Sorry.
April 24th, 2009
Yeah, I know there’s no better way to attract hits than letting a month go by between updates. Sorry, got shit to do. May will be better.
Shows 3 and 4 should be up by Monday.
Introducing Poorly Planned
March 25th, 2009
Our shitty podcast, Poorly Planned, is now available. It’s linked to over in the sidebar, and you can subscribe by clicking the link here, or by hopping over to iTunes and searching for Poorly Planned.
I realize that being listed on iTunes doesn’t really mean anything–the approval process consists of checking that the file exists and that the title isn’t “Child Pornography–Pro Tips from Steve and Tony”–but being available on iTunes does give me a feeling of legitimacy and validation that our 11 unique hits to date just can’t match.
The single available show (show two will be posted in the next couple of days) isn’t great, but I’m happy with it as a first attempt. It wasn’t all vocalized pauses and nervous laughter, which puts us in the upper third of amateur content. There was a strong undercurrent of homophobia, but we’ll get past that in time. The anxiety of being in front of a microphone reduced us to twelve year old versions of ourselves, just calling each other fags instead of trying to make points. Believe me, I understand that words hurt, and offending potential listeners is the last thing I’d ever want to do. In future shows we’ll try to call each other retards instead.
I can see from our logs that of our eleven vistors, only those that are me, married to me, doing a show with me, or approving the show for inclusion in a directory have actually downloaded it. The other seven of you have made a wise choice–no harm in giving us a few shows to work out the kinks. By the fifth or sixth show I’m sure that bandwidth meter will be pegged.
Introduction: Tony
March 18th, 2009
Due to a pending court case I cannot go into a lengthy introduction. No, I’m not typing that to be edgy or cool or to seem like a bad-boy, I’m saying that because it’s the truth. In lieu of an introduction instead I will foreshadow potential topics that may be discussed in the future.
- Marriage: A non-binding resolution
- Webster’s a dick; Marriage:Divorce::Fiance:????
- Old school pet owner mentality
- Question: Why aren’t you angry? Answer: Fuck you!
- Can you catch a cunt?
- My laundry is like Obama.
There you have it, hopefully an intro that won’t be discussed in open court
Art and Former “Friends” Stars, Part I
March 16th, 2009
It may not have been clear in that first post, but I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. This has sparked an interest in seeking out things that make me feel things–art, for lack of a better word–that they may provide some small amount of motivation. Caught up on a bunch of stuff from NetFlix, the highlight being seeing Wilson chew on a revolver in Dead Poets Society. Second-best movie suicide ever; Brooks in Shawshank Redemption just edges him out, only on account of that clumsy teetering he does on the chair. Old people just aren’t graceful.
I’m also reading fiction again, for the first time since probably high school. That’s not quite true–I went through a Chuck Palahnuik phase a few years ago, but any rational person would agree that shouldn’t count. Trolling through Amazon recommendations lead me to Apathy and Other Small Victories
, easily the best thing I’ve read in as long as I can remember. I can’t call it a great book–not much character development, not much in the way of plot, and it’s barely novel-length–but it made me laugh out loud repeatedly, and literally slap my knee. Do you know how much of a tool you feels like after making an audible “Ha!” and slapping your knee on public transportation? Quite the tool, I can assure you. It’s the kind of book that I’d love to be able to write, and seeing it done so well was both humbling and motivating. When you experience something that you know you’re not going to measure up to, it really takes the pressure off. To me, that’s art–anything that makes you feel small, and therefore freed from expectations.
, easily the best thing I’ve read in as long as I can remember. I can’t call it a great book–not much character development, not much in the way of plot, and it’s barely novel-length–but it made me laugh out loud repeatedly, and literally slap my knee. Do you know how much of a tool you feels like after making an audible “Ha!” and slapping your knee on public transportation? Quite the tool, I can assure you. It’s the kind of book that I’d love to be able to write, and seeing it done so well was both humbling and motivating. When you experience something that you know you’re not going to measure up to, it really takes the pressure off. To me, that’s art–anything that makes you feel small, and therefore freed from expectations. Last week, I saw David Schwimmer in Our Town. When asked if I’d go, I agreed, just for the goof. I thought it was like being asked to see Rob Schneider in Hamlet, or willingly watching “The Hills.” Expectations are low, and you do it just to see if it’ll deliver even lower. But the son of a bitch was really good. Sure, it took the better part of the first act to stop thinking it was Ross Geller lusting after his sixteen year old neighbor, but once I got used to it, it really worked. There’s nothing worse than seeing people do what they love, except when they’re really good at it.
I have no Part II of this planned. But if Matt LeBlanc ever does A Christmas Carol, I’m there.
Introduction
March 9th, 2009
I’m not good at beginnings–abrupt conclusions are more my thing. This site’s been here for over a year, and this is all I’ve done with it. It’s hard to fight the inertia of sitting on your ass. Better to sit tight and be thought a failure than to try to do something and remove all doubt.
I guess I should explain what I’m trying to do here. Somehow, as time has passed, I’ve gotten older. As I type this, I’m 27–by any reasonable account, an adult–and I’m not sure how that happened. I’m not comfortable with it. I always assumed that with such advanced age would come wisdom, maturity, maybe an accomplishment. But for the most part, it’s been a hollow, meandering run.
In general, I mean. Sure, there’s been a highlight here and there. I got married, which isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. My day job is slowing killing me inside, but it pays the bills and is fairly stable, despite the economic shittiness of late.
But I can’t help but feel that at this point in life, I should have done something more. Or at least, that I should have been capable of having done something more. I’m dealing with the horrifying and increasingly likely possibility that this really is it. That what I’ve done is all I’m ever going to do, and all I was ever going to be able to do. That I’ve reached the full extent of limited potential. Third-life crisis seemed a good way to describe this feeling, as it’s way too early for this to be the mid-life kind.
I’m sure there’s a better way to deal with this than burdening the internet with another douchey blog, but web hosting is considerably cheaper than therapy.
So that’s my story. The plan is to have a couple of other people contributing here; they’ll do their own introductions. There’s a podcast coming, too, because every shitty blog needs a masturbatory podcast. More on that later. In the mean time, if you want to let me know exactly how lame this all is, comments are open.
Poorly Planned
- Poorly Planned - Show 3 - April 1, 2009Skip this one. Poor literary choices and other things that trigger our elitism, tales of drinking too much the night before, the opportunity costs of adultery, more vague references to Tony drama, bitching about work, dream walk-out scenarios, running out the clock, still putting off Douche Chill Theater, not even spam bots visit our website.
- Poorly Planned - Show 2 - March 27, 2009Not quite as good as the first show. Topics include racism, Facebook groups about mid-twentieth century dictators, and no payoff on a bit we set up last show. Sorry.
- Poorly Planned - Show 1 - March 16, 2009First show. Just barely unlistenable. Discussions include what we're trying to do, trashing our friend who couldn't make it, famous dirty internet pictures, guilty pleasures, and terrible things we'd written in our pasts.