No Worries

100th Post

House Boat

Bar Flies

Last night, my buddy Dawson and I found ourselves at the Record Bar. As it happened, it was Trivia Night. I, for one, had never sat in on any of Kansas City's traditional bar trivia contests, but figured it might be interesting when Dawson brought it up. We would be meeting two of his co-workers who, apparently, are there every Thursday night for the event.

"Are they cool?" I ask.

"Uh. No. Not really. They're actually a bit annoying and big time nerds."

Now, this isn't the first time I've had to spend an evening with an annoying acquaintance of a friend. An acquaintance that, as it turned out, my friend didn't really like to begin with. I can recall at least one occasion where I've had to rub elbows with one of Brandon's co-workers who he found to be "a pain in the ass." Flatscreen's entire life is spent around people he doesn't seem to care for, yet finds time to hang out with. I'll never quite understand this. If I work with somebody I don't like, I generally try to avoid them outside of the workplace.

Dawson and I reached our destination and immediately ordered two beers. We settled into the booth with our "teammates" and introductions were made. A couple of personal anecdotes, some Star Wars references and one Simpsons quote into it and I was ready for another drink.

We spent only about an hour there and, as it turned out, everybody in the room shared the annoying habits, lame jokes, and worthless trivia knowledge as the Hardy Boys. I also pointed out to Dawson how the majority of the "funny" comments are pretty old. And not all that funny the first time around. One prime example is when a person would ask a "guess who" question, followed by a pause and two thumbs back toward himself, saying "This guy!" As in, "guess who forgot to pick up the milk after work? This guy!" I seem to remember that gesture being linked to a dirty joke in the mid-nineties, but it looks as if the Record Bar trivia crowd will find any excuse to use it. They also forget to include the notation of the two thumbs in the original statement, which is what made it somewhat humorous to begin with ("Guess who has two thumbs and forgot to pick up the milk after work? This guy!"). And it's always a guaranteed crowdpleaser. But what did I really expect? I was at a trivia night, for Christ's sake.

Well...How 'bout It?

Summer Time Blues

But Is It Art??

Too much--uh--crap going on this week. I'll probably post just sketchbook stuff for a while.

This one's an oldie-but-goodie.

Old Friends

"Hey, Bob Saget!!"

Maybe one of you youngsters can enlighten me on this one. A couple of weeks ago we were visiting Lisa's folks in St. Louis. On one particular evening, we drove to a Mexican restaurant which was located in the hustle and bustle of downtown Chesterfield. The parking lot was up against a busy street and I had to park the vehicle parallel to the flow of the traffic, with the driver's side closest to the street. As I was removing Audrey from her car seat, located on the left side (see drawing), I heard the sound of a car horn and then the words "HEY, BOB SAGET!!" I firmly believe that the cry from the moving vehicle (no doubt delivered by teenagers), was directed toward me.

Lisa and our sister-in-law, Rachel, were standing nearby and began to laugh. We all heard the message, but were equally dumbfounded at its meaning. They both insisted that the term "Bob Saget" had some direct connection with the notion that my jeans were sagging, thus exposing my boxer shorts when I leaned downward.

"Why 'Bob Saget?'" I asked.

"I dunno. Bob Saget...sagging pants. What else could it be?"

The incident caused me to chuckle to myself, the more I thought about it. It wasn't too long ago that I, along with Terry and Dave, would drive around the Kansas City area and yell unusual things at innocent people. On a summer evening in Olathe in the mid-nineties, one may have had the distinct honor of hearing the word "ALBATROSS!!" or "SAUSAGE!!"or "'PONCHO MAN LIVES!!" being shouted from a passing vehicle. This was done with the intention of leaving confused people behind in the dust.

Now, some weeks later, I still replay the Bob Saget incident in my head. I've decided to accept the sagging pants theory. Or, in a perfect world, it was three smart asses who were trying to leave me bewildered. The thought that this is what may have happened is what helps me sleep at night. The days of yelling strange things at strangers is over for us, but somewhere, some place, the dance continues. And there will always be an old bastard like me, sitting at a computer writing about it.

My Space Sucks

I had to do it. I decided that it would be in my best interest to just bite the bullet and set up a myspace account. That's right, Rupert Murdoch's infamous go-to place for sexual offenders and serial killers has a lot to offer in the world of networking. In other words it's also a good site for people in all fields of the arts to make connections and promote their work.

So hit me up and be my friend. Unless you're a sexual offender or a serial killer.

Another One For The Grill

It's grilling season, which means that on any given evening you can find me standing over a dead carcass in my driveway.

Up until recently, grilling had never really been my forte. A couple of years ago, for example, Lisa came inside one day to tell me that our neighbor, Jack, had placed his Weber charcoal grill outside in honor of monthly "bulk trash day." She pointed out that it seemed to be in reasonably good condition and urged me to go and ask Jack's permission to rescue it from the garbage collectors.

"It's probably on its last legs," I told her.

"How bad a condition can a grill be in?" she responded. "Besides, Jack's always buying new toys and throwing out his old ones."

Lisa had two good points, so it was with this that I made my way to Jack's front porch to ask his permission to steal from his weekly garbage pile. Jack, always the friendly father figure type, told me that the grill was "really old" and he couldn't promise that it won't completely rot through the bottom. But he gave me his blessing anyway.

The next day, I decided to surprise Lisa with a meal of grilled chicken breasts. I dragged the Weber out to the driveway, doused it with kerosene and, after a few minutes, lit it up. This was the precise moment a huge, hellish flame shot directly upward. It looked as if one of Satan's own hounds was screaming toward the sky. I swear, the flame was as tall as a full grown man if it was an inch. I quickly grabbed the lid and place it on top, hoping to smother out the flames. Before I could get the little holes on top closed, the flames made their way through and almost singed my hand. In the chaos, I kicked over the grill and the lid fell completely off. By now, the actual grill had caught fire and it was beginning to spread around the sides as it rolled down the driveway. I ran over to the water faucet, turned it on and dragged the hose over with an attempt to extinguish the flames. As quickly as it had started, the fire was out. The coals were a distant memory and the Weber soon found its way back at the end of the driveway.

I've since then gotten my hands on a Weber gas grill. It's been about a month and, in this time, I've grown quite obsessed with grilling the perfect meal.

Early this morning, I arose at dawn in order to marinate tonight's turkey burgers. I threw the meat in a burlap bag, drenched it with two-parts Wishbone dressing, one-part tequila, one-part motor oil and a fistful of Mrs. Dash. Then I buried it in the backyard until about 5:00 pm. Then I dug up the bag, stomped the hell out of it with Jack's old combat boots (he'd left them out for Good Will) and then took it inside to empty its contents and form patties. Lisa says its the best turkey burger she's ever had.

Sam & Tucker

As the school year draws to a close, it's time for me to look back upon the remainder of my student portrait sketches from over the past several months.

Two notable additions are Sam and Tucker. These identical twin brothers were fourth graders at the school I worked at. The pair had a very unusual presence that consisted of finishing each others sentences and sneezing only moments apart from one another. The most unusual characteristic, however, was how they appeared to be polar opposites in the physical realm. In other words, one was as skinny as an Ethiopian toddler, while the other was drastically overweight. The oddest thing about the duo was that I never really could tell them apart from one another. Despite their physical difference, the brothers had such similar personalities that I couldn't keep tabs on who was who. And it didn't help that they wore matching clothing every day.