... Me again!

Hey, you ... The one that still looks here! Yes! You.

The blog can be found right here, now hosted at its own domain and now with 32.6 percent more awesome.

girlofwords.com -- On air. Online. On demand.

Moving sale. Nothing must go!

I'm breaking up with Blogger for a while. I'm hoping much like my friend Jim, a change in scenery brings about a change in will because right now, I've got no will.

Visit us here:

On air. Online. On demand.

If I forgot you on my blogroll, holla. I'll throw it up there. :)

You've missed a lot. I've missed a lot. And that's my fault.

So it's NOT just cleverly hidden state workers

Sorry to pick on you again, state employees. You're my favorite target because both my mother and my sister are state employees. They get to stay home when the weather gets bad and they have three months in the summer to watch "Maury" reruns and go to the pool while I spend another 50 hours a week winning bread. They also have an undetermined number of holidays they get off from work. Who knew this state honored the spotted owl? I didn't.

"You are NOT the father."

Again?!

So, today, I learned on CNN.com that about one-third of us sleep at work.

Survey: One-third of workers catching zzz's on job

I'm in the two-thirds that don't. Mostly because I've never figured out exactly how to pull it off and still keep my job. I can admit to times, though, where I've lost 15 minutes just spacing out. Maybe that's sleeping. But I know that at least twice in the past year, I've put my head in my hands to look DOWN at a piece of paper that I needed and *poof* ... there just went 30 minutes.

Maybe it's because I have a woobie. And a heater. And when I get a woobie and a heater, it's a bad combination. I'm wearing the woobie. I have the heater on. I bet I could lose 30 minutes right ... now ...

Two separate, yet equal, things that have just pissed me right off so far today

Lemme ask you something ... And be honest. I could be crazy, here.

Does this offend you?

That's a picture of a sign from an advertising campaign by Sheetz, which is a Pennsylvania-based convenience store chain.

Crispy frickin' chicken!

Pretty harmless, right? Maybe even a little funny?

Not according to one guy. And as we all know, ONE guy is enough to ruin even the best party.

Frickin' ads catch more than attention

OK, in the interest of full disclosure, I don't like Sheetz.

I freaking LOVE it.

If the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would allow me to enter into marriage with Sheetz, it easily would become my second husband. Any man who entertains dating me is made aware, up front, that they're No. 2 in my heart to Sheetz. And God help him if we don't stop at Sheetz if we pass one along the way on a road trip. Deal breaker. It's over. You're out.

I've actually go so far as to map out routes BASED on where you can find ... a Sheetz.

As Sweet Ann pointed out this morning, when one of our friends on the Groundhog Day trip got sick from her Sheetz sandwich, I actually said, "If I ever got sick from something I ate at Sheetz, I'd apologize to Sheetz for being weak."

But, really, that's not the point here. The point?

Let me use this to set it up and drive it home.

It's too close to a certain four-letter-word that Sherri and Michael Sucec used to use before they were saved, a word that commonly means having sex. When the Sucecs noticed the Sheetz billboard in Derry Twp., they called and wrote their complaints to Sheetz.

"If we have any sanity left in the United States of America, this is totally unacceptable," Michael Sucec told the Derry Twp. supervisors Tuesday night, speaking with the Bible on his podium. He appealed to the supervisors' sensibilities, hoping they would help remove the billboard.

No, Michael. If we have any sanity left in the United States of America, people like you will SHUT YOUR FRICKIN' MOUTH. If we have any sanity left in the United States, we stop throwing hissy fits every time something doesn't fall within the neat packaging our moral compass fits inside.

It isn't like you've got a naked chick covering herself in wing sauce to get you to eat this sandwich, people. It isn't like they used the mother of all curse words that starts with an F. It isn't like they're making sweet, passionate love to a piece of breaded poultry. No wang was harmed, or seen, in the making of his ad.

Really, Michael? Everything that's wrong morally in this world and you're taking umbrage with "frickin'"?

You don't like the billboard? Ignore it. Accept it for the temporary medium it is. In fact, Michael, you've totally done exactly what marketing geniuses at Sheetz would hope -- by you BITCHING and WHINING like a vadge, you got your name in the paper. Congratulations. You also helped Sheetz get people into their stores to see what the big frickin' deal is.

And, as my hero Paul Harvey would say, Page Two:

I have a giant, crippling fear of public marriage proposals. I mean, even thinking about it to write this blog is causing hives to break out on my right arm. I wish I was kidding about this, because hives are amazingly unsexy.

I didn't know this little factoid, but apparently on Leap Day (which for those of you playing along at home, is today) women have the right to ask their special dude to marry them.

Why in God's name you need a "special" day to make this happen is beyond me. Maybe it's because I don't think like a typical woman. I think that if I was in love with someone enough that I wanted to marry them, in my low-key way I'd be like, "Hey, I just saw that 'Ghostbusters' is on at 8 and 'Ghostbusters II' is on at 10! Badass!! You know what else would be awesome? If you'd marry me."

I don't think I'd ever get to that point, though. Most men I know are so protective of that kind of moment that I wouldn't want to take it from them. And besides, to beat a trendy new adage into the ground, if I was dating a man for a long, extended period of time and he hadn't addressed it, I'd be willing to believe that he's "just not that into me."

Some people aren't into marriage, and I'm 100 percent in favor of that. Clearly, I'm no example of "how-to" when it comes to the marriage department. Some of the happiest, most functional couples I know have been together years and years and never got married. I can't say I'll ever get married again. That doesn't mean that I won't fall in love and spend the rest of my life with someone -- it means that I'll never again feel the need to take it to that "formalization" step.

But this girl ... oof. She not only felt the need to drive it to that step, but do it in a really, really public manner.

Hey, Sean: Will You Marry Me?

You don't get much more public than the New York Daily News with its circulation well over a million. And you don't get much more public than a followup appearance on "The Today Show."

Which, for your viewing pleasure, by the way:



Am I the only person who senses his visible, rampant discomfort? He's so uncomfortable it's like he's sitting with a hot metal poker going straight in the back door. He may as well have worn a sandwich board that said, "I had no choice but to say yes."

She's oblivious to his suffering right now. This was at 7:45 a.m. I can guarantee now, almost three hours later, she's well aware of it.

To use a phrase I use often, "This will not end well."

Why would you put someone through this? I'm for creative proposals and all, but not in front of millions of people. I guess I'm a traditionalist in that I think that's a really private moment.

I'm really mad at this woman. Not good form, Marina. Not good form at all.

I know, I'm woefully behind.

Here's a basic rundown ... Things have been crazy and I haven't had much time to even catch my breath lately.

When I was in Philadelphia last week, Ang reminded me that I provided her a much-needed break during some harsh work days. It's been stuck in my head since.

You put these things out here and you never really know if anybody's reading it and then someone sends a message like Patty, or asks like Jim or says they miss it like Angie did.

So, I promise here to make a more concerted effort. I even put it in my planner for tomorrow because I'm an uber-geek and I live for planning.

Thank you if you've stuck with me ... those of you who are closest to me know I'm going through a lot of changes right now and it's both really fun and exiting and really overwhelming at the same time. :)

So, I'll get some pics ready and resume my regular schedule tomorrow.

This one's for you, PattyO!

Yes, I'm alive! I'm doing pretty well, actually. It's just been an incredibly busy start to February. With Punxsutawney, my birthday, friends, family, fun, work, boys and another half-month of traveling, I hadn't thought much about it lately.

But I will develop some sort of update in the next couple of days. I'm at my parents' house right now just trying to get a show together before 2 p.m.! I'm a slacker. Big time.

You're pretty good for a quadraped

We're hours away from Phil Fest '08.

Expect pics and stories from Gobbler's Knob, the ISDA and Denny's Beer Barrel Pub!!

Maybe even ... live team updates.

Why I love my office No. 2,132

Amber: "My sister's been banned from every Kroger store in the country for life."

Kimberly: "Oh, I gotta hear this story."

The only movie I want to see

Big Ern.

Jesus.

Perfect.

Oh ... it's ON.

It has been decided this will be turned into a drinking game tonight with stakes of epic proportion. More later in a live report.

Nicole's here!! Nicole's here!!

While Nicole gets herself ready to go have lunch with a friend of hers, I thought I'd drop a quick update. I've got a pretty busy day coming up in preparation for tonight's party but I'm blissfully sitting here with some quiet time to write, which just doesn't happen as often as I'd like.


Nicole got here a little early last night and flew right into a mysterious chemical leak (or something). They're all calling it blue, but I'm telling you, it was orange. And it tasted like maple syrup. So for the last half of Friday, I was breathing in sweet stuff and my mouth tasted like Vermont.

(Insert all sorts of inappropriate commentary in three ... two ... one ...)

Anyway, we got ourselves to the sto' where we bought ourselves cupcake making materials (in bachelorette-party approved molds ... fill in the details yourself), snacks and for me, enough diet Mountain Dew to fuel me for the next week. We did really well in the store until we realized that oof ... nobody thought to get eggs. Or oil.

... or a brownie pan.

Which we discovered during our traditional trip to Los Agaves. See, we call each other Taco and Nacho and it's the last place we ate at before she moved to San Diego so there was no way we could have kicked off this weekend anywhere else.

And with Los Agaves comes ... a pitcher of frosty, tasty goodness. And for those of you who have never been to Los Agaves, their margaritas are probably illegal in several states, including this one. Holy. Lord.

Los Agaves also brings us our first quotable moment of the weekend ...

"What? Am I speaking ... ... ... ... ... Russian?"
-- Nicole, on how confused the waiter was taking our order and realizing that if she HAD been speaking in Spanish, things may have gone more smoothly

I have a feeling that one's gonna stick around for a while just because of all of the irony involved.

After we finished at Los Agaves (and we'd already made the liquor store run at this point where I was happy to see that for the first time in a while they didn't greet me by name!) we headed to get the brownie pan and came back here where we commenced to bake all sorts of cupcake and brownie goodness.

We pulled up a little TalkRadioX and listened to The Live Test Show so Nicole could get an official shoutout and when it ended, we flipped around the Music Choice channels. Eventually, her 3,000 mile trip and my week caught up with me.

I remember taking a phone call at 2:30 in the morning but I was so beyond tired I know that I probably made no sense at all except I do remember insisting that I was NOT too sleepy to talk. And then I was doing so good at faking it until I heard the voice on the other end say, "I totally changed that story halfway through and you didn't notice."

And "I so did" wasn't believable at this point.

Sigh. I'm laughing to myself right now at my stubborn insistence that I was awake enough to answer the phone, much less communicate. And when I got a text message after 4 saying "OK ... bed time" and I responded, I got "You're not supposed to be up ... much less answer!"

Cute. :)

OK ... time to get this party rolling. Updates forthcoming.

Why I love my office No. 321

Reporter (on phone): Does anybody know where the gun show is this weekend?

Me (flexing my biceps): YEAH!! Right HERE!!

A little all-encompassing radio update (with shout-outs!)

So, it occurred to me that it's been a while since I really got everybody up to speed on the current broadcasting schedule of the company (and I use that term loosely) I've started called "Second Team Productions."

The name "Second Team Productions" came to me in a dream. I think it came about from a time that I joked that our team (me, Paige, Ed, Jeff ... even all of the support we get from Steve, Foobs, my family, etc.) might not be your starters, but we'd be a great backup squad.

Hence ... Second Team Productions.

Anyway, we're really busy lately. And I don't even mean in that, "I'm not interested in working on Friday so I have to look busy" kind of way!

Happy Hour on TalkRadioX (live at 2 p.m. Sunday, replay at 5 p.m. Monday and 10 a.m. Tuesday) has actually started to gain some steam and I couldn't be happier. I'm working (read: harassing them through MySpace) on getting the listeners from The Show That Never Ends (8 p.m. Sunday) to tune in a little earlier because I think they'd totally be impressed with how different and great the setup is over at TalkRadioX compared to the things we deal with at NowLive. It's just a first-class operation from start to finish and I'm so lucky to be surrounded by such talented and fun people.

Lest I be called a "shameless self-promoter," here's some promotional love to my people. These are the shows you should be checking out religiously on TalkRadioX:

* The Radio Dan Show (8 p.m. Monday through Thursday, 9 p.m. Sunday) -- Radio Dan and Intern Jessica. It's movies, TV, entertainment and all of it entertaining. I love these guys. I could listen for hours. I do, actually.

* The Live Test Show ... YAYYY! (9 p.m. Monday through Friday) -- Hosted by Antubert with Tyler Hollywood. All sorts of fun going on in that hour! Plus, it's inevitable that Cory and Mr. Justin are going to show up at some point to rain Skittles.

* B-Dub at Night (10 p.m. Monday through Thursday, midnight Friday) -- A little show that I may or may not be the executive producer of ... But definitely interesting, controversial and, well, it has porn stars. You'll just have to check it out.

* Ground Zero Radio (6 p.m. Saturday) -- eWrestling, a little of this and that, hosted by resident badass Tyler Hollywood. I still don't know what eWrestling is. I'm waiting for that explanation.

* Steppin' to the Bad Side (11 p.m. Saturday) -- more Tyler Hollywood badassness. I would encourage you to stick around for the 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. hour. Seriously. Yes. I just said "2 a.m. to 3 a.m. hour."

* Steppin' to the Bad Side Power Hour (11 p.m. Monday through Thursday) -- seriously, Tyler, you got nothin' else to do?! You're cutting into my trash TV time with all of this! ::laughs::

Over on BlogTalkRadio, our friends at SportFellas are about to launch SportFellas Radio. The day and time are forthcoming, but you won't want to miss it. It's going to be a great roundtable on sports, pop culture and anything else that comes around. I'm one of the roundtable co-hosts as the resident chick in the cheap seats. That and I'm probably the only person who can talk NHL and has a penchant for minor league sporting events.

So, really ... that's why I'm not sleeping much these days once you throw in the graphic production side of Second Team. I'm always listening and learning, writing, designing, thinking of new ideas, reading reading reading, bouncing ideas off those more awesome than we are. It's an ever-evolving process.

How awesome is this, though? Paige, because she's the most awesome badass in the world, gave me an external hard drive for Christmas that has almost any kind of sound effect I could ever want, so you'll have to wait to see when they make appearances. And to that, I have to ask her, "Who shit on the coats?"

But, you know, I don't think I'd trade the insomnia in for anything. I'm actually having what could be described as the time of my life right now with all of this insanity. :)

A little modification ...

The final version of the front of the shirt now sweeping western Pennsylvania:


Yeah, that's a little NBA logo of Donnie Iris. I'm on Team Donnie. Are you?

(You've got about an hour to decide ... I gotta order these things before it gets too late!!)

The latest obsession

This also is dedicated to my friend Mil, who's been seeing some stress at her job on top of quitting smoking. A lethal combination! My suggestion to her was rather than smoking, or knocking over a 7-Eleven, she should buy a potato gun.

I really, really want a potato gun.

I've read several sites that show you how you can make them, but the thought of exploding PVC pipe (coupled with my really fabulous karma) could result in an undesired outcome.

And I think I'd boil the potatoes to make sure they didn't hurt so much when they hit something. And I also think a potato that explodes on impact with a car windshield is infinitely funny.

But check out this guy's vids ... It's worth it. Especially if you're not doing anything. And keep in mind my birthday is Feb. 11, and because I'm hard to shop for, I'm just telling you right now that I really want a potato gun.

T-shirt design is just one more service I offer ...

For Edwin and Co.'s annual Pittsburgh Pub Crawl, because he was looking to outgun Furman this year on the shirt design:

(The shirts are navy blue. This is the front ...)



(This is the back of the shirt. Note the Wagon Queen Family Truckster!!)

And now that that project's out of the way, the sweatshop of Second Team Productions is taking orders. :)

*Yawn*

Today I am feeling ...

I envy that snail. It looks so happy. It's sleeping. What's not to be happy about?

OK. It's not funny anymore.

... I might kill myself at my desk.

Phone rings. Call from my company's "kitchen."

Me: Hello?

Caller: Hey, Jac-K. It's (ad sales girl). I'm here in the kitchen and the can opener just broke. I was wondering if you guys had one upstairs.

Me: I ... In the ... What? ... I don't know.

Note to my friends and fans: I've decided I will NOT be answering my phone for the rest of the day. I just don't have it in me.

... Just when I thought it coudn't get better

Voicemail left while I was at lunch:

"Hi, Jacque. This is Rosey from (insert contractor here). I was calling to get a list of every business in West Virginia. If you could give me a call back, I would appreciate it. My number is 757-XXXX."

Now it's just getting out of control ...

It's just one more service I offer ...

Phone rings at my desk. Deceptively, it's "in-house." I answer it, figuring I'm safe.

Me: Hello?

(Silence)

Me: Hellooo?

(Silence -- I decide to look at the phone. It was a sneaky transfer. Note to self: Peeved at girl who transferred the call. OK, I'm over it.)

Me: (Insert Standard Professional Phone Greeting here)

Caller: Yeah, this is John Q. Bigdeal from Awesome Enterprises. I was wondering ... I'm looking at your paper here, can you give me the number to (insert state agency here).

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Caller: Can you give me the number to (insert state agency here)?

Me: You just want their phone number?

Caller: Yeah.

Me: (Screaming on the inside -- enter 'Sweet as Pie' voice) Hang on just a second and I'll look that up for you.

(Insert 1.5 seconds for Google search and click-thru.)

Me: It's 558-XXXX.

Caller: That's a state number?

Me: Yes. 558 is the state's exchange.

Caller: (Laughing, because clearly, he brought his clever trousers today) How 'bout that. Thanks. *click*

(I start hitting my head off my desk. To my dismay, I'm still conscious.)

Why I love my sister No. 3,298

My sister got this today as a gift from a co-worker and she immediately sent it in a text message to us with the message of "This is the best present ever!"

Yes, that's a shocker shot glass.

Yes, that's my family, everybody. These ... are MY kinda people. :)

I love this freakin' paper!

Fake Jessica "roots" for the Cowboys, in an elaborate jinx hatched by the Post to help the Giants. Tony Romo tends to preform poorly with a Blonde singing girlfriend in attendance at one of his games.

The New York Post ... serious Giants fans. So much so that they put a fake Jessica Simpson at the Giants-Cowboys game yesterday.

'Boys Seeing Double: Post's 'Jess' Helps Giants KO Dallas

That might be enough to make the Giants my new favorite team.

Punt. Pass. Kick right in the sack. Repeat.

It seems like West Virginia University's being hit over and over and over again with a tube sock full of quarters. I mean, one more good, solid whack to the daddy box and I'm not sure they're gonna be able to get up.

Today's "House of the Rising Sun" watch brought to you by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (and complete with supporting documents available on the home page):

WVU e-mails on degree opened
Show president's chief of staff directed response to M.B.A. queries

... And the hits just keep on' coming!

And, if that's not enough for you, enjoy this column by a CBS Sports writer who managed to call Gov. Joe Manchin a "jock-sniffing meddler."

Absurd, comical, over the top: Hey, if the Gov fits ...

I mean, at least Hawaii's governor took it up the tailpipe, too.

Since everybody's got one these days ...

I just found out from my alma mater that I've been awarded a master's degree!

Now, before everybody gets excited, it's one I definitely, without question, undeniably have earned.

Today, I can proudly hang my diploma for a Master of Passive-Aggressive.

Don't think that just anybody has the street smarts to make this happen! You have to work hard to pull something like this off. Long hours. Dedication to the cause. A will like you've never seen.

My capstone course has been in Sidebar. For those of you uneducated about what Sidebar is, take a look at that cell phone you have sitting on your desk. See that little button on the side? When the phone rings, you push it. The caller then gets shuttled to voice mail. In the parlance of our times, this is known as "sidebarring" someone.

To mix it up a little, you also can just NOT answer the phone. Then the person gets to believe that you're sitting there watching the phone ring, consciously deciding to NOT answer the phone ... or are you? You could be away from your desk. You could be in a meeting. You could be sleeping. You could be in the shower. You could be at Sheetz. (And if you're at Sheetz, you don't know how lucky you are. Bastards. Sigh.)

So, rather than go off on the douchebag pissing me off, I just don't answer the phone. This is my way of signaling to the douchebag that I'm pissed off, thereby requiring the douchebag to (if inclined) take extra effort to find out what possibly could have upset me.

Sidebar is closely related to the course of "How to Answer In Two Words or Less," another class in which I excelled. This, I've found, is the most effective way to communicate your anger with someone in a passive-aggressive way. After all, there's no better way to say everything and nothing all at the same time by answering, "What's wrong? Are you alright?" with ... "I'm fine."

Or, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

We'll all be getting together to celebrate my master's degree now that it's finished, but I'm not going to tell anybody where it is and what time. And then when you don't show up, rather than tell you I'm angry, I just won't answer the phone.

A new must-have

I saw this shirt listed as "new" on BustedTees.com. I totally need this one in the collection, especially because my Jedi Master shirt has a hole in it.

I also managed to impress Sweet Ann when I said, "Come bust a move where the games are played it's chill it's fresh it's Noah's Arcade."

Word.

I loved the '80s as much as the next guy, but ...

G: "Shoot me now, Jacque."
Me: "I can't shoot you, George. I like you too much."
Sweet Ann (from behind the cubicle): "I'll do it, George!"

I just saw this story in the Daily Mail:

WVU adds four assistants
MORGANTOWN — New West Virginia University Coach Bill Stewart is turning his staff vacancies into a "Return of the Native" scenario.
Three former Mountaineer players and coaches — John "Doc" Holliday, Steve Dunlap and David Lockwood — have been hired to rejoin the WVU coaching staff, sources said today.

Is anybody else ready to dust off their "Up the Middle-O-Meter"? I'm not trying to be a Negative Nancy, but ... eesh.

Trust me, I look back on most of the '80s with a smile and a wisp of nostalgia and a dreamy, glazed-over glance. I'm not sure I'm ready to look back on THIS part of the '80s with that same look.

Who's in for a trip to Johnstown? I'm gonna need some hockey to put this out of my mind.

So, THAT'S what works!

Today, somehow, the topic of how people met their spouses/significant others came up.

I have some co-workers with really interesting stories.

One guy I work with met his wife at a bar in Morgantown. He was out with a group, she was out with a group and he told this girl's friend he found her booty to be rocking. They subsequently dated, fell in love and have been married now for four years.

Another co-worker was introduced to her husband by her sister. When she left, her future husband said to her sister, "Find out if she wants it." They dated, fell in love, got married seven or so years ago and have two really fun kids. They're also a great example of what marrying your best friend turns out to be. I admire them so much.

So, if you're a reader and you're inclined to share ... how did you meet your significant other? I'm curious to see what kind of stories we end up with. :)

Anybody else see the end of "Casino"?

One of my favorite movies is this classic.

I'm fascinated by organized crime at all levels, from "The Godfather"-like behavior of the old school to the more modern "Sopranos" style of management.

"Casino" falls sort of in the middle. If you've never seen the movie, it focuses on the building of what we know as "new Vegas." It's the transition from the 1950s-1960s Dean Martin-Frank Sinatra kind of Vegas to what we see today ... the mega hotels, the roller coasters. The movie ends in the 1980s, so it ends with right where the serious changes start to take place.

But, I digress. Again. I'm always digressing.

Anyway ...

At the end of the movie, I guess with about 10 minutes or so to go, you can hear "House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals start playing in the background and EVERYBODY STARTS DYING. It's kind of like falling dominoes -- one mob guy goes down, and starts to take everybody else down with him and it's nothing by 10 solid minutes of death.

So, you could imagine that when I read this story in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette today, I started hearing "House of the Rising Sun" play in the background:

WVU's provost unsure of records on MBA

This is a followup to an extensive story they did Dec. 21 about how, well, an MBA (and, oof, it just sorta happens to be for the governor's daughter ...) just sort of showed up. It's all very intriguing and if you're a conspiracy theorist, it's pretty much as good as Christmas.

This was the paragraph in today's piece, though, that caused me to kind of let out one of those long, ooooooooooooof kind of breaths:

Yesterday, Mr. Lang acknowledged that those records are lacking and that no other students have reported problems with their records since a Dec. 21 story by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette raised questions about how the university went about retroactively granting the degree to Ms. Bresch, a longtime friend and business associate of WVU President Mike Garrison.

Oh. Hell. Something on the inside tells me that probably wasn't the right answer.

It's almost like if you listen really carefully, in the background, you can hear it very faintly:

"... there is a house in New Orleans they call the rising sun ..."

The art of the "how not to ..." (under pressure)

Me (on the phone): "You ARE an expert! You spend more time in a bar than anybody I've ever known."
Sweet Ann (from across the cubicle): "Tell Ed I said hi."

I'm a communicator. For a living, even. For a living and for a "hobby." (I put "hobby" in quotes because at this point, it's like a part-time job that I love and don't collect a paycheck.)

OK, so maybe I'm not the best at doing it with tact. I would just call that "my direct nature" and "brutal honesty."

Anyway, I spend 40-some hours a week getting paid at the ol' AutoTrader and then probably another 10 to 20 doing various Internet radio projects and blogging. Sometimes the blog gets hosed, though. It's not because the blog is any less important or I'm not interested in it, it's just something I know will always be there for me when I'm ready to come home. Kind of like a cat.

Like this one.

Inky. She's ill-tempered, but rather loyal.

But, I digress.

I generally do pride myself on having pretty good communication skills. I'd like to think I'm outgoing, expressive, thoughtful ... all of those things. But you know what I plain suck at? I mean, I'm so bad at it, I could host a seminar on "how not to ... ."

"Managing Emotions Under Pressure."

I was looking for a show topic for this week's Happy Hour (the NEW show we're doing at 2 p.m. on Sundays on TalkRadioX) and a brochure for a one-day seminar with that title fell right into my path.

To tie it all together -- first, a little bit about Happy Hour!

This is a new, exciting project for us. For a couple of months, I was a co-host on The James Madison Show on TalkRadioX and I got to know a little bit about the operation and its people. Because of some technical issues, I wasn't able to keep doing the JM Show, but they offered (because they're such great, awesome guys) to talk to the people at TRX to see if I could have a slot. Fortunately, the people who make those decisions caught me on an "A-Game" day, and offered up the slot.

After waffling for a while on a day and time, we all finally settled on 2 p.m. Sunday.

We settled on 2 p.m. Sunday at about 6 p.m. Saturday night.

This ... is where a seminar on "Managing Emotions Under Pressure" would have come in handy.

At this point, all I had was the graphic you see above, no audio promos cut, a rudimentary knowledge of HOW to use the audio software and a co-host I couldn't locate. It's 7:15 p.m. the night before launch.

And here, as they say, is where pressure kicks in.

Ordinarly, I'm very good at meeting deadlines under pressure. I do it every single week. It's part of my job. But as I sat there that Saturday night looking for various bits of audio to string together into a show opener with a program I only kind of know something about, I started to feel my head pound. My chest tightened a little. I was hot. And I was on the verge of panic. These were people I wanted to impress. I wanted the new show to be flawless. I wanted nothing less than perfection.

I finally put something together I somewhat liked. At this point, I couldn't really see straight, my head was throbbing and I felt a little sick in the pit of my belly knowing that in all of the work on production, none of it included ... a topic. I e-mailed the finished audio product to my co-host (who lives five and a half hours from Charleston in an awesome little party town we like to call Harrisburg, Pa.) and said, "Call me when you get this. I want to know what you think of it."

Shortly after midnight, I really could have used the knowledge that would have been gleaned from "Managing Emotions Under Pressure."

Me: Hi.
Nightman (sneaky and mean): Hey.
M: Did you listen?
N: Yeah. It's a little bit choppy.

... BOOM!!

What happened in the next few minutes could only be described as someone who did NOT "Manage Emotions Under Pressure." In a matter of sheer seconds, I became my father.

"Fine. You don't like it, I just e-mailed you the software. Have at it."

"You know, what the hell have YOU done to make this happen? Oh, wait. That's right. Nothing."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to spend four hours trying to put something like that together?"

I failed, clearly, to "Manage Emotions Under Pressure." Every time he said "calm down" I got angrier. When he tried to tell me that after listening to it a couple more times, he really liked it, I told him I didn't want to hear it. I stopped listening. I didn't let him talk. I started crying. I started attacking him for about everything I could think of.

I became everything I hate about people who can't handle pressure.

To his credit, he softened his tone and tried to get me to just walk away from it for the night and go to sleep. We're close enough to know those little quirks about each other -- I'm not very easy to deal with if I'm frustrated. Add fatigue and a migraine on top of it, and you're playing with a stick of C4 (that might be sparking) in one hand and a match in the other.

Is it right? No. Hell no it's not right. I had no reason to act that way. I was under pressure and rather than letting rational behavior win, I flipped out like a hormonal teenage girl.

Fortunately, when 2 p.m. Sunday hit, it didn't matter. The opening was nailed. The show was tight. We got lots of feedback and compliments and we ended it right on time (there's math involved!) even when I realized 20 seconds to cutoff that I hadn't wrapped up. (... oops.)

So, I managed under pressure. Maybe not my emotions, but I managed. And it's nothing that can't be completely forgotten and laughed about in a night spent watching sports at Zembie's or Wii bowling. And it opens the door to show topics by the dozen.

More hockey pictures!

Someone reminded today that this blog has real, actual readers, so I thought I'd put up a few pics that were taking up space in the BlackBerry. :) These shots are from the Wheeling Nailers-Elmira Jackals game at WesBanco Arena in Wheeling on Dec. 21. Sweet Ann and I were both home visiting family and, well, since you don't pass up hockey when it's RIGHT there ...

In Zamboni We Trust. Especially when the guy driving the Zamboni is wearing a Santa hat. All I'm saying if someone's looking to win the "Best Gift Ever" award, the chance to drive a Zamboni would be about the top of that list.

Merry Christmas from the Wheeling Nailers and WesBanco Arena. Everybody loves a Santa bobble head doll!

This is the puck that grazed Sweet Ann that we got to keep as a souvenir. I've never almost been smacked by a projectile puck before!! I hope to replicate this success at a Hershey Bears game in the near future.

More to come later ... I think instead of going out for tonight's BCS National Championship between LSU and Ohio State, I'm going to take advantage of glorious high definition technology in the comfort of my own sweatpants and my living room.

Hometown proud

(Picture from thatgoddardkid.wordpress.com -- a blog by fellow New Martinsville kid Jordan Goddard)

I hope that someone gets the purchase order for the new ones in soon. And I hope they look a little less chintzy than the ones in Grant Town did. But I'm really proud of whoever did this one. That's just how New Martinsville rolls.

Quote of the Week

Paige, on Arizona Diamondbacks honcho and WVU grad/big donor Ken Kendrick:

"Don't shit in the punchbowl, Ken. It's our party."

For those who may not have seen what lead to my awarding of the Quote of the Week, here's the context from a story on ESPN.com:

West Virginia booster Ken Kendrick, who was outspoken in his support of Rodriguez following his departure, called it a "sad morning."

"He is so overmatched it's not even funny," said Kendrick, managing partner of Major League Baseball's Arizona Diamondbacks. "He's a nice guy and a father figure. But they had a wonderful architect and they hired the painter to build the next house. I want Bill Stewart to win and I want our program to be successful. But I feel bad for our future. I'm very concerned."

Really, Ken? Really?

I get it. Rich was your boy. And that's cool. I'm OK with that. But is it necessary to kick a man in the sack the morning after he picks up the pieces of something shattered at his feet, takes some duct tape, puts the thing back together and happens to make it work?

And here's the other thing -- I don't think it really matters what you think. You'll write your check or you won't. A big wallet doesn't give you the final say and it doesn't entitle you to be a total douchebag. You love this program so much? Just do everybody a favor and shut up.

Because everybody loves a good Top 10

From our friends at Cracked.com ... the Top 10 Douchebags of 2007!



I'm bummed out that some of my nominations didn't make the cut.

It makes for good radio, but ...

So, it's January 1.

That means 95 percent of us woke up today making all sorts of promises of things we're going to do right in 2008 that we didn't get right in 2007.

For an overwhelming percentage of people, it's "lose weight."

For me, it's "marriage."

(DING!! ... Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week ... be sure to try the veal AND tip your wait staff.)

The goal of losing weight and getting healthy is noble and all. I'm all for it. And I'd totally be on that bandwagon with you, but, well, tomorrow's the Fiesta Bowl.

And then I might want to go somewhere this weekend.

And then I have that thing up at my parents' house.

Well, by then, Nicole's coming.

So, I can start after that.

No. February 1 is the trip to Punxsutawney and Ann and I are going to try to eat the six pound hamburger. So, after, no ...

February 11 is my birthday, so that's out. And well, then Valentine's Day, and since I don't have one, I'm going to want to go to dinner with friends. So, there's ...

Gah! Foo Fighters weekend. Then I'm spending some fun-filled and deserved days with Angie wandering the streets of Philadelphia. So, I can ...

No. My sister's birthday is March 9, and she'll want Drover's, so I can ...

See what I mean?

I'm harder on myself than anybody else would be. My goal (or "resolution" if you want to call it that) for 2008 is to simply find happiness. I spent so much of 2007 so very, very unhappy for dozens of reasons and I'm ready to put that behind me. I'm ready to start taking better care of myself, which includes getting enough sleep, eating right, enjoying the membership I have at the gym, running outside and breathing in the fresh air and showing love, kindness and appreciation to those I hold dear to me.

So, I swear that all starts after the Fiesta Bowl. Unless they lose, and I'll be sad, and nothing says "sad" like onion rings, so I'll ...

Gah.

Happy 2008, everybody. :)