Confessions of a NW side Salon

As many of you may or may not know, I am engaged to be married. Thank you in advance for all the congratulatory wishes.

Come to find out, there is a price to pay when planing a wedding, which is money. Unfortunately, no one is truly in a position to pay for the type of wedding that Lydia and I want. We have people literally flying from the other side of the world to attend the celebration.

That being said, we want to do an in-style wedding where people feel they got their monies worth for the price of admission (transportation and possible lodging.)

Therefore, the wedding we are planning, I would say for the price tag, is a good deal.

But let's return to topic of money. There is no one on either side of the family who can help pay for the extravaganza...No one, except for me.

I am currently in possession of three different jobs. The first is my primary job at a local TV station, the second is working at a Northwest side salon as a part-time receptionist and the third and last is working for a company called Games2U. To put it simply, it is a party brought to your doorstep. Hamster balls, laser tag, booger wars (like dodge ball) and two large trucks capable of engaging 30+ people in movies, and/or video games. If you've never heard of them, check them out www.g2u.com

Thankfully, these three jobs are varied enough they keep things fresh. The combination of them should earn me enough in the 17 months to have the wedding paid for and maybe erase some debt. They each have their own perks and their own complications, but I would not trade in a single one of these jobs.

I am currently working at the salon.

It is quiet now and I have the urge to write about where I am, being as it's been a very long time since my last entry. With the salon, I find a bit of free time and feel compelled to start reading and writing again.

I've already forgotten how to do one of them, so finishing this blog will be a bit of a challenge.

There are all kinds of interesting conversations that happen in a salon. Actually, "interesting" is not the word I would use, I don't find them interesting in the least. They are at least gossip and I hear that gossip is all the rage right now.

Like the creepy man who hits on everyt

hing, including the lamp in the corner, or the woman having an affair with her husband's co-worker, there is always a story. Why people feel compelled to share this information in a salon is beyond me. Is a stylist like a bartender? Is it therapeutic to confess all your sins to a burly man named Bubba-Joe who wears a shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show his "I heart mom" tattoo and serves a mean gin and tonic? Or Gabby who doesn't necessarily care about your troubles at home, but will pretend to while she cuts your hair? Is that better than a priest and a confessional booth?

Now I have never worked in a bar but I am a frequent visitor. The good news is that I am in a salon and there is no better time to answer this question. I have my pen and paper ready and will start writing down all little tid-bits of information I come across that could make for good/entertaining/slightly disturbing stories.

Any if I don't find any stories worth posting, at least I'm here earning money for my wedding, I killed half an hour writing this, and you lost 5 minutes of your life reading it.

Phil

Laziness Personified

As most of you readers know, I have a blog that I don't really keep up with. The trouble is I write at work, then at home as recreation. By the end of the day, I'm so tired from using my fingers (that's what she said) I can't bring myself to write about my life.
Another reason I may not blog as much, is because I have two separate google accounts. Google has their fingers into so many websites, it's hard to tell when you are signing up for something Google related. When I decide to do blog writing at work or at home, I have to log out of one Google account and then into the account that has the blog. On top of this, I am very lazy. Unfortunately you can't merge accounts. I did however find out that you can invite people to write on your blog. So, naturally, I invited myself to write for myself on my blog. So now I can stay logged into my Google account I use for email and everything else, and write as a guest-blogger without ever signing out. This would be the test blog to see how this actually works.

There is nothing about this blog entry that is interesting in the slightest and I feel for those of you who took the time to read it.

Phil

Desk Sitting

So here I am. It's Saturday evening, just after seven. I'm a young, attractive male who's girlfriend is out of town. Where am I? If you answered, "Out partying with your best buds", you'd be wrong. The correct answer it, "Sitting the assignment desk at KSAT".

Sorry... just got a call for a shooting. Had to delegate and send a photog on it and have our reporter ready to go if case it's live shot worthy.

OK. Things have settled down a bit... for the moment. That was a fun 20 minutes. Listening to a suspect being chased for God knows what, a brush fire, and the shooting. Been a while since I've sat the desk for more than 20 minutes at a time. I feel a bit rusty.

This blog really doesn't have a point yet. I'm kind of making it up as I go along. Can you tell? I didn't bring a book, and while Wipeout is fun to watch, it will be over soon. So I figured...


Whoops. Call for a rollover...

So I figured I would write something to help pass the time. As I stated in my previous random blog, the girlfriend is off with men in India, doing Shiva knows what. So I've decided that now is a good time to get back into my reading/writing regiment. I used to write poems, and stories and read a book a week back in the day. Somehow I've managed to dodge that for two years, but there's no time like the present to get back into it. I've got...

Possibly another shooting...

I've got plenty of stories to tell, original plots and intriguing characters but there is a problem, putting them on proverbial paper. My job requires me to write nearly eight hours a day, so by time I get home, I don't really feel like writing for recreation. I doubt Michael Phelps, after doing laps eight hours a day, hops in the pool when he gets home. I know it's a little different, but if I am to make my first million by the time I'm 30, I really need to start cracking down. Even if it's like Frank Peretti, writing a page a night until the book is finished. Sure, it may take a few years, but at least I put the time for it.
One book I have a plot for is Vampireish. But I came up with it before this whole Vampire craze as of late, so I call "originality" on that. I'm really excited to write it, but I'm having trouble piecing the plot together. It is a story that would be best told over multiple books, and I have trouble being able to connect them all together. It will come in time. Best way is to start writing it.

Someone called 911 for a Headache!? I never get over that call. I laugh everytime I hear it. Take a freakin' Tylenol.

Hopefully the Vampire story could turn into Spin-Offs of prequels and sequels. Another reason it's taking me so long to start writing. I'm trying to set up this huge lore, with plenty of history leading up to the main story, and characters to continue-on following the end. Again, it all begins with that first step, or in this case, that first letter on paper.

And another thing. When I live in DFW and had my Mother, a free personal trainer, I was in the best shape of my life. But then, I stopped and began producing. Sitting on my duff for eight hours a day. That's when the pounds began to pack on.

Oooh. A structure fire!

Unfortunately, for whatever lame excuse I use over the past year, I have fallen off my work out regiment. But now that I'm settled in my new place, I need to get back in to my routine. So as of Monday, I will head straight to the gym after work. I can't go home, otherwise I won't leave again. My goal, to work out my uppers Monday& Friday, Legs on Wednesday and run everyday except Tuesday/Thursday push myself extra hard because I'm not lifting.

I fear this blog is going to be a long one, because as long as I'm at the desk, I will keep writing. And there's still 90 minutes to go. It's already been two hours since I started writing this. Man, how time flies.

A Robbery in Progress... but where on Perrin Beitel...


I really have to pee, but there's no one to sit the desk while I'm gone. Sure I could sneak away and no one would know, but that's when I miss the hostage situation. Until some one can be my sub, I will wait and think of Waterfalls and flowing water.

Ok...

That was not a good idea.

Have to think of something else...

Ah hour to go until I get my drink on.

If the number of Incidents on the "City of San Antonio Fire Response" webpage is correct, they have had over 9-million indicentses since they began the count on the page. That's impressive. Of course that's everything from people calling about Stomach Cramps to a Full Blown fire.
Still an impressive amount. It seems one comes in every other minute or so.
Pretty sure I have Scanner Brain. Can't really distinguish between the different scanners. They just sound like a jumble of noise.

I think we have a power line down on the road and a Motor vehicle accident on different parts of town and one photog. Not that they are anything to send him out on, just felt like sharing.

We were the only ones at that first shooting! Score. The rest of those incidents turned out to be minor things if nothing at all. So at least we got that shooting. That's what matters.
Two callers have mentioned a two-year-old boy in Natalia hit by a car. Air-lifted here. Hopefully we can check into that.

Ok. At this point it's 10:30. I'm done.WOO HOO. Thanks for sticking with me mover these past 3 1/2 hours. It's been... yeah... It's been.
I'm off to the Saucer.

Quizzical Quandary

This year has not been a great one for writing. With trying to juggle work, a new girlfriend, laying around doing nothing and frequent naps, it's been difficult to find time to write. So while the girlfriend is out flirting with strange men and frolicking in India for the next five weeks, I figured it would be a good time to start my old read/writing regiment.

Many things over the past week have had me asking questions, as to why things are they way they are, and why events unfold as they do.

For instance, I am driving on the NE side (which may have been my problem to begin with) I was about to turn into the left lane when I see a car behind me weaving in and out of traffic, coming up behind me. I assume they are going to weave into the left lane and continue on past me. So I move back into the right lane (I only had my tires in the left lane) and turn off the blinker, letting them rush around me. Only the driver doesn't speed off. I move in behind him as I make my way to a turn lane, when he moves into the right lane pulls up beside me and begins to show me his middle finger for the better part of a minute. If I sped up, he went with me, slowed down, he followed. I looked at him, and couldn't help but laugh. This only seems to anger him further, but the fact that I received a finger for whatever I did, was unnecessary and the whole scenario, funny.
Odd thing about it, this is the second time this has happened to me on Walzem.
Lesson Learned: Stay off Walzem.


This also happening over the weekend: I felt like a hankering for BBQ so I used this handy program on my BlackBerry Storm called Poynt (pronounced point, clever but unnecessary) and found the closest location to me with and intriguing name. When it comes to BBQ, you don't want a placed just called Barbecue. you want a place called "Al's Best BBQ and Juicy Burger Shack." Now this place doesn't exist, though with generous grants from people like you, it can. Anyhow, I found this place located on my GPS. It said it was located off the service road of 410. ( thought this odd, it being off the service road and not at an intersection on a cross street.)
I decided to follow by blind faith, in the pouring rain no less. When I reach the location I notice it doesn't really look like a BBQ joint. This placed served meat but not of the consumption kind.
This particular meat asks for $20 dollars at the end of every song and wears less clothing than Steve-O from Wildboyz.
The GPS had taken me to the Wild Zebra club for my BBQ! The thought crossed my mind that maybe the BBQ was inside past the cover charge between the midst of smoky haze, loud music and partially clad women. However rather than risk being aroused, I opted to go for Carl's Jr., which wasn't a bad option.
Lesson Learned: Don't trust GPS. It only leads to porn.

Today I tried a bar called XXX Bar. Now I know what you are thinking and no; it isn't a BBQ Trap like Wild Zerba. This was a legitimate, rundown bar with the XXX title to entice men looking for a good time. Only to be dissapointed to see no women on the bar. Those concerns soon forgotten as they see a pint of beer for only a buck! There are two bars within a walk from my house, XXX Bar and Spanky's. Both poorly named bars, both side by side. Names alone, curiosity got the best of me and I walked over to XXX. Beer for a dollar, drunk people at 7PM and a jukebox playing everything randomly from Hank Williams Jr.'s "Family Tradition" to Usher's "Yeah!" Quite the cornocopious collection and the patrons didn't discriminate.
Instead they sang along. The bar was akin to an old watering hole from El Paso.
Lesson Learned: Don't be afraid of the letters XXX, sometime it leads to more than cheap women.

These are just a few examples of how one thing can lead to another for no reason. Also, this is me cutting my teeth, getting back into writing and blogging. I hope to have more observations in the future. Even if it's just me writing them for myself to read in the future.

First Blog of the Year (41 Days In)

Please forgive me readers,

It's been 103 days since my last blog entry. Over the past few months life became complicated, then it wasn't, then it suddenly became complex then evolved into confusing and finally rested on complacent. The turn of events has taken me for a whirl wind of a ride, much like Dorothy caught up in a massive tornado.
Now I sit in front of a computer screen, typing out the recent events of my life and how this year has begun to unfold. Hard to believe we are 41 days into the new year and time trudges on unrelentingly like the back hand of a pimp who was denied his fee.
I feel last year's blogs left some issues unresolved. So, for all you readers who continue to hang onto a thread, let's tie up these loose ends.

The Beard Finale:
A few months ago I made an attempt to grow a beard. It was a foolish decision. Those of you who know me are aware I shave about once a week. So, to grow any sort of facial hair beyond the infamous soul patch, would take patience and dedication. Again, if you know me, these are qualities that I seemingly lack.
The beard grew for almost 7 weeks. Before I finally shaved it. Here is the last picture taken at the end of the experiment showing the full length my mini-beard before it was desecrated by Gillette.

(My parents being supportive of my beard)

52 Weeks of Adventure:
Previously I also decided this year I would do 52 things I have never done or rarely do. I am pretty much on schedule. So far six weeks have passed and I have accomplished five tasks:

1. Spent the entire weekend in DFW partying with old friends
2. Saw the King Tut exhibit, the first time it has been in the states in 30 years
3. Went and looked around a gun show
4. Visited a firing range and actually shot a gun
5. Spent the weekend in LA on the backlot of WB studios and at the visited the LA observatory.

I'm revving up to the really big stuff in the Spring and the Summer. Also planned for this month is, going to my very first rodeo and traveling back to El Paso to visit friends.

Now onto more recent events in life. I have taken up bowling as a hobby. The skill is slowly improving. I have my own shoes and my own bowling ball. Just last week I bowled my best game, 188. The average game would be around 130. Okay but there is certainly room for improvement.

Oh and here is a story about my trip to LA, some of you might find intriguing. On the Southwest flight to Phoenix (I connected from there to LA) I sat on the isle as usual. With long legs and knees that cramp up it's nice to have an empty isle to stretch them into. Plus it's always a laugh when unsuspecting flight attendants fail to see my obtrusive appendages. So, a woman moved passed me and sat by the window seat. Little did we both know until a short while later that neither of us spoke the other's language. She spoke Spanish only and I speak English and French (it seemed like a good idea in College, at moments like this, not so much).
It very well may have been her very first time on an airplane. Try as she might she could not buckle her seat belt. She tapped me on the shoulder to show me her predicament. It appeared she was a little too large for the belt to reach across. We contacted a flight attendant and I explained the situation. She ran off to get an extender for the woman. Only to find upon her return that belly size wasn't the issue, the woman simply did not know how to buckle the belt. When I realized this I tried to explain this to the flight attendant but the damage had already been done. They strapped the extender on her and tightened it up. We didn't speak about it but I think she knew how I misunderstood her. From this point on, I won't make assumptions about large people. Otherwise they may get offended and I, embarrassed.

52 Weeks of Adventure

Talking to an editor this morning, the short one, I came the the realization that time moves by faster, the older you get.
Now I know I'm going to get virtual slapped, and possible physically slapped, by people a few years older than me when I say this:
"I'm already 26 and what do I have to show for it?"

Sure, I have had a few poems published, and I am a Master SCUBA Diver, and have a black belt in Tae Known Do and met Hulk Hogan in a bathroom at the airport.
But days and weekends tend to blur together in an obscure mess to the point I can't tell one weekend from another. I feel like my life is draining in a sea of mediocrity mediocritiness.
So I came up with a game plan to make each week more memorable.
In theory, if I can separate the different between weekends, just maybe, I can cause the forward march of time to slow to a crawl.

Here is my plan:
52 Weeks in a Year
52 Things I rarely do or have never done.

Each week I will do one of these tasks. I will then blog about it and take pictures to remember each moment, where time slowed down just a bit.
Being as I just came up with this idea for a resolution, my list is rather small.

Here are a few things I've been thinking about:

1. Hiking at Enchanted Rock
2. Camping at Lost Maples
3. Touring the San Antonio Missions
4. Renaissance Festivals
5. A weekend motorcycle trip stopping at B&Bs.
   
6. SCUBA Diving
7. Weekend at the Beach
8. Eating at my favorite place for wings in the world, Pluckers in Austin and trying the Cookie Bar up there as well.
9. Traveling to LA to see my brother
10. An all day movie marathon at a theater
    

I know that's only 10 adventures, because I can see the list numbered above, but I'm looking for ideas. Other people may have suggestions of activities I'm not even aware of.
Weigh in, let me know what you think.

Crazy People

When I am at home in my apartment, I do my best to keep to myself. Let's just say me and my apartment neighbors do NOT mix. I try to be friendly and outgoing but, it seems, no matter where I live I am plagued with people even crazier than I am!
In one apartment, the upstairs neighbor would have parties until 7am almost every night of the week, ignoring my pleas for silence, or an invite.
In another apartment the neighbor across from me was a Car Salesman. That should have been a red flag right there, but I felt bad for the guy. He had been tossed out by his wife who then moved her boyfriend into the home with her. I became a sympathetic friend, offering my assistance in any way. Long story short I gave out hundreds of dollars to help him, not to mention he stole a couple hundred dollars worth of clothing, then tried to guilt trip me that I wasn't helping him enough.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I moved to San Antonio. My neighbors are nice and quiet; despite the fact there is a family of four living next door in the same sized apartment as me. I thought I was free and clear of crazy neighbors... until Thursday.

My apartment complex backs up against another. The two are separated by a black wrought iron fence. I leave my bike under a parking canopy that sits next to the fence and park my Durango beside that.
Oh Thursday, I started taking the cover off my bike so I can go for a ride, crazy neighbor free, then I hear him speak. I look through the chipped iron fence and see a man, disheveled hair, shoeless, shirtless, standing there staring at me. Here's a bit of the conversation that followed:

Me: Excuse me?
Hippie: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Hippie: That your bike? (He points to the bike that I am removing the cover from)
Me: ...yes.
Hippie: So where's your boat?
Me: I'm sorry?
Hippie: I see you gots a trailer hitch, where's ya'lls boat?
Me: No boat, just the trailer hitch to tow things.
Hippie: How big is that bike?
Me: 1500CC (maybe goes 90mph)
Hippie: I used to ride motorcycles. Take my friends bike out for a spin. He wanted me to buy it. I didn't wear a helmet or nothing. One time I got that bike up to 200 on the freeway, even did a wheelie. But power on a bike like yours will kill you.

He then proceeded to talk to me about his brother who works on motorcycles and for Jesse James, the West Coast Chopper dude. Then he started running off to grab an article about motorcycles to show me. I told him I was actually running late to meet friends, which was true.
We said our goodbyes then I ran the cover inside and grabbed my helmet. I get on the bike and he shouts at me again, I look back and he is thrusting the article through the fence pointing at his brother then at Jesse James, side by side. I told him I really had to go and said goodbye again, then he told me one more story about how he almost bought the bike made for Jesse James. I managed to escape and revved my engine peeling out of the parking lot, glad to escape the onslaught of crazy.
When I returned a few hours later he was still there, sitting on a set of stairs by the fence. He stood up and anxiously faced me, to talk more about Jesse James I imagine. I picked up my cellphone and took my helmet off. My girlfriend thankfully called, giving me a reason to talk on the phone, ignoring him standing there. So far I haven't seem him again, but I know he will pop up when I lease expect it!