Jeff Kay's Blog, page 25

Predictable Halloween Update: What Are The Scariest Movies You’ve Ever Seen?

Last week I received a $15 credit from Amazon Canada. It was from folks clicking through Surf Report links and buying stuff. And I’m always appreciative, of that. Thanks, guys! Sincerely.

But the Canada credits are sometimes a challenge. It seems like 75% of the stuff I’m interested in buying will not ship the United States, for some unknown reason. Like ballpoint pens, for instance. Or flashlights. Also, they bend you over a couch with their international shipping fees. You can’t use the credit at Amazon dotcom, you have to use it at Amazon dotca. So, the shipping on a CD, or whatever, is sometimes ten bucks or more. Then, when it arrives, you can see that it originated from a place like Binghamton, New York. WTF??

I was enjoying a few adult beverages last night, and decided to figure out a way to spend that credit, which was burning a hole in my virtual pocket. I love nice ink pens, and found one that was priced right. And it didn’t have the DOES NOT SHIP TO YOUR LOCATION disclaimer, which made me optimistic. So, I put it in the shopping cart, took it all the way to the end, and guess how much the shipping was? On a single ballpoint pen? That’s correct, $21. Sweet sainted mother of Jonas Grumby!

I messed around for an hour, without any luck, and was about to throw in the towel. Then I got an idea… How about one of those early HBO movies, on DVD? There are a handful from that era that I absolutely love. Two specifically: Black Christmas and Over the Edge. I’ve been meaning to buy those DVDs for years, and haven’t gotten around to it. They’ll be out of print, before I get off my riffled ass and procure ’em. So: great idea!

Over the Edge, which is a FANTASTIC movie, was priced too high. I could get it cheaper at dotcom, without a $15 credit. But I scored on Black Christmas! It ended up costing me just four bucks and some change. And it’s a new version with all sorts of bonus material, which I’ll watch. Hell yeah. I think I might’ve actually pumped my fist in a douchey manner, right here in the heart of our dining room.

That movie scared the living crap out of me, when I was 13 or 14. It appeared on HBO under the name Stranger In The House. I think they realized, a little too late, that the original title turns it into a Christmas movie. It takes place during the week of Christmas, but it’s not really a Christmas movie. So, it was a tactical error which they attempted to correct, after the fact.

Anyway, I’ve seen it many times and it’s still creepy and highly entertaining. It doesn’t scare me as much as it did in the 1970s, but it scares me a little. And I just love watching it, for some reason. There’s some kind of crazy magic in that flick, that I can’t put my finger on. Beyond nostalgia, which is part of it, of course.

So, I’m pretty excited. I should have it later in the week, and I can watch it around Halloween. It’s the movie that immediately jumps to mind, when somebody asks for the scariest movie I’ve ever seen. I realize it’s not on the same level as The Exorcist, or things like that. But, I can tell you this much… it almost caused a tiny pooplet to make an unscheduled appearance, the first time I saw it.

What movies have scared you the most? Not necessarily the BEST horror movies, but the ones that managed to push some kind of personal button with you? Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’m going to work now. Another week of opportunities awaits!

I’ll see you guys again on Thursday.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

The Pros And Cons Of Our Recent Dinner At Five Guys

On Saturday evening Toney and I had dinner at Five Guys, and it was good. I had a cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, raw onions (as opposed to grilled), green peppers (hell yeah), ketchup, and mustard. Great burger! And we shared a metric shitload of fries. It’s always fantastic, and on Saturday it might’ve been even better than usual. The condiments were expertly distributed, which is rare. Extremely rare.

Another positive: they’re always cranking a classic rock (AOR) station from Sirius XM in there. They play all the stuff you’d expect, but also some semi-obscure gems like this. So, it was definitely a positive experience, overall.

However… there were also some negatives. I know this might be a surprise to some of you, but it’s true.

First of all, I find it to be a tad expensive. Of course, everything is expensive now. If you go to Wendy’s and get a number 1 with cheese, no pickles, and a Coke it’s about eight bucks at this point. That shit’s outrageous. And Five Guys is even worse. Every time I go there a little voice inside my head shouts, “Great God in heaven!!” whenever the cashier gives us the final cost. It’s pricey for an order-at-the-counter hamburger joint.

Also, the floors are really slick for some reason. I always feel like I could fall down in there. I’m practically navigating the place like I’m walking across a frozen lake. It’s not greasy, it’s just the kind of tiles they used on the floor. It’s hard to explain. If you go in with wet shoes, while it’s raining, good luck. Sometimes I find myself standing there ordering, and realize my feet are slowly moving apart. It’s a wonder people aren’t exploding their skulls there on a daily basis.

And their tables are elevated, which bothers me. They used to have normal tables, but now they’re way up in the air. I’m not a fan. For one thing, I’m a portly lad and those stilt-chairs put me in a dangerous position with the center of gravity, etc. I might have to start insisting that we all wear crash helmets while visiting a Five Guys. Sheesh. Plus, I just feel like a giant douche, sitting way up high like that. They still have a few booths, but they’re generally occupied. So, I have to climb a step ladder to eat my super-expensive meal…Whoever came up with that idea should be terminated at once.

They also have two of those touch-screen self-serve soda machines, which I’ve complained about before. Humans should not be offered that many options. They just stand there dazzled, like they’re being hypnotized onstage by a man in a black turtleneck. I have the same problem when I go to buy toothpaste. Is there really a need for a Vietnam War memorial of Crest? I think not. Plus, half of those beef-eating dolts are confused about how the machine even works… They tentatively push on the screen and take a half-step backward, apparently believing something bad might happen. It’s maddening.

However, despite all that… the burgers were great, the fries were good, and we’ll be back repeatedly. Many, many more times. As long as my sluggish heart continues to slog along.

Afterward we felt disgusted with ourselves, and decided to walk along a lighted trail not far from our house. There were a lot of people out there, even though it was pitch black outside. I was surprised. So, we were passing folks coming in the opposite direction, and I realized nobody was saying anything. No greetings, no “How ya doing?!” So, I did about five minutes on how people are not very friendly in these parts, and how it would be different in West Virginia or North Carolina.

Then I announced that I was going to greet every single person, no matter how deep the scowl on their faces. Toney groaned, but didn’t strongly object.

So I started shouting, “How you doing this evening?” Or, simply, “Hello!” Most responded in a normal manner, but a few only responded begrudgingly. One woman continued walking, as if I’d said nothing. It was an interesting experiment, and I think I’ll continue it whenever we walk. I asked Toney for her opinion, after we were finished, and she said, “I’m pretty sure they all thought you were special needs.”

I don’t know what to think about that, but I will not be deterred! I’m going to FORCE people to be human. At least until I get my ass kicked. Please stay tuned.

I need to call it a day, my friends.  I don’t really have a question, unless you guys want to talk about options. Like, in which situations do they offer too many options? And where could they add a few? If you have anything on that, or whatever else jumps to mind, please use the comments section.

And I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

The Worst Things We’ve Ever Smelled, And Some Stuff That’s Not So Bad

A couple of nights ago I was driving home from work and encountered a one-two punch of smells people often complain about, but I kinda like. First, I drove through a construction zone (81 is a perpetual construction zone, on account of the Mexican-style corruption) and got a snootful of freshly-baked asphalt. Good stuff! And as soon as I regrettably exited that flavorful cloud, I drove headlong into a strong skunk bank. Nice! The good fortune just kept on coming.

I sincerely don’t understand why people complain about the smell of skunk. It’s delightful. I wish they made a Yankee Candle based on the scent. Oh, I’m sure it’s a different situation if you get blasted by an undiluted load of the stuff. But out floating in the open air? It’s quite enjoyable. And people complain and complain about it. I think they believe they’re EXPECTED to complain. Because they’re programmed robots, who repeat predictable phrases like “Well, we could use the rain,” “They grow up so fast,” and “Oh, god: skunk!” Right? Right.

Do you have anything like that? Something that society has decided stinks, but you don’t mind at all? Please tell us about it in the comments. The older boy says gasoline. But I’m not on board that particular train. It just reminds me of how little I know about cars, and how I’m not very handy and probably a disappointment to my father and both dead grandfathers… But that’s a whole different thing. We don’t need to get into that today.

I’d also like to know what pops immediately into your mind when you read the phrase “the worst thing I’ve ever smelled.”

I’m not proud of the memory that phrase conjures for me, because I know I’m going to be judged. But I’m a serious journalist (as we all know) and must proceed, consequences be damned. I was driving with an ex-girlfriend, you see, on Interstate 64 in West Virginia. And for reasons I still don’t know, she suddenly just tipped to one side and released something into the cab of my Luv truck that was so pungent and sodden with rotting cauliflower I nearly vomited. It was unbelievable. I’ve never experienced such an instantaneous and stinging assault on my system. It was like teargas or pepper spray, or something.

And here’s the controversial part: if it had just been one of my dumbass male friends who brought forth Satan himself via his fevered bunghole, I would have shouted and rolled down the windows, and a splendid time would’ve been had by all. But I wouldn’t remember it 35 years later. No way. So, the fact that it was a girl made it so much worse.

I still don’t understand what happened that night: Brown Wednesday as it’s come to be known. I guess she thought it would be funny and audacious? Well, it was certainly audacious. I’ll give her that much. Holy mackerel. I probably should’ve driven her straight to Charleston Memorial Hospital for a thorough examination. Something was severely out of balance.

Other “worst thing I’ve ever smelled” contenders:

A section of highway between Los Angeles and San Francisco where there’s an abundance of slaughterhouses. The smell would literally make me gag and wretch.

Also, the valley where I grew up was loaded with chemical plants. They were owned and operated by Union Carbide, Monsanto, Dow, Dupont, etc. and the smells those places emitted on a daily basis were often disgusting. Not always, some of it was quite nice, but often. It would also eat the paint off the interstate bridges, but it was nothing to worry about. It was all perfectly safe. They told us so.

Finally, any kind of male cologne makes me gag. It’s gross. I don’t want to smell a man, thank you very much. I’ll go with skunk any day.

What do you have on these subjects? Anything? Please share in the comments section. And I’m going to work.

I’ll see you guys again on Monday.

Have a great weekend!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

A Few Quick Things, vol. 44

I think all my references are officially out of date. It feels like 80% of them are Seinfeld-based, which went off the air in 1998. But even the ones that aren’t from that show are pretty old. I was ranting at work a few days ago, for instance, and said, “Who do they think I am, Kreskin?!” Everybody just looked at me. And yesterday I asked the younger boy if he wanted to go to Arby’s for lunch. He declined, claiming it’s not healthy. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jack Lalanne,” I replied. He had no idea who I was talking about, but could tell by all the hand-waving and my expression of deep disgust what I was getting at. And while he was rolling his eyes and preparing to walk away, I added, “They have the meats, goddammit.”

So, there you go. At least that last one was fairly current. But I fear I’m viewed as a creature from a different era most of the time. When I was in Atlanta I worked with a lot of people who were roughly ten years older than me, and their dated references (“Land shark!” “Lighten up, Francis” “Well, excuuuuuse me!”) annoyed the shit out of me. Today my freshest references are generally 20 years old: probably older than the ones they were using in Atlanta. It’s disturbing. How did this happen??

I finally got a new passport photo yesterday, at Sam’s Club. It cost $4.97. The post office charges $15.00, and the one I got from AAA was $7.50. But that thing made me look like a bloated corpse they fished out of the Kanawha River. Before we got started yesterday I informed the young lady with the camera that I would need to approve the final photograph, and she said no problem. The hard woman at AAA would not allow any do-overs, but this girl seemed much more agreeable.

The first shot was not good. I looked like I’d polished off a cheese-lovers pizza, and was now experiencing catastrophic brick wall constipation. But the second one was better, and I reluctantly gave her the go-ahead. The problem: you’re not allowed to smile, or even smirk. And the lighting is horrific. Everybody comes away looking like something out of Re-Animator. And I’m going to have to live with this crap for ten years? Toney was trying to convince me to just go with the river cadaver photo, but I wouldn’t do it. I mean, seriously.

Speaking of healthy eating, I was in McDonald’s a few days ago and ordered a Quarter Pounder with cheese, no pickles. The portly lass in the petroleum-based pullover entered the info into the database, and said, “So, are you allergic to pickles?”

What do you think about that? Was she making me justify my order? Or was she telling me there’s a very good chance I’m getting pickles anyway? Perhaps she was merely curious? I’m not sure, but it annoyed me a little. Ya know? Am I too tightly-wound, or would that irritate you, as well?

Also, are some people actually allergic to pickles? I’ve never heard of such a thing.

I don’t feel great, my friends. I don’t sleep very well. I go for about four good hours, then fade in and out for the remainder of the session. I’m never completely rested. Maybe I need more exercise? Yes, that would almost certainly help. Also, I could drop fifty pounds. That wouldn’t hurt, either. It sucks.

Have you ever had trouble sleeping? How did you fix it? I’m not climbing into scuba gear before bed, thank you very much. And the thought of going to one of those “sleep clinics” freaks me out, for some reason. Somebody watching (filming?) me sleep? That’s weird, man. Especially if there’s audio. It would probably turn into some kind of underground party tape or something.

Any problems with sleep? Please tell us about it. I used to walk around in my sleep when I was a kid, but that stopped back when Kreskin was still a reasonable reference. And I used to dream (I guess) that I was awake and completely paralyzed. It was terrifying. I’d lie there trying to move, my heart hammering in my chest. Thankfully that also hasn’t happened in many years. Not a fan.

I need to go now. I’m not completely satisfied with this update, but my brain isn’t functioning very well. I’m just going to have to go with it, and try again next time.

Have a great day, boys and girls.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

I Think I Might’ve Killed Petty, A Car Wash Mini-Crisis, And How Do You Listen To Music These Days?

It was an emotional roller coaster for your corpulent correspondent on the day Petty died. When I arrived at work folks were talking about it, and I thought it must be a Facebook hoax. Right? People get sucked into those things all the time, ’cause they’re gullible and douche-infused. So, I did not react… walked to my desk… and began doing some shaky-hand investigatin’. And it was not good news, my friends.

At first they said he’d had a heart attack and was in critical condition. Then he was brain-dead and they were pulling the plug. Then he was all-the-way dead. Then he wasn’t anymore. Then he was gone for good.

The news hit me fairly hard. It was upsetting. The death of Prince was surprising, because he was so young and supposedly clean-living. And Bowie was a shock. But the sudden death of Tom Petty was the hardest to take of all the recent rock deaths. For me, anyway. I realize he was 66, but he seemed perpetually young. And check out the right-on-the-money opening paragraph in this Variety magazine tribute. It’s true. There’s nothing not to like about the man. He was unpretentious, consistently great, and relevant for 40 years.

In any case, I think I might’ve killed him, and feel terrible about it. This is a summary of my 2017 Tom Petty activity:

I launched what I called Project Petty and purchased every one of his studio albums on CD — in order of original release date. I owned a handful of his mid-period albums, from my days at WEA, but had none of the early CDs, or anything that was released after 2002 or so. I owned the early stuff on LP years ago, but never CD. The Project caused me to listen to more Tom Petty music in a tightly-compacted amount of time than during any other period of my life. And it helped me to get reacquainted with this often-overlooked gem. I didn’t realize it a year ago, but it’s one of my favorites.

I read this excellent biography and learned a lot of stuff I didn’t know. Highly recommended.

I watched this four-hour documentary on Netflix, also excellent. So many great scenes… One of the most memorable is when he’s blasting some record company weasel for not respecting Roger McGuinn enough. Tom Petty was a badass. If you haven’t seen the movie, and have an interest, don’t hesitate. It’s really great.

And finally, I went to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers perform in Philadelphia, on July 1. Just three months — almost to the day — before his death. Here’s a newspaper review of the show. I’d seen them once before, at the Lakewood Amphitheater in Atlanta. But this time I was fully invested, and far more sober.

So, you see, I’m thinking it might be my fault. Maybe I concentrated too much on Tom Petty this year, and it was like the sun shining through a magnifying glass, and poor Tom was the ant? Or something? …And how’s that for making it all about me? Good stuff. I should be a Facebook star!

Yesterday afternoon I went to the car wash at Sheetz, and was briefly thrown into a crisis situation. It was a warm and sunny day, so the car wash was hopping. I got in line and decided I would go with the $7 option, as soon as I reached the front o’ the queue.

After about fifteen minutes I was up-next, and paid with my debit card. I big redneck pickup truck went into the hurricane box in front of me, and the glass doors closed on both ends. And as I sat there waiting, I could see the guy maneuvering his vehicle even after the washing sequence had begun. Wotta shithead, I thought, but didn’t put too much emotion into it.

Eventually the door on the other end opened, and the truck exited. But the rear door, in front of my hood, stayed closed. What the? Then a receipt came out, saying my $7 had been refunded. And on the screen it now said ‘Car Wash Closed. Come Again.’ There were cars piled up behind me, the door was closed in front of me, and I couldn’t open my driver’s door because I was up against the payment station. I felt a slight twinge of panic. I was trapped, and claustrophobia was starting to kick in.

I picked up my cell phone, and called the Sheetz store. But it just rang and rang and rang. What the hell, man?? Would I have to call 911? Or maybe the Coast Guard? I hoped I wouldn’t snap and start trying to kick the windshield out.

Then, through the glass I could see a blurry lesbian messing around inside the car wash. I honked my horn, but it didn’t appear she’d noticed me. She meandered around, with no sense of urgency, and finally made her way to my window. “What did you do?” she asked, in an accusatory tone. Huh? I didn’t do anything, Chaz Bono. “Well, you’re going to have to wait until it reboots,” she sighed. Like I was being pushy about it. I’d said almost nothing. And car washes boot up? Who knew?

Finally the door opened, and she pointed what looked like a TV remote toward the interior. “I gave you the $12 wash for free,” she said, and walked away. There was no apology, or even a hint of humanity. Except for the freebie, I guess. She was not very friendly. Oh well.

The wash itself was pretty eventful. I’d never gone with such a high-dollar option. All kinds of shit was happening, for a long time. And at the end there was a sustained blast of air so powerful I thought my little car might tip over on its side. It was one hell of an automatic wash.

And today it rained. Pass the beer nuts.

Before I call it a day here, I’d like to know how you listen to music. I have a shelf stereo in the bunker here, but the CD player stopped working years ago. So, I’ve been using an iPod Classic, one of the big 80 gig models. I have a docking station, and run it through the stereo. It’s worked fine forever. But now the iPod is dying. It holds a charge for roughly 30 minutes, and the docking station no longer charges anything. So, I have a shitty situation on my hands.

I’ve been looking at stereos, but they’re few and far between. I was in Best Buy yesterday, and there was an old man employee who walks on a radical tilt harassing me the whole time. So, screw it. It appeared they only had about three or four stereos to choose from, anyway.

So, how do people listen to music in 2017?? The mp3, which destroyed the industry in which I worked for 20 years, is now as out of fashion as the wax cylinder. I can’t keep up! Seriously. Through what kind of apparatus do you listen to music? And it’s all streaming now? I’m very skeptical. We’re at the absolute mercy of a centralized database? What if they decide the Fleshtones or the Hoodoo Gurus are not worthy anymore? I’m just done at that point? Plus, every asshole who pays $9.99 per month has access to the same music library as me? I don’t like that, at all. I’ve spent my entire adult life amassing an amazing collection. Now everybody’s on an even playing field? Fuck that.

How do you listen to music in 2017? I was going on and on about it yesterday, to the point where Toney had had enough and we got into an honest-to-God argument. She says I’m obsessive, and ridiculous. But I need to know, dammit. I signed up for a trial membership with Spotify, and have to admit it’s pretty impressive so far. Almost like the old “every record ever recorded” bit by Robert Klein. We’ll see how it goes.

I need to go now. I’m getting a little off-track with these updates, but will make the necessary adjustments. Sorry about that.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great day, my friends!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

Have You Ever Had An Asshole Neighbor? Please Tell Us About It!

Last weekend Toney and I were walking through Sam’s Club and passed our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Half-Shirt. And we stared straight into the eyes of pure, undiluted hatred. They can’t stand me, especially, but don’t like Toney either. Sure, it’s easy (and probably prudent) to just say ‘fuck ’em.’ But I have to admit it bothers me a little. I mean, we’re not that bad. In fact, we’re pretty good. We’re quiet and stable, and create no neighborhood drama. We could have a passel of snarling pitbulls over here, and work on our 1984 Caprice in the driveway at all hours, and get credenza-shitting drunk and fight each other on the lawn while cranking the Atlanta Rhythm Section.

But they don’t approve of the fact that I don’t put lawncare at the very top of my priority list. Our yard always looks fine, but there’s is like some kind of showplace. And so, our levels of enthusiasm don’t match-up, which causes problems. He’s one of these guys who practically zig-zags around his backyard during the fall, doing shoulder-rolls and Pete Rose dives as each individual leaf floats toward the grass. We just get to ours as soon as we can, and that makes them INSANE.

Also, years ago they got it into their heads that we were responsible for their basement flooding. They said our downspouts were pointed in their direction, causing rain water to enter their house. I reminded them that the downspouts have been pointed the same direction since 1966. But they would not be convinced. One early morning they called over here and began shouting all sorts of craziness down the line, and I got pissed and ran over there. It was raining, my feet flew out from under me, and I went sliding down the hill on my back. I was wearing Dockers and a dress shirt, and was now smeared in mud from bottom to top. And Mrs. Half-Shirt and I got into a heated argument on their patio. Nothing has ever been the same, even after I paid someone to reconfigure the downspouts, to satisfy their delusions.

It’s been years now, and they won’t even acknowledge us. In fact, they’re fairly hostile. They want it to be known that they hate our guts, and are quite successful in the endeavor. I sometimes find myself altering my driving route, to avoid getting an icy stare from one of them. Other times, depending on my mood, I just smile and wave, and shout, “Top o’ the morning, Halfy!”

Whatever. It’s not a huge thing, and I rarely even think about it. But when you come face-to-face with both of them by an Oreo floor display… it’s uncomfortable. And it bothers me a little. Ya know? I don’t think I deserve to be HATED. Sheesh. I’m about as laid-back and easy as they come. Oh well.

In the comments please tell us about the worst neighbors you’ve encountered. I can’t really remember any other spectacularly bad ones, other than some upstairs apartment neighbors in Greensboro who never stopped copulating. Good god! The frequency… the tempo… the howling…. It was extremely distracting. And that was a million years ago. Do you have anything on this one? If so, please share.

And I need to get moving, my friends.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

Some Tough Losses, and The Worst Places We’ve Ever Been!

A couple of things I loved that recently went away forever:

Half dotcom was a site owned by eBay, where you could buy used CDs, DVDs, and books. I bought roughly a million CDs from them through the years. They were the best, and I just recently purchased a handful of Green Day discs there. I was in one of those frenzies where I NEEDED (a powerful need) to own every album by a specific artist. So, I went to my old standby and completed the task. That was literally a few weeks ago. And now the site is gone! What in the harelipped hell?? It sincerely makes me sad. Sure, I can go to Amazon, but their prices aren’t as good, and their shipping costs are higher. Half has been a part of my life since 1999, I think. And that’s a long time.

Burger King hot dogs were the shit. They were always good — grilled and topped with chili and cheese — but the prices were way too high in the beginning. About six months ago, though, they cut ’em down to about $1.29 each, and that was the sweet spot. I was locked in, goddammit. But the other day I went through the drive-through, placed my standard order, and the woman broke the news to me: they’re gone, and they’re not coming back. She was speaking like we were at a wake. She was aware of my deep, deep fondness, and was very gentle. I didn’t break down, but it was close. There’s a hot dog-shaped hole in the middle of heart.

Another thing I love that’s gone, hopefully not forever:

Toney’s in Myrtle Beach, by herself. I remember a co-worker telling me his wife went to the beach alone, years ago, and I thought, “Well, there goes that marriage.” And I was right. Within six months they were separated, and divorced shortly thereafter. But that’s not what’s going on with me and Toney. We just can’t leave our kids alone for extended periods, on account of the hooliganism. So, we’re going by ourselves. It’s weird, I know. But there’s nothing more to it than that.

I took her to the Allentown airport yesterday morning, drove back to our little town here, had eggs and cheese at Waffle House… and she texted and said she was in Myrtle Beach. It was bizarre. It felt like I’d just dropped her off a few minutes earlier.

Her sister “Nancy” will be joining her on Saturday. We’ll see how it goes. Toney was drinking some ludicrous cocktail at noon today, so I guess she’s having a good time. She also sent me an incredible sunrise shot from the beach this morning. Me? I’m getting ready to leave for work, and will come home to some version of dumbass chaos which will make me insane and I might kick everybody out. Yes, it’s quite a life I’ve carved out for myself.

I knew a hipster girl years ago who insisted that Myrtle Beach is “the worst place on Earth.” She was one of these types. You know? Anything that everyday folks enjoy is automatically stupid? In any case, I’m going to call it a day here with a Question based on her ridiculous statement. In the comments section, please tell us what immediately jumps to your mind when you read the words “the worst place you’ve ever been.” I somehow got lost one time, and ended up in Camden, NJ. And I’m going with that. Holy shitballs! Can you do better than that? Please tell us about it. Keep it to places you’ve actually experienced firsthand, please. And if you have any recent losses to share, we’d like to hear about those, as well.

And I have to go now. Have a great day, my friends.

I’ll see you again on Monday!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

Light Bulbs! Paid Time Off! Huge Pepper Grinders! The Best Sun Porch Builder!

Here’s an excerpt from an update I wrote in early January 2017:

On Christmas Eve I installed a new light bulb in a lamp inside the bunker that will supposedly last for 22 years. Ha! I give it four months. Am I wrong? I have a backup bulb for when it burns out. But I guess I’ll be 76, so maybe my surly nurse can screw it in for me? Oh, she’ll be mouthy, but will have a heart of gold.

Well, I was wrong when I predicted it would last four months. It made it nine months. The box it came in said 22 years! Where did that number even come from? Is it based on anything, or did some whistledick in an exotic land pull it straight out of his speckled ass? Is it even possible for a light bulb to last 22 years? If so, I have a feeling it would cost more than what I paid: 99 cents at Ace Hardware.

A 99 cent light bulb that lasts 22 years would be the worst business model this side of the toothpick industry. Or the dog-eat-dog table salt racket. What everyday things do you rarely need to buy, but are crazy-cheap when you do? Help me out, won’t you? How about shampoo? I go through a bottle a year, maybe. What else?

Speaking of light bulbs, I’ve noticed in old movies (1930s/1940s) general stores, or whatever, sometimes had a screw-in bulb socket right in the top of the checkout counter, so people could test ’em out before they left the store. Apparently a lot of bulbs were duds back then, and were not exactly inexpensive. So, you could twist it in before paying, and confirm you got yourself “a good one.” I don’t know why, but I love that kind of stuff.

But, that’s enough scintillating light bulb talk… I’m off work today, for no other reason than the fact I still have 135 hours of vacation time for the year, and can only carry over 40. I’m running out of daylight, my friends. Maybe I’ll take two weeks in a row? How cool would that be? It would translate to 16 days off, while only using 10. Yeah, they’d never approve that shit. But I might take two full weeks, separately. We’ll see how it goes.

What’s your vacation time situation? I get 144 hours of PTO per year, and 40 hours of floating holiday. We can carry over 40 hours of PTO only. When I left Warner Home Video in 2007 I had 500 hours of PTO, which was the most they’d allow you to have on account. If I wasn’t capped-out, I’m sure it would’ve been higher. It was nice when they paid me for all that, but something got screwed up and the IRS came after us. Years after the fact… So, there you go. What appears to be a silver lining is sometimes a knife blade, waiting to lop your wiener off. Pass the beer nuts.

Over the weekend Toney and I were in a Home Goods store, and they had a pepper grinder that was — I’m not exaggerating — four or five feet tall. I asked her to snap a photo of me holding it, and when she handed me back my phone here’s the precious memory she’d captured. WTF?? Not only is it a mind-boggling failure, in terms of photography, but also wildly unflattering. I just stood there looking at my phone and blinking for a long time. I don’t understand a lot of things, and this is one of them.

Speaking of Toney and vacations… she’s going to fly to Myrtle Beach this weekend, by herself. Remember when I went to Long Beach Island alone, back in May? Well, this is her side of the bargain. It feels a little weird, but she deserves some downtime, that’s for sure. And we still can’t go off and leave these two hooligans alone. Well, we could. But when we returned there would probably be a big black circle on the ground where our house used to be. I wish they’d grow up already. Sweet sainted mother of Cool Papa Bell! But anyway… she’s going to the beach and I’m going to try to keep a lid on this place for a few days. Wish us all luck! Especially me.

There was an insert in yesterday’s newspaper showing the results of a wide-ranging reader’s poll that I did not participate in or even know about. You know what I mean… Best seafood restaurant (Cooper’s), best craft beer selection (Backyard Ale House), best grocery store (Gerrity’s) etc. Most of it’s standard stuff. However, a few of the categories were a little bizarre in my opinion. Like best cancer center. Seriously? And best local sweet corn. What in the hell? Best basement waterproofing? It’s weird stuff, right? How about best sun porch builder? Best drug/alcohol treatment center? Best paving contractor? It’s some of the strangest stuff I’ve seen in the local paper since the Helen Keller fashion show. Or this bizarreness:

I’ve always said this place feels like a foreign country. It is very odd. The people are more cynical and angrier than anywhere I’ve lived. And I feel like it’s either seeping into me, or just the natural progression of a curmudgeonly son of a bitch. Nature or nurture? Who the fuck knows? But Toney and I have a plan to get out. I’m glad we raised our kids here, it’s better than Atlanta or Los Angeles in that regard, but now they’re raised. On paper, anyway. We have no connection to the place, whatsoever. Over the next couple of years we’re going to scope some places out, and make the move southward. We’ll prepare the house for sale, zero in on a specific location, and shake everything up. It’s exciting, just the thought of it. And God knows we’ve done it before. Several times. What kind of changes do you realistically see for yourself between now and, say, 2020? Anything big? Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I’m going to call it a day, my friends.

I have to take Toney to the airport on Thursday morning, so I might not update again until Friday. We’ll see how it goes.

In any case, have a good one!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

Are You A Picky Eater? Who’s The Pickiest Of All Picky Eaters You’ve Ever Encountered?

It’s true that I have a handful of foods I don’t like, and am very vocal about it. But I don’t consider myself to be super-picky. Ya know? True super-picky eaters irritate me, and I don’t put myself in that category. Some things I don’t like:

Mayonnaise  I will never ask for it to be added to anything, but don’t generally ask for it to be excluded either. If I go to Wendy’s, for instance, I just roll with it. However, if it’s oozy and sloppy I’m disgusted and scrape that shit off with a plastic knife. There’s very little subtlety with mayonnaise. It’s seems to be administered with an ice cream scoop, more often than not.

Garlic  Again, I live with it if it’s subtle and just a part of the overall seasoning situation. But that’s rare, as rare as a co-worker you had no idea has unlimited data. It’s almost always the only thing you can taste. And smell. Blecch. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Garlic comes straight from the devil’s window box.

Fast food pickles  These I do ask to be excluded, on account of their nastiness. If I bite into one of those things my lower jaw retracts, as the pre-vomit sequence is launched. I don’t like the taste, and I don’t like the consistency. And the sliminess doesn’t help, either. If I’m in a slightly fancier place, and the pickles are firm and higher quality, I don’t react so violently. But I’ll still peel those bastards off. They’re too dominant, throw off the entire texture profile, and are often garlic-infused. Garlic on a burger now?? We’re very near the end, my friends. I was almost arrested once because of pickles on a Big Mac. I was pulled over, berated by a cop, and given a full battery of sobriety tests. I told him I ordered my burger with no pickles, as God intended, and bit into one anyway. And that’s why my car crossed the center line, and nearly went onto the sidewalk. But he wasn’t buying it. I like sweet pickles, especially with grilled cheese for some reason. But dill pickles can go fuck themselves.

Shrimp  These are simply bugs. We’re supposed to love ’em, because society has decided we do. But I ain’t playing along. You guys go ahead and eat your big plates o’ grub worms, and smile at each other in a knowing manner. I’ll just have a corndog or something. Sweet sainted mother of Conrad Bain!

There’s other stuff, too. Like gyros. I think I’d rather eat one of Andy’s yard crullers. And I’m not really a fan of curry or asparagus. But I generally go along with whatever is on the docket. Toney would surely disagree, but I don’t believe I’m a picky eater. I roll with it, almost always. I just have, you know, several dozen things that are an automatic no. Ha. I’m kidding. Sorta.

The kind of picky eater that annoys me are the ones who can’t have their foods touching each other, or have never tasted common things like tomatoes, or who just simply refuse to roll with it. I can’t accept overpowering garlic, but adapt to almost everything else. Pickles? I just shout the f-word, and pluck that grossness off. It doesn’t ruin anything, it’s just a speed bump on the boulevard of gluttony. Or whatever.

Another thing that irritates me is when people REFUSE to try things they’re unfamiliar with. What are you, seven years old? I’m always ready to try new stuff, but will admit when I don’t like it. I’m not buckling under to societal pressures, goddammit. If it smells like August ass, or tastes like dumpster run-off, I’m gonna say it. Many people won’t.

Do you have anything on super-picky eaters? Do you consider yourself to be one? Who’s the pickiest of all picky eaters you’ve encountered? My brother won’t eat an omelette because he doesn’t like the sound of the word. And I had an uncle who would become nearly physically ill if somebody put cream in their coffee and didn’t stir it. He’d practically do a shoulder-roll with a spoon in his hand, shouting “STIR IT! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, STIR IT!!” He’s gone now, but his legacy lives on.

What items are automatically a no for you? And at what point does that list become the ravings of a picky madman? I’m convinced I’m not anywhere near.

I had no idea what I was going to write about today, but it turned out OK, I think. I hope you guys feel the same.

But I have to go to work now. Good stuff. I’ll see you again on Thursday.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!

Random Nonsense! A Smattering Of Ridiculousness! Jaws 2!

Are there any good frozen meals? I used to partake of the Marie Callender’s offerings, and thought they were very good indeed. Then a switch was flipped, and I didn’t like them anymore. I mean, talk about sodium! Before I was finished with my turkey and stuffing lunch it felt like fluids were starting to build up in my ankles. Sweet sainted mother of Harold Hecuba.

A few days ago I noticed one in the freezer, after a years-long absence, and decided to give it a shot. Pretty good, I must admit. But I know it’s a short-lived proposition. It won’t take long before I’m off ’em again. And I know there’s not really any such thing as a GOOD frozen meal. I realize this; I’m not a complete idiot. But are there any that are surprisingly good? Help me out, won’t you? Sometimes I’m just looking for a quick and easy thing I can pop into the microwave, before leaving for work. Ya know? Steer me in the right direction, my friends.

Yes, I’m offering some of you the opportunity to now lecture me on how easy it is to prepare fresh foods, etc. I’m definitely looking forward to that, as well.

And am I just becoming delicate in my old age, or are car headlights now far too bright? It feels like everybody is driving around with their brights on, at all times. When they’re coming toward me I find myself grimacing and throwing a hand up in front of my face, like a TV detective witnessing a car explosion. An explosion meant for him! But what’s even worse are the cars behind me. The impossible brightness ricochets around inside my vehicle, from mirror to mirror, and it’s a wonder I’m not thrown into a state of disorientation and careen straight through a Shoe Carnival.

What’s going on?! Is there really a need for a military-grade lighting rig to be mounted to every Ford Fiesta and Plymouth Cyst (or whatever)? Hell, when I was growing up, everybody just had two candles for headlights. OK, that’s not true. But it’s gotten WILDLY out of hand, in my opinion. Any thoughts? Have you noticed a change over the past five years or so? It’s outrageous.

Have you ever seen a show on HGTV, called Island Hunters? It’s an offshoot of House Hunters, I think, and features people in the market for an island. A freaking island. Generally, it’s a couple of gay men from an exotic foreign land, who want to open a resort of some kind, and have a budget of $15 million or more. They look at places out in the middle of the ocean with no electricity or anything, and often no structures of any kind. And I sit there thinking: Who’s going to build all this stuff? Where are they going to stay? How are they going to get the materials there? What’s the process for bringing in electricity? It seems like a completely foolhardy endeavor to me, even crazier than those weirdos who buy “tiny” houses. And what’s next? Treehouse Hunters? Houseboat Hunters? Underground Bunker Hunters? Planet Hunters? What’s wrong with, you know, just a house? In a neighborhood? With a reliable lawn service?

Would you ever want to live on a small island, out in the middle of nowhere, with no other inhabitants? That’s the goal of some of the people on that show. They want a place where they will not encounter another human being, ever. I mean, it might sound more appealing to me tonight, after I’ve been at work for a few hours. But… I would have no real desire for something like that. It seems like the pursuit of a madman. Am I wrong? And why do I keep watching crap like this??

A few weeks ago Toney and I had new passport photos taken at AAA. Our passports are about to expire, and it’s cheaper to renew before that happens. However… I won’t allow mine to go forward because the picture is so breathtakingly bad. I know they’re always bad, but this one takes it to a whole other level.

The woman was barking orders at me, telling me to keep my chin down. Further! And no smiling! You’re not allowed to smile! By the time she was done with me, I looked like some bloated double-chin corpse they found bobbing in the ocean. I was howling in protest, but she was not willing to let me have a do-over. She was a hard woman. So, I’m going somewhere else, and just paying a second fee. I mean, there’s NO WAY. I’d be looking at that hideousness for another ten years.

I thought about posting the photo here, but it’s so bad I can’t do it. You guys know I have no problem laughing at myself, but there’s a limit. I mean, seriously. I look like a fat cadaver, who recently died of sadness. I’ll just pay another $15. Gladly.

Finally, I’m watching all four of the Jaws movies on Netflix. They recently added them, and I told Toney I’m gonna watch ’em all. She gave me a look that sarcastically said, “Shoot for the stars!” which was mildly hurtful. But a person has to have his projects, right?

So far I’ve watched the first one, which is great, of course. I’ve probably seen it five times in my life, and twice during the past year. It’s nearly perfect, I think, except for that scene where Quint, the crusty old fisherman, is eaten by the shark. I know it was 1975, or whatever, but it looked like a giant rubber toy flopping around. The special effects were primitive in those days, but they weren’t horrible throughout the rest of the film. That scene, however, is ludicrous. Maybe not Ed Wood-bad, but close. Also, I used to have an issue with the ending. But I’ve made my peace with it. It’s a little comic book ridiculous, but this is Jaws we’re talking about. Not Sophie’s Choice.

And the other night I watched Jaws 2. I’m pretty sure I saw it as a new release, in the theater. But that was in 1978, when I was 15. I remembered nothing about it. I have a sense that I liked it, but you can’t trust the 15 year old Jeff Kay. God knows it’s true. I figured it would be super-bad, but it was better than that. It wasn’t great like the first one, but it was OK. Some of the same actors were back, and the movie was entertaining. The best scene, by far, was when an entire helicopter, with blades whirling and a man inside, is pulled under water by the shark. Man, that’s fantastic. The movie wasn’t bad at all. I keep thinking about it, which means… something, maybe.

I have a feeling Jaws 3 will be an absolute abomination. So, I can’t wait. I also saw it in the theater, as Jaws 3-D. I know it’s terrible, but I’m hoping it will be fun to watch. I have it penciled in for Saturday night.

I’ve never seen the final entry in the franchise, but I think it’s a full-on cartoon by that point. I seem to remember hearing that the shark can read minds by then, and stand up in the water like a fucking cobra. Looking forward to it! Michael Caine stars. For the paycheck, obviously.

I need to get moving, my friends. Another day of “opportunities” awaits.

If you have any opinions on the Jaws franchise, or blockbuster sequels, or movies you loved as a kid and saw again as a seasoned adult, please tell us about it in the comments. I asked some other questions above, as well. I can’t remember what they are, but I’m pretty sure it happened.

Have yourselves a great weekend!

I’ll be back on Monday.

Now playing in the bunker

Support us by doing your shopping at Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you guys!