I'm just about an hour away from my first-ever visit to the inside of an MRI.
I understand that metal objects and recently inked tattoos don't really get along very well with MRI machines, so I'm thankful that I recently made the decision to not get my nose pierced, and that I managed to go another year without a tattoo. (I had been thinking about getting one that replicated the design of the snazziest t-shirt I've ever designed, which you can find here.)
Anyway, I'm going in to get my brain scanned, which makes me think that tomorrow, I'll be quoting Dizzy Dean a lot. In 1934, the pitcher, then with the St. Louis Cardinals, was hit in the head by a baseball while trying to break up a double play, and suffered a concussion. After his trip to the hospital, he reportedly said, "They x-rayed my head and found nothing."
Showing posts with label Couldn't have said it better. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Couldn't have said it better. Show all posts
February 15, 2011
December 1, 2009
New feature! Say It, Sajak
Welcome to the first installment of a feature that I hope will be a regular part of SFTC for years to come*. I'm calling it Say It, Sajak!
In each exciting webisode, we'll recap something really funny that game show host extraordinaire Pat Sajak said during a recent Wheel of Fortune telecast. Today's quote, for example, was so freaking hilarious when it aired, that the world's most beautiful wife and I nearly spit out our beverages, in tandem, all over the living room floor.**
One metaphysically challenging aspect of this feature is that although I obviously am sitting in front of a computer screen, typing about things Sajak said on the air, you will never get me to admit that I watch Wheel of Fortune, much less that I watch it an average of 3.5 nights a week.
One ground rule for Say It, Sajak: Each entry will be presented without any explanation. Which could possibly mean that the only way you'll agree that it's rip-roaringly funny is that you'll just have to trust me. Oh, and since I'm doing this by memory, the quote might not be totally, 100 percent accurate. Other than that, I think this is going to be an awesome idea.
Today's Say It, Sajak! Quote of the Day is... "Somewhere in Nashville, someone is getting ready to massage chickens!"
See what I mean?
* Upon further reflection, I sort of hope this is the one and only installment.
** This is actually true.
In each exciting webisode, we'll recap something really funny that game show host extraordinaire Pat Sajak said during a recent Wheel of Fortune telecast. Today's quote, for example, was so freaking hilarious when it aired, that the world's most beautiful wife and I nearly spit out our beverages, in tandem, all over the living room floor.**
One metaphysically challenging aspect of this feature is that although I obviously am sitting in front of a computer screen, typing about things Sajak said on the air, you will never get me to admit that I watch Wheel of Fortune, much less that I watch it an average of 3.5 nights a week.
One ground rule for Say It, Sajak: Each entry will be presented without any explanation. Which could possibly mean that the only way you'll agree that it's rip-roaringly funny is that you'll just have to trust me. Oh, and since I'm doing this by memory, the quote might not be totally, 100 percent accurate. Other than that, I think this is going to be an awesome idea.
Today's Say It, Sajak! Quote of the Day is... "Somewhere in Nashville, someone is getting ready to massage chickens!"
See what I mean?
* Upon further reflection, I sort of hope this is the one and only installment.
** This is actually true.
November 30, 2009
Running for my life
Diane: Our relationship was a two-way street.
Frasier: Yes, and I was run over in both directions.
- Cheers, "Dinner at Eight-ish" (1987)
While back on the East Coast for Thanksgiving, I thought I'd go out for a pre-turkey jog around the neighborhood - you know, to preemptively work off some of the holiday calories. That's just my typical holiday m.o.*
So it's Thursday morning and I'm all geared up, complete with black Brooks running tights (subtle product plug and possibly disturbing visual image), ready to run. But my dad catches my attention. How nice, I think, he's going to give me a pre-Thanksgiving-pre-run pep talk.
Well, almost.
"This former colleague of mine - someone who was really respected in his field - was at a conference in Florida** a few years ago," he tells me. "One morning, he went out jogging, a few hours before he was supposed to give a presentation."
What are the chances this story doesn't end well?
"Several hours went by and he didn't show up, so his wife called the police. Turns out that he was jogging along a narrow road. One car pulled over to let him by, but the next driver sped up to pass, and the car hit him. Killed him instantly."
How's that for a pep talk?
"Awesome, Dad. Thanks for the inspiration."
And with that, I set out on the winding, rain-slicked roads near my parents' house, hoping mainly to avoid becoming the future subject of another of my father's similarly uplifting stories.
--
The previous day, I had received a cell phone message from Greg, a long-lost friend who was, without question, the funniest person I met during four years of college. Hearing his voicemail reminded me of one of his most memorable - if not most tasteful - quotes from back then.
Fittingly for today's post, it also had something to do with a run.
Greg and I were with a handful of friends, watching our college basketball team play against an overmatched opponent. During one stretch, our team was outscoring the opposition pretty handily. One of the guys in our group shouted, "I smell a run!"
Without skipping a beat, Greg yelled back, "Get your head out of your pants!"
* That, sleeping 10 hours a night, and spending most of my other waking hours sitting on a couch.
** The conference might have been in a less-crappy location than Florida, but I really wasn't paying too close attention.
Frasier: Yes, and I was run over in both directions.
- Cheers, "Dinner at Eight-ish" (1987)
While back on the East Coast for Thanksgiving, I thought I'd go out for a pre-turkey jog around the neighborhood - you know, to preemptively work off some of the holiday calories. That's just my typical holiday m.o.*
So it's Thursday morning and I'm all geared up, complete with black Brooks running tights (subtle product plug and possibly disturbing visual image), ready to run. But my dad catches my attention. How nice, I think, he's going to give me a pre-Thanksgiving-pre-run pep talk.
Well, almost.
"This former colleague of mine - someone who was really respected in his field - was at a conference in Florida** a few years ago," he tells me. "One morning, he went out jogging, a few hours before he was supposed to give a presentation."
What are the chances this story doesn't end well?
"Several hours went by and he didn't show up, so his wife called the police. Turns out that he was jogging along a narrow road. One car pulled over to let him by, but the next driver sped up to pass, and the car hit him. Killed him instantly."
How's that for a pep talk?
"Awesome, Dad. Thanks for the inspiration."
And with that, I set out on the winding, rain-slicked roads near my parents' house, hoping mainly to avoid becoming the future subject of another of my father's similarly uplifting stories.
--
The previous day, I had received a cell phone message from Greg, a long-lost friend who was, without question, the funniest person I met during four years of college. Hearing his voicemail reminded me of one of his most memorable - if not most tasteful - quotes from back then.
Fittingly for today's post, it also had something to do with a run.
Greg and I were with a handful of friends, watching our college basketball team play against an overmatched opponent. During one stretch, our team was outscoring the opposition pretty handily. One of the guys in our group shouted, "I smell a run!"
Without skipping a beat, Greg yelled back, "Get your head out of your pants!"
* That, sleeping 10 hours a night, and spending most of my other waking hours sitting on a couch.
** The conference might have been in a less-crappy location than Florida, but I really wasn't paying too close attention.
April 14, 2009
Remembering Harry
Hall of Fame sports announcer Harry Kalas died yesterday. I was fortunate enough to meet him once, a few years ago, when I was working as the spotter for a national radio broadcast of a Chicago Bears game that Mr. Kalas was announcing.
I was probably a bit awestruck - he really was a legend - so I don't think I talked to him other than to introduce myself a few minutes before the game started. But it was such a treat to hear that iconic baritone in person. Hard to explain, but I guess it was the sports fan's equivalent of sitting on stage while Yo Yo Ma played a cello concerto. He was completely prepared, completely in control, and - unlike some other big-name announcers I met in the booth - completely unassuming. Other than that, I only have two memories of that experience.
One is that this man who made a living off of his voice regularly snuck cigarettes during timeouts. Of course, smoking wasn't allowed in the radio booth, but who was going to stop Mr. Kalas? (Apparently the cigarettes were an open secret - a few Philadelphia Phillies players lit up yesterday in what I thought was a fairly odd tribute.)
The other is that Campbell's Chunky soup ads played during a few of the commercial breaks. At the time, the ads were narrated by Mr. Kalas because of his close association with NFL football. And each time they came on, the radio producer would call out to those of us in the booth, "Ka-Ching!" - the sound of another Campbell's royalty check for the announcer - which got a chuckle out of Mr. Kalas.
Unfortunately, that was about the extent of my interaction with the master, but thinking about the time I sepnt in the radio booth at Soldier Field reminds me of one funny story.
A year or two earlier, I was in the booth for a Sunday night game and the temperature was probably about 10 F, with a wind chill below zero. And for some reason, the window to our booth had to stay open, which was... awesome. I think I was wearing about three pairs of pants and six shirts and sweaters under some kind of arctic parka, none of which seemed to make a difference.
I forget who the play-by-play announcer was that day, but former NFL running back John Riggins was handling color commentary. Every few minutes during the broadcast, the announcers would remind listeners how freaking cold it was, which must have made for great radio. Anyway, during a commercial break, someone from the radio crew mentioned to John that, despite the frigid conditions, the guy sitting behind us who was working the controls was not - I repeat, not - wearing socks.
As soon as he got back on the air, John shared this with the national radio audience: "They just told me that Mike, our sound guy, isn't wearing socks. That reminds me of something John Wayne once said in a movie. 'Life is hard. But it's especially hard when you're stupid.'"
I was probably a bit awestruck - he really was a legend - so I don't think I talked to him other than to introduce myself a few minutes before the game started. But it was such a treat to hear that iconic baritone in person. Hard to explain, but I guess it was the sports fan's equivalent of sitting on stage while Yo Yo Ma played a cello concerto. He was completely prepared, completely in control, and - unlike some other big-name announcers I met in the booth - completely unassuming. Other than that, I only have two memories of that experience.
One is that this man who made a living off of his voice regularly snuck cigarettes during timeouts. Of course, smoking wasn't allowed in the radio booth, but who was going to stop Mr. Kalas? (Apparently the cigarettes were an open secret - a few Philadelphia Phillies players lit up yesterday in what I thought was a fairly odd tribute.)
The other is that Campbell's Chunky soup ads played during a few of the commercial breaks. At the time, the ads were narrated by Mr. Kalas because of his close association with NFL football. And each time they came on, the radio producer would call out to those of us in the booth, "Ka-Ching!" - the sound of another Campbell's royalty check for the announcer - which got a chuckle out of Mr. Kalas.
Unfortunately, that was about the extent of my interaction with the master, but thinking about the time I sepnt in the radio booth at Soldier Field reminds me of one funny story.
A year or two earlier, I was in the booth for a Sunday night game and the temperature was probably about 10 F, with a wind chill below zero. And for some reason, the window to our booth had to stay open, which was... awesome. I think I was wearing about three pairs of pants and six shirts and sweaters under some kind of arctic parka, none of which seemed to make a difference.
I forget who the play-by-play announcer was that day, but former NFL running back John Riggins was handling color commentary. Every few minutes during the broadcast, the announcers would remind listeners how freaking cold it was, which must have made for great radio. Anyway, during a commercial break, someone from the radio crew mentioned to John that, despite the frigid conditions, the guy sitting behind us who was working the controls was not - I repeat, not - wearing socks.
As soon as he got back on the air, John shared this with the national radio audience: "They just told me that Mike, our sound guy, isn't wearing socks. That reminds me of something John Wayne once said in a movie. 'Life is hard. But it's especially hard when you're stupid.'"
March 13, 2009
Second degree Bern
The Daily Show fans among you probably caught Jon Stewart's conversation with Mad Money host Jim Cramer last night. I didn't, on account of being asleep, but I'll punch it up online later today. (Free video is here; the New York Times news coverage is here and blog report is here.)
Before Cramer came on, though, Stewart recapped the news about old man Madoff getting his bad self locked up. The host offered what should go down in history as the funniest two-sentence analysis we'll ever hear about the whole mess.
Said Stewart: "Madoff’s 4,000 victims include Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Weisel, as well as actor Kevin Bacon. So if Madoff has accomplished nothing else, he has now connected Kevin Bacon to Hitler in only two degrees."
Before Cramer came on, though, Stewart recapped the news about old man Madoff getting his bad self locked up. The host offered what should go down in history as the funniest two-sentence analysis we'll ever hear about the whole mess.
Said Stewart: "Madoff’s 4,000 victims include Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Weisel, as well as actor Kevin Bacon. So if Madoff has accomplished nothing else, he has now connected Kevin Bacon to Hitler in only two degrees."
November 4, 2008
Out, damned spots
Depending on the results of the actual voting, I believe the third or fourth best news at the end of the day will be that we don't have to watch election ads anymore for a year or two or four. That's change I can believe in.
(Although I recognize the next sonic annoyance, wall-to-wall Christmas music, is just around the corner. Nothing my little friend can't take care of, though.)
An email from my dad this morning contained the best phrase I've heard in a while. In reference to the election, he wrote that today's events would be "kind of filling in the crevices of uncertainty for a day or two." With a tweak or two, I thought it could be the basis for the title of the next Bond movie.
Lines at the polls in our NOTW were running about 90 minutes long for those who showed up at 7 a.m. How about in your neighborhood?
(Although I recognize the next sonic annoyance, wall-to-wall Christmas music, is just around the corner. Nothing my little friend can't take care of, though.)
An email from my dad this morning contained the best phrase I've heard in a while. In reference to the election, he wrote that today's events would be "kind of filling in the crevices of uncertainty for a day or two." With a tweak or two, I thought it could be the basis for the title of the next Bond movie.
Lines at the polls in our NOTW were running about 90 minutes long for those who showed up at 7 a.m. How about in your neighborhood?
October 4, 2008
Debate 3
As a rule, I'm not doing posts that merely send you to other blogs. But I'm making an exception in this case because I make the rules here, punk.
Do yourself a favor and check out Ph33r and Loathing's Sarah Palin Debate Flow Chart. (The graphic is at the bottom of his Oct. 2 "Moosehunter" post.) It's a little slice of brilliance. Big thanks to GlutenGirl in the D.C. for sending it to me.
Seriously, go look at it. Why? Because she can't name a newspaper or magazine. That's why. (Just in case the flow chart is unclear, here's a full-size version.)
OK, I'm done with posts related to the VP debate. For today, anyway.
Do yourself a favor and check out Ph33r and Loathing's Sarah Palin Debate Flow Chart. (The graphic is at the bottom of his Oct. 2 "Moosehunter" post.) It's a little slice of brilliance. Big thanks to GlutenGirl in the D.C. for sending it to me.
Seriously, go look at it. Why? Because she can't name a newspaper or magazine. That's why. (Just in case the flow chart is unclear, here's a full-size version.)
OK, I'm done with posts related to the VP debate. For today, anyway.
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