Long Night

Emily Goorsky had me testing my absolute limits of pain endurance last night. She was New Orleans bound on a flight scheduled to arrive at 2300 (that's 11 PM for you non-military folks). A flight which would ultimately touch down in the Big Easy at just half past 2 (again folks that's 2 AM). I had awoken that morning to a warm cup of joe and a nice talk with my father on the deck we built with our bare hands. It was a crisp and chilly morning made for relaxation. That was at 7 AM - a full 15 hours before I realized I officially hated the aerospace industry and the word "delay." So fast-forwarding through my busy day we stop and find myself at 1 AM, slightly amused at Jimmy Fallon's attempts to make me laugh. Taking in the NBC line up that night waiting for more and more word on Emily's flight, I watched the amazing Jay Leno, the unstoppable Conan O' Brien, the previously mentioned Jimmy Fallon, and a whole 19 seconds of Carson Daly. Yes, I made it 19 seconds into Last Call with Carson Daly and to the extent of my knowledge those are the only 19 seconds of that show which exist. My logic being that NBC, the prime time leader with such amazing shows like Seinfeld, Parks and Recreation, The Office, 30 Rock, and The Tonight Show, could never endorse such a painfully disastrous attempt at comedy. The worst part of the program is that Carson acts as if he has fans. He boldly looks into the camera and pretends that his audience consists of actual followers rather than a horde of insomniacs who are tired of infomercials. He tells the same jokes made earlier by Leno, O' Brien, Letterman, Ferguson, and Fallon. He covers the same things you have heard three times already that night, and he does it poorly.

For those 19 seconds I blamed Emily. Not only did the third of a minute I spent tuned into that terrible show down right suck, but it sucked all the happiness out of my sleep deprived body.

Then I went to the IHOP, ate pancakes and got all that happy back. And most importantly, I forgave Emily.

And had pancakes. I did mention that right?

They were awesome.

The Audition

This is a short essay I wrote two years ago. I really liked it so I thought I'd share...

I sighed heavily as I wiped my sweaty palms against my starch clad khakis and my half-tucked in dress shirt wondering where Lindsay was. We had planned and agreed to meet together at three o'clock, yet my watch's hands read a dreadful four fifteen. I had complied every single excuse I could in my head to help explain her absence. Shifting my weight on the tattered theatre's chair, staring at the musty, stained, and yet strangely eloquent carpet I let my mind continue to race and search for answers concerning Lindsay's location while I should have been concentrating on my audition. Finally, I heard my name called out in an echoing screech as the director turned to see me there shuffling as I admired the fresh coat of polish on my shoes...

I looked up in a swift moment to be sure it was actually my turn, when I realized it was I swallowed hard and stood tall. All eyes were on me as I smiled warily forgetting about Lindsay and her lack of punctuality. It was my time; I had to impress them with my wit – for it was the only weapon I had in my arsenal of talent. As my heart began to pound in my chest, I made my way to the stage filled with anxious fear, a reputation of comedic genius knotted around my neck weighing me down causing timid inhibitions. I passed the director's table and gave her a faint smile as she peered at me through the spectacles perched ever so carefully on the tip of her stout nose. The steps of the stairs met my feet one by one until I reached the peak and proceeded to take my rightful spot on center stage. The blanket of light illuminating the black painted stage warmed my entire body in an instant reminding me of where I was, causing my adrenaline levels to rise, and making me utter my first word.

"Hi," was all I could get out at first. Then, realizing they wanted more, I opened my mouth again totally unprepared. I was stuck at a point most people fear their entire lives. I was at the pinnacle of terror, the height of fear, the absolute chief point of chaos. I was frozen on stage. For those few seconds I was standing looking of toward the now visible and vacant balcony totally forgetting about my situation. My mind began to race. Thoughts were streaming in and out of my mind's headquarters searching desperately for an answer, a solution, perhaps even a vague topic. I didn't think of my lack of preparation, I didn't think of where in the world Lindsay could be, I didn't think of the jokes pooling in my drifting conscience earlier… I thought of my shirt.

"You see, I have never really been to an audition before and I really wasn't sure if it were more formal, casual, corporate Fridays or what. So I went wit the 50/50 tuck. It's always really worked for in those sticky situations where you're not sure what is exactly appropriate. It's not to up and it's not to down – I call it the perfect look suitable for all of those pesky 'unsure occasions.'" The following laughter was all I needed to complete the short witty monologue I had begun. Before I even realized it I had the entire audience feeding hungrily off of my every whim.

When my brief speech was finished I beamed a smile out to my spectators heading down the stairs and listening to the applause fade. After reaching the floor again, I slid my hands into my pocket ever so smoothly and gave a wink to my future director. Finding a seat near the front I once again sat down acknowledging all of the "thumbs ups" directed in my direction. Leaning back with the utmost confidence, I grinned mystically not wondering about how I did, what I would tell Lindsay, or what they thought. Instead, all I could think of is how I got the part.

Blogo Numbero Uno

BLOG (n.) - a Web site that contains an online personal journal with reflections, comments, and often hyperlinks provided by the writer; also : the contents of such a ...

This is what a blog is according to Webster. Note the ellipses. This is where I got bored of reading the definition. I like what Shakespeare said about blogging, "Blogs are cool."

No kidding he said that. Or maybe he didn't but who cares? You aren't reading his blog are you? You're reading mine - at least I hope you still are.

Wait? You are? Well then I guess I should get to the point then shouldn't I? As my first post I think this is a great time to let you - the reader - and hopefully soon to be my faithful reader - let you in on my intentions. I plan to write here at least three times a week, maybe more, maybe just three, but we'll see. I will write about this and that - occasionally post old works of mine - and always maintain the highest sense of responsibility to my reader. And that is to be funny, or entertaining, or at least amusing... Yes, I would settle for amusing. Anyways - without further ado - Welcome to my blog. The pumpernickel pickle.

PS I just totally made that up.