.
• Make friends with the local police and fire department.
• If you’re staying in the 4x4 section, pay close attention to the tide chart. Make sure you know when high tide is coming if you decide to take an extended leave from your house.
• Not all shuffling people at the shoreline are zombies.
• There is a fine for having stuff like chairs, sand toys, sand structures sitting in the way of traffic on the beach and it’s a $50 fine per item.
• Only use your GPS if you get lost.
• Wear loose pants when heading to Captain George’s buffet.
• Don’t forget sunscreen.

Travellers Tales 2012: Where the Rubber Meets the Surf

We got lost. We had most of Currituck County Emergency Services show up for a BBQ. And now, in a further effort to get the Coast Guard to show up on our beach trip, we decided to tempt fate and go out to dinner after Coastal Flooding warnings were issued.

Usually, we choose to go out for dinner one night of the week, while staying in the four wheel drive section. It’s an opportunity to gorge ourselves on the awesomeness that is Captain George’s of Kill Devil Hills. It’s also an opportunity to stock up on any dwindling supplies we have at the house; like beer, or fire extinguishers, or… beer.

However, due to some inclement weather on Monday, namely rain, and cooler temperatures on Tuesday, we decided to go a day early and spend more of the day in the paved areas. Now, I had already looked at the tide chart for Wednesday, our usual travel day. It had high tide at around 9:57 PM. I did not pay attention to Tuesday’s chart.  I guessed it was somewhere around 9:00 PM. Since the weather wasn’t nice enough to get in the water at the beach and the air around the pool was in the 70s, we decided to leave extra early, for a 5:00 seating time.

Driving down the beach during low tide is usually nice. There are plenty of flat surfaces; packed down pretty good. There is lots of room to drive with no fear of having to play chicken with the jacked up late 80s model Ford truck belonging to the guy that lives back in the woods with baby doll heads up on posts. (True story. We have pictures somewhere.) Basically, driving is great, going down the beach.

And after a fulfilling meal of four pairs of crab legs, shrimp, pasta, hush puppies, carrot cake, and flan, you find yourself not wanting to make a concerted effort to get your ass back up the beach. Still, since we left early, it was only 7:45 PM. We still needed to go to the Food Lion in Corolla, which takes forever, so we tried our best hustle/waddle through the store.

Some of our group went on ahead and called to warn us that the tide had showed up a little early. Apparently, Coastal Flooding warnings increase the tide’s reach, even when high tide is still an hour away. That, or high tide is the highest the tide will be and the hour previous to that is just slightly lower and is still a bitch.

So, we headed back up the beach and where we usually turn off the road to enter the beach, we entered water. It was indeed high. Now, it’s not too bad if you are the only one driving on the beach at high tide. However, it seems that a lot of other people had not looked at the tide chart or heeded the warnings and were making a hasty retreat to the paved road. We had to squeeze by a couple of tour groups on the way back.

Then, we met the worst obstacle on the beach, The Laughing Gull. The Laughing Gull mocks you at high tide. Basically, the Laughing Gull is this pre-Clinton Administration house that sits out into the beach about miles up. The supports literally sit in the water at high tide. You cannot drive around them without a jacked up late 80s model Ford truck belonging to the guy that lives back in the woods with baby doll heads up on posts. So, you have to go around on the interior roads.

Now, even though the beach road can be rough during high tide, the back roads are worse after it rained the day before. I think a soccer mom in her SUV got lost in one of the puddles. We kept having to go so long, and then turn around and come back.  Finally, we came back down onto the beach at around the 18 mile mark and went another mile and a half to 19.5 where we knew we had a straight shot right back to our house.

We made it home just before dark and my wife could unclench her pucker.

So, for all you travellers who plan to take on the foul wheel drive section.  Remember, check the tide charts before you head out, a puddle may be deeper than you think, and that guy shuffling back and forth along the water line after dark may or may not be a zombie...

Stay tuned for the answer to that.

Travellers Tales 2012: The Adventure Continues

There are probably some of you out there wondering why I keep going back to the Outer Banks every year.  "Oh, how boring." You must think.  And in most cases you could be right.   We aren't a very adventurous bunch.  We pack up the Jeep, drive the same route every year, stay in the four wheel drive section, sit on the beach, eat too much, and then come home.  Well, tough shit.  That's my idea of a relaxing vacation.  However, this year proved to be the exception and I will spend the next few posts giving you the play by play.

First off, the trip down.

"Boring!"

Not necessarily.  I decided... well, it was decided for me, that we would try to avoid the DC Beltway at all costs.   Last year, Matilda, our self named GPS in the Commander tried to kill us by telling us to take an immediate right into the Jersey barrier on the Beltway.   So, I took some advice from a coworker who avoids the Beltway by going through Berkley Springs, WV.  It took some doing, but I managed to get Google to calculate my route through Breezewood and around the Beltway.  I had to add Berkley Springs as a destination in order to get it to correctly route around DC.

My father-in-law drove to Breezewood and then I took over for the next leg.  We came down through Berkley Springs and my wife read off the directions.  Since Matilda started yelling at us to get back on 70, we shut her off.   What did she know?  She tried to kill us last year.  Unfortunately, so my wife tried to do it to us, this year.

She made a slight miscalculation that led us on a wild and wonderful tour of the back roads of West Virginia.  While on 522, she misread a turn that said take route 9 and stay on it for 137 miles.  What she didn't realize was that the trip up to that point was  137 miles and that the added destination of Berkley Springs causes the trip to total up mileage to that point.  So, we stayed on 9 headed towards Paw Paw. 

For the next hour we drove around bends, up hills, around deer, and through the dark, listening for banjos.  At one point a sign with the speed limit posted at 55 mph was sitting about ten feet in front of a sign for a sharp turn.  "Are these people nuts?"   After realizing we were headed West and probably not far from Kentucky, we turned Matilda back on and started calling her Siri.  She seemed to agree with that and started leading us out of the wilderness onto route 522.

We used the printed directions sparingly and followed Siri's lead all the way to the Outer Banks.  No tractor trailers on fire causing another hour delay, no broke down cars causing a twenty minute delay.  From then on, it was smooth sailing.

Next up; why all good vacation stories should include the phrase, "And then the cops showed up".

The Return of Fitty Cent

A few years back I was pulled over for doing 21 in a 15mph school zone which resulted in a poorly written carbon copy of a ticket, which resulted in me shorting my fine payment by $0.50, which resulted in a bench warrant out for my arrest upon failure to pay, which resulted in my wife mailing fifty pennies to the magistrate with a scathing letter. Since then, I’ve tried to stay on the straight and narrow.

It only took six years to fall off the wagon.

Friday, I was driving home from work and immediately jumped onto 79 South because traffic was stacked from Robinson. Now, the “back way” as I call it is a 70 mile stretch of highway that follows 79 South to Washington where I jump onto 70 East towards New Stanton and then finish up with the Turnpike to Irwin. This takes about an hour, which is usually how long it takes me to go 35 miles from Robinson to Irwin by way of 376, 22, and any number of back roads to my house.

Driving on 79 isn’t bad, but 70 is like driving the DC Beltway during rush hour. Once I get to the turnpike, I find my happy place and just kind of cruise home. Unfortunately, I was apparently cruising a little too much and the State Trooper parked about a mile away from the Irwin exit pulled me over.

Now, I must preface this by saying I am currently driving a 2005 Malibu Maxx wagon with 80,000+ miles on it. I could see myself doing 75 mph in it, easily. That’s pretty standard. However, the officer stated I was doing 90.

“90!?!?!?” I asked.

“Yes.” He replied.

“90!?!?!?” I asked again.

"Would you like to look at it on the dash cam?” He offered.

“May I?”

I got out of the car and walked back to him while he collected my ID and registration. “See there, the number on the left represents all of the cars passing by.” It read 60, 62, 61, etc. Well, of course it did. Everyone sees the flashing lights and has slowed down under the speed limit. “The number on the right is you.”  It showed 90.

He also said, because I was out there all alone, I was the only one being clocked at that instant. "Had you been driving alongside someone, I probably wouldn't have bothered." (paraphrased) This goes along with some old advice I got from a State Trooper in 1995 who informed me that he wouldn't have pulled me over for doing between 1-15mph over the speed limit. I was doing 71 in a 55 at the time. I was also driving an 84 Pontiac Firebird, a far cry from the family truckster I drive now.



Now, he says the machine is calibrated. Of course it is. My car is calibrated, too. When I get up over 80mph, it shakes. Therefore, if I am cruising along on the highway and doing 90mph, I would not be able to drive with one hand on the wheel, which is what I was doing.  Still, I conceded that he had a calibrated radar and I maintained that my car does not drive smoothly at 90mph. I agreed to disagree.

I dropped my payment in the mail. I sent a check this time…not 11100 pennies.

Here's What I Can Do For You - Smart Phones are Making us Dumb

I am one of the few remaining people in the civilized world that does not own a smart phone. I am as much of a gadget geek or tech head as anyone but for some reason I feel like smart phones are going to be the downfall of humanity. But, I’ll get to that diatribe in a bit.

As far as mobile phones go, I rock an LG Cosmos provided by Verizon. Prior to that it was the ENV2 which is now a piss poor Game Boy since I couldn’t transfer the games I paid for to my new phone. And, before the ENV2 it was a standard LG flip phone. I don’t even remember the name of it. I didn’t want that first phone. In fact, I lobbied against getting a cell phone. I didn’t need to have one. If I wasn’t home for someone to contact me, it was by design. I was at work, or out and if someone needed to get a hold of me, they would have to wait. It was my wife who made me get a phone. She was worried about me driving to and from work on the back roads of Deer Central, Southwestern PA.

So, I begrudgingly got one and I barely used it for anything but a few calls and mostly pictures. I have a generous plan with a lot of minutes and hardly scratch the surface of those limits. Then, I started texting here and there and eventually had to get a text plan which consists of 250 texts per month at $5.00 per month. I barely reach half of that on a regular basis.

Then, I got a call from Verizon Wireless looking to upgrade me. They wanted to upgrade me to a smart phone, offer data plans, and do all these wonderful things for me. They said all this after they examined my account and saw that I hardly used what I had.
“OK, I see you have an LG Cosmos which came with your plan at no extra charge.”

“Yep.”

“We can upgrade you to one of our whiz-bang-smarty pants-phone made with a space age polymer and smells of strawberries. You can take pictures, text, use the internet, make a cartoon cat repeat everything you say in a cute voice, scan bar codes and find information that you didn’t care about before, search Google, make light saber noises and you can have it for $499 with a rebate of using it for a two year contract which makes it $99.00. Does that interest you?”

“Um, I’ve paid nothing for my phones since I started getting them, so, no.”

“OK, well, I see you use roughly 90 of your 550 minutes plan each month.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

“OK, here’s what I can do for you… We can upgrade you to that whiz bang phone that costs $99 and you get 700 anytime minutes for $69.99 for two lines. Does that interest you?”

“Um, no. I hardly call people now.”

“OK, well, let’s take a look at your data usage. You have 250 texts a month for $5.00. Of that, you use roughly 60 a month.”

“Yep, that’s pretty accurate.”

“You also have pay as you go MB usage of which you haven’t even used the Internet from your phone.

“Yeah, I don’t go onto the Internet from my phone.”

“OK, here’s what I can do for you. We can upgrade you to that whiz bang strawberry smelling phone and offer you unlimited texts and 2GB data allowance for $54.99 a month. Does that interest you?”

“Um, no. Look, you can see what I do with my phone now. Pretty much nothing. So, why would I pay more when I don’t do any of those things?”

“OK, understood. Thank you.”

Look, I understand that they are TRYING to sell me something. But, when you look at my account, which they do before they call me and SEE I’m not doing anything worthy of upgrading, there’s really no point in calling me, now is there? But then again, there’s no point in calling people, who are consistently going over their limits and paying a higher rate for the overages, to offer them savings. Because it’s more money in Verizon’s pocket.

Outbound calls are all about attracting new services and businesses, but there needs to be a smarter analysis of your existing customer base or you run the risk of alienating them more when you bother them with services that they clearly don’t even use that much. If you want to get someone into a higher bracket, examine the ones that maybe go over once in a while or come close to that overage. These are people that probably would entertain the idea of upping their plan in order to pay a little more but save a lot in the end. Don’t go after the little fish in the big pond. Go after the fish that is almost too big for his small pond and offer him a bigger pond where he is now the little fish once more.

But, this is why I probably would never make it in big business. I’m too concerned with the customers’ needs and not the shareholders’.

OK, now my rant. I’ve actually go on about some of this before… but that was REALLY doom and gloom stuff. This is a little more sarcastic.

Smart Phones are making us dumber. There was a time when having a mobile phone meant your parents had a rotary phone in the kitchen with a 100 foot tangled mess of cord attached to the handset. You could literally go into the garage and still be on the phone. After the wireless phone came into play, young kids could freely run through the house without the fear of being strangled by the cord that was stretched across the living room doorway.

Then we had pagers which sent us an alert to find a stationary landline to call whoever paged us. Cell phones that freed us up completely to communicate with anyone, anywhere, and at anytime. Eventually, texting became available. Now, we could have conversations without having to speak directly with someone. Email… for your phone. Human interaction became sterilized and devoid of emotion save for the few emoticons that litter the textual landscape of messages. Not content with having to be in front of a computer to surf the web or play games, phones began offering the ability to completely disconnect from reality… sometimes while driving.

We can now exist completely online with no human interaction at all. We can shop, learn, play, and communicate all from a phone. Moreover, there’s no need to even remember anything because our phones have access to the Internet. Phone numbers? That’s in my contacts. Useless facts about movies, sports, and history? You can now unload that from your brain because you can access it at a moment’s notice via your phone. We could lose all sense of direction because you can install an app that functions as a compass. And now, with the introduction of the iPhone 4S, we don’t even have to do any the searching for those things. We simply ask Siri, “What’s the capital of Iowa?” To which Siri should say, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean. Iowa doesn’t have a capital.” That’s a veiled Family Ties reference if you’re older than dirt, like me. Go ahead, use your smart phone to look that one up. I dare you.

Not only are smart phones making us dumber, they are allowing us to do dumber things, like texting and driving. Smart phones have turned us into lethal weapons out on the road. Even though it’s illegal, I see people every day in their cars texting while driving. It’s supposed to be bad to even be on a cell phone without a hands free device like a Blue Tooth. But I’ve seen police on cell phones all the time. Hell, I’ve come to a red light and sent off a quick text to a friend about a traffic snafu they may encounter.

Auto Correct not only makes us look like idiots because it sometimes throws in an inappropriate word during a conversation with our parents, it also frees us from having to know how to spell most words.

If you think about how much of our daily lives are impacted by the use of smart phones, it should scare the poop out of you to think about them all going away due to a catastrophic event like a terrorist attack or EMP discharge.

I’m surprised shows like The Walking Dead haven’t made a reference to the fact that cell phones are no longer around. There’s only one child on the show and he’s not a teenager, but think about all of those surviving teens and young adults out there who can’t text their BFF, “OMG, my mom is totally a walker, FML :(“

Of course, I have digital voice for my landline so, if the Internet and cable providers go down, I won’t be able to call for help from my home phone, but at least I don’t have to rely on some whiz-bang-smarty pants phone to tell me what to do in an emergency. I can at least remember that instead of asking Siri what the number for 911 is.

Funny, makes me kind of miss that 100 foot mess of cord that I used to get tangled up in when I was a kid.

Jackasses Dead And Alive

Ryan Dunn was a Jackass. There, I said it. Is it hurtful and despicable to say that in light of his death? No. He was a member of Jackass. In truth, I couldn’t remember which one he was until it was mentioned that he’s the one that stuck the toy car up his arse in the first Jackass movie. Then, it triggered a faint recollection. Other than that, his fame was lost on me.

Just after his death being reported, Roger Ebert tweeted something about the incident and it set off a firestorm of tweet rage among other celebrities, or those who claim to be. “Too soon” and “hurtful to families” was thrown about. Was it too soon? Does it matter? This is the age of the Internet, where everything is presented, digested, regurgitated, debated, and beaten like a dead horse in the matter of minutes. If Roger Ebert were to come back with that quip about Ryan being a jackass, say next year, it would be lost in the sea of trending topics.

Should Ebert have said it? Why not? He’s an observer of entertainment and media. He’s allowed to say whatever he wants and people are allowed to disagree with it.

Was he wrong? In my opinion, no, he was not. Look, the truth about what actually took place will not come out for days, maybe weeks or maybe ever. At the speed of a 140 characters per minute we take whatever news we get, vetted or not and run with it. Details evolve, change, get refuted and transmuted in the now and it’s ridiculous to think that it will ever go back to the way it was before social media eliminated credibility among informative sources.

The word on the tubes was that Ryan posted a picture of him drinking with two other people about two hours before he decided to drive. He was said to have had three beers and three shots over an indeterminate amount of time. It was also probable that he was driving his Porsche at a high rate of speed of around 130-140 mph. Of course, why wouldn’t you, if you were driving a Porsche; drinking or not?  It was also determined that his BAC was 0.19, twice the legal limit.  Drunk and driving a Porsche at that speed is asking for trouble, though I cannot conceive the idea that six alcoholic beverages made a huge difference in the constitution of someone like him. He simply had the odds stacked against him.

And Dunn didn’t just do this to himself. There was a passenger involved, too. Dunn’s car flew about 40 yards, through the trees before bursting into flame as it hit the last one. Regardless of all else, his tragedy affects not only his family, but also the family of his passenger. This could have ended in other ways, too. There could have been another vehicle and another fatality involved.

Why lionize what could have been avoidable? He did something stupid. He paid the price and took someone with him. He was a jackass. And guess who else is a jackass, Perez Hilton. He has the nerve to blast Roger Ebert for making an offhanded comment. This is the same guy that claimed Michael Jackson, going into cardiac arrest, was a publicity stunt.

Not to mention posting a picture of Miley Cyrus’s nether regions, supposedly without garments in what could have been considered child pornography. Not that I care all that much about Hanna Montana being critically damaged by Hilton but it was still wrong and Hilton hastily covered his tracks removing the picture. Do you think he wants to go to jail? Oh, and Hilton invades all kinds of privacy by publicly shaming closeted celebrities into coming out or revealing them like he’s judge, jury and executioner in the court of public appeal. Guess what, d-bag. It is neither your right nor your job to say whether or not someone needs to come out. Talk about bullying. In fact, what the hell is your job? Oh that’s right… third grade level graphic designer and blogger. Too effing bad, I already have that job. Go away.

If anyone should be apologizing, it should be the Internet for giving an account to Perez Hilton, not Ebert. And it seems as if the Internet agrees more with Ebert than Hilton. Score one for journalism and credibility.

And Now A Word From Our DJ

I gave up on listening to music format radio stations years ago. I do listen to WDVE in the morning on my way to work for the morning show. When they go to a song, I switch the station. Now, if that song is anything by Journey or Warren Zevon or Led Zeppelin or the Doors or… OK there are a lot of exceptions… but in any case, usually, the music means it’s time to go down the dial.
Where I end up is usually 93.7, The Fan. Us old fogies know it as The Station Formally Known As B94. I spend a few minutes there until commercial or they start talking about Pitt. I’m not a hater, I’m an alum. It’s just that somewhere in the last year, The Fan got a contract with the University to air their football and basketball games and even though this is a primarily Pittsburgh based sports talk station, about 50% or more of their discussions and coverage are about Pitt teams. It’s like they have to give lip service to the University every hour or they’ll lose their deal.

But that’s not what really bothers me about radio, these days. I’ve gone on about music and Top 40 and the crap that is out there, playing in heavy rotation every 20 minutes. This is more about what happens on the radio with the individual stations.

Now, let me back this rant up about 30 years. As a kid, I remember driving around town in my Dad’s old Chevy Custom Deluxe pickup truck. He had it tuned to pretty much one station, WCVI AM. It was the hometown radio station, just across the bridge from where we lived. It was mostly news with some middle of the road type music. The news was pretty much read from the newspaper, as you could actually hear the page turning as the broadcaster flipped the page to continue the story. But the real thrill for me was listening to Paul Harvey segments. You’re going to have to go look up Paul Harvey if you are unfamiliar. I could go on another three hours talking about him. I just don’t have that kind of time, right now.

The magic of Paul Harvey was part storytelling and part huckstering. He could seamlessly weave a mysterious tale about a famous person’s background and plug in a pitch for a Coleman Thermos in one breath. He excelled at blurring the line between broadcasting and commercial. Today’s equivalent would be like watching Chuck and noticing that the Nerd Herd “Herders” cars are Toyota’s, not because you know they are a Toyota Matrix, but because in the opening credits the logo is clearly shown. Also, they all love Subway, because there is a Subway wrapper shown in almost every episode. Paul Harvey was a little more subtle in his pitches but after awhile you could see them coming a mile away.

I shed a small tear when Harvey died in 2009. However, nothing burns me more than when I’m stuck in traffic from Wilkinsburg to the other side of the Squirrel Hill tunnels, or trying to frantically get back over to the middle lane at the Grant Street exit, only to hit a wall of traffic due to an accident just outside the Fort Pitt Tunnels, and I switch radio stations looking for actual content and get duped into listening to a commercial because the announcer is the same guy who I listen to during the regular broadcast.

That pisses me off to no end. I land on one station and think I’m listening to the show and find out that it’s a pitch for DirectTV or a car dealership. Now, my friends will be quick to point out that I should get Satellite Radio and hook up my iPod. First of all, I’m too cheap to spend the money on a radio that will have like three channels that I’ll listen to and my iPod has seen better days. Not to mention, the apparatus to hook up my iPod to my radio, so I can listen, is not conducive to me being a safe driver. That goose neck Belkin debacle of an iPod transmitter has nearly caused me more accidents than a teenager with a car and an unlimited text plan, who just got dumped. To sum it all up, I’m a cheap ass who would rather complain about what’s on the radio instead of doing something different.

But back to my tangent. Is it that apparent that no one likes commercials anymore that stations will do whatever it takes to try and work in their ads? Are they trying to be shifty by disguising a commercial by having the applicable on air host do the commercial? Am I just a conspiracy theory loving hater who thinks the world is out to get him? Yes, I know the last one is a rhetorical question.

Maybe this is evolution. Maybe all the tricks the Mad Men have employed over the years are leading to trying to find new ways to sell you something. I for one hate how Google has followed me around for months now on every website I visit. I’ve already paid for my vacation in the Outer Banks with a particular company. Stop showing me their ads when I go to a sports site. I know it’s a cookie thing. I guess they figure that a greater percentage of the population is able to be manipulated versus those of us who are turned away from that kind of advertising. For me, it’s like hypnosis. I don’t believe in it and usually it pushes me even further from whatever product they are selling. The Google thing just makes me want to stop using them altogether. But… it’s like Walmart, more often than not, you end up there because it’s easier.

So, as I develop stronger muscles in my right leg from commuting and a bigger sense of ambivalence towards radio and commercialism I will probably become even more curmudgeonly than I already was. Is that even a grammatically correct statement spell check? There is probably some puppy kicking in my future. And nothing kicks puppies better than my new Nike Cross Trainers… Puppy kicking… Just Do it.

And now you know the rest of the story…

Good Day…

Grrrr.

WUMF

Do you know what that means? I didn’t either before this week. It means, “What’s up, my friend?” One of the supervisors walked around and said this to me. It appears to be a tradition at my new job. Every so often, someone comes up to you and says WUMF? So, I thought I would use it to reopen the blog posts. I can’t promise I’ll be sticking to my three a week schedule. I’d like to think I could but I’ll be spending more time in traffic, so it’s harder to budget writing time when I’m sitting in my car for two hours a day. With that said, here’s my WUMF post for you, my friend(s).

So, as I stated in my last post, I started a new job. I’m not going into specifics but I am working for IT in an education setting. I’m trying to build them a knowledgebase that will work. I’ve done it before, right? That one was easy. The application did all the heavy lifting. Now, I’ve got to use one that isn’t up to date and has very little credibility to it. There is a lot of heavy lifting involved. But that is a challenge that I wanted to take on, right?

Along with the new job, I have a new drive. Instead of driving through the backwoods of Westmoreland County, I am hitting the four lanes and heading in and out of Pittsburgh. Instead of a 20 minute drive, I have an hour drive. Instead of just getting in the car and just going. I have a lot of start and stopping. I hit two areas of traffic in my drive. They both involve tunnels in Pittsburgh. Apparently, the tunnel monster demands tribute and people are afraid they are going to get eaten. So, I leave around 6:15 AM to beat the traffic, only to get stuck around Churchill and then right after the Fort Pitt Tunnels heading up to Carnegie.

Coming home, it’s the same thing in the same areas. The one real cool thing about my drive is emerging from the Fort Pitt Tunnels and taking in the sight of downtown Pittsburgh. The panoramic view of the city stretching from the Science Center and Casino, past Heinz Field and PNC Park and the Golden Triangle, down through town to the old Westinghouse Tower (Now, 11 Stanwix St.), Steel Tower, Highmark Building, PPG Place, and the rest is pretty awesome. Then I get to drive along the river back towards Oakland, my alma mater at Pitt, where I get stuck by Bates St., waiting for the Tunnel Monster to let us through. Now, this past Tuesday, I got stuck in traffic for two hours thanks to the impending snowdoom we were supposed to get. Don’t get me wrong, it was bad, but the roads weren’t especially slick. People just freak. I don’t know why. This is Pittsburgh. Even if you just moved here from the South, last year, you would have been around for Snowmageddon. It’s not like you had no idea that it snowed here.

Traffic and uncertainty on how to do my job aside, I like the environment. Everyone has been great and friendly, WUMF and all. In fact, there seems to be a collective acceptance of being a bit strange and goofy there. They even have a hazing ritual that shouldn’t piss anyone off, except the people who stock the kitchen. It’s called tea bagging and before you go all… “What the hell kind of place is this?”, understand that they only take tea bags from the kitchen and put them in your workspace. I’m not exactly sure of the rules but I seem to be exempt because I was a direct hire and not a contractor. The two people I’ve seen “tagged” shared that distinction, if I recall, correctly. The one was a guy who sits across from me and had one hanging from his name plate holder. The second was the same supervisor who came by on Friday, saying WUMF. He has an office and was subject to a little more tagging than others. To give you an idea, think back to that scene in Se7en where Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman enter the apartment of the guy who has been strapped to the bad for months. The entire room was filled with air fresheners, hanging from the ceiling. Imagine that scene with tea bags hanging from the ceiling tiles with push pins.

Well, that covers the WUMF edition. I may make this a regular thing, along with my Lesser Man Project posts. By the way, I am holding steady at having lost 18 pounds. I don’t have access to a real scale, like I did before. Mine is a bit older and probably biased. In fact, it shows me less ten pounds. I don’t figure it into my totals. I really have lost 18 pounds, not eight.

Take care all and here’s to the unknown. That’s WUMF.

Pulling Out The Daddy Voice

I try to live my life in a peaceful way. I know that goes against the very nature of the adjective directly preceding my moniker, but as it turns out I am a pretty easy going guy. However, the world around me sometimes decides to trip over itself in getting in my way forcing me to use my big scary voice. And believe me, I was an actor and can project to the back row when needed. This weekend, it was needed.

It started out a good weekend. My wife and I went to a Halloween party, while my little one camped out at my parents’ house, giving us a chance to do something other than watch Sprout or clean up toys on a Friday night. My wife was not amused at dressing up like Thing 2 but she went along with it. We returned home after midnight, fully intent on catching up on scary movies and shows that we don’t get to watch with a three year old around, and then crashed. My DVR is hating me right now. It’s hovering around 98% capacity.

That’s OK. I can still get up early on Saturday and enjoy the morning without fear of waking up our child and being forced to watch Green Eggs and Ham for three hours. I slept until ten. We had plenty to do before the evening which included going to the farmers’ market, where my wife works during the fall, getting pumpkins, riding ponies, riding hay wagons, riding each other’s last nerve. You know, the usual. But first, I had to pick up my daughter and my wife’s niece, on the way back from my parents. I told my mom I’d be there around noon and that’s when the world conspired against me.

First off, everyone must have decided to go shopping because I was out and about. My first stop was to the local Target to get a Starbucks for the trip. I rarely treat myself to Starbucks and I decided to go against the grain and order something different. Instead of my usual Caramel Macchiato I got the Toffee Mocha. Blech. That’s what I get for being different. There were just hordes of people in my way and some clueless girl making the drinks. Maybe it was her fault. Not sure. In any case, I remained cool.

Then, off to the turnpike. Traffic was a bear and no matter which direction I took out of the shopping plaza, I ran into a line of cars playing idiot tag at the stop signs and tried to take alternate routes resulting in more traffic at different signs playing dumbass tag. For the life of me, I cannot understand what makes people disregard traffic rules. When you come to a stop sign, you take turns unless someone waves you on first. In both places, I had people totally disregard the stop sign thinking that because they were stopped behind the lead car, that meant that they stopped at the sign as well and tried to sneak out with the leader. But I remained cool.

Out on the turnpike, I cranked it up to just over the speed limit and kept with other cars that were going the same speed. Shhh. Don’t tell the Popo. It was a relatively pain free trip, although I love people that make it a point to pass you, only to slow up when they get in front of you. In any case, I remained cool.

On the main highway towards Connellsville, I realized that I was going to have to get some gas and figured in town would be cheaper. Apparently, everyone left Target and came to this gas station just to try and beat me to the pumps. First off, there was a tanker truck up against the road side of the parking lot, restricting the available room to drive around the pumps. Against the building, every space was full creating a bottle neck on the front of the pumps. And, of course, every pump was being used. I drove around the pumps and came to the tanker side where a guy was nice enough to flag me down. “I’m done. I just have to pay and then you can have this one.” I was thankful and then he went into pay.

Now, common sense would have me think. “There are a lot of people here and not much room to maneuver. Maybe I better pull my car into a parking space and let this guy get his minivan out of the road.”

Apparently, this guy was thinking, “Wow, it’s really busy. I better go and try to quickly pay, even though I can see a line of people inside the store. But leaving my car here should be OK.” He went in and after two minutes he was still not out yet. In any case, I remained… tepid.

As I sat and waited for Mr. Nice Guy to come back, another person came out and moved their car at the neighboring pump. I was able to easily slide in and get my gas on. At this point, I noticed an elderly lady at the entrance of the parking lot, looking around. I knew Nice Guy was eventually coming back and I could see her gas cap on the driver’s side and wanted to do my karmic deed for the day. I tried to wave her over to get in line behind Nice Guy, so that she could get out of the fray and more importantly get out the entrance to the parking lot. Apart from shooting off a flare gun, there was no indication that my flapping arms were getting through to her. I was done pumping now and someone else had made a move into getting in line next to me. Hey, I tried.

After I finished up and was back in my car, Mr. Nice Guy finally came out of the store. Wow. I’m glad I didn’t wait. By now, it was after 12:30 and I was really late. I pulled out of the space and headed for the exit. At this point, a gruesomely huge truck screamed around the front of the pumps and stopped dead. A pretty big bald guy jumped out looking irate. He then proceeded to get into a verbal altercation with the guy at the first pump who I passed on my way in, which means he was there the entire time I was waiting and pumping. Apparently, Truck Guy was pissed at how long it was taking this other guy to pump his gas and move on. Apparently, Truck Guy was equally as brainless as everyone else this day, because he parked his car in the middle of the road between the cars parked in the spaces along the store and the pumps, blocking everyone from getting through, including me. In any case, I remained… a bit perturbed.

As he began his jawing at the other guy, it was increasingly aware that they were going to be awhile. In fact, if they were arguing over the fact that the other guy took so long, causing a back up of cars waiting to get gas, Truck Guy was equally of a douche bag for blocking people from leaving, causing a backup of cars waiting to get out. So, being a bit perturbed, I laid on my horn, hoping that Truck Guy would get a clue. He didn’t. In any case, I didn’t remain… in my car.

Now, pissed, I got of my car and yelled over, “Hey! You guys wanna fight? Fine. Move you damn truck first!” Nothing. They were bumping chests and screaming at each other more. At this point, the Daddy voice came flying out of me. “HEY, ASSHOLE! MOVE! YOUR! TRUCK!”

Somewhere, in a small wooded glen, the echoes of my voice reverberated across the hills. Many peaceful deer, drinking from a brook, suddenly became spooked and started to run away from the sound. The ensuing stampede caused a small, but significant change in atmospheric pressure and which swept across the world, causing wild dogs to cry out in the night, growing restless, longing for some solitary company. A storm ensued, crops flourished and hunger ended. I saved humanity by shouting the word, “ASSHOLE” at the top of my lungs in a gas station parking lot to a guy that easily could snap my neck and toss me aside. I remained… near my car, with the door open.

Truck Guy finally broke his gaze from the other guy and headed back to his truck, throwing up a hand and saying, “You know what, just get back in your car.”

But the Daddy voice has been invoked. The Daddy voice is unable to be turned off once started. I yelled back, “GET BACK IN YOUR TRUCK!” Unfortunately, all of the good in this world that I caused with the word “ASSHOLE” was now undone by the second exchange. Mountains crumbled, waterways spilled over into villages, laying waste to crops. I apologize to those affected by it. We’ll send help.

I got back in my minivan and as Truck Guy passed me looking down into my minivan with his bald scowl he mouthed something. I was just happy to be able to be on my way. Of course, the next ten minutes was filled with reenactments of what happened with additional line readings of what I said with some changes. We all do it. We have a moment of heated exchange and then proceed to replay the events adding things we should have said or done, escalating our side of the exchange to being totally dominant in the event. Meanwhile, that self preserving, coward of an ego, that resides just near my gut and other vital organs was saying, “You idiot, he could have ended you right there.” To which my pride said, “Yeah, but we totally pulled out the Daddy voice and it worked.” Oddly enough, had that been my three year old I had yelled at. I would have caused wide world destruction from continually yelling. For some reason, she is impervious to the Daddy voice.

In any case, I remained… in one piece. A little hoarse but in one piece. Once again, I apologize to the residents of a small unnamed country across the world who will not have crops this year. It was an acceptable risk. Sean Penn is bringing help.

In My Day...

There’s an old group of sayings, usually coined by our parents or other baby boomers about what it was like “in their day.” “In my day, we didn’t have 300 hundred channels. We had three.” We’ve all heard it at one time or another. And if Al Gore needed any ego stroking he could just saddle up next to a senior citizen and ask them about snow. “In my day, we had snow three feet deep and had no school for a week.”

Now, it comes to pass that my generation as adults and parents can start spinning their own nostalgic yarns about how we could build snowman five feet high that would last for weeks. And it’s true, at least for us here in Pennsyltuckey, we haven’t had a lot of snowfall since we were in high school. In fact, my senior year occurred during the all too well known and oft quoted, “Blizzard of 93.” I can count on both almost two hands how many times we were called off during my three years of high school. Since my district covered an extensive area that included, what we considered, “the mountains” we had a lot of times where it wasn’t that bad at my house yet school was cancelled anyway.

I remember once was during my Sophomore year when we had a cancellation I was really peeved because I was going to be out of class all day to help with the stage crew for a multi school choir concert. To brag to your friends that you got of class all day just to have them cancel everything for the day but the reason you were out of class was a bit of a downer.

From then it was a whole decade before I saw a record snowfall. That was in February of 2003 and I actually walked up the main street of my town and didn’t see a car. But that was it for almost seven years. During that time we barely saw enough snow to make a snow midget. If we did get a good snow it was in April and was only around for a week before it melted.

So, here we are kicking off 2010 with record snowfalls around the country. Temperatures, overall, are low in even the Southern regions. What really gets me is how much of a surprise this is to anyone. I mean should we be shocked that it’s January and snowing? Well, for the past few years we’ve been rather spoiled. I’ve been able to get by without using the snow blower, which doesn’t work, in my driveway. Now, I can’t keep up with the shoveling. But, still, this is after all, winter. It should be snowing. Yet, people are out there driving like they are from South Carolina. I swear I need to leave five minutes earlier in the morning to get to work, not because of road conditions but because people are so ridiculously ill equipped to drive in this weather. There’s cautious and then there is idiotic.

We usually see oddball weather, or more accurately, appropriate weather roughly every seven to ten years around here and how quickly people forget what it was like when it happened last. It makes me laugh because we are society of memory driven denizens that recall a simpler time without cutting edge innovations like smart phones and the Internet and yet for all our waxing nostalgic about walking to school, uphill, both ways through three feet of snow we panic and complain when it happens again.

Here’s a rule of thumb for all you people unsure of what to do in bad weather. If you turn on the news and you see a story about a salt truck that plunged over a 100 foot cliff because of road conditions, maybe you should stay home. Or at least leave extra, extra early so that you are out of my way by the time I get there. Another favorite picture of mine is the news stories of people with their cars stuck in the snow. Usually, you get a low shot of one of the tires as the reporter says the following. “When he left for work today, this is what happened.” Next thing you see is the person spinning their wheels in the show. Last time I checked, rule one for getting unstuck in the snow is to NOT jam on the gas pedal spinning your wheels at high RPMs.

The one thing I haven’t seen a lot of anymore is the mad dash for bread and milk at the store with just the slightest threat of snowfall. Usually as soon as the weatherman flips his coin and chooses snow as the prediction it’s like Black Friday out there with Cabbage Patch Dolls.

So, as we brace for more snow, and it will happen again this winter, just letting you know, realize that a level head is the one thing we all need to keep in our bag of tricks when we go out, or as we called it in my day, common sense.

Racing Cars

I like driving. I’ve said it before. When I’m in the mood, I could drive for hours as long as I have some music going. As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve noticed I’ve slowed down a bit. This only occurs when my wife and kid are in the car with me. Otherwise, I’m usually pushing ten miles over the speed limit, depending on the road. If it’s back roads or wooded areas, I tend to be a little more careful. If it’s the highway or open roads, look out. I may even crank it up a bit more.

While I’ve never owned car that could be considered race ready, I have attempted to put what I did have through the paces. On three occasions, I have raced someone and won all three times. All three occurred while I was in high school and with close friends.

Now, in my hometown there aren’t a lot of places to race. On the outskirts between cities, there were more suitable locations for drag racing. In the neighboring county there was an old abandoned Volkswagen plant just off the main highway. Now, it’s an abandoned Sony plant. Yeah, economy! Anyway, leaving the main highway there is a long stretch of road that ends in an intersection with a traffic light. Cars would drag race from a preset distance using the lights as a signal. For me, I really didn’t care about this kind of racing. The ability to accelerate or shift with precision in order to beat a car based on engine and transmission performance is something I could care less about. For me, it was about endurance. This is why I can’t get into NASCAR. They don’t go anywhere except left.

However, my town was situated in the middle of the main highway and offered plenty of cross country races. You could race towards the Pennsylvania Turnpike or race towards West Virginia. In any case, you have open road, four lanes, and a lot of chances to make your move.

The first race came with my acquiring the car I drove all through high school, a 1984 Pontiac Firebird. My buddy had a Ford Maverick and we talked about racing the two. We started out at the red light in the downtown area near our houses and went all the way to the Uniontown Eat N’ Park, which was about 10 miles away. I held onto the lead the whole way there, while my copilot, a kid nicknamed Weezil, held onto the dashboard which had begun to shimmy and shake over 70 mph. I actually had no idea how fast I was going as my speedometer only went up to 85. From what my friend, in the Maverick said, he was pushing 103 and I was in front of him. The next year he bought a similar Firebird and I knew for a fact that he could beat me on a straight away as it was newer and in better shape.

The second race took place with another friend of mine who owned a 1987 Camaro. It was the typical T-Top model, red in color. For some reason he kept insisting that he had better chances of winning because of his four barrel. I laughed and said, “OK.” I wasn’t about to let him in the truth since we were going to race the two soon after he got it.

Our course led us to a friend’s house in Greensburg, about 20 miles away. We started at his house which was right down the road from mine and twisted through town and out onto the open road of Route 119 North. The first leg of this race pitted our maneuvering ability as we had various red lights and single lane roads to contend with before we reached the outskirts of town and the four lane highway. Always seeing this as a race to the finish, not just race to be in the lead, I pulled a questionable move that may have been considered foul play. As we approached a busy intersection where Routes 119 and 982 meet, he had pulled ahead and just missed the green light. I could have pulled up alongside him at the red light and waited for the lights to turn green, but I had another idea in mind.

Knowing we would be waiting for awhile and not wanting to draw attention to our racing, I quietly slipped into the turning lane and cut across 982 into the Sheetz parking lot and back out onto 119 on the other side of the intersection. This gave me a comfortable lead but not wanting to relax, I just laid the hammer down all the way to Greensburg. When I got there, my friend was nowhere to be found, although he came around a different corner in an attempt to say he had already been there and went around the block. I saw through the lie and claimed victory.

The final race occurred on February 26, 1993. One of the perks of being in the musical productions was that after our first performance on a Thursday night, we were given off Friday as a gift. Tradition held that members of the cast and crew would meet for breakfast at the Eat N’ Park in Uniontown. This was the same Eat N’ Park I had raced to before. But first, we would meet in the McDonald’s parking lot on the East side of our town and then car pool. This became an all out race, ala Cannonball Run if you will.

Some will dispute that I held an unfair advantage this time around because instead of relying on my trusty old Firebird, I pulled out the big guns. I rolled up into the parking lot with my parents’ 1990 Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight Royale. My reasoning was that I needed the extra passenger room to hold at least one more person. There were cries of shenanigans by fellow cast members but I didn’t think of it that way. Besides, there were plenty of other cars with V6 engines. As we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, I never looked back. I pulled into the Eat N’ Park lot way ahead of everyone and savored victory.

This was, of course, the last time I ever raced anyone in a car. Over the next four years I racked up three speeding tickets. The first was for going 66 mph in a 35 mph zone. I was driving home from working at a summer job and didn’t realize that there was a small stretch of back road that went from 50 mph down to 35 mph. I ended up losing my license for 15 days on that one. The second was a year later coming home from the same job, only by a different route. This time I got nailed doing 75 mph in a 55 mph. The State Trooper who pulled me over said he wouldn’t have bothered if I was doing less than 15 mph over the speed limit. I thought he was kidding but he was being dead serious. This one resulted in me having to complete a remedial driving course in downtown Pittsburgh to shave off two points from my license in order to keep it. The next year I managed to keep myself out of trouble since I didn’t have the use of a car for the summer…or a license, but that’s another story. However, in 1997, I managed to get nabbed doing 55 mph in a 45 mph in Ohio. I still feel like that was a bogus charge but, then again, if any state would enact the death penalty for speeding, it would probably be Ohio.

Since then, I’ve gained a sense of discipline and responsibility when it comes to driving. I don’t live under my parents’ roof and I am responsible for my own vehicle and insurance. That’s not a good reason to be a safe driver but eventually maturity made me become one, primarily. Like I said, I still manage to open it up on the highway, although my wife is notoriously worse when we go on vacation. On more than one occasion, I’ve handed the wheel over to her to get some shut eye, only to wake up and see her doing 85 mph in a 65 mph zone. She would get her Mountain Dew and the right music and just fly.

For the most part though, we try to be safe drivers because of our daughter and quite frankly, I’m just not in any rush to get another ticket. Though, there was that time in 2006 when I was going 21 mph in a school zone. That one nearly got me arrested. But that, too, is another story.

There and Back Again, A Mongo's Tale

Part Three: Nights in South Rodanthe

Well, if you haven’t already realized, these posts from the beach are all retroactive in nature. Meaning, I went, took notes, I came home, and I’ve been posting from them over the course of the last week. It will become really apparent in this last bit from the trip home as I talk about a particular game being played in the Stanley Cup finals and we already know how it turned out. Yeah! I have to say that coming home I wasn’t so sure. It was a rough Game Five and it could have been a detriment to the spirit of that team and their little “Flower” of a goalie. Instead, it was just enough fuel to carry them and the cup home. Enough about that… let’s take it home.

Day 7 Saturday June 5
Morning came quick after only getting a few hours of sleep. While we packed most of the car last night, there is still more to be stowed before we leave. I want to let the little one sleep as long as possible before having to wake her. We aren’t going to get a great breakfast because we had to wash everything and pack up all the kitchen items we brought. Still, I know what will happen. She’ll get up. She’ll come upstairs and she’ll grab that high chair and bring it towards the center of the room.

I made several passes around the house, making sure I got everything. Checked all the drawers, looked through every couch and under every bed for toys and other assorted items. I made sure everything was the we left it or better. I took some final pictures and helped load the van. Afterwards, I went back into this house that sheltered us and comforted us this last week and said in my mind, “Thank you for a great trip.” Leaving, I took one last look around and headed back to the van.

We stopped into the rental office to turn in the keys and I gave the lady at the desk the rundown of what had happened. She went and got the manager and he pulled me aside. Smart thing for him to do. The last thing you want to do is have a disgruntled customer standing among other potential customers, spouting about his bad luck. We went back to his office and we spoke about the pool situation. I laid it all out, the missing breaker, our discovery, the pool guy, and I did not expect anything in return. After all, it was our word against his (pool guy). We shook hands and I left.

I was ready to go. I wanted to get moving as quickly as possible. As much as I had a good time this vacation, there’s something to be said for going home. I also knew if I wanted to catch Game Five I had better make it to the other side of the Allegheny Mountains before too late. That was the outer marker for picking up Pittsburgh radio stations.

It was a little bittersweet driving up Rte 12. We again passed by Bodie Light, Jockey’s Ridge, and the Wright Brothers memorial. We stopped again for breakfast at the Western Sizzlin. I must admit I was satisfied with the food there. It was good for a good price. If you ever go to Kill Devil Hills, check it out. Then go a little ways south on Rte 12 to a place called Kill Devil’s Frozen Custard. They have Excellent fries and frozen custard.

Moyock, NC Rte 168
Back on the road, it was just after 1:00 PM. We stopped back at the rest stop on the other side of the sound and made a break for it. From here on out, I wanted to make some good time back to PA. We had to stop one more time at a place called The Border Station in Moyock, NC. It’s a huge gas station / store that sells fireworks. They aren’t like the places along the side of the highway, sometimes going by the name of Woody’s with a picture of a hissing black cat on the sign. This was a bigger outfit and they didn’t sell any of the good stuff. Usually, I like getting some “stuff” before I come home but this was all legal and puny.

Back through the tunnel under the bridge and onto I-95
We seemed to be making good time. I also began to really hate that purple dinosaur. We had the DVD going on a loop behind me for the little one thinking maybe she would fall asleep. No such luck. She was chugging along with the rest of us. We hit the beltway and were heading into Northern VA before sunset. We stopped at a Bob Evans after a few failed attempts at finding another place to eat. From here it wouldn’t be long until we were in PA.

Breezewood, PA Rte 70/76
This is the last leg. Out last fill up was in Moyock, NC. I topped off the tank in order to return the van with the same amount of gas as I had when I picked it up. I also turned over the keys to the wife. I was getting real punchy and needed a break after driving until here. We jumped on the turnpike and headed home. I kept a check on the radio to see if we could hear the game yet. I knew that usually we wouldn’t start getting in Pittsburgh stations until after we went through the tunnel but I was ever hopeful. Game Four was awesome and the Pens really showed Detroit why were in the finals against them for another year. This time last year, we were in a similar situation and I hoped that the tide would have turned with those two wins in Game Three and Four. Now we were back in Detroit. Unfortunately, we have to win this and Game Six to hoist the cup on home ice in Pittsburgh.

Once through the tunnels, I began to get very scratchy reception in on 105.9 WXDX. All I could make out was Mike Lange saying something about it being 5-0. As we wound through the mountains on the turnpike, reception faded in and out. Play continued and more and more pieces of the puzzle came into place. We were losing and it was almost the end of the game. This was indeed the low point of the trip. Not only did Detroit go up 3-2 in the series, there was the distinct possibility that they would be skating around our home ice with the Stanley Cup. As gracious of hosts as we are, I think the thought of Marion Hossa skating around our ice, his former ice, holding that cup high above his head would be enough to start a riot in the arena.

Home
Somewhere around Johnstown, the little one finally dozed off to sleep. We drove the rest of the way in silence and landed back at my In Laws’ house just before midnight. We dropped them off and ended up waking the baby. She pretty much cried until we got home. I don’t blame her. She went 12 hours without a nap and once she fell asleep we woke her up five minutes before we pulled into the driveway. I’d be pissed, too.

We unloaded the van and fell into the house out of exhaustion. We pretty much just did what we needed to go to sleep. The cats were happy to see us and we were happy to see them. We bathed the baby and put her down around 2:00 AM. We both sat in our living room, exhausted by too awake to sleep. After a shower, we were in bed and both sat there still awake. I was waiting for the last of the caffeine to escape my system and finally drifted off to sleep. Since we fed the cats late, I was able to sleep until 8:00 AM before having to get up. As I finish up these notes I noticed we missed a phone call at 10:14 AM Saturday. It was the realty company. The manager called the house five minutes after I left. He said he totally understands and believes us. He’s had problems with this outside company before and is going to reimburse us for all but two days of pool heat. Sometimes, it pays to make noise even when the odds are against you. Hopefully, the fans will make some noise in Pittsburgh during Game Six and then ultimately Game Seven. We’re not out yet. I only hope Fleury isn’t too rattled after that loss. It would be nice to have the Lombardi Trophy and Stanley Cup in Pittsburgh for the year…but I guess a World Series win might be a tall order. Maybe…



As you can see, I wrote this with no knowledge of the impending win in Pittsburgh and win in Detroit. What a Game Seven that was. Holy Crap, Fleury shook off the bad vibes of Game Five and stepped it up. Go Pens!

On the Road Again

On occasion, usually once a year, I get the opportunity to do a little travelling for business. It's nothing fantastic but it is a nice little break from the office. The predominant reason for my travelling is for training that relates to my job. Here's a little compendium of recent travels for work and five tips that might help you avoid my pitfalls.

Tip #1 Think about your flight. Are you taking carryon luggage? You might not want to sit in the front row. You have to stow items in an overhead. If it’s a long flight, you might not want to sit in the back, either. You may find yourself with a bunch of people hovering in the aisle waiting for the bathroom. When you check in, take a look at the seat assignments. You may just find an empty row and be able to stretch out a bit.

Now, I am not a huge fan of flying. In fact I can count on Count Rugen's right hand how many times I've flown in my life. All, but two of those trips, occurred post 9-11. It's funny how much air travel has changed in the last seven years. I don't mean that in a way of saying that before 9-11 it was one way and now it is another. I mean that in the last seven years the concept of air travel and security has constantly changed. For one, I have to take my shoes off before I get on a plane. Two, unless I plan on only being somewhere for one day, I either have to pack every toiletry I have into the approved size bottles and hope that I have enough clothes so that I can fit my bag in the overhead, or I have to check a bag and have everything stuffed in there and hope it doesn't get lost en route. With that being said, I will give certain airports a lot of praise. They have done what they can to make the security procedures adequate and seamless. However, there are some places and some flights I'd rather not be on again in my lifetime.

Tip #2for the business traveler. Really decide if getting miles are worth crappy flights. I have a US Airways card and I try to fly with them when I can. However, they aren't the power house they once were. The new thing is Southwest and more than one person has told me to go with them. They offer better flight plans and roomier accommodations. However, I can't wear that revealing tank top I like because they say I'm inappropriately dressed.

At the end of August, I had to go to Nashville for business. With fuel prices and the entire country tightening the belt, travelling became a lot more ridiculous. I had to check one bag which cost me $15.00. I also had a lap top bag as a carry on item. I made the arrangements with our travel people trying to find the most economic and shortest flight. For some reason the major carrier, and coincidentally the one I get points with, did not have a direct flight to Nashville. On the trip down, I had a stop in Washington DC. Let me tell you, that was not fun. First off, the trip to DC was great. The cabin had only two seats on either side of the aisle and I ended up having an empty seat next to me. However, when we got to DC, everything changed. We got off the plane into the terminal and had no clue where to go. Our connecting gate was not clearly marked on the directory maps. Next, we had to take a shuttle. We had to walk down this really awkward and bouncy set of steps down onto the tarmac to load into the shuttle. We then travelled about 500 yards to another terminal. Then we sat for an hour waiting to board our flight. During that time I heard several loud speaker announcements which were intelligible. I would consider Reagan International Airport to be a somewhat high profile and busy place. One would expect a certain level of quality that goes with a major metropolitan airport as opposed to say, Elmira Regional Airport in upstate New York. For the life of me I could not understand what people were saying.

Finally, we began boarding. We were directed down a set of escalators and onto another shuttle bus which took us around the perimeter of the airport terminal. There was a lot of broken concrete in the area. It was a little reminiscent of that scene in Aliens where the marines are driving into the colonists compound. It showed the same sense of desolation and disrepair. After getting to our destination, I realized I was not going to be happy. We were sitting in the middle of a runway. We actually boarded a little plane on the runway. My coworker, who is by her own admission, freakishly tall, hit her head on the ceiling of the cabin. Again, I thought it was going to be a nice trip because I had an empty seat next to me. That idea became short lived as this little stick thin girl came be bopping along and climbed into the seat next to me. Then, came the wait. We sat on the runway for a half hour waiting. It turned out that we were travelling with a group of special needs adults and one of the wheelchair bound members had somehow scraped their elbow while being unloaded from the shuttle. Now, we needed to wait for paramedics to come out to the runway to check him out, clearing him for flight. A half hour later, we were all loaded. The hour and a half flight was one of the most uncomfortable I had ever been on before. This tiny twig of a girl next to me seemed to take up so much space and I spent the trip hanging over my arm rest into the aisle continually being bumped by the flight attendants.

The trip home was just as bad. This time we had a similar plane flying from Nashville to Philadelphia. I thought my luck had changed because I managed to have a seat to myself. That was until the guy in front of me realized he was in the wrong seat. Turns out, so was I. We were in each other's seat and he wanted to change. So, while he got to sit by himself, I was forced to sit next to a guy reading the paper taking up the center arm rest and some of my seat. Again, I was stuck hanging over the arm rest for the hour and a half flight to Philadelphia. Philadelphia International was pretty easy to figure out, but man was it packed. There were a lot of lines for everything and I skipped lunch and just sat in my seat for two hours waiting for my connecting flight back to Pittsburgh. Now we had to deal with Andrew. To describe Andrew you have to remember Bill Cosby's comic bit about flying to California with little Jeffrey who was four years old. Andrew was much the same age and temperament. He ran back and forth through the chairs at the gate and bothered anyone who was sitting near the window. His mother was totally ineffective at keeping control of him and several times he wandered into the busy midway. The more she said his name, the more I was pissed at her. I kept thinking, "Go get your kid. Tell him to sit down and not move." When he did sit, he would constantly ask if it was time to go, "Is it now? Is it now? Now? Now?" While it was annoying, I have the ability to block these things out and not show any disgust. What was more annoying was the level of frustration that was mounting on my coworker seated next to me. I could see the vein start to protrude and steam was coming out of her ears.

When we did, finally get to board, I had the front seat which gave me great leg room, however, my laptop had to go into an overhead storage bin about five rows back. I was seated next to another person, but the ability to stretch out made it easier to get comfortable. Unfortunately, when we landed, everyone was on their feet and in the aisle. I couldn't get out of my seat because of the line forming, let alone get back to the compartment with my laptop. A little miffed, I just told a guy, who made eye contact with me, to open the bin above him and grab the bag in the middle. Hopefully, I would be done flying for a little while. That was the equivalent to about four trips worth of disgust.

Now, once I'm where I need to be, I like to get into a nice hotel and get situated. I'm the kind of guy that likes to get to my room, unpack what I need to and prepare everything for the next day, so that I can just go to bed without worrying if I need to have something ironed or if I suddenly realize that I forgot something. I've been fortunate to be able to travel a day ahead of my schedule, giving me the evening to get acclimated to time changes and geography. A lot of times, I will get in, get settled, and then meet up with my fellow travelers for dinner. Afterwards, if the option is available, I'll make a note of where I need to be in order to maximize my sleeping and morning preparation. It sounds rather organized and I'm usually a fly by the seat of my pants type of person when I'm home but in another state where I am at the mercy of public transportation or lengthy trips home, I'd rather be prepared than suffer.

Hotels can be neat or scary depending on your perspective. I've worked in the hotel industry and even done a stint for some extra hours on the clock helping out housekeeping by stripping rooms. Believe me when I say, there is no five second rule, even on an unmade bed. If you do any travelling which puts you in a hotel, I suggest watching those reports on television where they check out hotel cleanliness. It doesn't matter if it's a Five Star Rated Resort or a No Tell Motel on the side of the interstate, germs are not a discriminating species. I've been in some pretty scary places in the past. I've also been in some small places.

In 2006, I took a flight from Pittsburgh to New York. I checked one bag and took no carryon luggage. Everything went smoothly and all was fine. We caught a taxi from the airport and arrived at our hotel. Have you've ever seen those old Warner Brothers cartoons where Bugs Bunny or another character live in an area that gets overdeveloped and they are left with their little rabbit hole or home in the middle of a bunch of high rises. Yeah, that's what this hotel looked like. We had the option of a few different places but at nearly $300 a night we wanted to be good kids and try to be a cheap date.

Tip #3 for the business traveler. If the company is paying for it, go with something a little more than cheap. While, I'm the first person to yell about corporate spending being out of hand when it comes to depriving the little guy of benefits and the ability to stay ahead of the cost of living. If tithe big boys are going to fly first class and stay in a five star resort, the least I can have is a clean room with a king bed and a view.

First off, we go to check in and I'm standing there with two guys who have normal everyday sounding American names. I'm the only idiot with an ethnic name. Yet, Zamir and Nabil (I'm not making this stuff up folks) couldn't get the American names out without having to sound it out. They came to my name and it rolled off their tongue like it was Brad Pitt. After the hooked on phonics lesson, we went up to our rooms. Each of us opened our doors and fell into the room, tripping over the corner of the bed. I thought it would be nice to see what kind of view I had, so I opened the blinds and there I was staring at a brick wall. All those New York City dwelling clichés were being rung up with every new discovery. I had no dresser so I stood my luggage up on the stand and just worked out of there. I could stand outside the bathroom to wash my hands. This was going to be fun. In all, the trip wasn't bad. I ate good, got to see a little of the town, walking everywhere. I probably lost three pounds just from walking.

They usually rent this room out to a blind dude


Walls in room may be closer than they appear.

Later that year, we had to fly to San Jose, which was a five hour direct flight. I didn't mind having a direct flight, but it was a bit long. Anyways, once we landed we managed to circle the block five times before finding out that our hotel had been bought by another company and had already changed the sign out front. Now, this place was cool. It was a Holiday Inn of all places. It was only a two story complex right next to Highway 101, which in my mind screams motel, but it was built around a courtyard with a beautiful Spanish style theme. The rooms were very nice, although the bathrooms were dated in the sense that they had a pocket door instead of a regular door.

Build a little bird house in your lobby.

Cool Courtyard

Wouldn't it be love-a-lee?

In 2007, we travelled to Denver for more training and stayed in the Double Tree. If you get a chance stay there. First off, they give you a big chocolate chip cookie, which is nice. The rooms were great and the view of the mountains in the background was awesome. By far the nicest hotel I stayed in was the Embassy Suites in Niagara Falls for my honeymoon. We had mentioned that we were on our honeymoon and they bumped us up to a junior VP suite with a fantastic view and gave us free valet service. In November, they must not get that much business, so they figured on just being nice. Our room was a two room suite with a living room in the front, a bathroom with Jacuzzi tub with a window directly above it. If you opened it up, you got a fantastic view of the Falls. It also had an electric fireplace. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Being in different cities like Niagara Falls, Denver, San Jose, or Nashville, you pretty much have to drive everywhere. I will say, that I have not had a major problem finding my way around different cities, but sometimes directions can be confusing and if you don’t know the area, you may find that landmarks have changed or road work conditions can hinder your progress, greatly.

Tip #4 Before leaving or if you have the capabilities after you arrive, print out some directions to your destinations. I try to carry a bunch of different turn by turn directions so that I can plan any activity based on time and effort needed to arrive.

I had just recently got a new phone and as a promotion I was given a month free of a navigational device which uses your phone as a starting point. I highly recommend using it, because it really helped me out a few times. Call your provider and tell them that you are going on a trip and want to test drive it and they may be possibly just give you a free month in hopes that you will keep it.

Now that you have directions, let’s go eat. This is probably my favorite part of a business trip. I go out to eat about two or three times a week but it’s never any place glamorous. When I’m travelling, it’s no holds barred. I will get the occasional McDonald’s or other fast food if lunch is not provided, but with the company buying and most people abusing the privilege, I don’t feel too bad going to a steakhouse or a Cheesecake Factory one time. In fact, my usual ritual for going out is to hit a Cheesecake Factory and a Hard Rock Café in every city I travel to. Hard Rock’s are a trendy, touristy place. They’re different everywhere you go, so you’re experience is never the same whenever you go to a new one. I’ve been to seven so far and from my experience the best has been New York City. It is also the biggest, in my mind next to Denver and Myrtle Beach, respectively. Niagara Falls and Nashville appear to be the smallest in size with San Francisco somewhere in the middle of them all. Nashville is set up to have its gift shop across the parking lot in a different building. Myrtle Beach is the most exotic, having an Egyptian theme. The restaurant is built inside a pyramid. Pittsburgh is one of the disappointments, unfortunately. While it is very nice inside, there is a lot of wasted space and it doesn’t have that same Hard Rock feel as the others.

Tip #5 Plan out some good places to go eat. Do a search online and check reviews. Remember, unless you’ve been there before, you never know what you might be getting into. Big name franchises are usually a safe bet, however, you may miss out on a diamond in the rough. Also, make sure you check out the expected manner of dress. You are on the road and don’t have the option of pulling out a good set of clothes if you didn’t already pack them.

On our New York trip we wanted to find a little place to unwind after all the walking we did. Next to our hotel was a bar called Desmond’s but we don’t really understand soccer or rugby the way some do. We stuck out like a sore thumb and thought it would be wise to not make a scene as the dumb looking tourist in the wrong place. Instead we ended up drinking at a ESPN Zone or a big name eatery. That can get expensive. So, we hit the streets in search of a friendly little pub. Unfortunately, it appeared that a lot of bars in Manhattan required three forms of ID, a blood test, and a reference from Donald Trump. Thinking we were going to be out of luck, I suddenly came up with an idea. Instead of looking, let’s just ask someone. Let’s find a normal everyday guy, like us, and ask him where he would go drink. I spotted a doorman in front of a high rise and asked him where three guys in jeans could get a drink. He said, “Head down the street and turn left.” We followed his directions and wound up at a little place called Mulligan’s. We walked in and knew we had made the right decision. For the Manhattan Cosmopolitan and Appletini scene, I’m sure it was considered a dive. But to us, it was a diamond in the rough. U2 was playing in the background. People of all ages were sitting around just relaxing. Great place. I highly recommend it if you can find it. I know it’s somewhere in the vicinity of the Empire State Building and Times Square, if that helps.

That’s all I got for you, today, intrepid travelers. All I can say is that develop a system and things can go really smooth for you. If you are a laid back kind of person that doesn’t put much thought into it, that’s fine, too. Just remember, towels on the floor are going to be taken, and to make the trip go a little better, imagine the flight attendants doing their safety spiel to a techno rhythm. That always makes me smile.