Dane Cook rocks...and only one (albeit hot) follower sucks

OK..so it's been a while since I have updated this thing. Mostly because of the fact that I have been rather discouraged that I haven't been able to get more than one follower, but also because I have actually gotten a life...well for the last week or so. For those of you who know, (and don't you just love how I say it that way, even though you are the only follower..for now...who knows, maybe there will be more and they will go back and read everything) anyway...maybe you noticed on my Facebook status that I actually did something fun this past weekend.

For anyone who hasn't been...if you have the chance, go see Dane Cook live in concert. An friend that I have known since we were both 10 and playing baseball back in the day (which was a Wednesday by the way) and I had been planning to go see Dane in concert for 3 months. I have actually wanted to see him for about 6 years, but he finally was playing a venue that was relatively close to where I live. So we started the planning back in August.

The concert/show was in Raleigh, NC (or Rawwlla, Nouf Clina as they say there), which is about 4 1/2 hours from where I live in Tennessee. But this wasn't going to be a problem since my friend lives in Fayetteville. This was an adventure to say the least. Originally, I had planned to drive to Fayetteville and stay Saturday night at his house. About 3 days before the show, I was informed that he and his new girl/FWB were going to drive down and stay with her brother who lives in Raleigh, on Saturday. Not a problem. I will get a hotel, or just drive down on Sunday since the show wasn't until 8. After some discussion of those 2 scenarios (and yes that's pronounced the correct way, not like a douche -- only funny if you like and know Dane's comedy) it was decided that I would be able to stay at the brother's house, which I later found out was just a 2 BR apartment. Oh yeah, I also forgot to tell you that another friend of mine lives about 30 minutes from Raleigh, and is a huuuuuuuge Dane fan as well so of course when the planning started, I had to invite him which he gladly accepted.

So to recap so far...the plans were for me to drive over on Saturday afternoon, get there about dinner time and I was going to have dinner with my friend that lives 30 minutes away and his family, and then meet up with my friend since 10 years old and stay with his FWB's apartment. So now that we are on the same page, I can continue the story.

After dinner, I call my one friend and ask him how to get to said apartment, he can't help me...he isn't from there. Luckily, I had a GPS so I put in the address and drive to find it. I pull up, it's a gated apartment, makes me feel good about leaving my vehicle there overnight. So I ask him "So where should I park?" The reply I got is...any open spot is fine. So I find an open spot, parked next to him and proceed to go in to the apartment and have some libations and good time. So it's about 2 in the morning, and I am tired as hell...so it's time to go to sleep. I look around, no open beds...no problem...there are 2 couches...but oh no...there are already 2 people sleeping on both of those couches...again, not a problem..I might be old, but I can handle one night on the floor...so now I am looking for a blanket and pillow...these are college kids that we are staying with. Do you remember when you were in college? Did you have extra pillows and blankets? Of course not, you might have had a sleeping back but these kids only had 4 towels between then so do you think they had extra pillows or blankets? Hell no..so in my innebriated state I was pissed off, but I didn't care I am gonna go see Dane, I will sleep on the floor. However, I would have asked my other friend to stay with him had I known all this beforehand. Or maybe I would hav prepared better and brought a blanket and pillow, which I have an abundance of at my house. Hell I even have a guest BED and an air mattress that I could have very easily brought with me.

Anyway...So 11 am rolls around and it's time to wake up. I am a little hungry, I didn't expect them to provide my food or drink or any of that. Everyone else is still passed out from the night before, which I smirked about a little bit being the oldest one of the bunch and the first one awake. So I roll outta there to head to my vehicle to go find a store and/or fast food joint to get something to eat. Now, I realize that I had a few drinks the night before, but there I was standing in the parking lot, trying to find my truck. I have one of those keyless entry systems so I start pressing the lock twice to hear the horn honk when it locks. I can't hear it, and again, I know I wasn't drunk when I pulled up to complex. I go back upstairs and ask my friend hey...come help me find my truck. I am hungry. We go out and search for it...come back up and say we are gonna have to call the cops because I think someone stole my truck. I then get a reply from one of the kids that lives there..."Oh did you park in a visitors' spot?" Umm fuck no I didn't dude, you told me to park wherever there was an open spot, so I did. Turns out, a tow company there runs a racket with the complex that if you aren't parked in a visitor spot or have a parking permit, you are going to be towed even though there were at a minimum 30 open spots in the lot.

So now I am ultra pissed off. What the hell am I going to do? how am I going to get my vehicle, and at the time even more important, how are we going to get to Dane Cook if the tickets are in my truck and the tow company office is closed on Sundays. So luckily, they were going to meet us down there, and for just a mere $100 I could get my truck out of impound. I don't know about you but I can't just afford $100. Was it too much for me to look at my friend who told me to park wherever and ask him to at least cover half?? Oh yeah..and for the record he didn't. I was ready to leave and just drive the hell back home right then.

So after calming down a little bit, I am stewing all afternoon. I start drinking their beer, by God if I wasn't going to be given part of the $100 then I was going to drink and eat my money's worth that's for damn sure. We watch football, have some food. Overall the day was starting to turn around.

The show starts at 8 and it's 630. I have been to enough concerts to know that you really want to get there at least an hour early just to allow for the traffic to get to your parking spot. Noone is ready to go. I am starting to get pissed again, but it's ok we are only about 5 minutes away from the arena. Finally at 7 we get on the road and head to the show. We get in at 7:30 and my friend who lives nearby and myself go to find our seats while the rest of the crew head off in separate directions to get a beer or pop or whatever. As my friend and I were standing there, the ushers approach us and ask if we want to move closer to the stage. Umm hell yeah we do. They have floor seats, unfortunately they only have 2 of them. Hmmm what a quandary...every fiber in my body wanted to say ya know what, screw you we are taking these seats. Maybe you should have helped me with the $100 tow bill huh? But no...I am mostly a good person so I said thanks, but unless we have 8 tickets in the same area that I won't be able to accept. We were able to still move up about 30 rows and down a level to just above floor level. These seats are still phenomenal and Dane Cook puts up a great show. If you ever have a chance to go...you should and take me with you!

Halloween

Halloween by far is my favorite time of the year. This is a problem living in the Bible Belt. Anyone who's favorite holiday ISN'T Christmas is a heathen, a heretic and a pariah. (Guess I was wrong when I told my 10th grade English teacher that I would never use that word.) And not only that, but if you call it a holiday whew...you would have thought you put down Walmart or something.

As anyone that grew up in the same small city that I did can attest (and yes I know you are my only follower right now..but hell who knows, maybe others will follow soon?? probably not) but anyway..anyone can attest to the fact that Medford, OR is not exactly the Halloween capital of the world. While we did go trick or treating, I do not remember any of the cool stuff available during the halloween month as I have found in the 6 short years I have lived in Tennessee. For example, there is a farm that harvests corn. I say that half jokingly because that's not how the farm operates at all. Around the first part of September these "farmers" carve a pattern into their cornfield, this year they chose to celebrate the 100 years of boy scouting in the US and have that as their maze. Lasting from about the end of September until November 1st, you can come out and venture through the maze, play on the playground etc during the day. And at night, they turn the maze and the barn into haunted places. I never was one for haunted anything not even being a fan of scary movies. But something about this is just awesome.

And I have found what I want to do to become a millionaire. I am going to buy about 100 acres of land, plant some corn and every October host these haunted places. The way I figure it, they see at least 50,000 people a year at these places, each paying an average of 25 bucks a peace. I am not a math genius, but that is well over a million bucks right there. That doesn't even take into account the concessions nor the actual crop that I will eventually sell. Even after I get done paying the expenses and salary of my employees, I am still going to be rich pretty quick. So who's in with me?? :)

Southern Living

I would be remiss if I didn't write about this subject. Southern living differs greatly from living anywhere else in the country, hell in the world. And it's not just the accent (or as they like to say, we don't have the accent you'uns do). There are cultural differences as well. There seems to be a church on every other corner, and the majority of those are Baptist churches.

So to get to the point...about a month ago, I was attending a festival in a small town called Saltville, which I learned on the way up there seeing a sign that it was the Salt capital of the confederacy. Ok I have to divert off topic for just a minute. You know I am a huge Oregon State Beaver fan. I am a Beaver Believer if you will. If the Beavers ever win the national championship, you better believe that I will first of all be there, but second of all watch the replays, by the DVD, etc. However, what I don't get, is why southerners would want to re-enact any battle of the Civil War. Do you not realize and recognize that you got your ass handed to you? Yeah...you lost. I wouldn't want to see a repeat of the Beavers choking in the national title game...so what gives?

Ok .... so back on topic...so I was at this festival...just walking around, looking at the different vendor tents. I can honestly say I have never seen such a hodge podge (yes I used that word, it was a category on Jeopardy! last night) of different vendors. You could get some deep fried Oreos, or hell...even some deep fried butter. Nothing sounds like arteries closing up like some deep fried butter..."Hey Billy Bob...I know you's saving the butter for the baked taters but ya know what might sound right tasty? Let's go ahead and deep fry that bad boy." So as I was walking around, checking out the scenery of the many variations of the mullet (business up front, partaaaay in the back) I saw something that made me do a double take. About 10 feet away from me, I saw this little girl that couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old, puffing away on cigar.

Now at first, my fatherly instincts wanted to kick him and rip that thing outta her mouth. However, I decided a lynching of some yankee was not my idea of how to end my life so I calmed myself down. It was then I came to realize that in the state of Virginia, where I was, tobacco is a huge money maker. So this child wasn't just smoking, she was supporting the economy one puff at a time. But hey...at least she didn't have a big chaw of redman in her cheek right? Or..did she???

The Church of Walmart

Ok Ok...before you get your panties in a wad, no there isn't really a church of walmart...but there should be. I have found in the south there are 4 main things that are important to a true southerner: Football (especially SEC football or high school ball), God, Country and Walmart. Now this is not in any sort of order of importance, except for the first in the list of course. I was not aware, however, of how seriously southerners take Walmart until day 2 of living here. I have been told once by a guy friend of mine "All they's gotta do is put a titty club in the place, and I would be in heaven and never wanna leave!" That's how serious southerners take Walmart.

Back to the story at hand. Day 2 of my time in the new office was interesting to say the least. To start the day off, we had a staff meeting with the 12 other people who were doing the same job...well really maybe I should say that were in the same position as I was because really, they didn't know how to do the job. Anyway....as they went around the table introducing themselves, and talking about the jobs they did for the company, I sat there in pure shock. These were mostly women who had been with the company for a while. Of the 12 others, 10 had started BEFORE I WAS BORN! One started just 4 months after I was born, and then there was another punk kid as they probably though (he was about a year or two older than me). But some of the jobs they did, I thought were just made up for TV. But no...these women were actually operators that when a call came in for Klondike-251 or some variation would have to move some wires, ring the number and then ask for the right house as back then there were multiple party lines...meaning that one number, would ring sometimes up to 10 houses. (Which also meant that if you were really a voyeur, you could pick up and listen to other people's conversations.)

So when it came to me, I introduced myself and told them "I have been ALIVE for 26 years." I was trying to be funny, but I am sure that it was taken (or as they say in the south TOOKEN) the wrong way. But then I was asked by one of the ladies who had been to Oregon, why is it that in Oregon you can't pump your own gas. As anyone who has lived in or driven through the state knows, there are no self-service stations. As a matter of fact it is against the law. She was rather negative about it...so of course being the smart ass comedian that I am...I had to reply...so I said "Well, gas stations to us in Oregon are much like Walmart in the south...we want to give our GED attainers and high school dropouts a chance to work too."

Needless to say..this was the start of a great relationship with 11 old women who now saw me for the smart ass that I am.

Southernese

In my time in the south, I have come to realize that southerners have their own language. I had heard of it through the media or comedians...but until you actually experience it, it doesn't really sink in. Day one was when it all started. As I was going to lunch with my boss, the secretary asks "Where's you'uns going to lunch?" I know that she said you'uns now because I have been in the south for 6 years, but what I heard at the time was "Are you all having onions for lunch?" The thought of eating just onions for lunch is a rather disturbing one, so of course I answered that I did not plan on having onions for lunch. So the response I got was that I spoke to proper. I never had thought there was such a thing as talking too proper, but apparently I was wrong.

Day one of southern "comfort"??

When I moved out to Tennessee, I came out sight unseen. I hadn't ever seen Johnson City, I had heard of it before only because East Tennessee State University is here (and before you get it in your mind otherwise, it does NOT make this a college town...unlike say Corvallis and even Eugene, this is still a pretty boring place with not much to do). Anyway, as I was saying...I came out here sight unseen, got here on a Sunday and had to be to work on Monday. Luckily as part of the deal to accept the job, I was put up in a decent hotel on the company dime until I found the place. So Sunday night, I drove around town, trying to get the general idea of how to get around and of course ended up getting lost. Which, I have heard is the best way to learn a new city is to go out and get lost. I say BULLSHIT. That's a good way to get frustrated and waste a bunch of gas. Because as the typical man, you know that I would rather drive around for 2 hours than to stop and get directions. The upside is that I did get to learn a bunch of the streets and roads for later use, the bad news is that I did end up in the ghetto. And yes, it was the ghetto. I wouldn't go far as to say that it was East LA ghetto, but you could definitely tell that it wasn't the part of town to get caught in after dark.

Alright, so day one of my job, I show up to the office. Mind you, the only person in that whole office that had ever seen me face to face was that manager who hired me. Every interview for the job was done over the phone. So I showed up and I didn't know that they also had happened to start a new hire class of 15 the same day. So I go to the security guard station since I didn't have a key or a code or a key card to get in to the building and tell him that I am here to start my first day. He asks my name and said that he will take me to where I need to go. He takes me to a conference room where there are 15 other people and hands me a packet of forms that looked rather familiar. As a matter of fact, the looked EXACTLY like the forms I had filled out when I first started with the company but who was I to question the security guard. It wasn't until about 30 minutes later that the manager of the office called me on my cell phone, I answered and he asked if I was having trouble finding the office. I told him where I was and he came and got me. As it turns out, those 15 people in that office were going to be my employees.

So I think I have rambled on enough now...maybe I should have titled this day one, hour one because there is more...oh yes there is more....so stay on the edge of your seats because this shit is gonna get real. OK that was about as gangsta as I get...for the most part I am only fluent in 2 languages...English and Southern. (more on that topic later as well.)

Giving this thing a try

OK...so growing up I never gave in to peer pressure, however when it comes to this blog I have to admit that a hot girl gave me a hard enough time that I decided to give it a try. I don't promise to be witty or funny, or hell even be that interesting or update it often. But at least I can say that I have a blog, right? The lengths men will go to in order to try to impress girl sheesh.

So last night I ended up going to sing some karaoke with a few friends. I hadn't done that in a while so I figured what the hell. Get some brews and belt out a few songs. The most fun that I get from karaoke is people watching. It ranks right up there with the airport really. The varying types of people that show up to sing is a vast array from the still living in the 70s hippie who is singing songs that my parents probably took a few tokes to while listening, to the karaoke whore. This is not only the description of how she has submitted 20 songs to sing, but also the fact that she is on any guy that gives her the slightest compliment. Most the time they can sing, but after the 10th song it gets rather annoying. It's like their own personal concert that noone paid to get in. Anyone who has ever gone to karaoke knows this girl. She is the one that before the end of the night she will be going home, just not to her home. Some dude is in for a very awkward goodbye in the morning (if he is lucky VERY early morning, like right after he is done).

So I should probably have talked about my blog name first before going off on that rant, but oh well. I heard the term Metro Jethro recently when I was listening to one of my favorite comedians, John Reep. It sounded so good I figured I would blatantly steal it, however it is not plagiarism since I just gave him credit for it right?? :) So to me, what Metro Jethro means is that I am a city boy living in the south. What I have found in 6 short years is that even though where I grew up was not exactly the biggest city, it sure was/is a lot bigger than here. And on top of that, the values are a little different. In future blogs I will detail out some funny things that happened to me in the first few months of me living here. And yes, I can hear the banjos. For now, I think this is good for a first post so enjoy.