Me, Dad, Calvin and Hobbes

Last Friday I was sitting at the computer working away and I decided to take a break from the dull paces of roster scheduling and fill a few minutes with mindless nonsense the web always offers. For some reason or another I stumbled onto a great site that dissected old Calvin and Hobbes strips and related them to personal meanings. I was so excited that these stories were very much like my own. I could identify with Calvin on so many levels as both an only child and the fact that no matter where I was at present, in my mind I was far, far away.

For those who are unfamiliar with this comic strip, it was created by Bill Watterson about a little boy (Calvin) and his imaginary friend (Hobbes). Calvin is an only child who marches to his own beat and has the innate ability to be in two places at once. One for real and the other in his head. His buddy Hobbes, is his stuffed tiger that is real to Calvin and his only friend. Hobbes has an innocent view point on life and is the catalyst for Calvin’s mischief as well as his sensibilities. Together their adventures are endless.

While going through these strips on the web I realized that this was such a symbol of my childhood growing up. I read the books on long car trips, Christmas vacation at the grandparents house in Philadelphia, school study hall, and even when we moved to Arizona to escape the loneliness of being the new kid. I never read these books from page one to the end but rather skipped around so there might be a chance that there would be a strip that I missed many days later. But I think the most important memory is with my Dad. He and I would read Calvin and Hobbes books for hours, laughing hysterically at every insightful suggestion Hobbs would give and Calvin would learn, albeit the hard way. I cherish these memories. I remember having a worried feeling that the next volume would be the last and Calvin would find friends and he would then see Hobbes the way everyone around him did, a stuffed animal. It’s not that I was entirely concerned for the end of the strip but rather what would Dad and I connect with? It’s not like we would go from comics to reading the Great Gatsby together and discuss the symbolism of dialog between the characters. I just didn’t want to see the end of of our Sundays on the couch.

Fortunately, I grew up faster than Calvin. I found friends, played baseball and girls became tolerable. The time reading the adventures of Calvin as Spaceman Spiff became less frequent and soon not at all. I think deep down Dad was worried that this would happen the way it did. He wasn’t as concerned about Calvin’s maturity as he was about my own. I guess all good things do come to an end and nature must take it’s course.

The next morning I went to Barnes and Nobel and bought the final volume of Calvin and Hobbes to see how it came to an end. I read the entire book from cover to cover unlike how I did in the past. I wanted to see how Bill Watterson would wrap up the decade long comic and he did it in the greatest way possible. My fears of Calvin growing out of his imaginary friend Hobbes didn’t happen but rather left us with a happy, hopeful ending. It is Calvin and Hobbes walking through fresh fallen snow with their sled exclaiming how it’s like a clean slate. We are left with the two sledding off into the distance with Calvin saying “…c’mon old Buddy, let’s go exploring.” Now I’d be lying if I said I had dry eyes after that.

On Sunday I left Ft. Lauderdale and drove to see my Dad at his house an hour north. He was at the kitchen table reading the New York Times drinking his morning coffee just like usual. I sat down with him and opened the Calvin and Hobbes book to show him my latest and favorite stip. He smiled as I slid the book so he could read it. We spent the next hour laughing as we read and without a word we picked up right were we left off 17 years ago. It was a good day.

Neurosonic In Augusta

What a weekend I had! Actually what a Friday I had. Saturday was spent working, nursing a hangover, and Christmas shopping via Amazon dot com. Even in flannel PJs, sitting on the couch drinking Earl Grey, I can still spend a few hundred bucks. Ah, but what are you going to do? The original Grinch was on TBS and that always gets me in the Christmas spirit.

So Friday. I really wasn’t planning on going out but you know how it goes. My buddy text me with two words that changed the course of my evening; “Beer and Rock Show?” If you ever want anything from me you can dangle those two words in front of me and I will do your bidding.

“Bill, I want you to eat the neighbor’s cat.”

“What? Get the fuck out of here! No way!”

“Beer and rock show?”

“Get me some Frank’s Red Hot sauce and I’ll fire up the Weber grill.”

So I went to MelloMushroom to meet my buddy and pre-drink a few beers when two guys sat down next to me that literally oozed hard rock. From the sleeve tattoos to the jet black hair, I knew these guys had to be playing the same venue I was going to. Just like the jackass I am, I couldn’t let these guys order a drink before I asked the typical idiotic question, “Are you guys in a band?” Luckily for me they didn’t give me the middle finger to the forehead and politely responded with a yes. Turns out they are Jason Darr and Jacen Ekstrom from the infamous Canadian band Neurosonic. Now I’m permanently stuck in The Clash era of punk/rock so I felt a little guilty when they were firing out certain bands that I had no idea of but I am not so out of the loop when they told me about being on tour with Korn and The Deftones with The Family Values Tour. That one I did know. I didn’t want to chew their ear off while they had dinner with the two hundred questions but they were cool enough to chat and really it ended up being just a few dudes talking about rock and roll.

This picture is a little grainy but you get the idea. They were cool enough to shoot the shit and take a picture so now onto the show! Actually I stuck around Mello for a few more brews and then went. I want to be as accurate as possible because as the night progresses, things get a little fogged.

Holy shit. Right when I got to The Mission (the venue Neurosonic played) I turned the corner and I immediately recognized on of the guys on the tour. It was Brian from X-Entertainment. If anyone knows me they know I am a regular to the X-E blog and one of my favorite things to do is read other people’s profiles to see what is going on in their lives. I guess I pay attention to that because in order for people to comment on X-E, they have to have something in common with me. With that said, I went right up to him and said, “Are you Brian?” There was a little awkwardness when he said, “Yeah?” Then I explained I was Bill from X-Entertainment and everything was copacetic. For what ever reason, he was apart of the X-E family and I felt compelled to make sure he was taken care of so I went out and got him dinner. Hey, when you are in my neck of the woods I’ll at least get you dinner. It’s a southern thing I suppose.

Well, soon Neurosonic took the stage and I will say they kicked ass. No, that’s an understatement. They were shockingly good. Kind of like jumping up on a bar-stool naked only to accidentally sit on your balls. No, that’s never happened to me! I just think that would be surprising. But seriously, these guys are unbelievable and they are going to be unstoppable in the next few years. I was really lucky to meet them and even after the show I had the pleasure of hanging out with them again. Here’s a little taste of their talent.

I’m not going to go in too much detail about the performance because I am writing an article for an online magazine I sometimes contribute to. I’ll post the link when it is published. It usually takes a couple of months to get submitted, edited and published but one of the editors shot me a call and she promised to have it in the December issue for the year in review. I hope it does Neurosonic proud. They deserve it.

Well, soon I had to get going because I know when it is time to say when. Actually the girlfriend called and I had to meet her up at another bar. So I made my way out after saying my goodbyes and went to go to hang with her. I could tell the beers were kicking in because before I left the bartender ran after me and gave me my sweater that I had left behind the bar. I forgot I had ask to keep it back there. Another sign was the fact I took this picture of a McNugget on the wine shelf of the bar.

I was able to hang in there for another hour or so before my thoughts drifted to a warm bed, Nick@Nite, and old pizza. I was ready to hit the hay so I said a second round of goodbyes and the girlfriend and I went to get into the car.

So I forgot where I parked the car. This was the only crap part of the night and it was a little embarrassing to walk up and down the street hitting the automatic car lock waiting for a familiar beep. Long story short I found it. Pride was dented but the car was found so everything was once again right with the world. What a night.

Oh yeah. It’s Veterans Day so as a vet I wish all the other ones a happy day and thank you. Rangers Lead The Way!

Putting the “Me” in “Extreme” with the Ultimate Warrior

In every profession there comes a time when thoughts drift to where the grass grows greener. I think I am there. It’s not that I am unhappy, it’s just that always being on the move is wearing me down and I would love to be in one state for more than just a couple of weeks. But before I can even think about jumping head first into the interview process again I need to revamp my style. Now that I have a few years of corporate experience I really need to have a more direct and aggressive approach to knock the socks off any CEO or senior exec. I need inspiration. Who can help me with this?

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Ah, The Ultimate Warrior! The guy would put passion into every syllable he speaks, whether it makes sense or not. Most believe he is completely crazy but I find a little genius in his madness. Who else can go on a screaming rant about planets, trees, Grimlock Systems, multiple gods, and poodles without so much as a shrug from the audience. Granted they were the type of people who thought wrestling was most definitely real and Ultimate Warrior goes home each night to his spaceship but that is beside the point. The point is he can win the hearts and minds of anyone with a whole bunch of nothing and if I am going to swing my resume at a fortune five company, I want to have that gift. Here’s an example of what I am talking about. Enjoy.

Let’s see…..I got logs, fire, Hercules, flames that go up and down and that’s about it. See what I mean? There is no real congruent thought process going on there but for some reason I feel compelled to agree with what ever he says. I think he can help me put the “me” in “extreme”. Let’s study another video shall we?

Look at that intensity! How can any interviewer deny the dedication of someone who approaches them with mouth agape and hissing? I would skip the whole “You’re not worthy enough to breathe the same air as me.” I doubt that would be appreciated right off the bat so that line will be put in the back pocket for a later date. I will use it, though. Just give me time. Maybe I should practice a simulated interview before I go full on with the real thing? Hmmmm….I need more inspiration.

Ok, that was a little over the top but I think I have it! I do need to work on my snorts but over all I think I have the gist of it. Now it is only me here tonight. All my buddies are having fondue date night or some lame ass thing so this practice interview will take a little imagination, a little dress up, and a total disregard for any dignity I may have left. Ahhh….if you have been a reader of VeggieMacabre you know I have kissed my dignity away a long time ago. Anyway, this is only helping my future in corporate America. Right? Keep in mind I am 29 and this is my Saturday night.

Interviewer: Let’s see….. who is next? Bill….

“Wendy, could you go ahead and send in my 9:00?”

Interviewer: H…hello, you must be Bill. Please have a seat? Would you care for a cup of coffee?

Me: Isssssssss it extREME?

Interviewer: I think it is just regular. Well, let’s get going. I have a copy of your resume and you have the experience and meet the education requirements but I was wondering about your cover letter. “I’m fucking awesome?” that seems a little….direct. Don’t you think? And it’s misspelled too.

Me: YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO TALK TO ME, NORMAL. YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE TO BREATH THE SAME ..er…ahem…I was going for a straight on approach. After all, isn’t that what a cover letter really says, anyway?

Interviewer: Ah, that does make sense. I admire your candor and honesty. Are you familiar with the history of our company?

Me: Back when the gods aligned the planets in the grimlock system I WAS FORMED TO UNDERSTAND THAT only I can grasp the miSSION STATE-MENT of your placccccccccccce of paycheck origon. So yes I am familiar and that is why I feel I can be not only an asset to it’s future but someday be a relic of it’s history.

Interviewer: Very good. If you could choose one thing to be your weakest trait what would that be?

Me: *SNOOORRRRRT* THE SMELLLLL OF COMMMBAT drives me mmmmMMAD! That and I have always had an impatient attitude from outside contractors of the work breakdown structure plan. I need to delegate more effectively from inside the scope.

Interviewer: Ok then, so what do you feel is your strongest?

Me: DO YOU ASK YOUR GOD THIS QUESTION WITHOUT BEING BURNED LIKE A FOREST TREE UNDER LIGHTNING? LOAD THE SPACESHIPS WITH THE ROCKET FUEL! But really I think the training with the airlines and the MBA tasks this year alone has prepared me and sharpened my strongest assets…..so I guess it is the ability to inspire teamwork. Normal.

Wendy: Mr. Larson, your daughter has comeback from the art class in the conference room. Should I send her in?

Interviewer: Oh shoot. Sorry Bill, it is “Take your daughter to work day”.

Yes Wendy, send her in.

Bill: *snortttttt* (long exhale) No problem at all.

Interviewer: Meet my daughter, Lola.

Bill: YOUR OFFSPRING LOOKS A LOT LIKE YOU! STOP LOOKING AT ME NORMAL ONE!


Interviewer: OH My God!


I think we are done here.

Bill: So…..should I call or will you guys call me…?

Interviewer: Get out.

Well, maybe the pumpkin simulation of the brief interview process shed some light why the Ultimate Warrior maybe a little more than I needed after all. But I sure like his style. Plus, he can’t be all that bad. He’s anti smoking!

*Sorry you were subjected to this tonight. I was just burned out from studying and needed to regress a little.*

Halloween Party

Every year I look forward to Halloween and I really don’t know why. I get geared up way too early, burn out around mid October and on the actual day all I really want to do is start the Christmas season. But this year I planned to combat the poorly timed holiday spirit by actually having something to do on Halloween day. This year we threw a party.

So the night before Halloween I finally carved this years pumpkin. Every year I do the same face. It’s more like a retro design but I like it. It reminds me of the back of Charlie Browns head when that bitch Lucy and her even bitchier friend fool him into modeling for their jack-o-lantern. Next year will be same and there is comfort in that. Martha Stewart can F’ing hang.

Here I am. I didn’t intend to be Jason this year. Actually I really wanted to be Angus Young but because I am me, I waited until Halloween afternoon to find all 20 accessories necessary to pull off the rocking outfit. So, I used a flight suit from my prior military career and dropped $6.99 on a hockey mask at exactly 4:30 that afternoon. That’s a plus for the costume but it’s tough to drink 10 beers through a hockey mask. I almost cut a hole in the mouth region but there is a thin line between beer drinking genius and a weird S&M mistaken identity.

Well the decorations were up, the costumes were on and the food was out. Now all we needed were the people to show up and complete the circuit. I will admit that last night I had a few awkward moments very reminiscent of junior high and high school. The party began at 7pm and soon it was 7:30 and we sat on the couch staring out the window while X-Entertainment’s Halloween Jukebox blared Alice Cooper. Just Jason Voorhees and a cowgirl staring pathetically staring out the window. That’s a site from the street.

Then there was a knock! It was the guests and everyone hit a home run on the costumes. Now I was four beers ahead so my friendliness was amplified because everyone received a hug from the slasher of Friday the13th. That was a high point of the night but like all hosts experience, parties have peaks and valleys. Enter the babies.

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. I think they are cute in small doses and on TV but after a while I’m done. I’m sure that will change if I ever have one of my own but I don’t and I relish in the freedom to leave the scene and change the channel. But they were there and I felt it was necessary to put away the hockey mask and explain all night that I am not a top Gun pilot, damn it.

Ninety five percent of the guests were Tara’s work friends. She is a news anchor so everyone in the news world was at the apartment. So right when the babies and new parents arrived so did my friend Johnathan. He was a priest with a Raggedy Andy doll pinned to his crotch. I thought it was spot on. Spot on, man.

There was definitely a lull taking place about half way through the party. None of the people at the news station were really making an effort to talk with my friends and I was busy making sure no one was cutting through the bedrooms because the babies were sleeping and making sure that people tried the dip. Then one of the quests showed up with Guitar Hero for the Playstation and it was a home run. I don’t go ape shit over video games but that one was pretty cool and it was sort of a bridge that made people mingle. I even rocked Dio’s “Holy Diver” and damn near kicked the TV over with excitement.

This is the point when the festivities are now driven by the alcohol consumption. My friends felt a little neglected and jumped ship before midnight. That sucked for me because the news people talk about one thing and that is work. They also throw people who aren’t present under the bus and that is a real sore spot with me. I’m sure i do it too but i definitely don’t do it in public. That’s really the death rattle of the party when everyone is in the kitchen talking shop and me and the one girl who works in Atlanta watch Nightmare On Elm Street 3. I’m sure she didn’t like it but it was that or do that awkward, stand in the corner and fake laugh thing. It was even weird for me to go to the fridge to get my 16th beer. I felt like the car that disturbed the street hockey game. I could have sworn I heard “game on” when I walked back to the couch.

All parties, good or bad, come to an end and this one did too. I said my good byes and I was pretty proud I didn’t make an ass out of myself. I didn’t fall off the roof or throw up in my hockey mask so I was a head of the game. Right up to the point when the new parents were walking out the door with their sleeping baby. Then I tried to make a funny and it went over like a fart in church. “Thanks for coming and thanks for bringing the little guy. I must admit that I was a little disappointed we couldn’t eat him……ahem….right?” At least they faked a laugh.

You didn’t think I could let Halloween go without me making a little slip did you?

British Metal and Punk: The Story Of My Life

I have to confess that I have a few weaknesses in life. I eat Reduced Fat Triscuts everyday and there is no telling when I will get tired of them. It’s more of an addiction really. The chance of me watching an episode of Benson without the deafening crunch every other minute may result in a moment of clearity when I relieze that the show isn’t funny after all. I also can’t function right without coffee. Like most working people, this is a neccessary part of the day and without it, there is a real possibility of a pink slip. But I think my obsession with British Metal and Punk is the least known among my peers. Currently I am working as an instructor for 737 flight systems and you can imagine the Dudley Do-Rights I work with. So here are a few songs, the stories of my life that pop in my head when they are played and count the number of times I say “awesome” and “kick ass” because it may be alot.

Judas Priest. I don’t care what people think about this band they ‘kick ass” and everytime Rob Halford hits that screaming note people should remove all eyeware because they may shatter causing eye problems. Between the speed of K.K. Downing’s guitar and lyrics that can coerse idiot teens to blow their heads off, this band is on my top ten.

I really got into Priest when I was stationed in Bosnia. There was long periods of extreme boredom and to keep our spirits up we took part in multi-country competions which includes many mile rucksack marches and military exercise drills. One particular one was called the Dancon race that was hosted by the Danish army. This race was a 30 mile ruck race that scaled two mountains on the hottest and dryest day of the year. I will tell you that I was rocking Judas Priest’s, Green Manilishi when I noticed Jesus himself walking right next to me. I have to admit he was taller than I expected someone to be from 25 A.D. Whether it was a halucination or not we had a great talk about pizza, socks and why in All In The Family did Archy Bunker’s wife run and never walk. I can’t listen to Green Manilishi without the need to go to church.

The Clash. I think everyone has a Clash favorite and a story to go with it. They started a new chapter in not just punk but in music as a whole. I think music critics were about as speechless as The Clash’s dentists were. One thing is for sure, rock/ punk/ blues/ reagge/ R&B/ polka/ chant/ gossple/ and country were turned on their ear when The Clash came on the scene.

My best pal in high school was Simon Hollier. Even though we went to different schools, we hung out everyday after school and drove around in his Dodge Shadow singing to any classic rock song that was on Z93 or 96 Rock. One particular day we were driving through a nieghborhood and came to an intersection, screaming The Clash’s “Tommy Gun” from the top of our lungs when a car full of nare do wells pulled behind us and honked. With out thinking (which is typical of Simon) Simon gave the middle finger and it was about that time I noticed they were the guys from the local Exon garage and above all there were five of them. Well, we took off and they of course chased us. One thing about Simon is that his flight skills are pretty bad and he hit a curb and blew out his front right tire. We coasted into a Methodist church parking lot and before I knew it I was being pulled out the window by the neck. I’m pretty sure these guys were the typical mechanic high school drop outs and we were most likely going to die. After a few well placed socks to my face irony took control and out of the church a class of black belts came to our rescue and beat the snot out of the mechanics and it was a merciless beating too. I like to think it was divine intervetion. Having a Methodist karate teacher demand the beaten mechanics to apologize to us and repeat the line, “We are losers and we stink” was priceless. I still can’t listen to “Tommy Gun” without my neck hurting.

Iron Maiden. Even the most musically declined person can recognize Iron Maiden for what it is and that is British metal at its’ zenith. Their arena performances are the greatest in the world and anyone who has been to a show will leave both deaf and speechless. I know and I still have a ring in my left ear after 15 years.

I was on the wrong end of a disciplin hearing in high school when I thought it would be a good idea to share the album “666 Number Of The Beast” with Mr. Patino’s English class. We began each class with a favorite song of the day and everyone had their turn. I went to a Catholic high school so my choice was definitly a conflict of interest. The speech about the origions of the number 666 at the beginning of the song was enough to get me excused from the class and two days of detension. But there was method to my madness because I skipped my English homework the night before and this gamble paid off. From that day on my class mates saw me in a whole new rebelious light. Either that or they thought I was a Satanist.

Motorhead. There are few rockers I would rather have a pint with than Lemmy. He embodies metal in in every form. From his ability to never drink whiskey from a glass but rather straight from the bottle to that weird mole thing on his face, he rocks harder than any other. In interviews he maybe a little hard to understand but when he is on stage you know exactly what he says; tell your parents to stick it, nail hot chicks, drink an inordanant amount of booze and eat the rich. “Awesome and kick ass.”

I wish I had a good story about Motorhead but I don’t. I just couldn’t leave a British metal/punk post without including Lemmy. I would be afraid he may hunt me down in my sleep.

Well, I have shared what few know about me. Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to find out about my leather pants or my Camaro. There will be more added later but i have to get back to work. I wish this was work.

*Not proofread so it has a number of errors I am sure.*

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