Daily

There’s some kind of wicked stench in my car, and I can’t find the source of it. It smells like rotting flesh. I have a feeling there’s a gone-rogue chicken nugget wedged somewhere, and it’s slowly decomposing. Last night, as I was leaving work, I found myself stretched across my backseat, shining the flashlight on my phone underneath the seats and alongside the console. And I can’t locate the troublesome tender. I just had to move my car, so the older boy could get out, and the stink was still hale and hearty this morning. I guess it’ll eventually just disappear, right?

On a related note, I’m thinking about trading that car for something newer. I probably should wait a few weeks now. But I run up the miles on vehicles, on account of my long commute. Three or four years ago I attended a management training course (super-valuable experience for sure) with another guy at work. It was in Rhode Island, and we rented a Chevy Cruze to drive up there. We loved the car so much we each bought one when we returned. I’m not kidding. So, we purchased them at roughly the same time, and yesterday I asked him how many miles his has on it. He said about 44K. Mine? Pushing 100K.

So, I want to dump that thing. There’s nothing wrong with it, I just want to trade it before it has zero value. Plus… the new car fever launch sequence has now been activated, and it’s hard to pull out of one of those situations. Stay tuned. Maybe I’ll post one of those duck-face gang-signal photos of me standing beside it? …Yeah, probably not.

Speaking of that, what in the hell is this “fam” shit that people are suddenly inserting into their sentences? I used to think it meant family, or maybe good friends (like family). But now it just seems to be inserted randomly into conversation. And it’s sometimes used in place of “Oh, man!” or “Holy shit!” Somebody will say something outrageous, and another person will exclaim, “Fam!” What in the everlasting hell?? I walk through life confused a good percentage of the time.

The Cincinnati Reds announced they’re going to allow 30% capacity at their stadium this year, and hopefully increase that number as the season progresses. That’s good news. Last year they had those weird cardboard cutouts in the stands. So there might be a golden retriever sitting beside an operations manager from Dayton sitting beside Edgar Allen Poe, etc. Plus, they used fake piped-in crowd noises for the TV and radio broadcasts. Getting back to good old fashioned dipshit humans is great progress. I’m looking forward to baseball. Spring Training games start this weekend, and opening day is April 1. Bring it on!

My friend Steve gave me a bootleg DVD of the Beatles “Let It Be” documentary. That thing has been out of print since, what, the 1980s? Something like that? It was never released on DVD, and was only on VHS briefly. I think Paul McCartney hates it, because it makes him look like a tyrant and an asshole. Whenever somebody posts it on YouTube it’s immediately removed. Somebody doesn’t want us to see it. Also… Peter Jackson was commissioned to make an alternative movie using the same raw footage. That will be called “Get Back,” and comes out this summer. I’ll wager that Paul comes across in a more positive light in that film. Just a hunch.

Somebody at work was telling me how “great” Smashburger is. I’ve never been to one, ’cause there are none around here. However… I’m going to be Smashburger-adjacent on Saturday. Any good? Or am I receiving faulty intel? What do you know about this important situation? How should I proceed?

And finally, I’m going to follow up on something I was talking about in a recent podcast episode. I was down here in the bunker, around midnight or so, and needed some food. I’d had a few craft beers that evening, and a hunger was taking hold. Then I remembered: there’s Chinese leftovers in the fridge! I think I literally squealed with excitement. For a question I’d like to know your favorite “midnight snack.” It could be leftovers, or any other thing. What do you go for, during a late night hunger attack? I also like a big bowl of cornflakes with bananas. That always hits the spot. But… Chinese leftovers might be at the very top of the pyramid. What do you have on this? Please share in the comments.

And I’m calling it a day, my friends. I’m going to launch the Friday email momentarily, then head off to work.

Have yourselves a great, great weekend!

I’ll be back soon.

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal ([email protected]). In Canada? Do your shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

This morning, before I even had my first cup of coffee, I was outside shoveling and cleaning off cars again. And, once again, I left work early last night on account o’ the bullshit. It snows almost daily, and I am well and completely sick of it. That pic is the street in front of our house. It’s looked like that, more or less, for a month or more. It’s maddening.

It’s also very cold. The current temperature is 28 here, which is better than it has been. When I leave work most nights my car tells me it’s 8 or 14, and I have to YANK on my door to break the ice seal and get inside. I’m probably going to need Tommy John surgery before spring, because of all the amplified door yanking.

Winter before last I drove home in a hell storm and got trapped on Interstate 81 for a long time. It was excruciating. And the younger boy and I drove back from Philadelphia that same winter, after seeing a show, through one of the most nerve-racking, scary-ass snowstorms of them all. And I’ve driven through many of them. But no more. I decided, after those two events, that I’m not doing it anymore. I’m not risking it. I used to risk it, and felt an obligation to do so. But I reached a point where I said, “Nope, I’ve done my time. I did my three hundred sphincter-clinchers, and now it’s somebody else’s turn.” So, I stay home or leave early. Like I did last night. I feel like my obligation was met long ago.

I know there’s bad weather all over the place this winter. Please bring us up to date on your situation, wherever you happen to be. Use the comments section. And I hope you’re safe, and have electricity and water, etc.

The good news: Spring Training is underway. That’s a sure sign that warmer weather is on the way. Just think: in just a few short months I’ll be on here bitching about the heat and humidity! Ahhh, the cycle of life.

Sorry this one is so abbreviated. I feel comfortable blaming it on the relentless snow.

Tell us about your current weather, and location. And please consider subscribing to the mailing list if you haven’t. Right here. I’m sending out a recap email every Friday. I think it’s pretty good. Check it out, if you’re so inclined.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great weekend!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal ([email protected]). In Canada? Do your holiday shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

A couple two tree random things before we get started here:

• I’m scheduled to get my first dose of the vaccine tomorrow afternoon. It’s through my job, and I signed up the moment I was eligible. Needless to say, there’s differing opinions on it. But I’m totally onboard. We have to get this shit behind us. So we can get back to baseball stadiums, concert halls, and a normal non-stilted trip to the goddamn Cracker Barrel. Oh yeah, and for health reasons too, I suppose.
• Yesterday I randomly chose a pair of underwear from the drawer that caused me great discomfort throughout the day. It wasn’t a tightness issue, it was the way they’re designed. There’s a mashing effect, and not enough give. Know what I’m talking about? There has to be some give! An uncomfortable pair of underwear can flat-out ruin your quality of life. Yet, at the same time… a comfortable pair is rarely appreciated. It’s like some jobs I’ve had in my life: I was only noticed when something went wrong. I was nothing more than a corporate ball sock. In any case, I will be more careful with my selection today. And, perhaps, a weeding out should happen soon?
• I recently stopped at a Sheetz convenience store on my way home from work and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich: Swiss and cheddar on sourdough, with a slice of ham. And as I was standing there waiting on it to be prepared this dude walked up and started engaging a touch screen. Hey, whatever. Portly men with dinosaur feet need to eat too. Also, the sandwich was delicious, in case you were focusing on all the wrong things.

The main topic I was planning to write about is something that happened to me a half-dozen or so times when I was a kid. It was before fifth grade, I know, because it happened at our first house on 21st Street. Are you familiar with something called sleep paralysis? I saw it mentioned somewhere online recently, and it triggered some unpleasant memories.

It’s where you’re asleep but dream you’re awake — and paralyzed. It’s genuinely terrifying. Your heart starts pounding, and it feels oh-so-real. I also recall trying to yell for my parents and not being able to do that either. Like I say, it happened maybe five or six times, all when I was young. But, thankfully, not once after 6th grade or so.

Have you experienced this horror? I’ve read that people have had heart attacks as a result of sleep paralysis, and I can believe it. It’s terrible.

I also had a dream, around the same time, that my parents were killed in a nightclub fire. I mean, they weren’t hanging out in too many nightclubs at the time, so there were plot holes. But it was so detailed and real that I remember my grandfather breaking the news to me and my brother, and seeing the news reports on TV. I can see the outside of the smoldering building in my mind. It still gives me a full-body shiver when I think about it. Crazy!

Thankfully that insanity stopped — after puberty? I don’t know the science behind it, but I’m happy it ended.

Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? Do you know what I’m talking about? Share your stories in the comments section, if you’re so inclined. Also, did you ever have a scary dream a long time ago that still haunts you? Not a “really weird dream” with Harry S. Truman, Mr. Whipple, and a salsa band. But something that was full-on terrifying? Please share. And, by the way, what do you think our Sheetz friend dreams about? I’d like to get your thoughts on that too.

And I need to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll be back soon, very soon.

Have a great weekend!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal ([email protected]). In Canada? Do your holiday shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

The younger boy, as he’s known, came down to the bunker an hour or so ago and showed me the photo above on his phone. He asked if I’d ever heard of Mark Cohen, and I said, “Of the Nashville Cohens?!” Which is both confusing and not nearly as funny as I’d hoped.

Turns out, Cohen is a photographer who did most of his work around here — in the Upper Pierogi Belt. The picture he showed me was taken in 1976 and is titled Boy In Yellow Shirt Smoking. It’s reportedly Cohen’s most famous shot, and it was snapped in Scranton. I was not familiar, but instantly intrigued. I started doing some Googlin’ and that dude is pretty damn amazing. Here’s a good overview, and this is another. And here’s an odd bit of footage of him walking around Wilkes-Barre just walking up to people on the street taking their pictures — complete with obnoxious flash. I don’t really understand how somebody hasn’t kicked his ass yet, especially when he starts photographing peoples’ legs, and shit like that.

In any case, his photos are fantastic and right up my alley. I love stuff like this. He calls it “intrusive street photography,” which seems like a good descriptor. I feel like I might become a bit obsessed with this guy and his work now. And I didn’t know anything about him 90 minutes ago. A fresh obsession!

— And since we’re on the subject, here’s perhaps my most famous shot. It’s entitled Mr. Funnelpants Checks His Balance. I’m selling prints for $10,000 each. Serious inquiries only.

— I had a small but significant victory this morning, my friends. It was a long time coming too. For the past decade, maybe more, I’ve been attempting to secure the URL adsvsreality dotcom. Some sleazy company owned it for years, and was attempting to sell it for thousands of dollars. But I kept an eye on it, and noticed the asking price recently started dropping. It was still too much for me, but it got all the way down to $599 at one point. Still deep in “funk dat” territory, but it got my hopes up. Maybe those pirates were souring on it, and might eventually let it go? Then there was a mysterious auction that took place… I wanted to bid on it, but got spooked when the auction site asked me to send a photograph of my driver license, and a selfie of me holding the license. I mean, what the hell, man? It bugged me that I had to pass on the opportunity, but something felt off about the whole deal.

And today I just randomly checked it at GoDaddy, like I do a couple of times per month, and it was available! Not at a premium price, but just a regular everyday URL. I think I actually pumped my fist in the air and quickly purchased it — for $12.99. I should’ve bought it many years ago, when Ads vs Reality was popular and kicking. But it never occurred to me, ’cause I’m dumm. Oh, I probably won’t do anything with it (or maybe I will?), I just didn’t like the idea of someone else owning it. Is that weird? I didn’t think so.

— I’ve never dabbled with facial hair, except for one brief and mortifying era in California, but have about six days worth of growth going as I type this. It started over the weekend, rooted in nothing but laziness. Then the snow came, and I took Monday off from work, which super-sized the half-assery. By Tuesday I had something going, something I’d never seen before. And I’m letting it ride, baby! At least for the time being. Toney says it looks “terrible.” But it’s new to me and I find it mildly fascinating. It’ll be gone by Monday, for certain. But for now I’m just seeing what happens.

— I believe I mentioned this already, but I’m not sure about it. A few weeks ago I re-launched the weekly email. It comes out every Friday, and is a summary of all the Surf Reporty stuff that took place during the previous week. I think it’s pretty good. If you’re not signed up, you can rectify that here. And if you are signed up, and don’t want the emails, that’s cool. Just unsubscribe. It won’t hurt my feelings. Well, maybe a little. But I’ll survive.

— Earlier today I was listening to this Tom Petty album via Spotify. And mister, that thing is one of the most transporting albums of them all. For me, anyway. Several years ago there was a higher level of chaos than normal at the House of Kay and Toney and I were unable to take vacation together. Something to do with the hooligans. So, we decided we’d each take a trip alone. Toney met her sister in Myrtle Beach, which was kind of a cheat in my book. But I literally went on vacation by myself. I spent several days at Long Beach Island, NJ… all by myself. And during that trip I listened to that TP album nonstop, for reasons unknown. Now, when I play it or even hear a song from it, I’m transported back to that weird, disconcerting week. I wouldn’t do a beach trip alone again, I don’t think. I didn’t much care for it. I do love Tom Petty, though. A little more with each passing year, in fact. And that album has some kind of spooky quality that makes me slightly uneasy, but it’s a good kind of uneasy, if you can dig it.

Do you have anything like that? An album or song or even a smell, that takes you right back to some specific period in your life? At my previous job, which was inside a manufacturing plant, there was an area that I passed through on my way to the cafeteria every day that smelled EXACTLY like the old Dunbar Bowling Alley of my youth. Probably some cancer-causing agent that I was whiffing, but it always triggered a powerful nostalgia inside me. What do you have on this? Anything? Also, what are your thoughts on vacationing alone? It seems like a good idea, in abstract. But when it got down to reality… it wasn’t good for me.

And I need to call it a day, my friends.

I’ll see you guys again soon!

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal ([email protected]). In Canada? Do your holiday shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!

I haven’t but I’m not much of a gambler. I get no joy from it, only stress and regret. And where’s the fun in that? But I’m fixin’ to embark on a year-long gambling extravaganza.

I was talking to my dad a few days ago, you see, and we were discussing the recent billion dollar lottery jackpot. And he reminded me that a friend of his often proclaims the $10 scratch off ticket as the “best bet in all of gambling.” I’ve heard him say that before, and find it interesting. Sure, it sounds like the kind of standard bullshit you hear blowhards say all the time. But this guy is no blowhard, and he definitely knows a thing or two about what he’s talking about. I still don’t fully believe him, mind you, but he’s not just some mouthy asshole trying to act like a big shot. So…. I’ve decided to test it out. The best I can, anyway. Over the weekend I started the $10 Scratch Off Project. The way it works: every weekend I’ll buy one (and only one) $10 scratch off ticket, and on Mondays add the results to the tracker. I plan to do this for a year, and see where we stand at the end. I know it will be $520 out, but it will interesting to see how much comes back in. It won’t tell us if it’s the absolute “best bet,” but we should definitely know if it’s a good one. I think it will be fun.

I never buy scratch offs and rarely play the Powerball, and that sort of thing. I mean, I generally spend $10 per year on gambling, not $10 per week. So it makes me a little uneasy. It feels like flushing cash down the ol’ poop catcher. Heck, when Toney and I were in Las Vegas a couple of years ago I spent zero dollars on gambling. And we were there for more than a week. It’s just not my thing. But I’m doing it for the project! I think it will be interesting. I just hope it doesn’t flip some switch inside me and I become a degenerate gambler, like that guy who owned the sporting goods store on The Sopranos. That poor bastard ended up hanging himself! I’m leery of the demons lurking inside me. Wish me luck.

What’s your relationship with gambling? What’s the most you’ve ever won? What’s the most anyone you know has ever won? I used to talk to a guy on the phone at one of my other jobs. He worked at a CD pressing plant in California, and hit a multi-million dollar jackpot. That guy quit instantly and I never spoke with him again; he was out of there like shit through a goose. And who can blame him? And the guy my dad knows? Yeah, he’s hit two(!) $250,000 jackpots, and many smaller ones. Craziness. What do you have on this one? Please share in the comments.

This is a quickie, but I need to go to work. It’s snowing out there, so it might turn into one of those sphincter-clampers. OMG… I’m so sick of all this crap. The snow, the ice, the biting wind… I think I’m right on the verge of adjusting my official ranking o’ the seasons. More on that in a future update. Maybe.

Before I go I’d like to invite you to give the new podcast episode a listen. Right here. I think it’s a pretty good one.

And don’t give up on the previous website update. The comments were continuing on that one.

Have a great day, my friends.

I’ll see you again soon.

Support the Surf Report with a monthly $4 donation at Patreon, and get an extra podcast episode every week! We’re also at Venmo (@thewvsr) and PayPal ([email protected]). In Canada? Do your holiday shopping at Amazon! Thank you, guys!