Call it the causality of working Thursdays for the last 13-years.
That’s what I think every time I watch an episode of Seinfeld. Working Thursdays behind a bar means there is very little time for must see TV. I have always enjoyed working Thursday nights because most folks treat it as the gateway to the weekend. It’s usually good business, if not it usually makes for good stories.
Man, not writing a blog in a month really takes the piss out of me.
The discipline to write is challenging because it is very easy to distracted by other things. A short list of things that can take the piss away from a blog: home remodeling, learning to fly fish, yard work, catching up on two years worth of television, mucking up reporting assignments, building a porch swing and rediscovering the pleasures of an afternoon nap.
In honesty, afternoon naps had sucked a lot of working hours.
Grand plans of writing a summer novel fell to the wayside the moment we decided to tackle an 800-pound gorilla. This primate is named home remodel and it is a mother. Refinishing hard wood floors can pack a man’s sinuses with enough dust for him to sneeze out a nightstand. I know first hand and I have the Kleenex to prove it.
I’d apologize for not writing a blog but most people don’t even read it. To prove it, I’ll buy your first beer when you say the word: “flathead screwdriver.”
The beer taps will remain safe.
I was talking with my buddy Brandon about being invested in pop culture. Not just wanting to stay abreast of things that happen daily in the world but apart of the big events—even if I am just a spectator.
TRUE STORY: Two years ago on the night before my birthday (April 28th), I came home from work late. It was a Saturday and Erin was out of town. Left to my own devices, I did what any pity-party planner might do, I uncork a bottle of wine and ate reconstituted day old pizza in our oversized living room chair. Flipping mindlessly through the channels, I stumbled upon the opening salvo of the royal wedding.
Kate Middleton and William Something-or-other. My affections for the royal family is akin to my passion for the Detroit Lions except I can name most of the offensive line of the Lions and only know that Billy’s brother likes to show his wang. Dominic Raiola is the Lion’s starting center but that had nothing to do with why the remote control was put on the coffee table.
Alone, slightly buzzed, celebrating my 38th birthday and there were some very beautiful people leaving a very expensive hotel getting into luxurious vehicles en route to an ancient church to get married. Two people in the general age group that I have spent the night pouring drinks for were getting hitched in front of 38 gazillion people and I was one of them.
Normally, a night like that would have been spent catching up on the beginnings of the baseball season and how my beloved Padres were doing or trying to wind down with a final whiskey but here I was riveted that Kate and William were doing it. What, I don’t know. Considering that I know Raiola is an 11-year vet from Nebraska and Kate’s family sold party favors, I was out of my league but I knew I was participating in something bigger. Not important but bigger.
One bottle of wine became a second as I started to look for snacks to shovel down my neck. Red wine is rocket fuel powering me to emotional-ville and the stupid royal wedding had me fighting back crocodile tears. What can I say? I am a romantic.
I guess that’s why I like the pop culture. The pop culture, the popular zeitgeist, and I am showing off that I know what the word zeitgeist means.
Can’t spell blowhard without blog.
Friend of mine named Geoff Carter from my UNR days did something fun on Facebook. From what I could gather, he randomly picked a year and listed the top ten movies from that year. Geoff selected 1968 and what he came up with makes it damn near impossible to beat. 2001, A Space Odysses, Bullet, Night of the Living Dead, Once Upon A Time In The West and most importantly of all, Planet of the Apes. Very good year for movies. I wish I could rewatch Planet of the Apes again for the first time.
All the President’s Men is a good smoking movie. Glamorizes taking a pull off of a butt in a parking lot, elevator, newsroom floor or a car. I guess everybody smelt worse in 1972. It’s also good to see and hear Robert Redford use the word, “Fuck.” He doesn’t seem like he uses that word very much.
Ben Raskin bartends at Keys On Main Wednesday through Saturday. Follow him on Twitter @BennyRaskin. Podcast? Dominic Railo is a huge man.
Raskin's Rhetoric 