I generally don’t. I’m introverted and thrive on alone time. In fact, I crave it. There’s a limit, though. I’ve lived alone a few times, usually after breakups, and didn’t enjoy it a whole lot. But if the rest o’ my life is kinda-sorta under control, and it’s just an afternoon or a day or two… I love it. It feels absolutely natural and good. Those long hauls, however? Not so much.

Have you ever watched a show called Alone? They drop ten people separately into some godforsaken place and each of them tries to remain the longest. When they first arrive they have to deal with wild animals, setting up a shelter of some sort, and finding a food source. But once all that’s handled, it’s the “alone” part that starts to get to them. There are no cameramen or anything of the sort. They film everything themselves. And a lot of the participants start to lose it in short order.

And almost everybody I talk with about the show says something along the lines of “Oh, that would be the easy part for me! I could go for a couple of years. I can’t stand people.” It’s nearly unanimous, that reaction. But I think they’re fooling themselves. That shit’ll get you. A lot of the contestants seem surprised and baffled by it. They prepared by learning how to build traps and construct a hut out of tree limbs and break down a fish, or whatever. But the alone part takes them out. Humans are social creatures. They probably should’ve considered that aspect of it. Hell, it’s the title of the show!

In any case, I’m not really talking about being alone in the goddamn arctic or whatever. I’m talking about just eating in a restaurant by yourself, and things like that. I know several people who say they’ve never done it, which blows my mind. I do it, if not daily, at least four or five times per week. Granted, most of those are in fast food restaurants, but I’ve also been a “party of one” at sit-down places. I just look at my phone, and it’s no big deal. That’s what everybody else is doing too, regardless of how many people are at their table.

What about you? What’s your stance on eating in restaurants by yourself? Any issue with it?

I don’t really remember going to a movie alone, but probably have. I’m not a big movie-going person, in general, but I wouldn’t mind going to one by myself. You’re not supposed to be talking in there, anyway. Right? I’ve gone to MANY rock shows by myself, and that’s not an issue either. These were at small venues, mostly in Atlanta. I don’t recall going to any large arena concerts alone. But I’d do it. There was some guy flying solo, roughly my age, beside us at the Tom Petty show a year or so ago. I didn’t think anything about it, and he seemed to be having a good time. A little too talkative for my tastes… but that’s a different discussion.

I’ll probably be attending a baseball game alone next week. Not a problem… I’ll just eat a batting helmet full of soft serve ice cream and three hot dogs, and all will be right with the world.

I don’t have much experience with traveling alone. I’m talking about vacation travel, not business stuff. I did go to Long Beach Island by myself a few years ago. To tell you truth, it felt weird. It was nice and pretty, and all that stuff. But I don’t know if I truly enjoyed it. I thought it would be spectacular, but it wasn’t. I like driving somewhere by myself, so I can control the radio and where I stop, etc. But being at the beach by myself was less enjoyable than anticipated. I’m not sure I’d do it again.

What do you have on this one? Do you have any problem doing things alone? Both times I lived by myself for extended periods were in cities I’d recently moved to, where I didn’t know many people. That’s part of the problem, I’m sure. Also, as I mentioned, both times it was post-breakup, which doesn’t help. So, I probably don’t have a clear experience in that area. If I’d been surrounded by family and friends and co-workers, it would’ve been a completely different situation. At this point though, I hope I don’t find out.

Anyway, please share your thoughts on living alone, eating alone, going to movies and shows alone, etc. Tell us all about it in the comments.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

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Sleep is creepy, it’s well-documented. It’s death lite, a weird insect-like dormancy that we all accept as normal. In fact, there are whole industries built around this terrifying daily freakishness. Including, but not limited to, the MyPillow guy. And maybe even the Trivago guy. Can you imagine the first person who started to feel sleepy at the end of the day, nodding off, etc.? He probably thought, “Well, shit. I guess this is it?” In any case, sleep is unfortunately required. No matter how disturbing it is. If I could go without it, I would. I fight it and usually sigh loudly in defeat as I make my way upstairs every night to the dormancy platform, located inside the latency chamber. Dammit! I just had a full-body shiver.

But as I type this I’m struggling, my friends. ‘Cause I stayed up way too late last night listening to the Reds lose in Pacific Daylight Time. Some o’ that boolshit interleague play abomination… But that’s a different complaint for a different day. I got about six hours last night, which seems like it should be enough. But I can feel it dragging on my brain. And I know it’s going to be a long day because I didn’t spend enough time in suspended animation.

I require at least seven hours. That’s to feel normal and good the next day. I’m not proud of it. I wish I could report that I need much less since sleep is one of my sworn enemies. But it has a hold on me! Eight hours is also good, but after that, the law of diminishing returns kicks in. My back hurts, I’m disgusted with myself and somehow less-rested. So, seven or eight is the sweet spot for me.

Toney loves to sleep but doesn’t do a very good job of it, as far as I can tell. She’s a very light sleeper and any tiny sound wakes her. If a neighbor, three doors down, farts in his kitchen Toney is up for several hours. She also moves during the night. She starts out in our bed but rarely ends up there. She usually does the last three or four hours on the living room couch. However… whenever I tell her I’d gladly go without sleep if it were possible, she can’t believe it. “Sleep is one of my favorite things,” she tells me. It’s ironic (maybe) that I don’t like it, and can sleep through a goddamn hurricane. Whatever.

What do you have on this one? What kind of relationship do you have with sleep? Do you love it, like Toney? Or do you feel semi-resentful every time you turn in for the night, like me? Also, how many hours do you require? What’s the sweet spot? I wish I could feel good and normal on six hours, but I can’t. Not really. I can manage, but I feel off. Like right now. And that’s part of the reason this one’s so short. Blame the stupid Angels and their stupid other-side-of-the-continent location. Stupid Angels…

I posted a new podcast episode yesterday (I think). Or was it the day before? It doesn’t matter… You can check it out here, or wherever you get podcasts.  Here’s the summary:

In this one, I give you an update on the beepbeepbeep construction project going on next door, the mailing of our spit to Ancestry, a “like” at Instagram that nearly caused my brain to explode, and a crazy tour we’re planning to take in August. I also share a couple of messages left at the Surf Report hotline and respond accordingly. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

And I’m going to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll see you guys next time.

Have a great day!

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I’m looking at that graphic and realize I’ve never used LinkedIn. I might have an account, but I’m not sure. And I’ve never seen SnapChat. I’m not even sure what it is. I use YouTube, of course, but have never posted anything there. A few days ago I checked to see if ‘thewvsr’ was available as a username and it said it was taken. “Assholes!” I shouted. Who would take that name?? Just some dick, probably. Yeah… turns out it was me. So, I was correct, I guess.

In any case, the social media platform I like the best is Instagram. I genuinely enjoy it. It feels more civilized than Facebook and Twitter, and I think I follow a more interesting mix of accounts there. I’ve never been able to fully crack the Twitter code. I check it from time to time, mostly for baseball stuff, but don’t do much posting. It brings me little joy. I do like the Surf Report Facebook page, where I mostly just post ridiculous pictures I’ve found during my internet travels. Very similar to the old bunker cam photos.

But the main Facebook? Man, that thing makes me insane. There’s some interesting stuff there, I’m not saying there’s not. However, there’s also an avalanche of infuriating shit. Including, but not limited to: smug and knowing political statements made by the most unreliable narrators in the world… humble-bragging… pictures of feet… lunch photos… goiter updates (or whatever)… vague posting (“I’m so over this!”)… people wishing people a happy anniversary who are probably sitting four feet from them as they type…

You know what I’m saying, right? It’s a cesspool, my friends. It makes me grind my molars. But today I thought I’d start a list of phrases that people use on Facebook all the time that make me squint in annoyance. Then you guys can complete it for me if you’re so inclined. How’s that sound? Good, let’s do it.

• This! So. Much. This.
• I’m just going to leave this right here.
• I can’t even.
• I see what you did there.
• Yassss!
• Squeeee!
• Meh.
• Won the internet.
• Awesomesauce.
• And go.
• Fixed it for you.

There are slight variations of those, of course. But you get the gist, I hope. Please help me create the definitive list, won’t you? Use the comments section to bitch about comments!

Also, just so you know, I’ve streamlined my social media parallel universe. Check it out:

• instagram.com/thewvsr
• twitter.com/thewvsr
• facebook.com/thewvsr

Pretty cool, huh? I’m not sure why it took me 10 or 12 years to do that. Perhaps I’m dumm? Anything’s possible, I suppose. Apparently, I have that YouTube username, as well. Maybe I’ll start posting my podcast there? How hard is that to do? ‘Cause if it’s hard… it’s not worth doing. Right? I think I saw that on a Nike t-shirt.

Speaking of the podcast, there’s a new episode available here or wherever you procure your audio entertainment. This is the summary:

In this one, I give you an update on the iconic Surf Report Bunker, tell you about another ridiculous visit to a beer-fueled restaurant in Scranton, the quickie visit with Toney’s sister, some Half-Shirt construction going on over there, and the ongoing quandary about tipping at the counter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

Check it out, if you’re so inclined. The show has a certain vibe, I think.

And I hope you guys have a fantastic rest o’ the week!

I’ll be back soon. My schedule is all shot to shit, as they say at most of the higher-end New England finishing schools. But soon, I’d say. Maybe Friday?

See ya then!

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Toney ordered us two Ancestry DNA kits on a whim this past weekend. It’ll be interesting to see the results, ’cause it’s all a big mystery to me. I think our branch of the Kay family has lived in West Virginia since long before there was a West Virginia. We’re not really sure about our country of origin. At least I’m not. And my brother, who is really into genealogy, can’t pinpoint it either. So, I don’t know how accurate these things are, but it’ll be fun to see what it says. My mother’s side has some obvious Italian, so that should be in there too. I’m thinking England or Scotland, and Italy. But we’ll have to wait and see.

Toney, on the other hand, supposedly has some American Indian. I’m skeptical, and so is she. It’s something her father insists is true, and we’ll find out shortly. I hope she has enough that we can be awarded a casino. Is that how it works? They just hand out casinos? I’ll have to do more research on it.

Anyway, the kits should arrive today. Then our DNA information will be out there to be used against us by a shadowy Deep State or whatever. I know people who believe that, and the thought passed through my mind, as well. I’ve heard people on the George Noory radio show say they’d only submit their DNA info at the point of a gun, etc. etc. They seem to be physically distressed that the “sheeple” are lining up — and actually paying for the privilege — to open this Pandora’s Box. And you’re the world’s biggest fool if you shrug and say, “I’ve got nothing to hide.” Oh, you’ll see. You’ll see real soon.

Obviously, I’m not that paranoid. I’m sending that shit in immediately. I want to check out the questionable-at-best info that comes back. And if I get railroaded into taking the fall for a string of 1987 prostitute murders in the Pacific Northwest, I guess I’ll just cross that bridge of whores when I get to it.

How paranoid are you? And what are you paranoid about? My friend Steve pays for everything with cash, which seems exceedingly paranoid to me. But whatever. And I know many people who are highly skeptical of those Alexa devices. Including my wife.  But where would you put yourself on the paranoia spectrum? Do you have your entire property under 24-hour surveillance for instance? Please tell us about it, won’t you?

I get paranoid at work sometimes, believing there’s “something up,” and that something undoubtedly involves me in a negative way. Oh, I can concoct some conspiracy theories like a champion. But I don’t walk around thinking I’m being watched by the government, or a den of thieves, or anything like that. What about you? Please tell us about it in the comments.

And I released a new episode of the world-famous West Virginia Surf Report podcast last night. You can listen here, or wherever you get yer podcasts. Here’s the summary:

In this one, I tell you about the just-passed weekend o’ near-perfection, the one hour of physical work I put in that nearly destroyed me, the final episode of the great HBO miniseries ‘Chernobyl’ and the unlikely scene I’ll never forget, and our purchase of two Ancestry DNA kits on a whim. I also respond to another question left on the hotline. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for listening.

I’ll see you guys again on Thursday or Friday.

Have a great week, my friends!

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I’m fairly certain this was only the third time I’ve been called, during my entire ridiculous life. Twice to Lackawanna County Court in Scranton, and once to Los Angeles County, but after we’d already moved here. So, I’ve only actually reported twice. It seems like some people are called all the time, but not me. Sometimes I wish I’d get involved in a long drawn-out trial, maybe with sequestration and all that. I think it would be interesting, for sure. But I’ve never made it anywhere near an actual jury. I’ve only done time in the pre-jury holding pen, and been dismissed.

Yesterday I went down there and entered the garage where they provide free parking. That thing must have been built during the 1930s, and was extremely narrow and dark. It felt like something out of SAW. There was a lot of construction going on in there, and many of the parking spots were filled with heavy machinery. I just kept climbing up, up, up, and was possibly in a neighboring building at the end. Then I emerged into sunlight on the roof of this horror movie, where I finally found a few open parking spaces. Grrr…

Some guy in a giant pickup truck parked near me, climbed out, and immediately said, “This is bullshit.” Being on the same wavelength, we began a conversation. He was there for jury duty too, and predicted we’d be “out in four minutes.” I told him that’s pretty optimistic, and he repeated, “Four minutes!”

We went looking for an elevator, and never found one. While searching, an older man joined us and he was listening to an obnoxious sports talk radio show through his phone. And that thing was cranked! Everybody on there had a strong NY/NJ accent, which makes a person sound perpetually exasperated. Going on and on about the Yankees, etc. And the three of us walked down, down, down the stairs… ’cause there was apparently no longer an elevator in the building.

The old dude didn’t say a word to us until we got near the courthouse. Then he pointed and said, “You gentlemen are going to want to go through those doors there, and I’ll see you on the inside!” Then he walked away with his impossibly loud talk show blaring. Who the fuck was that guy?

The room upstairs was packed to the gills, and there was an overflow section in the hall, also super-crowded. How many people do they call to these thing? Holy shit. There must have been 200 people, and that’s not an exaggeration. I found an open chair, but was wedged between two guys who were slathered in cologne. I’m in hell… I confirmed to myself inside my head. Last time I went through this thing I was there for eight hours, before they mercifully let us go. Nobody said a word to me, I just sat for eight hours and a man eventually came in and told us we’re free to go. But it wasn’t so freaking crowded then. This was going to be an ordeal.

Then I heard the radio show again. Off in the distance, but getting louder. It was that dude, now wearing a fancy blazer, greeting people as he walked. I still don’t know what his role was there, but everybody knew him, and he knew everybody. And he was still tapped into NYC sports talk at a very high volume.

After a while a gentlemanly older man in judge’s robes appeared and asked us all to squeeze into the main room. The temperature inside was way too high, probably because of the overload of humanity in there. I looked around and was disgusted by many in the crowd. People wearing sweats… cargo shorts… Spongebob pajama pants… There were many baseball caps and hoodies with construction company logos on the back. Some big woman was piled in a chair wearing an Ocean City 2015 shirt. I wondered if she’d decided to dress up today and rejected the 2011 shirt?

Finally the judge started talking to us, but in a very hushed tone. I could make out maybe every other word. Very soft spoken. He was telling a story about Vietnam, where he said he served as a young man. It was heart-wrenching tale, apparently, but it was hard to follow. Then, an amazing thing happened. The guy with the sports talk reappeared in the hallway, with the volume at the same outrageous level. He was way down the hall, but the radio show was louder than the judge. Then the guy called into the show! I ain’t shittin’ ya. He called into the talk show and was on the air.

“Thanks for taking my call, Marco!” he shouted. Right in the middle of the Vietnam tale. “Let me throw a name out at you! Horace Clarke. Are you familiar with Horace Clarke?! Played in the ’60s, fantastic underrated player!” It went on and on, and you could hear both sides of the conversation, because it was on speaker. The judge was whispering his story that probably had a poignant and relevant payoff at the end, and I was 100% focused on this loud baseball talk down the hall. It was crazy! Like something off Green Acres. But the judge didn’t seem to notice, and continued without acknowledging the insanity.

After the talk was over we went back to our cramped seats, and waited. I couldn’t stand being wedged between those two cologne boys, so I got up and began pacing. And I overheard a snippet of a conversation that included the line, “It’s hard to get work as a dietician when you’re a big fat person.”

Eventually a woman appeared and announced that she was going to call 45 names, and those people would be going upstairs with her and “getting to spend the day with us.” So, she started listing ’em off and my name was never called. She took the “lucky” 45, and disappeared. We were told not to move, that somebody would be in shortly to tell us what was happening next. And about five minutes later a guy came in and told us we were free to go. Ninety minutes total… Not bad at all. I was there from 9 to 10:30. A little longer than the 4 minutes my new friend predicted, but I wasn’t complaining. “Screw it. I’m telling my boss I’m on a case. I’m not going back until Thursday,” he told me as we walked back to the scary parking garage. “You sound like one hell of an employee,” I wanted to reply. But I just laughed and wished him luck.

What kind of jury duty experiences have you had? Anything crazy? Please tell us about it in the comments section. Supposedly I’m good for three years now. We’ll see.

Last night I uploaded a new episode of the podcast. It’s available right here, or wherever you get podcasts. Here’s your summary:

In this one, I tell you about our incredibly active weekend that included a radical overhaul of the Surf Report bunker, the surprise arrival of a commercial dumpster in our driveway, and a crazy turn of events while receiving a quote on some extensive landscaping work. I also discuss the great new Deadwood movie and play another message left on the Surf Report podcast hotline that touches off a lengthy story from olden times. It’s a fun episode. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

Also, give us a call at the new hotline! You might end up in a future episode of the podcast. Just leave a message, ask a question, make a suggestion, whatever floats your ferry.

And the new Deadwood movie debuted on HBO on Friday. Needless to say, I was there with my fuck-counting pad. Check it out. It was still fairly fuck-heavy, but not anywhere near the high bar set by the series. It was great, though. I plan to watch it again real soon. Let us know your thoughts if you’ve seen it.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one, my friends!

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