Uncle Nico's Audition Tape

Blind dates ...

2009-02-20T09:30:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I posted, mostly because Theo and I have been working towards our podcast which starts today (fingers crossed). But with Valentine's Day in the rearview mirror, I meant to post probably the greatest example of why people shouldn't go on blind dates, or at least do online dating. I mean I have tried it with great results, but there are also the bad ones.

29 dimensions indeed.

It can always be worse ...

2009-02-05T08:56:00.002-08:00

It's hard meeting people. Several of my friends have lamented to me in the last week how hard it is for them on the "dating scene." We've all been there. But then there is this guy.

What do his bros say to him when he strikes out with a girl? I'd like to think they say at least one of the following things:

1. At least she said she enjoyed you in "Fantastic Four." You're like a celebrity.

2. She wasn't attractive. Trust me, if you could see through that thing, you'd know. You dodged a major bullet.

3. I told you, you should have shaved.

One in the Boot

2009-02-02T08:19:00.000-08:00

In Australia, they call trunks 'boots.' In America, we call butts 'trunks.' There's no correlation there, but if you want to get technical, then technically Australians store their groceries and luggage in their ass.

Anyway, it was a fun weekend that saw Headfoot laugh in a stranger's face because he was bored by what he was saying. He also had 37 cocktails in one sitting and tried to order a pair of British Knights off the Internet. I played frisbee golf for the first time and may have torn my rotator cuff.

Frisbee golf is basically what hippies do for fun when there's not a music festival nearby or a van to hang out in. They play shirtless, wearing jeans, and carrying bottles of cheap beer that, I'm pretty sure, you can't carry around a public park. They stare at you for not being shirtless or having facial hair just on your throat. And they don't really talk to one another as they go from hole to hole. (That's what she said.) They more or less, just stagger around, scratch their throat-beard, stare up at the sun for several minutes, and then look around like 'how did I get here, and what do I do with this strange disc?'

They are really polite, however. Just this morning, I saw one of them offer to put a woman's groceries in her ass for her.

Friday, January 30, 2009

2009-01-30T09:51:00.001-08:00

Nothing like a little break from blogging to recharge the batteries. You take a week off and it becomes almost three years.

I'm writing this from inside the bowels, and I do mean bowels, of my office. I have no windows so I can't tell you what the outside world looks like. But I have a plan to fix that.

Every day, I dig a little bit out of the walls with a small hammer. I hide the hole behind a large poster in my office. The warden, I mean boss, suspects nothing. In about 15 years, I will have dug a tunnel to the outside world thereby gaining my freedom.

Meanwhile, we celebrated the birthday of a good friend/co-worker of mine who turned 62 yesterday. Yes, I have 62 year old friends, what of it? Anyway ... as I near the monolith of turning 30, I admired her for her energy and vitality yesterday. She wasn't worried about a number or getting older.

Then again, she takes about 23 pills a day for various reasons, so maybe I should enjoy 29 while I can.

Facebook N.A.R.C.

2006-02-08T12:29:00.000-08:00

I'm 26, which I don't believe is in the least bit old. But, it's becoming painfully obvious that in some instances, I am too old for things. The ball pit at McDonald's, the top part of the shopping cart where kids sometimes ride, and floaties in the swimming pool ... all things I've become too old for. And I'm okay with that ... except for the floaties part, because part of me still believes there is an actual shark in the swimming pool with me.

But I think by 26 you've also outgrown some more grown up things, like Facebook. I'm on that now, and I feel like a chaperone at a high school dance. Everyone on there is graduating college in 2020, and uses a picture they took at a rave and/or frat party for their profile. Mine is a candid shot of me buying Depends. Well, it might as well be.

Have I grown too old? Has life passed me by?

I hope not. Then again, I had a conversation with an old friend from high school and 15 minutes of it was spent talking about the weather. That cannot be good.

In the words of Conway Twitty ...

2005-10-10T15:37:00.000-07:00

It's been a little while since the last post and thousands have e-mailed or stopped me in the club to ask, when da hook goin drop? And I always answer by saying, "what?" But after much procrastination and two catastrophic natural disasters, the H is O.

Life continues post-Katrina, which I noticed caused a run on hard candy at local grocery stores. What is it about a Category 5 hurricane that makes people go, "batteries, bottled water, candles, ... crap, where's the hard candy?! Honey, you forgot hard candy!!"

Everyone I know made it fine through the hurricane, which unbeknownst to us here in Baton Rouge, would cause its share of headaches. Whether it be the increased traffic, lines at gas stations, rampant rumors, or 18 people squeezing into an apartment above us, marching in place until 2 in the morning, and yelling off their balcony like they're performing Shakespeare meets "Coming to America," everyone has a Katrina story.

I personally worked a 24/7 information hotline that made me feel like I was helping somehow, and yet depressed because there is no easy way to tell someone you have no idea where their loved ones are, or where they can sleep that night.

But life goes on, as do the sounds of a hundred asses exploding across the hall from my office.

Seriously, I have one of the nicest views anyone's ever had. Every day, rain or shine, I look out my window and see a beautiful lake and dozens of sorority girls jogging. If only, there was a large screen outside that played "Rudy" on a constant loop, life would be good.

Anyway, on the opposite side of the room from that window is my door, and across the hall from that door is the men's room. Inside, unspeakable noises like the gurgling of hell hounds pervade my work. You try to act mature about it, but when it sounds like the first chair tuba player is having an off-night across the hall from you, it's hard.

So, in summation, if you wondered where the posts had been for the last couple months, the short answer is, I've been having trouble with the tuba lately.

Just kidding. That was gross.

Ruff waters ahead ...

2005-08-04T16:12:00.000-07:00

What a day. People are screaming like Chicken Little with a megaphone about our new boss like he's bringing the fourth reich to LSU, a very sweet - but visually impaired - old lady played demolition derby with my car in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and one of my favorite people I've ever met passed away this morning.

Coach Sue Gunter died this morning after a long, long struggle with emphysema and pneumonia. She will be talked about as one of the great coaches, but she was an even greater person.

The following is a story I got to write on her, strictly by accident, but I'm glad I did. It was the only time I got to meet her, and she acted like we had known each other all along.

http://www.lsu.edu/highlights/041/gunter.html

Regrets, I've had a few

2005-07-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

Talking to a friend the other day, we were discussing not ever having to look back and say, "I wish I had done that differently" or "I regret ever doing that." And I've always prided myself on not ever having to say I wish I hadn't done that, or I wonder what life would be like if only I had done that.

With that being said, there are a few things I regret having done. What was I thinking when I did them? I couldn't tell you. But much like Chunk in "The Goonies," once you start thinking about it, it all just comes flooding out.

I regret flinging Darrell Ryder's lunch box against a tree when I was in kindergarten and splitting it in half. His Cheetos went everywhere. But then again, he deserved it for bullying me everyday.

I regret pushing the door open on this kid named Jonathan while he was using the bathroom so that everyone could see him. I have no idea why I did that now. Maybe that's why I live in fear that someone will do that to me one day in a public restroom.

I regret turning the exit sign around at the Aquarium of the Americas in New Orleans while on a field trip in the sixth grade. I regret it because a group of Asian tourists saw the sign and went completely back through the Aquarium looking for the exit.

I regret the first girlfriend I ever had. Not because she outweighed me by 200 pounds or because everyone called her "The Mighty Ukla," but because she was mean and made me watch that "Doors" movie with Val Kilmer everytime we hung out.

I guess that's pretty much it. I regret that this entry wasn't more uplifting.

Brush with greatness

2005-07-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

So Friday, Theo and I decided we would drive to Austin to see Demetri Martin and then turn around and drive back. Fourteen hours round-trip. We left at 10 in the morning Friday and got home at 8:30 Saturday morning. Crazy? You be the judge.

The trip there was fairly smooth. We were run off the interstate at 80 miles an hour by an 18-wheeler who decided to change lanes with us riding alongside. And all you can do when that happens, is look at each other at the exact same moment, and scream.

Then there was the Cracker Barrel in Houston where Theo harrassed an Australian waiter about what "other favorites" meant on the soft drink menu. Apparently, it means Dr. Pepper.

Fast forward to the show and Demetri Martin was great. Afterwards, Theo and I hung out with a certain Saturday Night Live cast member, Will Forte. Incredibly nice guy. We talked to him for about 10 minutes and I'm not sure, but one of us may have made a pass at him, such was our admiration.

On the way home, we were both delirious and nothing was keeping us awake. Not caffeine, not singing "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics, nothing. At one point, while I was taking my turn driving, I could have sworn the trees on the side of the interstate were dancing like in "Fantasia."

So that was the trip to Austin.

In other news, Team J is back together. What can I say, I couldn't resist her charms. And I'm not just saying that because she's standing behind me, with a tire iron in her hands, slapping it against her left palm and saying "type monkey!!"

Get help please.

Fallin'

2005-06-23T10:11:00.000-07:00

When you're sleeping, do you ever feel like you're falling and then you like land on the floor and wake up thinking you just rolled off the side of the building?

That's so weird.

For Sara ... because she reads this

2005-06-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

I've got several things on my mind today -- the movie "High Tension" which almost led to Cheeks being renamed Diaper Dandy, Ryan Adams berating the crowd in the midst of a great show last night at the House of Blues, and the events of Friday, June 10. Of all these things, Friday, June 10 gets the attention for today.

For the first time in my life, I watched (and I emphasize the word "watched") some friends play the "Lord of the Rings" board game. If you've never seen this done before, consider this a primer. Through the rolling of a 19-sided dice, you and however many of your friends not busy spending their night trying to hack into the National Halo LAN computer terminal, can re-enact Frodo's journey to return the Ring to the fires of Mordor.

Sounds interesting, right?

Well for ambiance, let's add the soundtrack at full blast, enhancing the flip of each action card and signalling the impending doom of running out of cardboard shields.

What does one eat at a time like this? Lamus bread? Actually, anything covered in nacho cheese will suffice. And I mean anything. You want to dip some of those extra buttons that come with slacks in there, do it, cause it's gonna taste good.

What about rules? Well, there are two novellas to guide you through the game, so you're covered there.

What happens if I get two things on the dice that look like hurricane symbols? Oops, you've rolled double ankh symbols, that means Orcs are attacking from your left flank, but luckily, you've got five cool points, so advance to the Gumdrop Gardens.

When will I know if I've finished the game? Are you too old to get married? If the answer is yes, then you're done.

And Happy Birthday to my sis who turned 24, but through the miracles of tanning beds, looks 138.

I'm kidding. Not a day over 93.

Just a little off the bra ... I mean top

2005-06-09T13:25:00.000-07:00

There are moments in life that are awkward no matter what steps you take to make them less so. The end of a first date, the beginning of the second one if the first one ended bad, opening a horrible Christmas present, hitting a person crossing the street and driving off ... the list goes on. But the worst has to be the time spent during a haircut. Especially, when it's someone who has never cut your hair before.

Not weeks, not months, but years are spent cultivating a relationship with one's hair stylist, or Supercut employee depending on your tax bracket. You don't just walk in and have report. And when they don't talk it makes things even worse. You almost feel guilty for not saying anything because they're doing all the work while you sit in that cool elevator chair.

But when you look down and see the stylist's bra sitting on top of her purse underneath the counter – well, then you've reached Dante's fifth level of awkwardness.

The sixth level is when you put two and two together and realize this is the same support garment they should be wearing while they're cutting your hair.

And finally, the seventh level is when you have to collect yourself and say, "Mom, I think you forgot something today."

Negative ... ghost writer

2005-06-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

Friday morning "The Greatest Show on the Hardcourts" took their rightful place among the state's top 2.5 level teams at the state tennis tournament. Unfortunately, we lost.

Every one of our matches.

Big time.

I had a stomach bug, Alex hit a ball into some nearby trees, one of the teams we played insisted on spiking every volley at our "special areas," and Saturday morning, in my first ever competitive singles match, I got whipped by a man who has not won a match all year. And he did it in front of his family who were sitting outside the fence watching us.

To complete the sporting extravaganza, our office softball team lost again to the worst team in the league. I contributed with a towering pop-up that school children will try in vain to imitate on the playgrounds for years to come.

But the weekend was saved by getting to see my body double and best friend, Theo, perform what we in the industry call "dat old black magic" -- better known as improv comedy. He did great as usual, despite having to follow "My Oh My," one of the top drag shows in the state.

You would think, considering the tone of the post, that I mistakenly hit on one of these drag queens. But you would be wrong.

He shot me down before I could even ask "what's a man-girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Such is life.

Happy birthday ...

2005-05-31T14:00:00.000-07:00

Today, one of the three most beautiful women I know is another year older – my grandmother, Maw-Maw Ham, for those in the know.

She was the first and only woman I ever seriously told I would marry – when I was five years old. She would fight anyone who made fun of me in school (she still hates the Reed family) and she let me watch wrestling after my parents told me I couldn't. There was never such a thing as a bad grade to her, and if I had decided to dress in rags, she would have told me how "pretty" I looked.

I love her more than anything else in this world, and though she won't see this, I hope she's having a happy birthday.

Variety is the colonel's secret recipe of life

2005-05-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, a billboard or sign will catch your eye and make you think about something. Maybe you just think it's clever wording or maybe you wonder what that product being advertised actually is. Other times, your gag reflex goes off and you have to hang on to the steering wheel so you don't hit someone during your dry heaving.

Such can be the case when you drive past a KFC and see a "Variety Bucket" for $9.99. Something about that didn't sit well with my stomach at 7:40 this morning. It's not like they were advertising "A Grab-bag of Chicken" or a "Sack of Surprises."

Just a bucket of variety.

I think I'd rather use the school nurse's chapstick.

On love and mail ...

2005-05-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

I get asked the same question over and over, no matter where I go, so to finally answer ... yes, these are my real breasts.

As I drove into work this morning, listening to F*** the Police (pron. POE - lease) by N.W.A., I thought about the group that Dre and his posse of ne'er do wells should have been railing against, and that is postal carriers.

I'm pretty sure mine is stealing my mail and leaving me with nothing but ValPaks and Dominos coupons, which he balls up before he puts them in box, making it look like I dug them out of someone's trash if I ever decided to use them.

Speaking of sage advice from unexpected places, our office cleaning lady is the wisest person I know. Sorry mom and dad. But this woman, who goes by the handle of "Mother Love," cuts to the core of every world issue with just a few words.

I don't know if it's because she spends most of her day sitting on a chair in a supply closet reading tabloids or what, but she is my 6' 2" Yoda.

In the words of Mother Love, sometimes "you gotta fall out of love, before you can fall in love."

Watch your back, mailman.

Genesis

2005-05-26T14:46:00.000-07:00

I thought that the title would be appropo since this is the first ever posting to the blog, affectionately known as Uncle Nico's Audition Tape. It's named of course, for Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite and his constant effort to impress pro football scouts with his one-man throwing drills. And the Nico comes from my supervisor and friend's inability to say Rico.

But back to the title, I thought about it some more and decided that it might also work as a header for a discussion on one of the most underrated bands of our time. That's right ... Bachman Turner Overdrive.

It has been a difficult couple of weeks for me, topped off by the Powerade machine eating my $1.25 at the golf course this week. And don't try to get money for me using your name Powerade, because you owe me a buck and a quarter, so .... when you're ready, we'll talk.

It's hard not to dwell on your own problems, until you meet special people like a friend of mine who loses bowel control when he has to talk to girls. Most people use that as an exaggeration of how nervous they get. He actually has to do a sort of cheek squeeze and rigorous breathing exercise. What are my tribulations to this?

Finally, I would like to give credit for this and blogs across the world to the person it rightly belongs to.

Thank you, Doogie Howser. Even though Golden Girls came out on DVD before you, your impact will be felt long after the sexual romps of Blanche Devereau.