We’ve Only Just Begun

/ Tim

In January, our beloved companion of more than 10 years, Abby the boxer, decided she couldn’t deal with another Minnesota winter and checked out. Four months later, I still think about her and miss her every day. In the days and weeks following Abby’s demise, Michele and I did a few things that would likely seem silly to anyone who hasn’t faced the death of a longtime pet. Michele put one of her blankets in a zipped plastic bag, sealing in her scent. I packed up most of her toys even though we planned to adopt another dog. I guess we were just trying to do whatever we could to keep her around.

About a month ago, we adopted Zoe. Like Abby, she’s a reverse brindle boxer. However, Zoe’s personality is very different. Abby was motivated by treats. Zoe is motivated by affection. Abby loved licking my feet. Zoe isn’t really into feet. Abby’s lifelong goal was to pee on every square inch of the nearest park. Zoe rarely marks anything outside of our yard. 

Getting to know Zoe’s personality quirks has made the past several weeks a lot of fun. And even though I know someday I’ll probably find myself packing up her toys or sealing up one of her blankets, every minute between now and then will make the eventual sadness and grief worthwhile.

People Say the Dumbest Thing

/ Tim / 2 Comments

This afternoon, I heard someone say, “Rock on, crouton.” It remained the stupidest thing I heard today for all of 10 seconds, when the same person responded to a comment about killing two birds with one stone by saying, “Or we could kill two stones with one bird.” In the words of David St. Hubbins, “It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever.”

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

/ Tim

With a rather nice, spring weekend finally upon us, my mind has become increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of summer vacations. As luck would have it, we are planning three getaways in the next three months. That’s a pretty good ratio.

In a few weeks, we will make our triumphant return to Atlantic City, a hoppin’ town we previously visited two and a half years ago. During that trip, we saw Bruce Springsteen perform from the second row, strolled the boardwalk and donated a few dollars to some of the nation’s finest gaming corporations. Unfortunately, it was a rather short trip, and Michele missed an entire day of fun after coming down with the bottle flu. This is her chance for a “do over.” 

Next up is a quick road trip to Oklahoma to visit Michele’s parents. The last time we visited was 1996, so I guess we’re a tad overdue. Our plan calls for a full day of driving followed by a day of visiting and enjoying all that Salisaw, Okla., has to offer (which shouldn’t take more than about 15 minutes). Then we’re turning around and heading back, dividing the drive home over two days. We’re planning to spend one night in Council Bluffs, Iowa, because it would be a waste to skip our chance to put in a few quality hours playing video poker at the Harrah’s location closest to our home. I also anticipate several stops at Sonic during our journey.

Finally, in August we’re going back to Las Vegas. With the Podcast Expo Portable Media Expo New Media Expo finally moving from Ontario, Calif., to the promised land, it has suddenly become a must-attend event. We’re hoping to finally get to meet some of the podcasting friends we’ve only known through e-mail, Twitter and, of course, their shows. There’s been a little talk of some sort of live Las Vegas podcast super event. Sounds fun as long as I don’t have to plan it. 

So that’s the summer. My only worry is that it will be over far too quickly.

Come for the Pie, Stay for the Pie

/ Tim / 1 Comment

I’m a fan of all-you-can-eat restaurants. Stuffing one’s gut with endless amounts of food is as American as fake boobs, bottled water and SUVs. When I was a kid, trips to Shakey’s Pizza for slice after slice of pepperoni, sausage and Canadian bacon were a special treat. As an adult, I find great joy visiting the finest buffets in Las Vegas. There’s something that feels so right about something as wrong as eating to the point of near illness—for one relatively low price.

Unfortunately, the all-you-can-eat concept is spinning out of control. The first sign came during spring training, when the Minnesota Twins began promoting an all-you-can-eat section at the Metrodome. For $33, baseball fans can enjoy as many hot dogs, nachos, peanuts, pretzels, sodas and bags of popcorn as they can stand. Although engaging in this gluttonous display may bring some joy to the act of watching Carlos Gomez strikeout three times in one game inside a stadium that feels more like a Home Depot than a ballpark, I object. If you’re a true sports fan, you should be drowning your sorrow in giant plastic cups of Budweiser—not eating a baker’s dozen of Dome Dogs.

Even dumber is the latest promotion at Baker’s Square—a Midwest chain of family diners with substandard food and even worse service. The only redeeming thing about these joints is the pie. And apparently the restaurant chain’s brain trusts realize this. Last month, several BS locations in the Twin Cities painted their front windows with giant ads promoting all-you-can-eat pie for $5.99. How much pie can one person eat? It’s pie. I can’t imagine any scenario where someone would be inclined to down more than two—maybe, just maybe, three—slices. 

Somebody please stop this trend before people are lined up at McDonald’s for all-you-can-eat McRibs.

My Finest Hour

/ Tim / 2 Comments

When I was a Prince fanboy in the mid-’90s, I sometimes amused myself by crank calling 800-NEW-FUNK, the Paisley Park phone line for ordering CDs, t-shirts and a wide variety of products prominently adorned with the symbol he was then using as his name. Not content to keep this amusing hobby to myself, I recorded the calls on my answering machine to share with friends. As luck would have it, I came across that old answering machine in my basement this afternoon. The tape containing a few of my masterpieces, although somewhat distorted with time, still played. Ten years later, I’m still amused.

Gem number one came shortly after Prince appeared on The Essence Awards, performing a bastardized version of his 1987 song, “The Cross.” Because he was going through one of his many religious awakenings, he changed the song to “The Christ” and preached during the song’s introduction about how Jesus didn’t die on a cross. According to Prince, he actually died on a stauros—a wooden stake used for torture or death. This seemed to me like a good time for a phone call.

The second of my legendary New Funk calls came about when Prince packaged New Power Generation, Chaka Kahn and Larry Graham CDs together as the “New Power Pack.”

Finally, my favorite New Funk call was inspired by Larry Graham, legendary bass player from Sly and the Family Stone and Graham Central Station. For some reason, his stage attire at the time was a ridiculous white suit and sailor hat. He was on the Paisley Park payroll at the time, frequently performing with Prince. It seemed to me that New Funk should be carrying a custom Larry Graham clothing line.

And So It Begins

/ Tim

I once considered myself a writer. When asked what I did for a living, I had a nice, tidy response: “I am a writer.” Short, straightforward and simple. After a few years, my job changed. I still wrote, but my title became magazine editor. I liked this title. I felt as though I had accomplished something at the fairly young age of 25. Apparently I did a bang-up job as magazine editor too because after a few years my title changed again. I became communications director. I still put pen to paper on occasion and I still produced a monthly magazine. However, I began spending more time hiring and firing and worrying about countless other tasks that involved spreadsheets and reports and long meetings where little was accomplished.

That brings us to today. I recently received an impressive seven-word vice president title. I suspect the promotion will bring with it even more spreadsheets, reports and long meetings. And even less writing.

So, with that, I begin my quest to become a writer again—not for the title and certainly not for the $9.75 an hour I made when I started. This time it’s all about finding the right words, sharing my neurotic observations and getting some use out of this awesome domain I’ve been sitting on for the past six months. Let’s see where it takes me.