Sunday, November 28, 2010

The Listens, this day, 28 November, 2010

I managed to write about 2000 words today, in between monstrous cups of coffee. And by monstrous, I mean both huge, and terrifying by what they're doing to my innards. The waterslide is open, folks!

Anyway, here's what I listened to this morning while putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard):

The whole of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros eponymous album, which I dig, actually....followed by:

"Nothin' But a Driver" The Bottle Rockets
"Thanks for the Night" The Damned
"Worker's Song" Dropkick Murphys
"He Got No Heart" Elizabeth Cook
"The Fight" Henry Phillips
"Lodi" Creedence Clearwater Revival
"Absent Elements" Finger Eleven
"Mister Garfield" Johnny Cash
"Every Sperm is Sacred" from Monty Python's Meaning of Life
"When the Radio Goes Dead" Shooter Jennings & Hierophant
"Honey Pie" The Beatles
"Kick Drum Heart" The Avett Brothers
"I Wanna Be Sedated" The Ramones
"Rich Woman" Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
"Scotch and Chocolate" Nickel Creek
"Problem Child" AC/DC
"Can't Get There from Here" REM

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Chapter MMMCDXXXVI: In which my sister and I discuss movies.

A brief conversation between my sister and me, via messenger:

April: What's the old aunt's name that the Griswolds strap to the top of the car in Vacation?

Tommy: Edna.

April: Ok. Thanks. What's her dog's name?

Tommy: Don't know for sure. Bucky?

Tommy: Dinky? (Editors Note: It is indeed Dinky)

April: How is it that we are some intelligent poeple in an intelligent family, and this is what we discuss?

Tommy: Because youre political and religious views tend to polarize the family. It is generally best to discuss movies, or sit in silence, when you are in the room, I find.

Tommy: Also, you tend to hit.

April: True.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

The Big Stupid Tommy Update....

Just wanted to make a couple of quick notes regarding my life as it's stood over the past few days.

First, bowel movements following a dinner at Sitar are generally ranked among my favorites of the year. Last night's lamb korma was no different. A definite Top 5er.

The meal was very good, too.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Execution Meal

Were I to be executed, and had my choice of final meal, what would I choose for my ultimate repast?

I've been thinking about this one pretty hard, the past couple of days. Mostly because I work customer service, and it is the holiday season.

For years and years, the main course in my final meal was barbecued chicken.

Because I love barbecued chicken.

More than 2 members of my immediate family.

I'll let them figure that one out. Keep in mind Christmas is five weeks away.

But I digress.

Barbecued chicken is excellent. Done well. Nice, juicy chicken. Lightly sauced, though with plenty of a nice spicy, sauce on the side.

From time to time, I've waffled.

A nice ribeye, medium rare, with with cracked pepper and a giant plate of steak fries? That wouldn't be a bad way to go out.

Or how about a giant bacon cheeseburger? Sweet Potato fries? Big glass of Coke?


Well, I admit to myself that these are all fine, fine requests for a final sit-down.

But, I would like to point out the last several minutes of grunting consumption at Casa de Big Stupid Tommy. I would like to remember the quiet pleasure out of the simplest of meals.

I'm not saying that those other things wouldn't be tremendous.

But there is a part of me that would be satisfied, were I to be executed, by a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Holy Frijoles.

Good stuff.

I don't buy sugary cereals much. Because I'll eat them. And I'd prefer to reach the pinnacle of Biggest Stupid Tommy by some manner other than overconsumption of breakfast cereal.

But the bakers on the front of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Box hollered at me as I went to leave my store today.

"Hey!" they said.

I stopped, trying to figure if the voice was talking to me, or if it was simply the voice in my head, which doesn't speak up except contradict almost any opinion I voice.

"Hey," they said again. "Buy us."

I realized that the box of cereal was talking to me.

"Why? You aren't good for me."

"Well look at you, Jim Fuckin' Fix. Run your health-conscious ass along, then. We'll just mind our ever-loving business."

I'm rarely cussed by breakfast cereal. It is even rarer that I take it. "I will not take shit from ANY cereal, least of all the one with a guy who looks like he's the Vice President of the Pop'n Fresh Fan Club!!!!!"

So, yeah, I kicked the shit out of that aisle-stack of breakfast cereal. The beating was epic. Somewhere between the one Thunderlips gives Rocky at the beginning of Rocky III, and the one Israel delivered to the Arab world in June of 1967.

Then, as with all things involving me being violent, there were many people looking, shaking their heads.

"I tripped on this aisle-stack of Cinnamon Toast Crunch while examining the sugar content." I said, to nobody in particular, doing my best to maintain my composure. This was difficult because I was crying (I cry when I get very, very angry. I'm like the anti-Hulk). Also, I'd torn my pants at the knee, ass and crotch.

I realized then that I had one box of cereal still in my hand, where I'd been about to spike it football style.

I put it into my basket. It's important to save face with co-workers and customers.

So, I bought my cereal. I drove home. And I was watching the Predators completely take a dump on the ice against Toronto, and I heard the cereal calling my name again. From my kitchen.

Anyway, to make a long story even longer, I did not beat the shit out my cereal again. I poured a bowl of the cereal, I put milk on top of it, and I selected a clean appropriately sized spoon from the drawer (second from the right, just to the right of the sink). And while watching hockey, I ate my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

If Jim Fix had eaten Cinnamon Toast Crunch, he'd have died from a joy-induced heart attack, rather than a jog-induced one. What a difference a letter makes. Just ask Virginia.

So, as things stand right now, I'm giving a whole hell of a lot of thought to having Cinnamon Toast Crunch at my final meal.

Because it is a fine shit-talking cereal.

The finest shit-talking cereal.

I should write advertising copy.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Sweet Yellow Cornbread

A repost. A lie that I put up a few years back:

A Lie, this Tuesday Night:

Back in the late nineties, I spent a few years knocking around the boxing circuit.

My nickname was "Sweet Yellow Cornbread."

Sweet, because I was lovable, because I was a student of the sweet science, and also because I could punch hella hard with my fists. I was hell with my fists. I never got the whole "sweet" = "Badass" but, you know, I just went with it. I put more than a few men down for the count with my fists. I was a student of the game, but mostly I was a puncher.

And I was called Cornbread because I was white. Let's face it. There aren't a lot of white fighters, nowadays. It was what identified me to fans, more often than not. So, that's where you get "bread." I gotta lot of "Wonderbreads" and "Whitebreads" and "Cracker" and "Blue-Eyed Devil" as I came up through the ranks. But I was known behind the scenes for cracking a lot of stupid, corny jokes. Hence: Cornbread.

And I was called Yellow because I was cowardly. I spent much of the fight running from my opponent. Screaming. Hands in the air.

It was very much my strategy to see if I could wear my opponent down by having him run himself stupid chasing me.

It's tougher than you think. You try screaming and running around your room for three minutes straight, and see if you aren't worn out.

Then try it with a mouthguard, being chased by a 248 pound man who's trying to punch you to death.

However, my plans worked on more than one occasion, believe it or not.

I had a record of 16-1 up until my last fight. That one loss? I lost on purpose. All I'll say is that I got hit in the gut one good time, and I felt a turtle head poke out. I wasn't sure what had happened back there, but I decided to take a ten count, just to keep from crapping my pants live on pay per view.

Yeah. Good record. I retired after I was beaten into a coma by Vitaly Klitschko, in our bout in 1999.

It's why everything smells like vanilla to me.

Random Thoughts, at 12:30 in the morning...

Just a few random thoughts, as I try to get back into the groove of writing things on my blogamathing.

I had what you might call a difficult customer service experience yesterday, which isn't the point of this particular paragraph, merely the lead-in. In short, a customer made a mistake, insisted that I correct her mistake, made another mistake after I corrected the first one, and reacted condescendingly after I corrected her on her second mistake. Essentially, she noted the corrected mistake with the phrase: "Good Boy."

Good Boy?

Good Boy.

I noted to my friend Rachel that it was with the same tone that you would use for your dog, when he has appropriately avoided shitting on the living room rug.

To wit, her response: "The positive reinforcement wouldn't be necessary if you'd stop shitting where you're not supposed to."

My response? "Where I'm supposed to shit" is a subjective thing.

Still. If I can teach you people anything at all, it is this: The respect with which you treat somebody in a customer service position is the truest indicator of the type of person you are at heart.

And, after some 15 years or so, off and on, in the customer service industry, I can assure you that there is a boatload of shitheads just in my neck of the woods alone. I'm not even breaching the major metropolises of the world.


It is "White Trash Sits out on the Porch at Midnight Night," by the way. I know this because both sets of white trash neighbors are sitting out on the porch at midnight. The one set is fairly lit, judging by the attempts at humor. The other set is simply finding a pleasant place to smoke, I would suppose.

Anyway, I would humbly like to submit my apologies for not buying you a card, or perhaps a Citronella Candle. What about one of those shakeable pocket hand warmers? I used to love those things. It's getting a little chilly in this neck of the woods.

I say "a little chilly," and I'm sure you poor souls reading this blogamathing up in the wilds of Calgary, Alberta, Canada (and thank you, faithful reader, for showing up at least 5 times a week), are laughing at my referring to my 39 degrees as "a little chilly." But still, 39 degrees, to me, doesn't really denote the best weather to sit out on the porch and comment on the ways and passings of the world.


I am a horrible blogger, inasmuch as a week ago, I got together over at the home of Straight White Guy, along with several other Online Journalists in a yearly debacle of inanity known as Hysterics at Eric's. A fine time was had by all, and I'd like to to publicly thank Eric for hosting the event....


I would like to revise my previous review of the movie Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which I'd remembered not liking very much. It seemed like too much was packed into the movie, or rather, too much had to be left off to get the movie to fit into a 2 or a 2 and a half hour span.

What I missed was the interplay between Harry and Snape. In truth, Snape gets roughly 4 minutes of screen time, and the final declaration of "I am the Half-Blood Prince" seems to come pretty much out of nowhere.

In the space of a couple weeks, I've re-viewed the previous five movies, and watched the sixth over the past couple of mornings. In that particular context, I can buy the lack of screen time given to Snape, despite his being my favorite character. By this point, we know who he is, and how nasty he can be, especially as it concerns Harry.

Half-Blood Prince is one I haven't re-read since it first came into print. I may be confusing books. Is it Half-Blood Prince where we learn that Snape was in love with Harry's mother, when they were in school?


Sorry. Just dipped a bit too deep into the Wizarding World Geekery.

My apologies.


I hate it when people spell "Whoa" as "Woah."

It's irrational, I guess. I'd say "Woah" is an acceptable spelling.

In most quarters.

Not this one, though.

So watch it.

Just saying.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Recommendation: Mike Toole

Go read Mike's Blog. He's working over in China right now.

And I thought my commute sucked.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


Not a lot's been going on these parts the past few months. I've had other writing projects, and a shitload of work. But, I'm still here, from time to time, posting inanities and being all that goes into being Tommy. For seven years, I've been keeping this booger going. It's been a trip, and I've gotten to meet a few of you nice folks around these United States.

Thanks for reading. I'm still around. Finding spare time, as I say, is a rare beast. Especially since we wander toward the Giant Grateful Feast in November...

I just think it's wonder I've been doing this blogamathing this long, and had absolutely nothing to say....

Tuesday, November 09, 2010


This damnable song has been in my head all shit-blasted day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Conversations....and how people get nicknames....

In lieu of actual content, as I'm feeling tired, and actually under the weather a bit, I'll simply be posting a transcription of a conversation, over Blackberry Messenger, with my sister.

A word of context: Duke is their dog. And: We have had an argument about the specifics of how time travel works, specifically as it pertains to the movie series Back to the Future.

April: Duke just pooted.
Tommy: Ok, thanks.
April: You are Welcome!
April: Do you have to work today?
Tommy: No.
April: So, the space time continuum theories don't work. Marty is able to warn Doc about getting shot.

Tommy: No. He's created a different time line. It's two different docs.
Tommy: The Doc that gets warned lives in a different time line than the one Marty left.

April: Your reasoning is flawed.

Tommy: Your reasoning is stupid.

April: You're Stupid.

Tommy: No, you're stupid. I'm flawed. Deeply flawed.

April: I'm not stupid, you're stupid. Have you seen Lonestar State of Mind?

Tommy: No.

April: Or, it could just be Lonestar State with Joshua Jackson.

Tommy. Still, no.

April: It's super funny. You should.

Tommy: OK.
Tommy: Does it have time travel that you will argue with me about?

April: No, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't watch it.
April: You off any this week?

Tommy: No.

April: When does the time change again?

Tommy: The time changed last night.

April: No, whne does it spring forward again? The date, I mean? Don't say in the spring.

Tommy: I think it's the end of March.

April: What does the little d or a mean on the checkmark next to our comments? Delivered and answered?

Tommy: D means Delivered. An r means received/read

April: Mine has an a, not an r.

Tommy: I've never seen that.

April: So, yours looks like an r?

Tommy: It looks that way because it is an R.

April: Do you know how much that statement both angered and amused me? You made me chuckle and want to srive [sic] to Athens to prove you wrong at the same time.

Tommy: I would like you to Drive up here so I can teach you the alphabet.

April: I know the alphabet. I two languages.

Tommy: You know it in one language. In this one, you know the rlphrbet in this one, apparently.

April. I'm telling you on my phone, it's an A!!!!

Tommy: Ok, Rpail.

Monday, November 01, 2010

Welcome to November

Welcome to November, you buttholes. You have your Christmas decorations up yet? At the Big Stupid Tommy house, we never take them down. It gets to November, and we call ourselves AHEAD OF THE CURVE.


Wrote this morning.

This is what my ears listened to:

"Everything I Ever Wanted to Do..." Legendary Shack Shakers
"Mr. Richards" R.E.M.
"You've Got My Mind Messed Up" James Carr
"Jump in the Line" Da Vinci's Notebook
"Big Butter Jesus" Heywood Banks
"Curse of a Fallen Soul" Dropkick Murphys
"Fall on Me" R.E.M.
"Cars & Guns" Roger Alan Wade
"God Bless Alabama" Shooter Jennings & Hierophant
"Red Hill Mining Town" U2
"When the Spell is Broken" Bonnie Raitt and the Blind Boys of Alabama
"The World I Know" Collective Soul

Um. Did the 1997 me decide to program my media player today?

"Oogie Boogie's Song" Rodrigo y Gabriella

Sometime in the last couple of years (time's funny, out here), they did a compilation record with various artists covering songs from Nightmare before Christmas. Not a bad little listen....I dig on this one, and Marilyn Manson's "This is Halloween."

"What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" R.E.M.
"The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn" The Pogues
"Is Anyone Home?" Alice Cooper
"Highway to Hell" AC/DC
"God Only Knows" Petra Haden
"Jealous of the Moon" Nickel Creek
"Choctaw Bingo" Ray Wylie Hubbard

Nice cover.

"Kill the Headlights" Nicole Atkins