What’s Your Vector, Victor?

April 30, 2010

Who came up with the word “walkie-talkie?” And why did we allow him to pick that name instead of setting him down for his afternoon nap, as he was clearly a toddler to pick such a stupid name for a high tech device?

Don’t you think the inventor of the walkie-talkie is pissed off that everyone calls his creation that? I picture these two conversations being pivotal to the naming of these devices, and the hell their inventor has been through since:

Inventor, to his “special needs” friend: “Look what I invented: Portable radio communicators! With these port-comms, if you were walking over there, we could still talk.”

Special Needs Friend, (picks one up, starts pantomiming) “Walkie-Talkie. Walkie-Talkie.”

Inventor: “Seriously, these port-comms are a going to change how we live! Think of the applications!”

Special Needs Friend: “Walkie-Talkie. Walkie-Talkie.”

Inventor: “You’re retarded.”

US Army General: “We want to make you rich by issuing these to all our men, and police, firemen, etc. What do you call them?”

Special Needs Friend, still playing with one: “Walkie-Talkie!”

US Army General: “Let’s get these Walkie-Talkies in the field to all our soldiers immediately! It’s a new era now, the Walkie-Talkie era!”

Inventor: “Dammit, Special Needs Friend!”

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How Dare You, Sir!

April 27, 2010

I’m upset with Bill Simmons.

I got called out by someone for using the phrase “Press Box Hot” without attributing it to Simmons. Which angers me because that phrase is a variation of “Press Box Cute” which has been around a long time before Simmons used it.

— For those of you who don’t know, press box hot/cute is the tendency for a male-dominated industry to have an inflated sense of a woman’s attractiveness because the peer group she is in is underwhelming. (In this case, the discussion was about Erin Andrews, and is she legitimately hot, or is her attractiveness over-stated because of her job in sports, where most women are not very good looking).  —

Upon the accusation that I was stealing someone’s material without allocating proper credit I immediately cried out “How dare you, sir!” and explained:

Simmons whole style is that he’s the ANTI-PRESS BOX writer, someone who doesn’t go to clubhouses or press boxes and writes a column as a fan. Being someone who’s actually in press boxes, I heard about that phrase before I’d heard of Simmons… and a heck of a long time before Simmons ever set foot in a press box — if he ever has.

But he recently heard it from a reporter colleague and used it in an article, so now my friends outside the media relations field act like he invented it.  It’s a lot like how the folks at ESPN and the YES Network made a huge deal about A.J. Burnett giving Yankees the shaving cream pie in the face. They acted like they’d never seen it before, and he invented the concept and turned it into a season-long phenomenon. In actuality, that gag has been part of baseball for as long as I can remember.

I was defensive because I can pinpoint the date I first heard it as I fondly remember the young lady we were discussing and when I first met her. I won’t go into details, because there’s a possibility she is a reader and might be offended.

But as I was explaining how this woman was a legitimate cutie,  and I was just overrating her compared to our colleagues, a long time veteran of press boxes informed me that “There’s a phrase for that. That’s called Press Box Cute.”

This incident predates not only Simmons’ usage of the phrase by almost a decade, but also his arrival at ESPN (although, in full disclosure, I had read him prior to that).  So I became defensive at these wild accusations, and our argument soon escalated.

My adversary did get an outstanding retort in on me:  “I don’t give a **** if you invented square hamburgers 200 years ago, Dave Thomas gets the credit for taking it global.”

But I reject his stance. You know how when some people are fans of a band when they are underground and after the band gets huge, they  will resent the bandwagon fans that just discovered them? That’s kind of how I feel on this matter, because the phrase comes from my world. So I hear by give everyone in the universe full permission to use the phrase Press Box Hot/Cute without attributing any credit whatsoever to Bill Simmons, as his press-box avoidance renders him outside the industry which created the term.


My Dramatic, Violent, and Sexy Day.

April 16, 2010

There’s nothing going on in my life, so this place is pretty boring. I brainstormed, but every topic I could think of just didn’t seem entertaining. Then it hit me. You don’t need interesting things like drama, sex and/or violence to entertain. Just talking about your boring life in an interesting way. So here’s my suddenly riveting day, with more drama, sex and violence than you could possibly want!

In a fit of rage, I thrashed off the bondage of my sheets and brutally attacked the off-button of my Blackberry Bold to escape the piercing war cry of its shrieking alarm. After delivering the death blow to its solar plexus, terror enveloped me as the last fleeting moments of morning ticked off. I escaped to the shower as noon exploded like a time bomb.

With raw anticipation, I slowly slid my fluffy pajamas off every muscular curve of my lower body, exposing a raw sexual physique of carnal flesh. It embraced the sensual downpour of fresh water descending. The refreshing fragrance of shampoo sparked an insatiable desire in the inner most recesses of my soul for the follicle lovers of years past which once adorned my scalp.

I closed my eyes, and immediately my lustful thoughts returned to the most intense intimacy I’d ever known; a love affair that I yearned to rekindle with an animal-like passion. There was no time to waste! I slammed off the faucet, and darted from my watery sanctuary as if all Satan’s minions were vomiting towards me! Pausing briefly to dress myself in an extremely erotic manner, I dove down the stairs seconds before the massive explosion that had no reason to eradicate my universe never illogically took place.

There, in the kitchen, I stood face-to-face with the most breathtaking and gorgeous lover these eyes have ever seen. I gazed lovingly into her captivating aura, lost in the beauty that steals men’s souls. She was pure, delicious…evil. Destined to destroy me. And yet I craved her. I wanted her, needed her, had to be with her. I reached for her, felt her warmth on my still erotically wet flesh. Our lips met and as I tasted the sweet nectar of the Gods, I knew I’d be her servant, her slave, her whore. Every night, this bitter-sweet exotic woman would ultimately leave me tired, naked and alone, tossing through out the night as my twisted psyche vowed to give her black heart up forever.

But at that moment, we both knew that my endless love would return to her each morning and I’d never be without the ecstasy of her freshly brewed taste.

Then after finishing that cup of coffee, I surfed the internet and watched TV for 14 hours, pausing only to eat some bacon, which was also delicious.

The End.


High Maintenance/AWK-ward.

April 16, 2010

I’m at my new job, which is in my field but part-time. It’s my third day, but they seem to like me, recognize the skillz and are grateful to have me there. Which is nice. (Also, money).

The guy who brought me in has a lot to do to be ready for tomorrow (today) and things are way behind because their network/email crashed for five straight business days since I was there last.  So I’m trying to be low maintenance while helping him. I’m just about finished for the day at 5:15, and want to say “That’s done and on the X computer. Anything else I can do?”

But he’s in a meeting with some chick in his office. There’s also some Other Guy standing in there too, asking questions and reminding him that he has to do things for tomorrow. I’m standing at his door for 10 seconds when My Boss gets frustrated.

My Boss: “I know I have to do that. But I have to meet with [Chick], and also do 60 other things, and I can’t because people keep coming in here, asking me about all kinds of things.”

Other Guy: “Okay, just making sure you know you’ve gotta-”

My Boss: “Well, I can’t until I finish this.  Why don’t you leave us alone and maybe they’ll get done.”

Other Guy: “But they have to be done.”

My Boss: “Would you just get out of here?”

Other Guy: (turning to me) “You see how he talks to me?”

My Boss: “Get out of my office!”

Other Guy: “And I’m a vice president. Would you talk to [Big Boss] that way?”

My Boss: “Well, he’s an associate VP.”

Other Guy: “I don’t think you’d talk to him like that”

My Boss: “I wouldn’t have to. He understands my time constraints.”

Other Guy: (opens his mouth to say something)

My Boss: “I have to finish this with [Chick]. And he needs something. (phone rings) And whatever this is. Just get out of my office!”

Me? ah crap! I’m an innocent bystander!

Now I’d been standing there for that entire conversation which took about five minutes (recapped here with heavy editing), just for my 10-second not-even-a-question, watching this be incredibly awkward for Chick and I.  Like watching daddy and mommy fight at the dinner table. I kind of want to make that joke to ease the tension, but I don’t know them well enough to know if they’d all laugh or get mad.

If I wasn’t on my third non-consecutive day on the job, I’d have tried to run some interference on Other Guy. Because I kind of get the idea that My Boss thinks Other Guy is a nice guy, but can be irritating. But I can’t run interference, because I don’t know what he does. Or his name.

Other Guy mutters “I just don’t think you’d talk to [Big Boss] that way” and storms off  while My Boss answers the phone. And I’m still standing there like Forrest Gump while his mom meets with the school commissioner.

My Boss just said he’s got tons of stuff to do, so I’d like to say “Let me help you, give me something to do.” Because that shows him I’m a team player. Also, I am paid by the hour.

But I can’t say that, because giving me another task means explaining what he wants and Chick is still there trying to meet with him. And I don’t know the guy well enough to know if he’s going to get completely pissed at me for being another interruption.

I’m completely screwed. I’m in purgatory, just frozen by the tension and my Catch-22 of leave them alone/be a team player.

And then after the phone call, he turns to Chick and says “So…where were we?”

ARRGGH. Now I’m thinking “Oh screw this, I’m just going to salute and go home.” But I’m getting paid to stand there, so I can handle minimum wage tension. And who knows how long I’d have been standing there if Chick hadn’t rescued me by asking “Does he need…?”

Luckily, My Boss collected himself and I got to relay the seven-word status update. And since I had eight minutes to develop the most succinct way of conveying it, I added “if you’re swamped, put me to work” for a total of 13 ruthlessly efficient words which showcased how valuable I feel his time is and how much I want money am a team player.

He gave me a quick “Alright.” (Emphasis on the ‘righ’ which acknowledges my team approach), and added “Go to computer Y and load the load video clips in Network Drive/Subfolder into the program. After that, you’re done. See you at 1 tomorrow.”

So my patience was rewarded with (whatever a quarter of minimum wage is, probably enough to buy a Coke), and I went downstairs to discover that Computer Y cannot connect to the Network Drive because of stupid network issues that have plagued them all week.

Now I’ve got to go upstairs and interrupt again.  Less succinctly, I gave him a can’t/because explanation and said “I’ll come in earlier and do it tomorrow” and fled the scene as quickly as possible.

So much for low maintenance.


Relationship/Obscenity Advice

April 14, 2010

My friend is having relationship issues now that she’s long distance from her boyfriend. The dude is unemployed, living at home, and miserable. Why she asked me for advice, I have no idea. My theory, is that he’s acting all disinterested in her and not answering her calls/texts because he’s basically adopted the depressed, my life sucks, woe is me identity, and therefore is acting self-destructive. I’m not sure what advice I can give, because I’m not depressed (despite my depressing situation), and I’d be totally stoked if I had some cutie hung up on me. The guy is acting like he wants to be left alone for a while… so what other advice can you give besides “leave him alone for a while” ?

Another friend, through a online chat conversation, used an obscenity, but felt the need to asterisk out one letter, as if that made a difference. I knew exactly what she said, my opinion of her doesn’t change one way or the other: It’s not like I’d be appalled if she didn’t use the asterisk to censor herself. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. If you’re going to swear, swear. If you worry about what someone will think, don’t. Just censoring one letter makes me think you’re a *****.


My Dad… On Duke.

April 8, 2010

Some background on my dad:

He is not really a sports fan, he was a race car driver.  If not for my sports addiction, he would rarely watch sports on TV, except for racing (anything but NASCAR, which isn’t really racing) or maybe New Years Day football, the Super Bowl, Local Team Playoff games, etc.

He doesn’t even have favorite drivers/driving teams. He is just hoping for a exciting race. ONCE he admitted it would be nice if the Andretti’s won (they are from Pennsylvania like he is), and a few times he’s said “well, it would be neat if Lynn St. James won.”

So what happens during the Duke-Butler game on Monday? My dad, who never roots for anyone ever, begins YELLING AT THE TV, rooting for Butler.

They show Scheyer on screen, and he says “What do you know about him?”

My father is the man who told me to never judge a book by his cover because when his dad worked at a car dealer, he ignored a dirty hobo looking at a Cadillac, only to watch the hobo go across the street, pull CASH out of his overalls and buy a Caddy from another dealer.

This same man says “He looks like he’s a jackass.”
I said “excuse me?”
“He looks like he really needs to have someone kick his ass.”

I really hope I’ve done something in my life that’s made him as proud of me, as I was of him at that moment.


Reader Mail

April 5, 2010

With my massive fan base, I’m inundated with emails asking me all kinds of crazy things. So I thought I’d take the time to respond.

I found your site while googling Joss Stone for naked pictures. Do you have any?

Of course. What kind would you like? Oh, wait… you mean of Joss Stone. No, I don’t have any of her.

KevFu, love the blog, but you disappear for months at a time. What gives?

College basketball gives. I tend not to think about any interesting things during March Madness… unless you think “THAT’S A FOUL!” “ATTACK THE ZONE!” “REBOUND!” and “STROKE THE THREE!” are interesting.

Women’s Basketball? Really? Are you watching that too?

Kind of. I’ll watch women’s hoops when Dayton and Tulane are involved… or when the men’s tourney ends early on the second weekend and the women are still going on and the TV has got to be on something. That girl from Xavier missing two wide open layups to send her team to the Final Four… ouch. Let’s just say I’m glad there’s nothing that significant that I’m carrying with me for the rest of my life.

What college basketball teams do you hate?

Anyone you’ve heard of, I probably hate to some degree. It’s really a hierarchy of which ones I hate least, fluctuating based on head coach, recent success, and annoyingness of roster.

How’s the job search going?

Well, what positions do you have available?

The rest of the world is talking about the whole health care thing, any thoughts?

No.

You’re Bejeweled Blitz scores are amazing. How do you do it?

Yes. They are amazing. I’m unemployed. What else am I doing all day, besides watching basketball?

Who the F*** are Man United?

You mean the evil Yankees of English Premier League? They are the pile of devils excrement that lies outside the city of Manchester.

Now  that the Olympics are over, you don’t care about curling, do you?

Au Contraire! The Men’s World Championships are going on!

You made the Big Brother audition line seem like it was full of normal people. C’mon, aren’t those people freaks?

Actually, I was surprised to see how many normal people there were. Generally, the people I talked to were kind of like me: extremely social extroverts who are super friendly, easy to talk to, and tend to have a bit of an ‘attention whore’ thing going.

Questions/Comments for Reader Mail can be sent to: kevfu@att.blackberry.net