P is for Pascal, Adam

I had all sorts of ideas for my P blog, including Personality, Pretending, Perfectionism, and Pictures, but then this morning I ended up in the horrible web of YouTube. Specifically, I was Adam Pascal hopping.

Damn, that boy can sing.

It really is tough to beat his voice. He makes most of the American Idol folks look like beginners, and he has extreme range and voice control. I guess he isn’t for everyone, but I can’t imagine why not.

I first learned of him last year, when E was working on RENT with the Crafton Hills College theater department. We had seen the movie first, and Adam Pascal plays the lead guy in that musical. The whole time I was watching it, I just couldn’t wait for him to sing again when it wasn’t his turn. He has a voice that speaks to me, and I figured he was probably the front man of some kick ass band somewhere, but he isn’t.

It’s just him.

So, why isn’t he more mainstream? I figure it’s probably because he actually has a truckload of talent. He doesn’t do much pop or mainstream style music, but I’m blown away that someone hasn’t made him more famous yet. I mean, the man can freaking sing. No joke style.

Here’s an example, if you don’t believe me:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XiTD8rASXs

WOW, right? I’m not at all lying or kidding around when I say I do believe I’d give anything I have to sing like that. Or everything I have. With a voice like his, I could replace it all fairly quickly, I’m thinking. Even if I couldn’t, it would be SO worth it to grab a guitar and bust out with that song out of the blue around a campfire or something.

I’ve always wished I could sing well.

I’ve heard all his songs dozens of times. No, they aren’t all great or all hits, but a few of them really speak to me, like this performance:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMZgaOtJ0Cg&feature=related

SHEESH! Did you see how effortlessly he belts out notes that most can’t find in the sunshine with a flashlight? His singing voice is so far superior, in my opinion, that it isn’t even funny.

Yet I’ve never, ever found someone who has heard of him (other than the fine folks who performed in RENT).

I share his songs now and again on Facebook, but I never get a response, which I assume means folks aren’t liking him (or, probably closer to the truth, aren’t clicking on the link). I could listen to this guy all day and night, and in fact, I have. I’d pay big money to go to a performance. There are a lot of cell phone recordings of him at small venues on YouTube - oh, to catch one of those!

Here is one of his more popular songs, Heal Me I’m Heartsick:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8SglL6tDu0

Welp, I won’t go on and on about it, but let it be known that I think Adam Pascal’s voice is one of the best on the planet.

That is all. 

K is for Kill

Yet another wondrous word, kill can be used in quite a few ways. I intend to look at a few of them, but will surely forget one or two, as is par for the course.

Kill, as usually used, means to take a life. Any life will do, too: plants, animals, humans, fish... yes, I know fish are animals. But they have no legs and are slimy. At any rate, if you cause a living thing to die, you have killed it.

But you can also kill processes on, say, computers. Have you ever hit Control-Alt-Del and manually ended a process that was stuck or otherwise unwanted? You’ve killed that process, even though it didn’t die. So, another usage for kill could be end. In Linux, the command is actually kill if you want to end a process.

Another usage of the word might be waste. Have you ever killed time? Sure you have, and of course that doesn’t mean you found the source of all time and literally ended it, or I wouldn’t be writing this blog and you wouldn’t be pretending to read it. Killing time simply means you are wasting it, usually while waiting for another event, like an appointment or drugs.

I’m just killing time until my meth dealer arrives.

And, somehow, even though we aren’t supposed to laugh at funerals, the word kill is often associated with comedy. Dude, yer killin’ me, here!

Carrot Top kills it every time he’s on stage!

Omg, I was dying when he acted out that one part.

So, death is actually funny, we just won’t admit it.

It can also mean to finish quickly. I know, that’s freaking weird, but it’s true. Bro, you just killed that pitcher of Bud! Well, nobody would say he killed it if it took him all night to drink it, so we can infer that he consumed it at an accelerated pace.

In most movies, it means Let them live. 

Allow me to explain. Bad Guy 1 and Bad Guy 2 have Good Guys 1 and 2 tied up to chairs in a secret dungeon only three Russians and one random girl know about. Bad Guy 1 says to Bad Guy 2, “What should we do with these two?”

Bad guy 2 responds, “Keel dem.” He then turns and exits the dingy room, putting his designer black leather gloves back on while he walks.

Bad Guy 1 then smiles, looks at the good guys, and cuts them free so he can torture them at another location, all while revealing all their diabolical plans and allowing an inevitable escape en route. They never die, so the only thing that Keel dem can mean is Let them live.

Good is good, God is God

So, on Sunday, E and I met with friends at their local church. We had tried churches before, but Christians can be very... angry. We don’t believe that religion and anger largely go together. Heck, we aren’t even real religious, but we like good people.

We’ve had a couple of *real* bad church experiences, and at least one other very good one (Mormon church in Utah – that was a great time!). Our friends said that this church was very laid back, everyone was welcome, even GAYS.

‘Nuff said. We would try it.

Our friends were correct: the church was a mixture of a ton of different people, from a tattooed black gentleman who looks like he gang-banged in a former life, to sweet old ladies, and everyone in between.

We were happy with that.

There was a good community feel there, and not an ounce of pressure. They were just nice people, which fit the bill most excellently. You don’t need to be a monk to know that hitting people, spitting on the sidewalk, or stealing is wrong; you just have to be a good person. Kudos to good people.

Also, the services start at ten A.M., which is just dandy for us. Sometimes, we stay out rather late on Saturdays, which makes getting up at six in the morning rather difficult, at best. We like ten in the morning. 

There are all denominations at this church, as well, from Mormons to Catholics to Methodists and more. I was personally raised Baptist, but attended a Methodist church time to time with my grandparents. To me, God is God. It’s all the same. I don’t plan on becoming a religious scholar and so the minor differences don’t mean a hoot to me, and never have.

Good is good, God is God. What’s the matter with just trying to be good with a group of other good people? Nothing, in my eyes. Nothing at all. 

We will go back to that church with our nice friends, and we will shake the hands of nice people. It’s nice. :)

The price of shoes!

Yesterday, E and I went out to get shoes because mine were a couple years old and falling apart. There are quite a few places to get them in this one single strip mall, so we figured we’d start at Target and work our way down.

Holy cow.

Target had a selection of about three pairs that were the style I like, which are just running shoes, and they were all ass-ugly. We didn’t even bother looking at prices because there was nothing there. So we picked up a few items and went down a few doors to a shoe shop.

Holy COW!

We went to the clearance section straight away because, well, that’s what we do. There was a pair there for NINETY dollars. I didn’t even look at what the original price was. Also, they were orange and black. Ew. Most the other clearance shoes were in the forty dollar range. FORTY BUCKS for clearance shoes?

I got to wondering what the heck regular shoes went for, so I headed over to the non-clearance section, and quickly found I shouldn’t have done that. Sixty bucks is the norm now, for any kind of shoe. Even sandal things! I was more than disgusted.

No, I don’t live in a bubble, and I realize that prices go up every year. But sixty bucks used to get you top of the line shoes that only a few kids in school had. Now they get you... shoes. I put almost every one of them on, too, and they were nothing to write home about. They were just shoes.

Then I erred further. I told E that I must, I simply must see what the hype was all about with the ninety-dollar pair and why in creation they could possibly cost much.

Okay, they were awesome shoes.

I mean awesome, too, not just better than average. It felt like I was walking on two miles of cotton balls. They were amazing. Literally. I was amazed. I liked them so much I kept the right one on for several minutes, walking around like a dumb ass with a “Well, would ya look at this!” expression on my face. I think I had my first ‘old’ moment in a department store. New-fangled technology, and all. 

I finally wrestled the shoe off my foot and we left, headed to the next shoe shop down the line. Same thing. Same shoes, same prices, same so-so quality. I’m not paying sixty bucks for shoes that don’t look or feel spectacular, sorry. They’d better take out the garbage, for that price.

In the end, we went to a place that I know for a fact sells cheap, quality shoes. I ended up getting nice athletic/running shoes for twenty-one dollars, and they’ll last me two years. I know this because my last pair were very similar, and the same name brand, and they lasted me two years. Decent, comfy, rugged shoes!

I guess if I were a baller and loaded with cash, $100 wouldn’t seem so much for something I’m going to step on all day. But seeing as I’m a working-class Joe, that isn’t happening. I think the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned were my red, white, and black Nikey Air Jordan Hi-Tops. That was in 1985 or so. I wore those shoes for years and years. I believe they were on sale for $35 down from $50, and that’s the only reason I got them. My family was all about $10 Keds.

Anyhow, there’s my rant for today. Until I’m making $50k a year or more, I won’t be spending $100 on shoes. No way.

New job is nice – Less time isn’t

So I’m still working out the best way to handle my new gig. It is a great job, but I’m finding there are tricks to doing it better. At first, I was logging in and doing my hours all at once, in a big block. I liked that; once I was off, I was off, and had the rest of the day to me. But now I’m finding that my productivity goes up substantially if I split the shifts.

I don’t like that so much.

I was working from about 8am to 1pm and then the rest of the day was mine. That’s what I’m talking about. But my response count was lower than they wanted, so I’m finding that logging in for three hours in the morning or early afternoon, then three more in the evening nets me many more. It just kind of eats into the time a bit more, even though it is technically the same amount – six hours.

I have stories to edit. I have blog posts to write. I have many projects waiting for me in the garage. I need more time. On top of that, I have to write and still work for various other places online doing the freelancing. It’s become quite the juggling act.

And now I’m in a band, and possibly two. I jammed with my old bass player’s new band the other day and they loved me and want me on board as their drummer.

Oof.

That’s exactly what I need right now, is two musical projects. I’m also on a competitive Internet chess league, and scheduling game times has proven tight at best. I can do this, but I’m at maximum capacity; another gig of any sort and my house of cards will surely crumble. 

Once I get more up to speed at the new job I’m sure I’ll find bigger and better ways to get through it. For now, though, this train keeps on chooglin’. That’s what it does. It choogles. On and on.

Idiot Managers: You Know the Type

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m so, so glad I work at home now.

In my experience, managers are complete drooling idiots. They bend rules when it suits them, but not when it suits the customer. They demand timeliness, cleanliness, responsibility and loads of effort, but only pay minimum wage. I have had many, many jobs, and very rarely does a manager know what the hell they are doing.

I know people. I’m a people guy. The majority of managers I have dealt with aren’t. They are bosses, not people lovers. And that’s fine, until these morons have to deal with the public. They drop the ball every time.

Once I worked at an auto-parts store. A guy came in who had bought an alternator for his old Ranchero earlier that day, before I signed on for my shift. He hadn’t realized until he’d already junked his old one that the new (see: refurbished) units don’t come with any hardware. He literally had no nuts/bolts to attach his wires to.

The poor man was greasy, he was tired and hot (SoCal summers get to be 110º very easily), and he was frustrated beyond belief. Well, wouldn’t you be?

What did I do? I marched right back to the parts area, grabbed an alternator and yanked the hardware off of it. I then slipped them across the counter and told him to have a nice day.

The look on his face was priceless. Nobody is used to someone actually taking care of them: they are used to being given the runaround about store policy, how employees wish they could help further, how sorry they were they couldn’t do more. Not me. You need hardware, you get hardware. Didn’t hurt the place a bit.

Guy brought me back a six-pack of beer and said he was a customer for life.

That, friends and neighbors, is customer service. I didn’t steal, I didn’t bend the rules too badly, and I didn’t commit a cardinal sin. I helped a guy out who, in my eyes, was a total victim of penny-pinching moronic methods.

The management jumped all over me for that trick, and I mean pretty badly. Apparently, they weren’t really worried about customers being happy. In fact, I know they weren’t. In the end, it’s each man for himself no matter what kind of “teamwork” mentality they try to instill. 

Management? Idiots.

The Bangles Show: Rocked

So Saturday night I was fortunate enough to see a free Bangles concert. What do you mean, who is that? Walk Like an Egyptian, Eternal Flame, and Hazy Shade of Winter. That’s who the Bangles are.

Anyhow, they were an all-girl rock/pop group from the ‘80s, an era I happen to adore. The tickets were free through KOST 103.5 FM and also at Casino Morongo, where the show was held. How could I say no?

Basically, I thought they kicked some ass. No, it wasn’t a Van Halen or Rage Against the Machine show, but the gals did a really bang-up job. They definitely ‘still got it’. We were amazed to see the drummer sing while playing, then get off the drums and play guitar and sing lead, and also play the stick thingies. Yes, that is the technical name. Thanks, though.

They sounded just like their albums of some thirty years ago. At first, having been involved in many bands over the years myself, I was watching them closely for mistakes. We do that. In no time, though, I was jamming, shaking my hips and singing along. That’s a sign of good artistry, right there; they made me forget. Kudos for that.

After the show, I went on to kick some ass of my own. I plopped down $30 at a blackjack table and in ten minutes walked away with $75: drinks were on me. The night was brilliantly charged with positive energy. Damn, I love nights like those.