Long Awkward Pause – A New Adventure In Blogging

In lieu of reblog Thursday, I have some exciting news.

I’m announcing the birth of a new, exciting, epic, original, ingenious, bold, spicy, operatic, collaborative masterpiece:

Long Awkward Pause!

What is Long Awkward Pause you may ask…and even if you didn’t ask, you may ask after you recover from your excitement over this announcement.

(I will wait until you pick yourself up off the floor, dust your pants off, and compose yourself thus-ly.)

Long Awkward Pause is a humor magazine collaboration between myself, Blurt, B.L.O.G., Monk Monkey, and Ramblings Of An Apathetic Adult Baby. We will take reader submitted topics  and write about them either once or twice a month depending on schedule, earth rotation, Chick-fil-a openings, births, deaths, oil changes, and other such hazards of the blog world.

I’m really excited to work with these guys, and I hope you’ll be just as excited to read our stuff. And if your not excited, at least tell your friends how not excited you are about this site, and how they should check it out for themselves.

You can view  the site, here. Don’t forget to follow, pretty please. Currently the site is just featuring reblogs of us, the actual first post will be on or around Aug. 2nd. It’s a topic submitted by Jo Ellen of Two On A Rant and it’s a tasty one. Feel free to fill out the form on the about page and suggest your own musings.

For everyone who follows, you will receive one free email notification!

Andyman

This was on my friend’s Facebook wall the other day:

Andy Davis, better known as Andyman, died while drowning on vacation. It was sad.

Duh.

I both loved and hated* this man. The reason why I hate Andyman is because he is responsible for my utter demise in having a normal 9 to 5 job. But thats OK, because I still love him.

This is what I wrote in between all the sad comments on that post above:

I wrote something funny…well at least it was funny to me. I wrote something funny because Andyman was one of the funniest people I ever known.

It was Andyman who introduced me to the world of improv comedy and changed my life forever.

Mostly because later in life I learned I sucked at improv comedy.

Andyman and I went to broadcasting school together. It was one of those schools that quickly appears in a random strip mall, right between a Chinese restaurant and a dry cleaners, takes everyone’s money, and disappears two years later…only to pop up in some other city, in some other state.

You had to audition for the school, but guess what? Everyone with $2ooo seemed to pass the audition. I think of the 12 of us in my class, only 3 of us had any real talent.

Myself, of course.

Andyman, of course.

And Sherri, of course. (Because I was hooking up with her.)

This greatest lesson I learned at that school was that I didn’t want to become a DJ.

Later in life, that would actually change when I got to Florida and discovered this radio station, 104.1. 104 is a talk station, but not like a regular talk station, the shows are entertaining. Most talk stations are all about sports, politics, or how to weed your garden. This station is more like Season 4 of Seinfeld meets a Game Show meets the last great comedic movie you saw. I’m not saying I could actually do what those talk show hosts do, but if they had a station like that in Ohio, I would have at least given it a shot.

So I’m sitting in school, thinking this is a mistake…I knew it was a mistake because I had gotten a job at the roller rink as their DJ. It was a terrible gig. The DJ who trained me also put together their 20 minute birthday route.  He showed me how to run it once, and expected me to know it by heart. It was a combination of reading a script, running a projector, and playing some really cheesy birthday games…on skates of course. My mentor Roller Rink DJ was pretty much a douche bag. I think, he thought, I wanted his job.

I didn’t.

I just wanted some practiced that payed. If you interned at a radio station, you were working for free.

I grew tired of the Roller Rink job quick. On my last day I put on Kool Moe Dee’s Wild Wild West on a loop and left the DJ booth forever.

For all I know, 12 teenagers could still be skating in a circle to it.

So……I’m sitting in school, thinking this is a mistake, when Andyman introduces me to improv comedy. I’m sure you know what that is, but just in case, it’s a form of comedy where you take suggestions from the audience and turn it into a scene.

I loved it.

I loved it so much, that I decided not to take an internship with a radio station and form my own improv group. It was called: Left of Center.

What set us apart from other improv groups is that we also preformed pre-written comedy skits…which actually we were pretty good at.

It was a good run while it lasted. We got on the local comedy bar circuit, opened for Leon Redbone, and was written up in two or three newspapers.

The group died when we brought it to Florida to try to ink out a television deal. The show’s vision fell along the lines of an American version of Monty Python.

Don’t flip through your TV channels trying to find us, we never got a deal.

I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything to be honest. Those were great times. I could write many pieces on those days preforming in the bars, but I’ll bore you another day.

Andyman went on to work for the only really good radio station in Columbus, Ohio; 101.1. (which I guess now is 102.1 or 102.B or 101 1/2…I’m not quite sure)

This station played Alternative rock commercially when normally you could only hear that type of music on a college radio station and would have to suffer through a drunk, stoned, college station DJ.

I would have tried to work for 101.1 as well if Andyman didn’t inspire me to try something different.

What’s iconic is my brother also ended up working for that station as well as his best friend.

I know Andyman is squatting on a cloud somewhere up in heaven, playing some groovy tunes, and making the cherubs laugh their diapers off.

I miss you bro. Peace and love.

*I actually never hated Andyman. I followed a dream. It didn’t work out. At least I won’t have a “What if…” gnawing at the back of my brain.

Numb

Goooood morning Kissimmee, Florida…and by everyone I mean me! I’m your DJ with the most, Donnie D. The one, the only…and I’m not lying when I say this because the rest of you are dead.

Gone, bye bye, adios, Sayonara…see ya!

I’m broadcasting on 10,000 watts of pure boredom and waste of time from beautiful, historic, downtown Kissimmee’s Z100 rock station. I’m sure you, dear listener don’t give a rat’s ass….because everyone in the sound of my voice is dead. Yes, I know…I have mentioned this little fact before, but hey….what do I care?

You’re all dead!

If any of you, by some weird chance are not dead, you are probably dying and not listening to me ramble on about nothing anyway. But in the off chance you are not dead or dying, you can find me right on Main street…just look for the building with the big call letters on it: Z100.

Z100 is Kissimmee’s Rock and Roll headquarters! And I am Kissimmee’s new rock god!

Folks in just a few short minutes I will be playing Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb, a favorite and by the way,  how I start every radio broadcast…hell it’s how I start every morning since the big tragedy. I was never much of a pot head before all this, but let me tell ya…being all alone sucks! A little wake and bake helps ease that transition from wandering through nightmare infested dreams to wandering through the streets of Kissimmee for the billionth time…all by myself. And since my bud John is no longer around, I don’t think he will mind if I take his stash of sweet, sweet, Calgon take me away, marijuana.

Hey, remember folks, it’s just  little ol’ me here.

I’m begging anyone…if you can hear me….for the love of God…find me. Listen it’s a well known fact…according to every disaster movie ever made, you always start of with just that one guy…which currently is me…did I mention that? Anyway you just focus on him for like the first 20/30 minutes of the film…then eventually he hooks up with a group of rag-tag survivors consisting of a hot chick, an old dude, a black guy with a pregnant wife…and a stray dog.

So where is my hot chick? Where is my stray dog?

It’s been longer than 20/30 minutes!

I promise I’m not just going to cry for 3 hours like I did yesterday. That was riveting radio I’m sure…

Shut up…

Don’t judge!

Well, you can’t judge. You’re dead.

Let’s take a quick look at the traffic shall we…let’s see…the streets are crowded with the cars you died in…very inconsiderate…you can hardly get a scooter through that mess. Plus it’s all  creepy and scary looking, like out of a B rated horror film, with all your dead arms hanging out the windows, and your dead faces just staring at the sun.

In the weather, it’s going to be hot. It is Florida after all. And this brings a major problem, because all you inconsiderate bastards that died are now stinking up the place. Maybe I should do something about burying you all, or burning you all…but I don’t have the motivation. My arm over my nose will have to do for now.

Well, enough about that…let’s go to the phones. Any requests? And remember I refuse to play R.E.M’s It’s the end of the world, and I feel fine…it’s too easy.

What?

No phone calls?

The phone lines are dead…just like you….

Tee Hee.

Well I was going to play Comfortably Numb anyway, I almost forgot…but before I do that, I would like to tell a Knock, Knock joke.

Ready?

Knock, Knock…who’s there? No one. You’re all dead.

Ha!

You know what? I’m tired, I think you can hear it in the sound of my voice…so today I think I will put Pink Floyd’s wonderful masterpiece, Comfortably Numb on an endless loop while I’ll take a nap.

Just a quick, little known fact about the band Pink Floyd first…they are all dead.

This is Donnie D. your DJ with the most saying…help me, find me….anyone?

Please…

iHeart Radio thinks I’m Mentally Ill

Since I’ve discovered this little app called iHeart Radio, I barely listen to the regular radio anymore. Not only does it stream my favorite Orlando, Florida station, 104.1…but it also streams hundreds of radio stations from across the country. It also does that Pandora Radio thing where you can pick an artist and it will play that artist, plus similar artists as well. And then finally, and best feature of all, it has specialized, unique radio stations, such as Coffeeshop Rock, Workout Radio, Lollapalooza Radio, and the reason for this post, 24/7 Comedy Radio. I love 24/7 Comedy Radio. It’s what I listen to about 90% of the time I am on iHeart. 24/7 plays snippets from Stand-up comedians, famous and not-so famous, and that’s all they play.

By the way, this is not an advertisement or an endorsement for iHeart…get it or don’t…I don’t care. It is free by the way.

This being an internet radio thing, the commercials they play are not your typical advertisements. They range from such things as advertising peanut safety, identity theft protection, and how to contact the government in an emergency.

Until recently….

Recently all the commercials have been about mental illness.

All of them.

At first, I thought nothing of it. Until all the commercials disappeared, and only mental illness commercials started playing.

And I started thinking, “Wow, a lot of people must be suffering from mental illness out there.”

And then I started thinking, “I wonder how many people suffer from mental illness? I wonder how many people know it?”

And then this thought nudged that thought to the side, “What if I’m suffering from mental illness?”

And then another thought, took that thought and asked it to step outside, “What if I’m suffering from mental illness…and I don’t even know it!”

And then another thought jumped right on top of that previous thought and kicked it until it left my brain, “What if these thoughts are the first sign of mental illness?!”

And then this thought, took that thought and tackled it, tied it to the ground, and set it on fire, “What if these mental illness commercials aren’t real? What if my mentally ill brain is subconsciously making me hear mental ill commercials, but in fact, in reality, they are normal everyday commercials to everyone else…like my mentally diseased brain is reaching out and trying to help me in some way…”

And then I thought, “I should probably get some gas soon and maybe a slushy. A green slushy.”

And then this thought took that previous thought by the hand and sat it down on nice comfy plush sofa with an 80″ High Definition 3D TV set in front of it, “I like green slushies.”

And I thought no more of it.

 

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Trouble In A Bubble

Let me set this up: I’m driving home from my oldest daughter’s dance recital. I have the toddler (who is 4), and two of the toddler’s friends (who are 6 and 4 maybe) in the car as well. Normally I listen to a  talk radio station in Orlando, 104.1. (Those who know it, know it’s not your grandpa’s talk station of boring politics, boring sports, and/or boring community affairs. This one is actually entertaining, and the Buckethead show was on which I really like.) I thought I would be nice to the toddlers and run a Pandora station through the car I created called apples and bananas.

You know, songs good for toddlers.

So the first song that comes on was something about a monkey…monkey moo…or monkey mood…I don’t know but it had a good beat and the girls laughed every time the singer said monkey, which was about a gazillion times.

Good.

I am feeling successful and OK with the decision of sacrificing my show since the kids are enjoying it.

The next song that came on was ‘Sing A Song’. A classic, been around since my childhood. The girls didn’t enjoy it as much, but hey, it’s kind of slow and nappy, and doesn’t have the word monkey in it.

The next song to come on was ‘No Trouble In A Bubble’ or something like that, and it was done by The Mickey Mouse Playhouse. Cool. I actually work for the Mouse, so it’s good to support my boys you know. The song was upbeat and catchy, harmless, had Goofy in it which is always a home run for humor.

The toddlers however turned on me. My toddler said, “I can’t take this song anymore.”

Mind you this was not the worst song ever, no monkey in it grant you, but still not the worst song. Trust me, my oldest loved Barney the Dinosaur.

She said it again, “I can’t take this song anymore.” Then she got the other two to start chanting, “I can’t take this song anymore, I can’t take this song anymore, I can’t take this song anymore, I can’t take this song anymore!”

Now I’m in heavy traffic. Pandora is on my phone playing through the media jack on the car. The phone is sitting in the passenger’s seat in sleep mode. What I’m getting at is, the skip feature on Pandora is just not a feasible option at this time.

“I can’t take this song anymore, I can’t take this song anymore, I can’t take this song anymore!”

“Hey guys,” I shouted. “This is Mickey Mouse. This is a good song. Stop chanting please!”

One girl looked at me and asked, “What’s chanting?”

Another little girl looked at me and asked, “Do you have any Selena Gomez?”

And the last little girl looked at me and said, “I gotta potty.”

So I turned the Buckethead show back on.