I had hope to post this sooner, but it’s been a rough day. I was excited to attend a great film workshop in Detroit this morning, a boot camp for boom mic operators. It was educational, showing how to hit the sweet spot without going in to frame, how to adjust the length of the mic pole and how to deal with difficult sound engineers. They also went over some basic arm strengthening exercises so we could hold the mic for longer periods of time. The teacher said I was pretty strong but suggested I wear platform shoes because I was too short.

Still I met a lot of great people and was pretty fired up when I left. As always, the cold hand of reality wasted no time in bitch slapping me. I recently had my Jeep’s engine replaced after going carless for over a month. So I know how hard it is to be stuck without wheels. When I saw two guys on the side of the road with a flat tire, my heart went out to them. Normally I would drive on by, but something made me pull over.

They were standing outside their VW arguing over what to do. In German. I asked if I could help. They asked if I spriched Duetch. I said Ein Bitchin. They shook their heads. I decided it was best not to rely on my one year of college German, and went with sign language. I motioned that they open their trunk so I could pull out their jack.

I’ve never actually changed a tire myself but I’ve seen it done a couple times. I placed the jack under the car and started cranking it up. I guess your not supposed to have it on the edge of the car because the frame bent a little. The Germans cringed, but I smiled like that was normal. Then I tried to loosen the bolts on the wheel. It took me just two cranks to strip the bolt. I should not be allowed to touch anything mechanical.

The Germans were outraged at first, and argued with each other loudly. I tried to pick out any word but all I got was “retardieren”. One of them took a deep breath and came back to me. He asked me in broken english where the closest Wal-Mart was. I wasn’t sure how that would help, but I called information to find out. They put me through to one that was four miles south. I then tried to convey directions to him in a way he would understand. Gehen drei kilomoters und recht machen. Oder was ist links? I was regretting that I dropped that last semester of German, when suddenly I heard my engine start.

The German had distracted me just long enough for his friend to hotwire my Jeep. He said “Tchus!” and jumped in my car. They took off before I could even comprehend what happened. My car was a good kilometer away before I snapped out of it. I called 911 and told them what happened.

I stood out on the cold highway for an hour before the state trooper showed up. I went over all the details with him and he did not seem surprised. Apparently I was not the first victim of this scam. He said their names were Hans and Fritz Gruber and they were wanted for several counts of car theft. He said my Jeep was probably across the Canadian border now, where it would be scrapped and sold for parts on the Quebec black market.

The police were nice enough to buy me tickets for a Greyhound and I took a bus up to Flint. From there I took a cab back to Saginaw which only cost me $200 in fare. That was tough, but the worst part was my rollerblades were in my car, so now I can’t even blade to my next film workshop. I guess I’ll just have to focus on being the best boom mic holder in the business. I’m walking to Payless tomorrow to get some taller shoes.

“Right side of body feels cold.” I Googled. The results were not encouraging. Opinions on the medical forums ranged from “stroke” to “holy shit, go see a doctor now”. Sound advice, so I called my doc. The nurse said he had gone home for the day. I told her my right side had felt cold all day. She asked if I noticed any discoloration, but I couldn’t see any. She said to monitor my color and head for the ER if anything changed. “Hope you don’t die.” she said. Very comforting.

I spent the next couple hours huddled under blankets watching TV. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my right side was colder. I went to bathroom to check my skin color. However the lightbulbs in that bathroom don’t match. One is yellow light and the other is white, so I couldn’t gage my color.

I went to the other bathroom for more even light. Sure enough my right ear was darker than my left. I didn’t notice until the next day that the light bulbs in that bathroom don’t match either. Attention to detail is not my strong suit. Convinced I was having a major malfunction, I raced out of the house in a panic. I couldn’t die yet. I hadn’t finished watching Angel Season 5. I had goals.

I headed into ER and filled out some paperwork. They handed me a light up vibrating coaster like they use when your waiting for a table at Bennigans. I’ll take some CPR and a basket of mozzarella sticks please. It wasn’t long before the coaster vibrated, which didn’t surprise me. I was dying after all. I went up expecting to see the nurse.

Instead the secretary gave me more paperwork to fill out. I did and dejectedly went back to my chair. Ten minutes later the coaster went off and I finally saw a nurse. She took my vitals and then sent me back to the lobby. It was another twenty minutes before the coaster buzzed again. On the plus side, I was able to get in several hands of cell phone poker in my last half hour of life.

They stuck me in a room and had me put on a gown. Then a secretary came in and had me fill out more paperwork. Having a stroke is harder than taking the SAT. I went with the old standby and answered “C” for everything. A nurse came in, checked my vitals again and said the doctor would be right with me.

I sat on the table and waited. For an hour. I peeked out and asked the nurse what was going on. She said there was only one doctor on staff and he was dealing with a critical situation. Nevermind that I was at death’s door. And why only one doctor on a bar night? Didn’t they know rednecks were breaking bottles over each other’s heads just down the street?

I went back in my room and waited some more. I lied down on the table and considered dying just on principle. Finally the doctor came in. He checked my vitals again. “Well,” he said “not sure what to tell you. The upper and lower halves of the body are on different vascular systems, so that’s not it. It could be an issue with how your brain is perceiving temperature, but I doubt it.” I also voted against this option. With no real diagnosis, he said to follow up with my doctor the following week. He promised to get me discharged quickly.

And then I waited another half hour. A nurse came in, not to discharge me, but to take my vitals. By that point I was feeling pretty vital and eventually they let me go. I haven’t had any symptoms since and was able to perform a self diagnosis: I am crazy.

I do expect to have a stroke once I get the ER bill. I look forward to it actually. I have a lot of cell phone poker to catch up on.

I tend to only see the Phews when my parents are in town. This is pretty sad as they only live five minutes away. I do need to make an effort to see them more, what with the cat being in the cradle and all. Actually the cat is in my lap and my legs are going numb, but still I should see the boys more often. For the entertainment value if nothing else.

Phew #1 is growing both physically and mentally at an alarming rate. He informed my brother: “Daddy, I want to go to PBS dot org.” My brother pulled up the website and was shocked when Phew #1 began pointing and clicking. No one had showed him how and he’s only two. When I was two my skill set including picking my nose and pooping. Phew #1 had this down as well -

BROTHER: Did you poop?
PHEW #1: I’ve started.
BROTHER: Ok let’s get you changed.
PHEW #1: No daddy! I’m not finished!

Somethings just can’t be rushed.

Meanwhile Phew #2 is doing his best to graduate from gigantobaby to tyranotoddler. He can military crawl making him surprisingly mobile. His lucky parents have to keep track of two wandering infants now. The wheel of karma is grinding my brother for all the times he disappeared on us as a child. He disappeared in church, stores, the neighborhood and even once at the circus. He was a vanishing baby ninja. Hopefully this superpower is not genetic for his sake.

Phew #2 is also on track to be drafted by the Lions this year, shoring up their offensive line. I made the mistake of picking him up, effectively undoing five days of back injury recovery. I had gone to the gym earlier that day with no issues. Dumbbells are nothing compared to the big baby. If I can get healthy and train really hard, I may be able to bench press him one day. It’s a long shot though.

The coolest thing to see was the Phews bonding. Phew #2 learned the word “YAWWWWWEOWW!” and Phew #1 encouraged him to speak it often. “YAWWWWWEOWW!” they would belt out in unison at the top of their little lungs. My sister-in-law said this game was even more fun in the car. Better acoustics.

I admit I really enjoyed hanging out with the boys this weekend. I look forward to seeing them again at Christmas.

RYAN: Pull the bar all the way to your forehead.
ME: Ok.
DONK!
ME: Ow.

The lump on my forehead from that unfortunate gym incident had more or less healed, so it was time to look for new ways to injure myself. That’s when I took Eric up on his offer of free skiing. Eric is a Detroit actor I met on the set of Raised Alone last fall. He sunlights as a ski instructor at Mt. Holly, and offered a free pass to any of his film contacts. So far as I know I am the only one to accept.

Though I used to ski every winter, it’s now been years since I’ve hit the hills. My friend Chris moved to Washington and my brother’s knee is 80 years old, so I have no one to go with. Still I’ve been doing it on and off for two decades, so I knew I would have to get creative on how to hurt myself. Eric came up with the perfect solution.

“Would you like to try snowboarding?” he asked.

Perfect! I had never snowboarded or even surfed or skateboarded for that matter. This was just the opportunity I was looking for. We went to the rental desk and checked out our boots. They asked for my drivers license as collateral, which proved to be unfortunate at a later point in life.

It took about twenty minutes to get my boots on as they were one size too small. I didn’t want to inconvenience Eric though, so I told him they fit fine. We then grabbed our boards and went out to the bunny hill. Eric admitted he had only been boarding for a year and wasn’t technically qualified to teach, but he did know the basics and walked me through.

We walked about ten feet up the hill and practiced some edging drills. I manged each drill with relative success, but putting them all together was a little more chewing gum than I could walk with. Still, when he asked if I was ready to try the tow rope, I said, “No problem!” I have used tow ropes skiing for years and didn’t think it would be a big deal. I leaned over and grabbed the rope.

WHUMP!

The snow was delicious.

I got up, leaned over and grabbed the rope again.

WHUMP!

Ok that one hurt a little.

After my second trip to the snow buffet, Eric asked I wanted to switch to skiing. I refused to admit defeat though, so he gave me some pointers. On my third attempt I kept my eyes up the hill and very gently squeezed the rope. It smoothly pulled me up the hill.

We got off about 1/3 up the hill, did a few more drills before boarding down. I made to the bottom of the hill with all the grace of a blindfolded giraffe. At this point my crunched toes were killing me, so I agreed to just one more run before moving on to skis. Eric agreed and told me he was going to the top of the hill. I assumed he meant we should both go.

When Eric reached the summit he turned around and was shocked to find me following him.

“STEVE GET OFF THE ROPE NOW!!!”

This annoyed me but I got off, about 2/3 up the hill. The harmless little bunny hill. On skis I go down the bunny hill backwards. Child’s play. Yet as my board picked up speed I began to see Eric’s point. Before I knew it I was flying and the bunny hill felt like Mt. Everest. I decided it was time to slow down so I employed the rear edge manuver.

The back edge of my board did slow me a little. However what really helped bring me to a complete stop was my tailbone smashing into the ground. Thank god I have something of a booty or I would have landed in the hospital. As it was all I suffered was a bruise that hasn’t quite healed after two weeks. Good to know if the breaks ever go out on my car, I have my ass to fall back on. Literally.

Eric and I switched to skiing after that. He gave me a couple pointers to correct twenty years of bad habits and the rest of the day was incident free. Almost.

When it came time to check in the rental equipment, they handed back my drivers license. However my hands were full of winter gear and gravity decided to pull one more fast one. I don’t remember dropping it, but apparently it fell into a black hole. I could not find it anywhere and when I called the lodge they had not recovered it.

It’s probably for the best though that I get a new license. I can report I am now an inch shorter thanks to the bunny hill.

Twilight The Book:

BELLA: Edward?

EDWARD: Yes my sweetly frosted cupcake?

BELLA: I think you are a vampire.

EDWARD: What ever gives you that idea, my delicious sausage mcmuffin?

BELLA: The Indian werewolves tell ancient stories of their sworn enemies, The Cold Ones.  Or maybe that was from Underworld.  Anyway, you’re a vampire.

EDWARD: You’re right, my tasty bacon burger.  I am dangerous and may kill you any second.

BELLA: I don’t care, I love you.

EDWARD: Seriously, my lamb chop with mint jelly.  Right now I’m considering eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

BELLA: Not listening as I’m so dazzled by your mussy just out of bed spiky used a whole bottle of gel hair.  Kiss me now!

EDWARD: As you wish, my spicy quesadilla.

BELLA: Whoa, Edward!  Why do you get so hard and stiff every time we kiss?

EDWARD: Um.  It’s just a vampire thing.   Say did I mention we’re playing baseball later?  I’m totally thinking about baseball right now.

Twilight The Movie:

BELLA: I am surly. And you are a vampire.

EDWARD: Yes my fava bacon gives you idea?

BELLA: Was that even english? What the hell are you talking about?

EDWARD: Sorry. Instead of writing original dialogue for the screenplay, they took it straight from the book and condensed it into fractured incoherent conversations my baseball later?

BELLA: I don’t care.  I’m surly and I love you.  Kiss me and get it over with already.

EDWARD: Ok, I’ll just think of Zac Efron.  Oh that’s not helping!

BELLA: God I’m surly.  Let’s go find some kittens and stomp on them.

EDWARD: Wow.  I thought Lohan was a be-atch but you make her look like Hannah Montana.

BELLA: Shut up and hand me my cigarettes.  And what’s with that stupid hair?

And they all lived happily ever after.

The day I was born, the doctor decided I wasn’t done cooking yet and stuck me in an incubator.  I don’t conciously remember it, but I am willing to bet the incubator made a soft steady shhhhh sound that I now can’t sleep without.  White noise.  As a kid I went to bed with a humidifier.  Not the noiseless ones you buy today, but the old ’70s models that ran on a chainsaw motor.  These days I use a fan.  In the dead of winter when it’s 15 below, I’ll still have that sucker blowing full blast, shhhhing me to sleep.

But what happens when due to a mild snoring condition, your girlfriend requests you sleep in another room or risk accidental suffication by pillow?  Enter http://www.simplynoise.com/ .  Last night after being banished to the deathly quiet TV room, I googled “white noise”.  Google suggested I take it a step further with “white noise generator”.  I hit the jackpot on the first click with simplynoise.com.

Simplynoise really is simple.  You can download the white noise, but there really is no need as the site plays a continuous seemless loop of white noise.  You can control the volume and select from three types of noise:

White - the high end static of TV snow

Pink - mid ranged sound similar to a rushing waterfall

Brown - low end whoosh like a fan or air conditioner

Brown was the easy winner for me.  I set the volume, let it ride all night and slept like a baby in an incubator.

A conclusion paragraph normally requires multiple sentences, but in this case I am going to go with the Simplynoise motto: enough said.

Last week a business trip landed me and two of my friends in Marquette, MI.  I was in Chicago literally the day before and words cannot describe the cultural shift.  The locals were unlike any I’ve encountered on this planet.  Our first night at the bar, I met Rosie.  Rosie is a man.  A little man with a goatee and breath that could kill a horse.  So darn likable though.  He insisted he was a lover not a fighter and showed me a newspaper picture of the “best looking man in town”.  It was a picture of him for his engagement and I believe the paper was two years old.  Hold on to that 15 minutes of fame for all it’s worth buddy.

Rosie was the picture of normalcy though, compared to Goggles.  A guy about my age wearing ski goggles, a Panama City jacket and a green beret approached and said I looked familiar.  I told him I get that a lot.  He then asked if we were once comrades.  I asked if this possibly could have been in another life.  He confirmed that, yes, in fact it was.  Apparently we fought side by side in both World Wars I and II, just as we will again in World War III.  I was also relieved to learn that after World War VI there will be three thousand years of peace.  Don’t go liquidating that 401K just yet.

I had yet to see Goggles take a sip of alcohol and was going to ask if he had perhaps smoked an illegal substance, but then he left me and went over to the pool table.  There he and Rosie proceeded to do Kung Fu and somersaults on the floor.  I asked the bar tender if this was normal.  He said pretty much, but also Goggles was off his medication.  When on his meds he was actually a laid back nice guy.  Personally though I was glad Zoloft hadn’t robbed me of  a preview for the next four world wars.  I should make a killing on the spread.

Marquette is not the town that time forgot.  It is the town time never knew existed.  No one even knows what day it is.  We asked the cab driver if there was anything to do that night.  He said Sunday nights were pretty dead.  It was Monday.  I told the hotel clerk we would be checking out in three nights.  She confirmed check out would be Wednesday night.  Actually no that would be Thursday, but it was in the right ballpark.  We met at least three more people who either didn’t know or were a day off.  The scary thing is by the end of the trip we were staring to lose track ourselves.  Eventually it became Thurinesday.

The locals are not without a sense of humor though.  We were informed that although we were from down state, we could become official Yoopers with a simple initiation called the “One Eyed Keith”.  We agreed and the bartender poured Crown Royal into the shot glasses.  No problem as CR is our beverage of choice.  However the shot took a hard left turn when the bar tender placed a pickled egg in each shot glass, then topped it with tobasco sauce.  I asked how does one drink an egg.  They instructed us to do the shot then eat the egg.  We did just that and the egg was suprisingly tasty.  I think the locals were a bit diappointed we didn’t struggle more, but I admit a few minutes later the tabasco made it feel like someone had ripped duct tape off my lips.  The next night we asked other locals if they’d ever heard of a One Eyed Keith, but no one had.  Yup, we got played dere, eh!

On Wednesday night we were going to leave when suddenly Marquette became winter wonder hell.  13 inches of snow and 30 MPH winds prevented us from going five feet in any direction.   We asked the locals what we should do.  One bartender suggested we go surfing the next day.  I asked if he meant snowboarding, but no he meant actual surfing on Lake Superior.  It was ten degrees out but that didn’t stop them from hanging ten.  The bartender’s friend had been slammed into a breaker the day before, but didn’t kill him and even earned him a spot on the morning news.  What is wrong with these people??

Most of the locals told us to just go back to the hotel and “bunker down, eh.”  The thought of another day in this icy prison was unbearable though.  Our saving grace came in the form of a Jimmy John’s employee.  He told us of a secret  highway the state police had not closed off.  We hit the ground running and managed to cross the Mackinac Bridge just hours before the shut it down.  Apparently high wind was swinging it 27 feet.  Best not to think about it now.

If I ever have to go back to Marquette, the first thing I will do is look up Goggles.  The night we met he was out in the parking lot near my friend’s car which has a remote start.  After fifteen minutes of running, the engine will automatically shut off.   However, Goggles informed us that he had in fact shut off the engine with his psychic energy.  I haven’t figured out how to capitalize on this power of his yet, but I know I can make it pay off.  I’ll also be stocking up on pickled eggs to get us through WWIII.

1. Give me a hamburger and I’ll gladly pay you for it on Tuesday.

2. Whenever, Wherever has to be one of my top five favorite Shakira songs.

3. I wish I was a little bit taller and a baller.

4. Rice Chex cereal was the last thing I ate that was utterly delicious.

5. To live in this world you must be able to breathe oxygen and deal with the funky gravity.  It takes some getting used to.

6. Other than this one, http://designbyfirgs.com/blog/ is the last blog I commented on.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to a coma, tomorrow my plans include rocking the Fenton High School 2009 Sadie Hawkins dance and Sunday, I want magic elves to unpack all my things and do my laundry.

IN YOUR SENIOR YEAR DID YOU…
1. Did you date someone from your school?
Only dates I had were next to the raisins in my cereal.

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?
I tried, but Mrs. Wujakowski refused to leave her husband.

3. Did you car pool to school?
No, my car had no back seat. Or driver’s seat. Had a nice passenger seat though.

4. What kind of car did you have?
A red ‘84 Ford EXP. Refused to start in the rain but on a dry day you couldn’t beat it.

5. What kind of car do you have now?
2001 Jeep Frankenstein. The new engine barely has any quirks.

6 Its Friday night…where are you now?
At my parent’s apartment in Chicago. It’s a real party pad!

7. It is Friday night…where were you then?
In the back seat of Mark’s Pontiac. I didn’t even qualify for scrub on the passenger side of my best friend’s ride.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?
The price for the EXP was to “help” my brother with his paper route. Still trying to get the ink stains off my hands.

9. What kind of job do you do now?
I’m a cheese collector.

10. Were you a party animal?
No, I had a very fulfilling social life and had much better things to do with my time. Also I was never invited.

11. Were you considered a flirt?
I had a tendency to throw up when I tried to talk to girls, so I’m going to say no.

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
No, as a fifth string defensive back I was too busy being a jock.

13. Were you a nerd?
HELL NO!!! I was a geek.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?
No, but I did get a detention for wiping a wet folder on a kid’s shoulder. It’s still on my permanent record.

15. Can you sing the fight song?
Go Vikings, win and stuff, we are so very gooder than the other team of opponent guys. (repeat)

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?
Mrs. Burnside, who last month asked me to call her “Patty” instead. Getting old is kind of creepy.

17. Where did you sit during lunch?
With the kids from the Juvenile Home. Guess I just blended with them.

18. What was your school’s full name?
Swan Valley High School. There were no actual swans or valleys in the area, as the school was founded at the height of LSD’s popularity.

19. When did you graduate?
1993

20. What was your school mascot?
Bob the Viking. I think his name was Bob. I admit I never tried to get to know him. If only you could turn back time.

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
I’d rather have my toenails chewed off by rabid squirrels.

22. Did you have fun at Prom?
No, I couldn’t work up the nerve to kiss my date. Should have practiced on a pumpkin or something.

23. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with?
Never, but I hear she kind of went crazy, so that’s cool.

24. Are you planning on going to your next reunion?
Only if I can show up in a helicopter.

25. Do you still talk to people from school?
Both now and then.

26. School Colors?
Purple and white and yellow and some other colors too.

27. What celebrities came from your high school?
Define “celebrities”. I mean if we touch other lives then doesn’t that make us famous in a way that truly matters? Ok, we’ve got jack. So far.

Furry little scene stealers!