Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
I'm
getting an unusually late start with this one, so I wouldn't go around
expecting much. I really wouldn't. But, as they say, time is of the
essence (whatever the crap that means), so let's get right into it....
-- While perusing the itinerary for my California trip next week, I
noticed a small glimmer of hope. Most of my stay will be eaten up with
meetings and standard corporate crapola, but it looks like I'm going to
have a few hours of free time on the day I arrive. It's hard to believe,
but seemingly true.
I'm supposed to arrive at LAX a little after noon, and figure I'll be
checked into my hotel by two. Then there are no known obligations until
dinner that night, at six. That means four big honkin' hours alone. And
my mind has been racing with ways to fill them.
Here's what I've got planned so far.... I'll go for a light (and late)
meal at Frontier Wok, my
favorite lunch destination when I worked out there. Then I'll swing by a
Rite-Aid and pick up a disposable camera, and drive over to Hollywood to
check out Amoeba Records. I've
never been there, mostly because it didn't exist back in the day, and my
sources tell me it's enough to move an aging hipster to tears. I'll have
my Smoking Fish with me the entire time, and will be on high-alert for
photo opportunities as I navigate the fabulous Sunset Strip.
Yes, it has the feel of a perfect afternoon. How much you want to bet
it'll get all screwed up, and none of that stuff will happen? I'll be
moved to tears all right. While sitting in a beige cubicle, sporting a
painful perma-smile. Man, I'm pissed-off just thinking about it.
-- Speaking of the California trip.... One of the big-shots out there
sent an email to the entire company, telling them that my counterpart
and I will be in town on Thursday, and inviting them to have lunch with
us. It said something along the lines of, "This will be a perfect
opportunity to meet and talk with Jeff and Gary, in a relaxed
setting."
I'm getting a sick headache.
-- A few days ago I received an email at work, with the subject line,
"There's no such thing as too much penis." I'm not sure, but I
think it came from Human Resources.
-- And since we're on the subject of
email, I'm still stressin' about the eminent changeover from Adelphia to
Comcast. About a week ago I received an email from the Comcast
overlords, ordering me to choose a new email address. According to the
Frequently Asked Questions, my old Adelphia inbox will disappear almost
immediately, once I've established a Comcast address. And I've got all
sorts of things tied to it.
So.... I've been in a frantic dash to get it all sorted out, and believe
I'm getting there. But, inevitably, I'll forget something vital, and
will soon find myself ratcheted frontways across a davenport. I just
know it.
Why can't they just leave us alone?
-- Surf Reporter Bill sends along this fresh Smoking Fish sighting,
proving once again that our logo not only gets around, but is also
extremely sophisticated and cultured. Thanks Bill! Very cool.
-- Several folks forwarded me the sad news of the passing of Lily Munster
yesterday, and something in the obituary caught my attention. She
reportedly died at the Motion Picture & Television
"facility" in suburban Los Angeles. Do you know anything about
this place? It seems I read somewhere that the actor's union, or
somesuch, set up a nursing home, or old folk's home, or something along
those lines, for aging actors and industry professionals. Any idea who
lives there now? I find this fascinating. (Talk about your Smoking Fish
opportunities!) If you know anything about it, or have any relevant
links, please use the comments section below.
-- I'm just about out of time here.... But yesterday I saw this linked
somewhere, and believe it might be worth a few minutes of your time.
It's a TV news report from 1967, about the "hippies" in San
Francisco, and features an interview with the Grateful Dead, and part of
a performance as well. Good stuff. Harry Reasoner ("Show me an
intelligent sheepdog, and I'll show you a hairy reasoner." -Soupy
Sales) can barely contain his deep, deep disgust. Check it out.
-- And n ow I'm gonna turn it over to our old friend Buck, and drag my
riffled ass into work.
I'm
getting an unusually late start with this one, so I wouldn't go around
expecting much. I really wouldn't. But, as they say, time is of the
essence (whatever the crap that means), so let's get right into it....