Sunday, December 16, 2007

Finger Eleven 'Them Vs. You Vs. Me'


A family member was laid to rest yesterday… I’m talking about my cat Monroe.

She got to the point where she was standing around and moaning as loud as a car alarm for no apparent reason. She wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t thirsty. And no matter how I would talk to her, she wouldn’t calm herself down. She would just stand there and bellow like a bull in a pasture. It didn’t sound pleasant so I’m pretty sure she wasn’t moaning because she felt like Tom Cruise on Oprah.

It had to be done. And I wasn’t really all that fond of cleaning her litter box all time. It seemed like she didn’t care where she popped a squirt or pinched a loaf. It was pretty nasty.

The novelty of seeing her blindly bump into things wore off rather quickly. Especially when she sensed an opening ahead, but had no idea that there was a low overhang. I would hear her little skull meet that object and it sounded like a really loud knuckle pop. I felt bad for her so I know she’s better off.

We ball parked her age to around 19 years, but an old girlfriend claims that she was around when Monroe made her appearance back around 1990-1991. Either way, she had a good and easy life.

--The Dick Broadcasting Company’s Holiday Party was last Friday night. And there were a couple of big surprises.

First surprise… Mike “Mr. Weekend” Sutherland was the dinner entertainment.

Mr. Weekend (or as he was often referred to… “Weak Knees”) performs a salute to Frank Sinatra and friends. I kept waiting for his Sinatra take on “Old Man River” and “Mrs. Robinson” (…fooling with that young stuff like you do… boo, hoo, hoo… woo, woo, woo). Two very wrong Sinatra classics in my opinion, but hilarious!



Secondly… For the first time that in my four years of attending the DBC Holiday parties… There was dancing.

I kind of felt bad for the DJ, because every segue from song to song would be scrutinized by almost everyone in the room. In my mind, that seems like it could be a hard gig.

And the most shocking thing… Watching Chris Kelly dance.

It was painfully funny, but I totally admire his spirit. Kelly got out there and danced as if he didn’t care what anyone was saying about it. He rarely moved on time with the beat.

It was like when you’re at a stoplight behind a car that’s using a turn signal… You’ve got music playing… And on every 28th beat, the light flashes on beat with the snare drum. Kelly could never synch up with the beat and it was like watching a mime pretending to die in quicksand.

Several times my date Kira, Jaclyn, and Heather tried to get me out there, but I wasn’t about to hit the dance floor without the proper music. I told them if the DJ had a copy of Judas Priest’s “Turbo Lover (Hi Octane Dance Mix)” that I would gladly follow them to the floor. Luckily, the DJ didn’t have it and I get to live another day without a dancing embarrassment.

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