Animotion Ain’t Got Nothing On Me

Yep, I’ll admit it, I’m a little bit of an obsessive person.

I’m sure that comes as a great shock to people who know me. When I do something, I do it all the way. There’s no half way, just jump in feet first.

I’m playing this travian game which is the worst for someone with an obsessive personality. Thank God they never had webkins when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure I would have never seen the sun.

I go through cycles. Music obsession (which never quite ends), TV obsession (talk to me about Charmed, Family Guy and Heroes), Working out (we won’t talk about that right now) and just relaxing (I hope that cycle comes around again soon).

I got obsessed by blogging. I love it but as of late have been a little less than loyal to my hobby. I went through the myspace phase. I have facebook but I’m not as interested in it. I love the twitter. Follow me if you aren’t already!

My place is a mess right now. I was supposed to have an inspection today but it was postponed. Good thing too!

I am loving life right now even though it’s doggone busy. I can’t believe tomorrow’s Friday already. I need a weekend like nobody’s bizniss.

Good point of the day, filling up my vehicle for less than $40! I even got a car wash. Yup, I know it was a gray day and rainy to boot but what the heck. Car washes (the no non-touch kind) are like a moth to a candle for me. I could sit in one of those little tin boxes all day and watch those brushes spin around.

taawd memory alert
: when I was a kid my parents would get their car washed at this one place that had what we called the “hula woman” at the end. It was big row of red strips of cloth that would dance back and forth. I think for a hot second I actually thought there was some fat woman up above shaking her moneymaker. I mean after all it was her job right?

Maybe that’s why I’m still obsessed with car washes. You didn’t see that ending to this post didja?

9/11: Seven Years Later

This is a repost from an entry I first put together after the attacks back in 2001. Some people may not have seen this so I’m reposting it so everyone will get the chance. Where were you?

September 11, 2001 – One of those days you’ll never forget where you were. I was working at a Detroit television station, WDIV, producing the noon newscast.

At the time the first plane went into the North Tower, I was out of the newsroom. One of our videotape editors ran toward me when I came back into the newsroom and started pointing at one of our TV monitors. He said “check out the wild pictures from New York.”

At the time, we weren’t aware that a plane had crashed into the building and it wasn’t an accident! We talked about how hard it would be for firefighters to fight a towering inferno.

There weren’t a lot of people in the newsroom at the time because most people didn’t arrive until around nine o’clock in the morning. By this point, all of the television feeds we got from NBC and CNN were on the towers.

Slowly, people started coming in and rushed to see the TV’s, they’d heard the story on their car radio. It was about that time when another plane slammed into the South Tower and then we all knew something wasn’t right, we were under attack.

I saw so many co-workers with tears in their eyes. These are people who deal with death everyday. Murders and other unexpected deadly accidents we deal with them every day and have to bring that news to people who watch our station. It’s sad you somewhat get immune to death. It’s not that every death doesn’t have an effect but you have to block it out a little.

This was different, this was an attack on America, this was something no one had ever experienced before. How could you deal with such a breach of our nation? How could you cope with the potential mass casualty? The world changed forever. The lives of an entire generation of people changed forever.

Now seven years later, Osama bin Laden is still on the run. Airport security is still high even though some critics still say the U.S. have much more to do to protect people.

I do recall the hunger for information and how little it trickled out on that day. We all couldn’t do any work. We just sat at our desks watching coverage on televisions with our mouths literally gaping open watching in total disbelief.

It’s a day none of us can or will be able to forget. We must not also forget the innocent people who lost their lives and their families who have to endure the pain of not having them each day and every anniversary of 9/11.

Back To School Time

This week almost every school district is headed back to class. Two of my nephews (I almost put both but there are three now) are going to public school for the first time this year. I’m sure and sure hope they will fit right in.

I never had to be the new kid on the block. I started kindergarten and finished the 12th grade in the same district with the same classmates.

I remember in kindergarten, I sat next to my friend, Stephen, I just thought it was okay to talk to him. The teacher told me you couldn’t just talk to someone you had to raise your hand first. I took her quite literally and put my hand in the air and continued talking to Stephen until she quickly said the rule only applied to a question I might have for her. Otherwise, I was told to keep my mouth shut.

Then there was the time in first grade, Mrs. Weldy’s class, when Stephen and I both brought Star Wars action figures into school. He had a Storm Trooper that was dirty and my parents had just bought me one (read: clean). He told the teacher it was his. We both got in trouble but I think I ended up getting mine back. Good best friend, huh? He still maintains I was wrong to this day.

I remember being sick a lot in second grade (read: I didn’t like school much, I wanted to stay home and watch TV) I had a great teacher, Mrs. Elzroth.

In third grade, the entire class got in trouble. We each got taken out in the hall and yelled at by Mrs. Glessner because no one would play with the new girl. Of course, we didn’t want to, she had cooties, first off. She also had a southern accent because she was from West Virginia and none of us could understand her. Kids can be so brutal.

In fourth grade, the teacher, Mrs. Renninger gave me passes to go to the restroom apparently because I always was going there. Hey, I had to pee, don’t blame me, it’s my bladder, teach! She did read us The Great Brain books right after lunch so we had that going for us.

In fifth grade, I actually got called to the principal’s office. Don’t worry, it wasn’t something I did wrong. I kept my nose clean. Apparently, one of my classmates brought their dad’s Playboy to school. That’s a no-no. We all knew who did it. Everybody who got called into the office, told Mr. Bowers the same thing, we pointed the kid out. We didn’t want paddled. He went in for his interrogation and got away with it. I’ll never forget how red his ears were when he walked into the classroom. Apparently, that’s what happened to him when he got nervous, his ears turned red. Liar! I wasn’t taking the heat, I tell ya!

In sixth grade, my teacher’s first name was Dorcus. Her reputation preceded her and so did her name. She scared me to death. She was by the books and she made you listen. She also had a fascination for the English language and was always teaching us words, many of them I still can’t spell. Try abecedarian.

I don’t know what grade I was in at the time but I have the distinction of killing the lunch profits one day in elementary school. I really WAS sick and puked all over the place. Think projectile vomiting at its best, complete with Froot Loops, (Sorry, Matt) orange juice and pizza from the night before. Yum!

The other fun story that I had from elementary school was the restroom. We had a large circular tub that allowed multiple kids to watch their hands at the same time. You’d step on the foot pedal and the water would come on, you’d step off and the water would go off. Some guy came in, apparently thinking he was at the Muni Stadium and pee’d in the sink. Ah, dude, that’s where we wash our hands, put that thing away. He was probably a pervert anyhow.

Here’s the last thing I’ll say from my walk down memory lane. My dad is a notorious jokester. If you have the time, he’s got the jokes. He would always say this to us on the first day.

Dad: How was your first day of classes?
Me: Apparently I didn’t do so good, they tell me I have to go back tomorrow.

It’s his joke not mine but it became a family tradition.

Ah, to be young again,