Sunday, January 28, 2007
We start with Exhibit A: Joe Bonsall, eerily high pitched frontman for the legendary Oak Ridge Boys, born the spring of 1948 in Philadelphia. Note the testosterone ozzing out of that lipwarming "stache" as no other man in the known world could possibly best in battle...
But little did he know there was another!!!
Exhibit B: John Oates, worthless precursor to WHAM!'s Andrew Ridgley, also born in the spring of 1948 not in Philly, but in New York City. However he would return to Philadelphia to exact his revenge.
There can be only one ("stache")!!!
When it was realized by John that Oates and Bonsall were in fact twins, separated at birth and Oates quickly relocated to NYC with fake documents stating he was born there, well...
This was more than the guitar miming half of Hall and Oates could take, the kind of thing to get your moustache bristling something mighty fierce!
"I was one half of the most successful duo of all time!!!, he could be heard to cry out for no reason.
Then came that fateful time in 1981. Hall and Oates were ripping up the charts with the Private Eyes album, but without domination in the rock, polka, and country music charts, their success seemed tarnished. At least in the oft privately turmoiled eyes, and thoughts, of Oates, it was. He festered nightly, humming the tune to Elvira, the Bonsall/Oak Ridge Boys' hit, to himself incessantly.
And with that, he set out on his mission: to take Bonsall out of the equation, and rule, once and for all...
Whatever the cost.
Which he did, of course. Hall and Oates began their upswing that was to, ironically, be cut down just three short years later after Big Bam Boom. You can't make shady deals in shady places like that without expecting payment to be due, when it is due. The Oak Ridge Boys had already found a way to carry on, in the form of lifesized, permed wig, and body hair covered brown marionette for shows and interviews to cover the loss of Joe. They also used the voice of Carol Channing forever after in the recording studio as it was an uncanny match to Bonsall's. They kept this charade going until obscurity.
This gave Daryl Hall an idea. As John had been rather small, but macho nonetheless (!), he devised a plan. Why not do the "Boys" up one better? Use the actual well preserved corpse of his Rock&Soul-mate instead of a dummy, and have a hole in the back of John, near the rectum, to put his much longer arm through to mimic Oates's brlliant banter and head/hair shake in interviews and preshow record signings at Hastings and State Fairs all over the states. As Hall's voice was the reason they had fame in the first place, the world didn't seem to care. In the end...
"If you live by the "stache", then you will die by the "stache".
It is just that simple, folks.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Another meaningless "How do you do?" tonight, but I'm trying to post more and also get some rawness going here. Here's to it not turning out to be another Chinese Fire Drill.
"Get ready for it..."
He's choking already!!!
So I was late for work this morning. Here's how I believe it went down. Afer that I will tell you what I told my boss and then you can compare. Ready? Here we go...
I set my alarm for 4:30 am as usual, then reset it for 5:30 when it goes off. This time I went for 8 more minutes.
"And here's where you done did wrong, son."
The only thing I did at 5:30 this morning was set the regular time up 8 minutes and left it uselessly set at 5:30 am for the next day...
So I wake up around 6:15 but think it's 6:23. I call my boss and give him the big "My bad!" and tell him I'm on my way. I get there and he starts hassling me with tirades on why I still don't have a back up alarm clock. I know, sounds completely anal. So I tell him I ain't into them, and he tells me to go to work and contemplate what happened and we'd talk about it later. Fuck him, is all I have to say. We go into the office later and jawjack it around. He says I was late once last year...
"Egads, Graveh, this cain't be trooo!"
(Nice accent, by the way.)
And also, once I was late/or gone in 2005, not calling in sick on time by only 3 minutes because I was up all night caring for my sick kid, and had it and pinkeye, as well. I told him those were so long ago they were no big deal. He freaked out on me after that and I tried to contain my laughter.
Later he told me to fill out a form for those 45 minutes I was late. I asked him why he didn't fill it out for me as I was obviously tired, since I'd overslept. He was not ammused by this, and said you had to fill them out whether you were too tired regardless. Then I killed him...
"No, keeds, I'ze only pullin yer leg heeyah."
I said something I'm not going to repeat tonight...
But another person was late too, because she witnessed an accident on her deserted stretch of country road (and hour and a half's worth) and stayed long enough to call the fuzz so they could help, but then left immediately after they said they were on their way. He tried to chew her out, too. She had only been 15 minutes late...
Is a coup in order here? Has the revolution begun again?
This brings me to my next question:
"What are you doing up this late?"
Ok, ok, goodnight then. Maybe a few more puffs...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
I just bought the new Depeche Mode Touring the Angel Live in Milan 2 DVD plus live cd of some of the newer songs. I would have preferred the older, more tried and true hits of course, but it wasn't up to me. Still sounds good though, and the concert is once again the bomb diggity.
"Gets the lil devil in me dancin'!"
I almost bought a DVD/cd combo of DM that had some of the early videos on it, but not a few big ones I wanted as well. I just know a complete early years DVD will come out and I will be pissed. Yeah I know, I will have enjoyed that until then, but that's not the point, is it?
To quote Little Richard on this one:
That's what you want baby! You want it all or none!
Wow, I thought I had more in me left to write. I feel drained now. I just went and made a sandwich to combat fatigue, loaded with raw spinach. That's right, I said raw spinach. But it is lean turkey breast, but processed cheese instead of the real cheddar I usually prefer to enjoy. I was out. The end.
Wow, after this cigarette, I think I will curl up on a section of the couch and watch a movie. I'm just not worth a damn right now.
"I'm also bored shitless!"
I may have to break out that Depeche on the bigscreen with some Surround thrown in there for good measure.
Dance, lil devil, dance!!!
Bust a move...
Saturday, January 20, 2007
"A duel, if you will..."
And suddenly, it was! And woe be unto them that witnessed this that had befallen on this eve of destruction...
Then did they clash, as a mighty trumpet sounded, signalling that this was a no holds barred, fight for the fate of all worth saving, what little was left.
"Who struck the telling blow...?"
Only heaven, and hell, knows...
Whe I had heard they were remaking The Hitcher, I was pretty skeptical. I mean how, just how, can you replace Rutger Hauer. I saw they used Jake Busey in the sequel to the original, to disastrous results. This did not bode well at all for a cult horror classic from the 80's. Would they stay true to the original, or take it on a new course? Could Sean Bean hold up as a suave but maniacal... uhhh... madman?
In the end, although entertaining and often jumpy, I have to say the old couldn't be topped. The guy started out with a girlfriend from the beginning, and he's the one that gets pulled apart by the semis in the end. I just think the french fried finger in the groundbreaking original can't be left out, or outdone. I give it a B...
This is only to scold an industry that of late seems to be rehashing ideas that didn't need rehashing in the first place. Willy Wonka? Dukes of Hazzard? The Hills Have Eyes? Wait, the original of that wasn't even good. See where I'm going with this...?
So in the end, Rutger KO's the competition. This is almost as retarded as doing a Blade Runner remake. Sure you can dip it in glitter and deep fry it, but it's still a ball of shit at the center. Why? Because it never needed to be redone. Let my grandkids pine for that movie, I'm fine as tis.
Also, my dad broke his wrist in three places last Sundayish or something, falling on the ice which has covered much of Missouri at this time. They have also been without power for a week, with a storm looming ahead tomorrow sometime in the evening. Not much luck going on for old Dad, but he will pull through as he tough like The Duke. Wish he'd give me those painkillers. But he won't. Still pullin' for you though, pops!
Amazingly, although it was cold here a few days, we were spared any of the wintery grief that waylaid Springfield just two short hours to the north. I heard today that this incoming one might miss us too, which is fine since it will be in the high thirties/low forties next week anyway. Work won't be hindered so, once again, what's the point?
Otherwise bring it!
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Yeah yeah yeah, senorita Juanita, I hear you talking now, but what happens when Indy blows their game with New England? Then they will be just another team that made it only so far. Chiefs were near to being undefeated a few scant years ago and were called the NEW GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, also lit up a few Sports Illustrated covers and a little late night tv, had a few NFL records in rushing and such, punt/kick returns, scoring. So your argument is weak, they (your shitty team) ain't winning any Superbowls either, in fact...
NONE as the Indianapolis Colts, with Payton to boot. So fuck off Juan Valdon't even, they won one game and made it far enough to get destroyed by the Patriots this weekend...
"The sun shines even on a dog's ass somedays."
Sadly the Chief's last Superbowl appearance, and win, was in #4 in 1970, followed by...
You guessed it, the Baltimore Colts in #5 in 1971. Now guess what, school's over now, run along, spouting about that which you do not know, somewhere's else. But I always welcome all challengers...
I just thought there would be a little better competition!
Oh wellz. I wonder what kind of pussy trash talk, hopefully once again in broken "Engrish", we will be grorified with if Indy actually pulls off a miracle. Fuck Indy, and fuck Payton, Juan. He is so overrated, you are only as good as the teammates that surround you, until they aren't there anymore for whatever reason: retirement, injury, and free agency. And he will go the way of Brett Favre, into humiliating defeat after defeat until he is beaten into the submission that is retirement.
You are probably not even from Indy, are you? I'm from Missouri, so I will worship whichever team I want to, as it my duty and pleasure to a rich and storied franchise, you fucktard. Lamar Hunt even coined the phrase Superbowl.
Juan H., please make love to yourself.
Have other large men help with this when you can.
Did I say fuck Indy...?
Oh yeah, I did.
I'm rooting for the Bears or Saints regardless now, so it don't make me no nevermind.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
So a three man running back by committee approach it is then, eh? If you can get Priest and Larry to agree to share ball time. In reality it would be fantastic, as they are completely differently styled runners, and those guys pounding on you would wear you out and set you up for a nice long pass. Hell, why not just get Marcus Allen to come out of retirement, I bet he's got a few leaps left in him.
"Over the pile, buddeh!!!"
This is the part of the year I hate the most, watching jerkoffs like San Diego misrepresenting and ending up a New England/Indy showdown. I will be rooting for winner of Bears/Saints game.
So now I must sit and wait for scant Chiefs news, and pine. I live for football, there is no substitute when it is gone. Sure news picks up around July but September is a long way off. What can I dive into now?
The season seemed to go by so fast this time. I wish I could go into a coma until the next started. Post season football blues...
Yay for me.
I get to dig in now...
Saturday, January 13, 2007
So there it is, checked in red all the games I expect the Chiefs to win next year. 13-3, that's my prediction. I read the interview with Herm Edwards, and he looks to shake things down out there. I just hope and pray he knows what he's doing with my beloved team. Supposedly Priest Holmes will be back and maybe a third younger running back as well. He claims he needs three to carry the load. Running back by committee. It's been tried before with no success, hope he's got a mean plan. When it's done right, it opens up the field for long passes and then it is all over but the celebrations. That is what I'm hoping for as I'd like to have a championship while I'm still alive. I'd even love to be at the game somehow. But they gotta get there first.
It is cold and shitty here now, but not as bad as a little farther north, like in Springfield where my parents live. Many are without power, including them, and ice is abundant. Hope it gets here by Monday morning. I'd like to sleep in.
So anyway, only around eight months until football starts again for me. I will watch and root for what's left this year, mainly New Orleans and the Bears. Fuck Indy and New England, Chargers too. Either redemption in Louisiana or one for Walter Payton's ghost. Take your pick. I don't really care now. My life has ended, there is no gawd...
I need a ring!!!
"My... my preciousssss!
I'm gonna spoil it right here for you: It's not about a serial killer, like they insinuate in the teaser trailer. It's about a really big crocodile, I have no idea how much is true, and some local guerilla shit going down in some African shithole, I read Hutus in there, so whatever floats your boat.
It was ok but it pisspoured all the way to and from the theater, and apparently we need new wiper blades, badly in fact. So it was interesting enough to warrant a B - perhaps? Not bad, the action was pretty spot on brutal but any movie about a crocodile with Orlando Jones "blackin' it up" on the side in spite of his predicament, just doesn't deserve the kind of love an A would give.
And that wouldn't be fair. It was watchable at least, I'll give it that.
The last Gator/Croc movie I saw had Betty White in it, and that's kinda hard to top.
All up in dat.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
I've recently rediscovered my love for ABC. They are fucking awesome, especially around the How To Be A Zillionaire era. Too bad they died out, but I read they had eleven top ten songs throughout the 80s. So there. I've been watching the trippy video for Be Near Me. Martin Fry, your voice is like butter. Dig the suit too...
Which brings me to the other band I've been enjoying lately. A gender bender if you ever heard of one, Pete Burns, you scare the shit out of me, but damn that's fine music. Just don't ever show me your balls ever again, please. I like the look in the Brand New Lover video, all stretched out screenwise, and the general scenery of it all. Whips. Always a must. And boy he can dance.
Yes, I'm talking about Dead or Alive, for those not in the know here by now. Infectuously hard beats, is all I'm sayin...
I bought The Illusionist on DVD today, and am now off to watch it. The kids are already in bed too, so I can enjoy in peace. I love this movie, watch it, and you will too.
I'd bet your balls on it.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
So, now that I've posted a pic of me, that pic is already too old of me. I'm not this dashingly handsome now, sorry. My bad.
Not much going on other than nursing my football wounds. Damn you Indy, damn you all to hell. But I did go see Children of Men Friday night. I give it an A. Very good, and Clive Owen is kick ass. Weird idea for a movie too: The only kid born in 18 years and she is black.
So, I'm just kicking it here at home, it's a little cool outside. My tummy hurts a little too. I went to the mall and bought my daughter's guinea pig some chewy sticks. I like to play with her and make her squeak. She is my new friend. Until she pees on me...
What else? Uhhhh......
Two forums I hang on are MIA or soon to be. Craptv hass gone haywire and kookoo, even batnutz. Then I find the Duran one is being killed due to assholishness. Surprised it ever lasted so long. People suck, I just wanted crisp copies of my shows that I'd went to, and maybe some other memorable ones. I got them, and even made a few good friends along the way. Oh well. Better luck next time. But Crap down is killing me. That is my home, my daily hangout. Now I'm building my favorites list on Youtube. So anyway, that is my life. Thanks for stopping by.
Check me out and/or friend me on Youtube. I am rongravy there. And I rule.
I even have video of me there.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Ahhhh, the plot sickens. The place I worked at last Friday is rearing it's ugly head back up again by way of dagger in the back, my amigos. I found out only today that the guy I worked for complained about my work there. What a fucktard, I only came there to fill in for a shorthanded staff. Look at the thanks I get. Personally I think he'd already taken a special shine to me. I caught him staring at me through his window thing all day. At least I know he's not gay, just a fucking prick.
"What a load off my mind!"
Now all I have to do is refute his bullshit and redeem myself in the eyes of my boss. Actually, I hope mine is smart enough to not fall for it, but I will find out tomorrow. In reality it is no problem or sweat off of my balls. I can handle anything thrown at me in that arena and usually end up handing them their nuts in a doggy bag to boot. It's just a shitty thing to have done to me, and it's always depressing when you have to deal with unnecessary bullshit like this when you are already dealing with a full load already. I mean come on, I was helping you, what is your fucking deal? When jerkoffs like you drop the ball and acts of kindness stop being done by nice people like me, then we are all headed for a world of backstabbing pricks like you.
"So come on, cut that shit out and be a man, you got a problem, say it to my face, don't shake my hand and thank me for coming, if you don't mean it. But I can't see how you couldn't but help but mean that, not try to bite the hand that did all your work for you. You weasely fuck."
Sorry, that last sentence snuck in there. I'll leave that out of my speech tomorrow...
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
First I'm gonna start off with a review of the movie I saw last night: Black Christmas. Although another slasher film, it wasn't all that bad. A tad confusing at times with the whole inbreeding thing and who is related to who, killerwise, and few too many flashbacks, but the overall gory festiveness (is that even a word?) made it enjoyable.
"The Vicodin helped too..."
Hey, don't jump ahead in the story here!
So I'm giving it a B-. Like I said, the flick had its good and bad points. I figured since it took place in a sorority house, that there would be beaucoup tits and ass, but it really wasn't all that bad. Nowhere near as naughty as Hostel, I had to send my kids out on that one. Just a few hottie nipples here and there, and an ass crack or two. I can live with that...
"Which brings us to the holidays..."
Christmas was ok, except I was starting to feel a little icky. I was supposed to be off the Friday after, but someone pulled some bullshit at another plant and I ended up having to work an hour and a half away. So I spent eight hours on the road that day.
Hey buddeh, the math don't add up here!
Well, I had to drive to Springfield, Missouri to pick up my daughter, round trip, which adds another five hours to the total. Thus the eight hours, my friends, and the whole story behind that is stressful and depressing as well, but hopefully taken care of. We will have to see on that one.
So we move on to New Year's Eve...
By this time I'm deathly ill, and have no idea what the hell is wrong with me. My chest and lungs hurt, my joints ache, my throat hurts and swells up, diarrhea, vomiting, dizziness, head and serious sinus pressure, ear infection...
"And a general feeling of death warmed over!"
So after I watch the Chiefs win their game and miraculously make it into the playoffs (a story for another day and post), I am taken to the hospital Emergency Room. Everybody must have been pissed they had to work that night because they took it out on poor old Graveh. The admissions lady kept telling me to put this stupid facemask on, but everytime I did, I would be violently wracked with coughs that made me vomit or spit up, yet she kept on and on.
Evil heartless bitch!
So I sit waiting while my wife takes care of insurance stuff at yet another window, as I sit puking/coughing my lungs up. My wife told me later that this lady told her I was making myself sick on purpose, for some ungodly reason. Looking back, I guess they thought I was faking it to get some drugs or something, as by this time I hadn't shaved or showered in awhile and was looking pretty unkempt. So I finally get in, and they are still being pretty shitty with me. The guy comes in and viciously swabs my throat with a large Q-tip. Then he pulls out another one, this time even longer and with a flexible shaft. I knew what was coming...
"You're not gonna put that down my nostril, are you?!?!?!"
Why yes, how did you know?
So the first two times he tries to jam that thing down in there I rip it out. He's not happy at all, and pulls out a third. I tell him to get it done quick, because I'm ready to grab his nads and rip those bastards off! He even had a grimace on his face as he's doing all this to me. About this time, all the New Year's drunks and accident victims start showing up. I'm now laying around suffering, unable to breathe, waiting for them to come back and give me some fucking relief. Chest x rays commence, eventually I'm given some sort of bogus breathing treatment that doesn't seem to help, then a chick comes in and takes most of my blood. I admit, she was the only nice one in there to me, bless her heart. They come back and tell me that not only do I have a nice little case of bronchitis, but that I'm also sporting some serious strep throat action as well. Does this soften them up any at all?
"Of course not!"
The guy gives me a prescription for an inhaler, some antibiotics, and a measely twenty Vicodins for my troubles. He also refuses to give me anything more than 2 days off of work...
What a dick!
Whatever happened to bedside manners, or whatever the hell it's called? Compassion, maybe even? I mean, Jeez dood, they found out I wasn't faking it. So I leave the ER and glare at the cunt (pardon my French) at admissions on my way out. Only one pharmacy is open on this night: Walgreens. They were shitty with me too, but I won't get into it here. So after dosing up, we go to my sister-in-law's house to hang for New Years but I just can't take any more. My wife is also showing the beginnings of sickness also, so we go home and hit the sack.
Great way to spend your holidays, deathly ill surrounded by a world of uncaring jerkoffs. So it is now Tuesday, and I'm feeling somewhat better today. I woke up and coughed up a bunch of black stuff out of my lungs. So the drugs seem to be working, especially the Vicodin. My wife is now deathly ill, and although she is fighting it, I think she will need to see a doctor too. She probably just doesn't want to go through the nostril/Q-tip torture like I had to. But she looks like shit now, and sounds like it too. I'm also going to try to get another day off of work, but I don't expect any sympathy there either, but it's worth a shot.
So that is how I've spent my time as of late. I hope you guys (whoever you may be!) had a better holiday than I did.
"Time for bed again, methinks..."
Meds kicking in now, and I'm all woozy again.
Please don't make me have to work tomorrow, please don't make me have to work tomorrow, please don't make me have to work tomorrow...
Have mercy on poor old GRAVEH!