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I love my dog. He’s almost 14 years old. He’s was born in Charlottesville, while I’ve only been here about six years. He’s also a total jerk. He does things like beg to go outside at 3AM, then run to the top of the hill, turn around to look at me and bark his face off. He knows I won’t run up the hill after him, so he just bounces around going apeshit, and wakes up the neighbors. Really, he’s great.

I’ve always chalked his aloofness up to being too intelligent to put up with my bullshit, and basically figuring out that I’m going to feed him and give him fresh water no matter what he does. Of course, he knows that when he’s going nuts barking in the middle of the night, I’ll always cave and bribe him with food. You see, food is his only true weakness. When he sees people food, he enters the zone. In the zone, nothing takes his attention away from the food.

So, a few friends (and their dogs) were over, eating pizza and watching TV. Begging space was tight, but all dogs were in attendance. Nothing was really out of the norm until a friend remarked:

“Your dog is on fire.”

A quick glance to the fireplace confirmed this. My dog was so in the zone that he didn’t realize he had backed his tail right into the fire. I pulled him out of the way, and surprisingly his thick coat hadn’t burnt all the way down. He was a little spooked, but hardly enough to break his attention away from his food objective. While a pretty impressive test of dog durability, it was a pretty horrible way to keep company around. The place stunk like burnt dog and the party promptly ended.

So,… sometimes I think maybe my dog isn’t so smart after all. He’s cute, but he might be real, real dumb. A few minutes after the fire incident, he went and laid down in front of the fireplace again. I have my doubts that he walked away from this experience with a single lesson learned.

Damn it, Kodiak.

Ok. It’s time to stump for another awesome local event. Coming from a similar vein as CLAW (Charlottesville Lady Arm Wrestlers), we’ve got another group that’s mixing some of my favorite things: Sex, Violence, Booze, and Charity. If you guys haven’t been to one of these events, you really are missing out. As an extreme example of how great this can be, there is a ‘danger zone’ right up next to the track; basically operating with the same idea as the ’splash zone’ at a Gallagher show. Except, instead of being splattered with exploded watermelon… you’ll probably be hit by a flying mass of knees, elbows, and metal. Bad ass, right?

The details for this event can be found in the flyer above, or at the Derby Dames website. Or, since I need to fluff this for content, in the next paragraph:

Event: Women’s Flat Track Roller Derby

Where: Augusta Expoland   –  277 Expo Road, Fishersville, VA

When: Sunday, March 7th. Doors open at 4PM, Scrimmage starts at 5PM

How Much: $5 at the door. Bring cash for drinks!

Why: Sex, Violence, Booze, Charity.

You can get $1 off admission for each canned good  you bring in. So, the more food you donate, the more money you’ll have for drinks!

This time the Derby Dames will be scrimmaging with the Richmond Derby Demons including some members of the Rocktown Rollers.  I’m going to be hauling a Jeepload of folks over there for the festivities, and we’re all really excited about the event. This promises to be a Sunday to remember.

We hope to see you guys there!!

]]> http://txtnly.com/2010/03/04/charlottesville-derby-dames-snow-brawl/feed/ 6 http://txtnly.com/2010/03/04/tour-story-near-death-in-western-pa/ http://txtnly.com/2010/03/04/tour-story-near-death-in-western-pa/#comments Thu, 04 Mar 2010 13:28:35 +0000 Loki http://txtnly.com/?p=218
Years ago I was in a band. We toured a handful of times up and down the east coast, put out a few CDs, and had a grand old time. The only time I ever thought for sure that we might disappear and never be seen again was outside of Pittsburgh in 2001 (the week before 9/11).

I had booked us a show in a small town outside of Pittsburgh, PA. It seemed like a cool idea – an all ages venue on one side and a music store on the other. I also heard of a few other bands we were friendly with who had played there. The venue didn’t have a very functioning website (usually a dealbreaker for us at the time) but based on the other info I had about the place I decided to call and book us a show for our tour. [as an aside - the website for the venue is still up and hasn't changed since 1999]

The four of us showed up early in the day and spent the afternoon bumming around the venue and meeting the other bands. One of the bands was that pop-punk band Allister that was on Drive-Thru years ago. As it came close to show time we went on, played, watched the other bands, and hung out (notice a theme to being on tour?) while we waited to get paid and figure out our lodging for the night. Our next stop was Oberlin, OH and we hadn’t arranged anywhere to stay in this small town. I guess we naiively figured that we’d stay with another band or just sleep in the van. Well there wasn’t much in this town except for strip malls and parking lots and the other bands we played with, with the exception of this pop-punk band from Chicago, were in high school.

As we were getting paid the owner Steve asked us in a gruff voice if we had anywhere to stay. We fumbled around saying we thought we’d just get a motel but he insisted we stay with him at his house which he said wasn’t too far from there. We were polite and declined, saying that we’d just get a hotel, but he insisted and we really didn’t have any money for a hotel anyway. So we agreed to stay with Steve. Then he said, “do you guys wanna go get some beers?” Well of course we wanted to get some beer! We’d been drinking soda all night (remember, it was an all ages venue) and were feeling like we wanted to have a good time. After Steve locked the place up we followed him to this bar that was a couple blocks away. It was in a strip mall. We weren’t terribly put off by this, we were actually excited to finally relax a little bit and maybe get something to eat.

The cook opened the kitchen back up to make us chicken wings, we drank beer with the locals, laughed a lot, and soon it was closing time. Steve asked if we wanted to grab a couple sixers of tall-boys and head back to watch Joe Dirt. Well that sounded just fine! So we followed Steve at breakneck speed through the twisty roads of the Western Pennsylvania hills. It occurred to me more than once as I sat in the back of the lurching van that we might disappear out here and never be seen again. No-one knew where we were (including us), and only the people who followed us actually knew that we were on tour and played a show that night. Being on tour is half fun and half giving up any worry of what may happen to you. It can be a scary place. So when we got to Steve’s house we tumbled out and retired to his living room to drink beer and watch Joe Dirt. When the movie was over he said he was turning in but the guys in the band still wanted to hang out, so we retired to the basement where most of us were sleeping. Steve’s teenage son came down to hang out with us and while he wasn’t on the cellphone trying to score some pot at 3am or get a girl to come over, he was quite enjoyable company.

When time came for us to turn in, our drummer decided to sleep upstairs on the couch. The rest of us slept in the basement. Now, Steve’s house had an open floorplan upstairs so Steve’s room was a loft above the living room where our drummer was sleeping. The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was an enormous knife on the wall. Apparently around 5am our drummer awoke to Steve mumbling in his sleep about ‘killing those motherfuckers’, and about 45minutes later Steve awoke to what our drummer described as ‘having a heart attack’. Our drummer went outside to smoke a cigarette and apparently stayed in the van all night for fear of Steve attacking him (but apparently not us) in his sleep.

When we asked him why he’d spent the night in the van the night before, our drummer explained to us what had happened in the middle of the night and from then on we made very sure that at least one of us knew where we were spending the night on tour. I might not be writing this story from the comfort of Charlottesville, VA but transmitting it to the heavens from a decaying skeleton in western Pennsylvania.

The trouble with being shunted into this central casting character type, is that I find myself woefully unprepared. And this, dear potential victims, is the understatement of the year. Allow me to elucidate.

I have scrutinized the ad rituals in my little pigeon hole and observed several dominant themes. First and foremost, apparently I must lie about nearly everything. The most prevalent lie seems to be that of omission, mostly in the form of extremely short blunt ads. It were as if these suitors were of such an urgency to find their juliet (or juliet for the night as the case may be), that they had not the time to even toss a few meager punctuation marks into their little ascii text box for good measure. Im sure this serves the purpose of not having to mention their extensive criminal record, their extra limb, their collection of finch carcasses or some other delicate yet deal breaking fact, but still. Is a complete sentence too much to ask in the name of love, or at least lust? As you have no doubt garnered by now, I have a tendency to be quite verbose, languishing over lascivious language being a penchant of mine. Clearly, obscurity through brevity is not an option for me. A pity, really.

But enough of things that are short yet should be long, let us address the converse, which is lie number two. It seems a common enough tradition of us in the M4W tab to produce, in all it’s pixellated glory, a stunning representation of our penis. Well, *a* penis anyway, as usually these are detached from any sort of context. I certainly have no sense of shame when it comes to my body, and am rather fond of my penis actually, but a general sense of decency precludes me from providing such a display to you all en masse. Any of my previous lovers were certainly welcome to capture its image to their Mapplethorpe-y heart’s content. But here? Now? Well, I told you I was a novice. I suppose I could borrow one from a gay porn site or some such, there certainly seems to be no shortage of a range of body parts on the internet, but the thought of wading through the multitudes of denuded scrotundae and glistening shafts of light is frankly, a bit off putting tome at the moment. I hope you will forgive my lapse in this additional area.

Ah and the lapses continue to pile up…

I could lie about being single, but seeing as I am actually single, it’s acuity as a lie is, well, ridiculous. Similarly, I could lie about having a decent, somewhat interesting professional job, being college educated, owning my own home, being tall and fit, all my hair and teeth, being socially at ease in any milieu… but… oh what the hell. Damn it.

Hmm, there must be something. Ooohh I got it! I am fabulously rich beyond your wildest dreams, and not at all on a rather middle class budget. Also, I am a non smoker, and dont at all enjoy the occasional cigarette at a respectable distance from anyone that may be offended by such behavior. There. There’s two at least. That should count for something.

So then, thats about the best CV I can muster as an aspiring CL stalker creepy guy of dubious intent. I suppose I should say a few words regarding my interests in a potential victim. How difficult! First off, if you actually would like to be kidnapped, I am afraid I cannot oblige you seeing as my basement is unfinished, and as such quite unsuitable. Frankly, I am afraid I may be a bit slack in my ability to stalk you as well, as If I am not mistaken that requires quite a bit of time invested. I always have several creative side projects cooking, and coupled with my full time job and need for sleep, well, I just don’t see how I could fit it in. Perhaps in time, we could turn it into some sort of art project or some such. Its just the idea of sitting in my car outside your work for hours on end to take note of whether you smile at the UPS guy or not sounds a bit too much for me to take on. Besides, I think that UPS could use a smile without fear of recrimination from some car dwelling green with testosterone “kind of boyfriend”. Rough job, that. UPS, I mean.

If you absolutely need it, I suppose I could put on some creepy aires. That wouldn’t be too too hard, not too much of a stretch and actually a little mystery is always good, titillating, even. I mean how else can one explain the recent resurgence in the “sexy vampire” motif in popular culture? I could go that route. Physically, I am attracted to victims on the leaner/fitter side of things, but really have no “type”. I suppose since I do not have any sort of expectations as to how exactly having a victim would play out in my life, that information may be irrelevant. I admire self confidence in body and mind, a touch of daring do, sense of humor and an open mind above all else. Oh, and of course patience, because damn, this stalker internet kidnappy bad guy stuff is more challenging than I thought, and Im gonna need you to bear with me.

You have been there for me in the past. My server is local, but I will re-host my software in “Casual Encounters > Nigeria” if I have to, so dire is the situation. So please. Fake me out with blind links, bad grammar and pictures stolen from some Norwegian Facebook user’s profile. I promise I will return the favor and hit you with my best photoshopped celebrity pix, mysterious snippets of code and spyware.

As always, ‘your’ pic gets ‘mine’, and please put your social security number in your response so I know you are real. Can’t wait to hear from you! *wink*

~Brock.

Which is why I am posting this ad. I need a nice sane woman for long hops on the veranda, dusting a menagerie of glassy eyed former best friends, and helping me pickle cabbage, which is a big pass time of mine. Did you know you can bury a cabbage throughout the winter, dig it up and its good as new! Well, they get a little dirty, but I didn’t skimp when it came to buying a pressure washer, I can tell you what! 600 psi on the sharp nozzle will clean a cabbage right up. I know a lot about cabbage, but if its not “one of your things” well, thats ok. I mean, I guess. The kraut can be out. So please be sane and not crazy at all. Between my Aunt Croutessa, and the conjoined twins Lessi and Ricky, I am up to my armpits in crazy women. They live in the trailer next door, and boy if its not one thing its another. You’d think it was a crime to burn old cabbage husks in the yard the way they go on about it. I guess the sweet pungent aroma doesn’t strike every one similarly. Still, its one thing to dislike a smell and quite another to shoot paintballs at crippled man while screaming in that Germanic devil language. You’d think Old Lefty and Righty (my nickname for the twins) would be a worse shot, seeing as the share a torso, but man, they are dead eyed from 100 yards. And paintballs sting when they hit you in a boil.

Yes so please be sane. Very very sane. Because I am just a normal guy. A very very lonely normal guy.

Oh and, knowledge of ointments, salves and unguents is a big plus! I tell you why later..

Cant wait to hear from you!

Here’s a place for all of your cVillain vitriol. With the new owner forgetting basics like ‘how Gateway IP’s work’ and other basic blog etiquette, I’m just over it.

However, I’m going to pull a Thor here. I don’t really want the general distaste for the new owner to become a focus point for txtnly. I’m not asking you to stop your bitching, because I still get a laugh out of it. I just don’t want it overrunning the rest of the blog.

Me: Awesome black slightly offroad-ified Jeep.

Hi.

I feel like you might remember me. We locked eyes as I passed you on the sidewalk. As I turned into a narrow alleyway, I glanced into my rear view mirror; and your gaze held fast. Next, I drove into the side of a building.

Let’s get coffee some time. If you see this, tell me what building I hit to let me know it’s you.

P.S. You should probably drive.