Thursday, June 21, 2007

Media Drenched: A Day off in DC Stream of Consciousness Rant

I have a bag of Sheckawan at my feet. I know is is pronounced differently, but that is what I call it. Sheckawan. Someone please save me from my ignorance and tell me how to pronounce Szechuan. I was at dinner with the team the other night, and Christine was talking about ordering oysters. I don't understand oysters. I told her so. I asked her how someone would ever consider eating an oyster. She replied that people get hungry and try different things. I countered with the fact that I would rather eat a human than an oyster (if I was trying to figure food out and the comestability of oysters hadn't been discovered yet). I couched it with my observation that there have been times when I have seen joggers running by and thought that their biceps or their calves would be delicious with the proper tenderizing and spices. The people at the table thought I was nuts, but I don't really think much of it. If I was stranded on a mountaintop with a bunch of starving rugby players, I would bust out with the fork and knife POINT BLANK. Can you call the consumption of raw human sushi? Probably not. What would the proper term be?

I have to be honest though...the notion to talk about eating people came from my Szechuan menu that Nicole gave me on Sunday night. I swear that it reads "Human Twins" in the enclosed shot of the menu.





This hotel does some weird stuff. They say that there is free bottled water in the hallways. So I go to get the water, and it is empty water bottles and a dispenser to fill them up. Because of their mis-advertisement and refusal to present me with a real actual "bottled water" situation, I am drinking water with a vengeance. Perhaps I will die in their room of water poisoning. Wouldn't that be grand. This crime scene would be foul. Housekeeping hasn't been here all week and the towels are starting to smell funny. I plan on doubling that stack of empties in the picture before I leave this beast.

I finished my job yesterday and had the rest of the evening to do whatever. I was so exhausted that I napped. I went to sleep watching the fat guy on MYTHBUSTERS shatter a 10 foot tall tube with a shotgun. There is more, but the information is completely useless. Then I woke up, watched Fox News and napped some more. Today is a day when I have hardly stepped out of the hotel. I didn't have to work today, and I don't have to work tomorrow. I am amazed at how little I have drank (drunk?) this trip. Nothing, really, just a few glasses of wine and a scotch and soda. Perhaps I should get bonus points because all of that alcohol was packed into a 3 hour session. Whatever. I am too tired or something...perhaps too preoccupied to go down to the bar and belt a few down. I am happy drinking water up here in this tossed environment.

Television options here are just about nil. No Disney, no MTV, no VH1, only HBO and a bunch of local stuff. Oh yeah, there is the CBSABCNBC mix, but I know and you know that they suck. I watch TV on these little road trips because I haven't got the time for it when I am at home. Last night STRIPTEASE was on HBO. I honestly have always wanted to watch it to see Burt Reynolds. I am a Burt fan. I have my own copy SHARKEY'S MACHINE. I saw SMOKEY and the BANDIT when I was a kid and I have always wanted to see it again. I know long portions of DELIVERANCE by heart. But last night as I started to watch STRIPTEASE and I saw Burt in action, I realized that this film is not going to be Burt in a polished pornographic role like his role in BOOGIE NIGHTS. This was some bad comedy. I stuck around until Burt took a bottle to some guy's head as he attacked Mrs. Willis on the stage and then I parked it. Late night TV in hotel rooms is bad luck and oversexed. The night before, I turned on the TV and HBO's CATHOUSE was on. This is a reality show or some such trash inside of a working whorehouse. It is like watching a fleshy train wreck. HBO must know that there is a statistical amount of underage kids watching this stuff. They have to know. And with the statistics that they have, they must just feel that it is collateral damage...or something. Cathouse doesn't hold back. In the 10 minutes of that trash that I saw, I saw it all. Then I went back to Fox News.



I woke up this morning with a mission. That mission was to go to the Starbucks a solid block and a half away from here. Wouldn't you know that I had to lie in bed and watch DUPREE AND ME before I got up and did it though. I am a Matt Dillon fan. I love his work. He is still the same punk he was when I was a kid. He is like the popular kid in the school of cinema. He is the popular kid that everyone knows and no one gets to party with, because he runs in an elite crowd. Unlike Paris Hilton, the school slut. I think I will get into that gay Pareee mess in a little bit. I then proceeded to watch an episode of COPS before I finally dragged my caffeine deprived self into the shower. COPS is as low as you can go on the TV scale. If you are watching COPS...well, if I am watching COPS, then I have officially hit rock bottom. It is the worst kind of television. But it is insightful. These cops are total jerks, and they are on their best behavior in front of the camera. It makes me wonder how much worse they can be. In today's episode, this one cop screamed at this guy to get on the ground. The guy was complying, but not quick enough to the cop grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his face in the dirt. Then the cop cuffed the suspect. The cop mused that the cuffs were probably on too tight and they should be loosened. If there had been no camera there, I am sure that the cop wouldn't have even thought of loosening anything. I think that the show should be called PRICKS.



My room is completely tossed. The feng shway (whatever the hell you call it) is completely balanced. I need no housekeeping in here. I need no imperial entanglements. I have it locked down. I have a bag of Szechuan at my feet. I am totally rested so I am typing like a madman. Internal clock still says no. The problem with getting your sleep balanced is that you tend to stay up late. Well, I stayed in bed until 1 o'clock DC time. This means that I can still jump back to CA time and be properly functioning. It all has to do with how I get out of here tomorrow morning. I have had no interaction with anyone. Well, I have interacted with a few. I can count who I have talked to today. I said "hi" to Nicole downstairs at the desk. That is all I said, even though she gave me a nectarine my first night here. I explained my order to the girl at Starbucks this afternoon. I was soft-spoken, because the caffeine was completely out of my system and the monkey on my back had gone haywire. I talked to the dude down in the gym about sports injuries and high school sports and kids for about a half an hour while my armpits frothed lime flavored cappuccino foam. Oh yeah, and I said thanks to the man down in the lobby who delivered the Scechuan at my feet. I really should eat this stuff, but I am feeling like Kerouac, and I don't have a ream of paper that will ultimately stop me.





So I went down to the gym today. I have been plagued with getting down there, but hotel gyms tend to suck. So I didn't go until today. I should have gone sooner, they have 50lb dumbbells up in this piece. You know I had to throw 'em. I did mad sets. I am serious, this place can't contain me. I did the 50s, the 45s, the 40s, the 35s and the 30s. 25s are for wimps, yo, and that isn't how I was getting down today.



I got on the elliptical thing. What the hell does elliptical mean? I got on that thing for a solid 45 minutes. I burned 400 calories. All the while I was talking to this dude about sports and teenagers. He is here on business. The conversation started when I noticed that he was walking backwards on the treadmill. Then he told me about his knee surgery. I was reminded of the Fox News special I watched last night about baby boomers having mad sports injuries. Something about being a boomer right now means that you are prone to a big accident. They were saying that Gen Xers are going to have it worse. They are right, because those 50lb dumbbells were not slowing me down today. I am in my late thirties, and do you think for a second that I am going to stop throwing the free weights around like that when I am in my 50s?





So I am talking to this guy, and I am aware of my new deodorant. And I steal a glance at myself while working that elliptical contraption and I see that my armpits are foaming. They are bubbling up like heads on beer. But I am in this conversation with this guy, and I don't want to stop all of a sudden and draw attention to the whipped cream action in my armpits. This guy and I talked for about 30 minutes. Then he left. I finished my cardio and went back to the free weights. That place can't contain me. The only reason why I stopped doing anything is because the pads of my hands were getting torn as I threw those 50s around. All I have to say to that is that my training at Gold's in downtown Santa Cruz set me up to own the hell out of this little DC gym.



On TV there is this missing pregnant woman. That is all that I hear about. They are looking for this woman and they are interviewing everyone in sight on the subject. But while I was in the gym, a new story popped. The story about NBC paying Paris Hilton a million dollars to give the first interview after she gets out of jail. Freakin' Fox News. What a joke. So they are worried that this isn't ethical to pay for such an interview. Is this bad journalism? Immediately, I began to realize that if Fox news didn't draw my attention to the million dollar interview, I wouldn't know about it. Isn't that what this is all about? The million dollars has bought slavery from Fox news and now that is all that they are reporting. Is this ethical? If it is something that isn't cool, then don't report the shit. And by all means, don't bring Geraldo Rivera in as a consultant. Who is Geraldo? I hadn't heard that name in 20 years. Last time I considered Geraldo was a simpler time. That was when the skinhead broke his nose on his show. That was back when the world was a better place. Black, white, Puerto Rican or polka-dotted, all races were able to stand side by side and agree that Geraldo's nose needed to be broken. What happened to those simpler times?



And so I got back up to my room. I felt the hunger, because I had been working out for over two hours and the only thing that stopped me was the pads of my hands and not physical fatigue. I would still be down there, tossing mad iron if my hands didn't hurt. The notion came to me to wrap paper towels around the dumbbell handles and continue my destruction of that little weight room, but what would the point be? I had already done more damage in there than it has probably seen since the Reagan years. That place couldn't contain me. I would love to take any fool who has been there lately and show them the monstrosities that I see at my Gold's. I would love to have them see that.



I would love to take Geraldo there.


I have to eat my Szechuan now. I am hungry and all typed out.