Tag Archives: GENIUS!

The Wonderful World of Broadcasting, Episode II

As promised, here is “the rest of the story,” when it comes to the truth behind my ostensibly-glamorous career path.  Let’s see, where were we…

5.  I am essentially slave labor.

Yes, I do get paid (the aforementioned no money)… for my regular job.  But as anyone who has ever been referred to as “talent” can tell you, it don’t stop there.  For example, when I was a TV producer (NOT an on-air job, mind you), I was frequently dragooned into “voicing” in-house commercials and PSAs… for no additional money.  Which translates into “fo’ free.”

All the ads you hear on the radio?  The DJs did them… fo’ free.  Voiceover work is a PAYING job, yo.  But once The Man owns you, sure ain’t he gonna use you.  FO’ FREE.

6.  I have almost no goddamned privacy.

Like it or not, once strangers know your name (even if it’s fake, as mine is and most are), you’re at least a quasi-public figure.  This means your every move – even in your so-called “real” life – can be subject to public scrutiny.  Case in point, I myself have been arrested.  For a nonviolent, victimless misdemeanor that, while infinitely stupid, most of YOU could chalk up as a lesson learned.  But MY mugshot was on the motherfucking teevee… because I was a “public figure.”

Further point, the infamous Chuckweasel and I were once at a baseball game in another fucking state, when someone recognized him by voice alone.  My day-to-day “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” quotient is ABNORMALLY high, mostly just from my voice.  Of course, it gets much worse for my brothers and sisters who are actually on TV – I’ve had friends harassed and even stalked, one to the point where the cops had to come walk her to her car every night.  And you wonder why my avi is a fucking cartoon???

7.  I am consistently undateable.

Yes, yes, part of that is my charming personality.  Bite me.  But a fairly large part of it is the horrible hours I work – part of the appeal of goddamned Chuckweasel was that we had the same butt-crack of dawn shift.

Another part is what the job – the news part – does to you.  I’m fairly callous and unfeeling about just about everything now, and apparently potential partners like someone who at least PRETENDS to have human emotions (huh.  Pussies.).  Fine, Sonny Jim, you watch live Ground Zero feeds all by yourself in the middle of the night for over a week straight and tell me you have fuck one left to give about people’s petty fucking problems.

But I do have some, emotions, that is – which generally come pouring out in an awful cathartic flood when some major can’t-take-this disaster becomes the lead story.  The only way I’ve found to deal with this is to date people who are also in the industry (See Gilbert, the Evil Ogre, and CW).  But this produces its own problems, in that A) You both work ridiculous hours and never see each other; B) You end up in competition for the same jobs and/or C) Your general self-protective disdain for all of humanity extends to each other.

Or you’re just a total bastard who bolts when shit gets real, like someone this blog used to know very well… but I digress.

So, E-Harmony, Match.com… um… J-Date? (note: not Jewish but fascinated by the whole Orthodox thing).  Huddle up, you guys.

I’m a 37 year old news professional who will never work normal hours, make any goddamned money, or give more than half a fuck about #FirstWorldProblems.

A life with me will mean an endless cavalcade of “real” FB pages versus “professional” ones, and even so, strangers will masturbate to the sound of my voice.

Get used to being alone (again) at important family gatherings, and embrace the fact that, while I will seldom shed a tear in relation to our own crises, I am extremely likely to start hysterically bawling over a mine disaster or similar.

I will know the names of our state and local lawmakers better than your family’s.  And I’ll have their cell phone numbers.

 

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Filed under Getchore LEARN on!, Gilbert, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, Reality Bites

Canna Hoody Getta Ho?

(Yeah, I know it’s been awhile, but I’m back now, bitches!  I can’t promise posts every day just yet, but how about we go for 3 times a week and see how she flies?  You know I love all y’all!)

Catching up with Almost Human, and I can’t believe – of all the euphemisms for “android you have sex with,” they use “sex-bot,” “bang-bot,” and “sexual-this-and-that-android” — but they DON’T use “ho-bot?”  COME ON!!! “Ho-bot” is PERFECT!

Maybe you can’t say “ho” on network TV… although one a’them FLDS ho’s said “bitch” on TLC…

Anyhoo, it got me thinking (always dangerous), so I present:

THE ABC’S OF AI

A:  I got nothing.

B:  Bo-bot – drives the General Lee (General Lee sold separately)

C:  Co-bot – works only in pairs

D:  Doh!-bot – Homer Simpson android

E:  Still nothing.

F:  Foe-bot – helps you learn combat skills

G:  Go-bot – duh, an obnoxious Transformers knockoff

H:  Ho-bot – we covered this

I:  Nothing.  Vowels are hard, yo.

J:  Joe-bot – brings you coffee

K:  KO-bot – brings you a Coke (look it up)

L:  Lo-bot – smaller than usual

M:   Mo-bot – pokes you in the eyes and calls you a numbskull

N:  No-bot – acts like your wife OR:  No-No-bot – rips out all your hair

O:  Oh-OOOOH-bot – an homage to Sam Kinnison (RIP)

P:  Po-bot – a homeless android

Q:  Quo-bot – keeps things the same

R:  Row-bot – works in Venice

S:  Sew-bot – Mends your clothes OR: So-So-bot – not really the best available version

T:  Tow-bot – works for the traffic cops

U:  We’re back to nothing.

V:  V.O.-bot – narrator android, possibly sounds like Morgan Freeman

W:  WHOA!-bot – very surprising android

X:  XO-bot – gives you hugs and kisses (cheaper but less satisfying than the ho-bot)

Y:  Yo!-bot – Sylvester Stallone android OR: Yo-Yo-bot – plays the cello

Z:  Best I can do is the Zoe-bot, which is a smokin’-hot African American android that can kick your ass and knows Nathan Fillion

Your turn, Hooligans – fill in the vowels for me or add your own!

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Filed under GENIUS!, Random Thoughts, WTF???, Youse Guys

Like, TOTALLY!

First real day on the new job under my belt, and I’m chillin’ watching this great series on NatGeo:  “The 80’s: The Decade That Made Us.”  So Hooligans, it’s time for...

POETRY SLAM!

We grew up in the 80’s

Hair was big and life was large.

We listened to the Bangles and that freakin’ El DeBarge.

All of us just waiting for an end in fire and flame

We waited for the Commies, and the Commies never came.

Our fathers taught survival, our mothers taught us, too

All the skills they knew we’d need when that ol’ Red Button blew.

But the sirens never sounded and we grew up less than tame

We waited for the Commies, and the Commies never came.

Now we sit here all grown up now,

In our forties (either side)

We realize we’re still breathing long past when we thought we’d die.

Our skills are all but useless and we’re somewhat less than sane

We waited for the Commies, and the Commies never came.

So we crack up in our thousands

Turn to drink and drug and vice.

Our heads still filled with “WOLVERINES!” and that damn Vanilla Ice

Our parents think it’s their fault, but there’s no one left to blame

We waited for the Commies, and the Commies never came.

Now life’s all about the ‘Pocalypse and how we’re gonna die

We listen to the theories and we never bat an eye.

The enemies are different and the world is not the same

We waited for the Commies, and the Commies never came.

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Filed under GENIUS!, Getchore LEARN on!, I Rule You, La Vida Loca, Random Thoughts, Weep for Humanity

Hey, Dumbass!

Well, it seems Hoody Hoo’s Help for Hebrews isn’t taking off as the big successful  get-rich-quick scheme humanitarian effort I was hoping it would be… so I’m forced to make me some damn money help others in another way.

Ladies and Gentlemen… the Dumbass Alert.

This will be an app for one’s phone which will alert one to the fact that one is being a dumbass.  It originated when Dear Sweet Mama got the same book out of the library that she had just turned in… because she thought it looked good.  And I told her, yes, it DID look good, that’s why you got it the first time… dumbass.

So the Library Function is first:  I need to be alerted if I go to check out a book I have checked out within the past 3 months.  This will also prevent me thinking I’m smart because I “figured out” who the killer was when I actually just remembered it.  Not that I’ve done that…

Next, the Grocery Function:  This prevents me from buying excessive amounts of… let’s say, ketchup… because I always think I’m out of ketchup whenever I’m at the store.  Again, not that I’ve done that…

But in case you didn’t know, there really aren’t that many good recipes that use massive quantities of ketchup…

Now, I just needs me a nerd to make this App for me (I’m not that kind of nerd, unfortunately – I’m more of an Amish nerd.).  And no, it’s NOT free, that would set my own Alert off, now wouldn’t it?

 

 

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, GENIUS!, La Vida Loca, SCIENCE!

Veni, Vedi… Just Me?

Trapped on the couch, watching crap TV while DSM and the Concubine carry my head cold germs to the rest of the family, I have discovered something potentially disturbing about myself, dear Hooligans.

I have never seen a Saw movie… ’cause that shit seems logical to me.

The series is all about, “I locked your dumb ass up and fed the key to this motherfucker right here and you have to cut him open to get free,” right? That type of shit?  See, I’m fine with that.

I was just watching the true crapfest that is American Horror House (horribly acted, horribly scripted, but nice sfx and good that Morgan Fairchild got some work) and it occurred to me that I would never end up like Stupid Girl Trapped On The Third Floor With Stupid Boy.  Y’see, they only had 10 feet of rope, so they were all, “Oh, noes, we can’t get down with that!” But I happen to know that human intestines are MUCH longer than 10 feet… in fact, you could probably double those suckers up and rappel like a Green Beret!

Plus, Stupid Girl had only just met Stupid Boy, so he’s nothing to her.  Well, nothing but a Meat Ladder (patent pending).  It might be harder if you actually KNEW Stupid Boy, but I doubt it… he is, after all, STUPID.  And my sense of self-preservation is finely-honed, y’all — if ANYBODY’S takin’ this bitch out of the game, it’s gonna be me… and I ain’t nowhere NEAR done yet!

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Filed under At the Movies, I Rule You, SCIENCE!, WTF???

Just In Case

Although a very dear friend in Singapore tells me it’s End of the World Day there already and… well, they’re still there, there are also people saying the Mayan ‘Pocolypse isn’t scheduled until around 6:20 am EST… So, in case we all die, I leave you with some wisdom.  ‘Cause I’m all like Yoda n’ shit.

1.  Dear Sweet Mama and I have half-assedly made up through our own stupidity DISCOVERED a brand new word.

“Alacricity” <Ah-lah-KRISS-uh-tee>. Noun.  1.  The instant of intense pain and shock you feel when your Crocs completely acceptable shoes (for douchebags) set off the static electricity while you are fondling price tags at TJ Maxx trying to cure cancer.  2.  The exact moment at which a food becomes manky (i.e., unfit to eat).  Example:  “I threw out those glazed donuts due to the alacricity of their icing.”

2.  When I first moved in with DSM and The Concubine, I pissed and moaned expressed my concern over their habit of leaving the blinds open during the day, due to my own habit of being without pants.  DSM said I would “get used to it.”  I have not, but I presume the neighbors have “gotten used to” not looking in this direction.

3.  I am considering making the infamous Broccoli Stuff to take to our friends’ house for Christmas dinner.  My conundrum is this:  Given the potentially-deadly nature of Broccoli Stuff, is giving it to other people an act of friendship or an offense outlawed by the Geneva Convention?  Discuss.

Love to y’all, and if the End Times ARE upon us, remember, the new East Coast rally point is Joisey!

HH

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, GENIUS!, Getchore LEARN on!, I'm Confused, Random Thoughts, Things I Don't Know, Youse Guys

Two Kinds of Hell

Well, as we all know by now, if the Christian version of Hell actually exists, I?  Is going to it.  But now, I may be adding the Jewish version (Sheol?  I think that’s it, but Catholic education can be rather sketchy in that area).  I present my latest money-making scheme humanitarian enterprise:

Hoody Hoo’s Help for Hebrews.

Shut up!  Having moved to an area with a lot (and I do mean a LOOOOOOOOOT — as in, everyone at the DMV and the library and whatnot except me and Dear Sweet Mama) of really really Orthodox Jews (the ones who wear all black and have the curly sideburns — also known as “Hairdo Jews”) I think there’s a market being overlooked.  Y’see, your really really Orthodox Jews aren’t supposed to do any kind of work on the Sabbath – i.e, sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday.  And “work” means ANY work — from balancing the checkbook to mowing the lawn to (for the really really REALLY Orthodox) opening and closing doors.

I, being a gawddamned heathen, can open my doors WHENEVER.  THE FUCK.  I WANT.  Not that I’m sitting home nights doing that, but if I wanted to, I could, and Jesus wouldn’t get mad.  So, I will hire myself out to go around to Jewish households on Friday and Saturday, doing crap they forgot to do until it was too late.  Although our new oven came with a feature called “Sabbath Timer” so it would turn on the oven FOR you Saturday evening, but then who’s gonna get that roast OUT for you, Moishe?  Better call Hoody Hoo’s Help for Hebrews.

And I’ve already begun my international incident good works.  Just yesterday, I was in the convenience store and one of the middlin’-Orthodox Jews came up (he was wearing all black including a black yarmulke but he had no sideburns).  And he wanted the Pakistani clerk to give him a quarter for his 2 dimes and a nickel when he opened the cash register to take my money.  But I was using a debit card (cash money is SO 90’s), so he would have been out of luck, but I remembered I DID have some loose change in my pocket.

Unfortunately, I had already begun the quarter-giving process when I remembered:  He can’t touch me, I’m unclean.  But I (sort of) saved the day by giving the quarter to the Pakistani clerk, who then gave it to the quarter-needing Jew, who then passed the 2 dimes and a nickel back to me, again via the clerk.

Although, I am a little pissed off now.  I mean, apparently that whole interchange means a possible Muslim is less unclean than I am, simply because he’s male.  I get it:  goyim, shiksa even, soooo unclean.  And I was on my period, so triple-threat.

But how could he have known that?

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, GENIUS!, I'm Confused, Jesus and Pals, La Vida Loca, WTF???