tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61400319195207133972011-07-31T00:35:48.762-04:00TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.comBlogger291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-18667948946012560482009-08-10T16:28:00.001-04:002010-01-14T10:05:44.640-05:00

Everyone makes stupid mistakes. I feel like I'm particularly accomplished at them sometimes.Recently, I made a real lame-brain mistake at work. It was a total rookie moment that I cannot (cannot!) believe I did. I fixed the problem, apologized profusely, and said a number of Hail Avids.When do I get to be forgiven? What is the statute of limitations on Stupid Error? I throw myself on the

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-25318417008980942582009-06-07T13:23:00.000-04:002009-06-07T13:24:09.042-04:00

I grew up in a Kentucky coal mining community. Most people picture mountainous hollers of Appalachia, but my hometown was a world away, way out west in the Ohio River valley. There the land is largely rolling and transitioning to the plains. The people are not Hollywood's Hillbillies. They are crossroads people, crossbred people. I am part quiet southerner, part strong mid-westnerner, part

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-20660450775941437662009-06-01T13:53:00.001-04:002009-06-01T13:58:16.764-04:00

Amazon's "Super Saver Shipping" is brilliant marketing. And, I admit, I'm falling for it at this moment. The total price on my Amazon order is $25.02 after shipping. If I had a item at $5.27 to add to my cart, then I would qualify for the free shipping and effectively get something for free. Brilliant, right? (Brilliant, because we all know I'm probably going to find something for slightly

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-35135045092176795272009-05-31T22:25:00.000-04:002009-05-31T22:26:46.822-04:00

It was a beautiful creature. I admitted that to myself as I flushed the corpse down the toilet. Wasps have this armored aesthetic that probably plays to the sci-fi nerd in me. Sad, I realize.Typically, I try to shoo pests out a door or window. My apartment layout and this poor wasp's timing sentenced it to death.A piece of junk mail was my weapon. I slew the wasp with a thick, brown envelope

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-36078953364672523662009-05-28T10:08:00.001-04:002009-05-28T10:15:19.627-04:00

It had rained all day. Actually, it had rained all week. The rain was a steady, penetrating rain. But, as often happens during the Spring in the river valley, the changing temperatures of the late afternoon provided a window of sunlight. To the west dark clouds were looming again, but there would be a few dry hours.I was enjoying the breeze and staring into nothing while refueling my car. I

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-67645294208784932942009-04-25T11:59:00.001-04:002009-04-25T12:00:45.230-04:00

In real life I move slowly.In my career, I work hard and quickly. I am a fast editor. My mind solves problems and implements solutions with reasonably fast speed. I remain more ahead of schedule than behind it.But in real life, I move slowly.I am slow to make friends. I dawdle about that weird pain in my side. The recycling piles up for a few too many days. Great plans never get any further

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-32642990681292793492009-04-24T00:38:00.001-04:002009-04-24T00:41:35.618-04:00

I awoke late after snoozing the alarm too many times. I rushed to eat breakfast while listening to Radio Paradise. Steely Dan. I hate Steely Dan.It was one of those mornings: late to work, fumble fingers, bad attitude.I quickly ate my lunch and rushed to complete an errand within my allotted time. I noticed the middle-aged, unkempt woman when I entered the store. She was mumbling too loudly

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-44349385899745000562009-03-24T10:44:00.001-04:002009-03-24T10:45:36.119-04:00

Lesson #1:After two hours searching in the dark, a lost cell phone will not be found on the two miles of greenway near your apartment. It will be found in your couch.Lesson #2:Sprint's "parents can spy on the kids" cell phone tracker is worth the $5 if you haven't yet learned Lesson #1.

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-13558893389690174632009-03-20T01:12:00.002-04:002009-03-20T01:16:38.226-04:00

Later that night…The tiny pocket of Hilltopper alumni within the sea of UT Orange all met up to watch the 14-seeded Toppers and pray for upset. Surprisingly, for a bunch of heathens, the prayers were answered. (We just busted your bracket, Mr. President!)Since Buck Buck* and I had already suffered a miserable experience earlier, we chose to meet up at what had been our second choice at

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-43334567949038668562009-03-19T20:10:00.003-04:002009-03-19T20:16:26.663-04:00

My co-worker, Buck Buck*, is a huge sports fan. I am a moderate sports fan, but the NCAA Tournament is fun to watch. So, I am willing to be a team player and head out for a long lunch and watch a game. After all, the daytime tournament games only happen on two days per year.So, we left the office in search of a place that would have all of the games on via satellite. We settled on a spacious,

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-44233249456418653592009-03-18T10:19:00.002-04:002009-03-18T10:36:37.299-04:00

My uncle is a Fox News watcher. He's a old, white conservative of the standard Kentucky issue. (Just as a frame of reference, he joined the navy in 1946.) He's as right-wing, pro-'Merican as they come.So, I was shocked when I visited Aunt and Uncle not too long ago, to find the tube tuned to PBS. Bemused (after the shock wore off) I asked, "Whatcha watchin'?""Summer Wine," he said. "My

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-84549242310624674442009-01-28T12:14:00.006-05:002009-01-28T12:24:35.605-05:00

Christine Wy's post (Stranger in a Strange Bar) brought back a similar "I should NOT be in this bar" memory from my time in college. Luckily, my experience was much less traumatic…Though a Kentucky Boy, I was far from a redneck, and I viciously avoided any connection to things I perceived as such. Yet, one autumn evening I found myself in a bar that prided itself on its burgers, PBR, and

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-10991630635124663452009-01-26T22:54:00.002-05:002009-01-26T22:58:32.975-05:00

I recently had a conversation about Goals. I, with quite frankness, told a friend that I "didn't have any of those things." I wasn't trying to elicit a response. I was just being truthful.Okay, I suppose everyone has some goals–goals with a small "g." A goal of mine is to keep my job. A goal is to spend less and save more. But, those aren't Goals, ya know?I know at one point I had some

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-8372722481491390092009-01-12T21:43:00.002-05:002009-01-12T21:47:36.231-05:00

To nick the old cliché: "I'm gettin' too old for this stuff."Since relocating to my new town of residence, I've experienced a statistical age shift in the people I hang out with. For most of my life, I've been the child of the group, one of the Pups. Now, I find myself more and more being the Old Dog.I'm sure this is a function of being unmarried. I don't hang out with many (okay, any) married

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-89419969946080225562008-11-21T08:51:00.002-05:002008-11-21T08:54:04.524-05:00

This is not René Magritte's birthday.

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-74853024180940189692008-11-18T21:42:00.000-05:002008-11-18T21:42:18.125-05:00

Being the pessimist that I am, you would think nothing could surprise me…There are four individuals in my office: three males (Mr. Difficult, Buck Buck, and myself) and one female (the Veggie Pirate).* Our phone system screens all calls ("Press one for Buck Buck, press two for Mr. Difficult…"), because the nature of our business involves so very little interaction with the general public. Truly

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-28987726628246429582008-11-13T14:01:00.001-05:002008-11-13T14:04:57.161-05:00

I had a classic sitcom moment at work this week.Sitcoms, that mixed bag television staple, fail or succeed based on how well they walk that ordinary moment becomes absurd line. Great ones (Seinfeld) tread the line masterfully; they know exactly when normal people and situations must become absurd. Terrible ones (look for the CBS logo) do not know the line even exists. (Quick aside: It's Always

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-57617738399720914782008-10-23T21:40:00.001-04:002008-10-23T21:45:58.382-04:00

Professor Matthew's description of a KFC outing made me recall an overheard conversation in a Taco Bell a number of years ago:Three rather provincial, rusticated fellows sitting in a booth behind me.Guy 1: Liqueur? What the hell's "liqueur" mean?Guy 2: That's probably French for "liquor."Guy 3: I dunno. I just drink beer.

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-32438073488705515422008-10-14T13:23:00.000-04:002008-10-14T13:23:57.195-04:00

As a television editor who relies on the boob tube to pay the bills, I'm not one of those "blow up your TV" people. However, I do feel responsible to educated my friends to reminded them that television is not reality. (I'll reserve my MythBusters rant for some other time. MythBusters ≠ science; MythBusters = entertainment, people!)Today's lesson from the Timeline: there's nothing real about

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-49646630149205601262008-10-07T12:11:00.003-04:002008-10-14T11:48:31.989-04:00

The things I overhear in my job! A co-worker conversation:        "What about 'schlong'? Do you think 'schlong' needs to be bleeped?"        "Um, I don't think so…"

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-32639194094281737252008-10-02T09:33:00.007-04:002008-10-02T12:05:23.015-04:00

We have a print disagreement in our office. No, this situation doesn't involve lasers and toner; it is a disagreement over a framed decoration.In one of the edit bays is an innocuous, framed print. It has been hanging for a number of months now, but one of my co-workers, insists that it is hanging in the wrong direction. It is clearly, Mr. Difficult* says, a landscape. Another co-worker, Buck

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-32604731161887589252008-08-23T20:24:00.010-04:002008-08-23T21:11:45.312-04:00

From the Oxford American Dictionary:los•er |'loōzər|nouna person or thing that loses or has lost something, esp. a game or contest.a person who accepts defeat with good or bad grace, as specified : we won fair and square—they should concede that and be good losers.a person or thing that is put at a disadvantage by a particular situation or course of action : children are the losers when

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-28523532511327130682008-08-13T21:07:00.005-04:002008-10-14T11:48:57.695-04:00

"Hey, TonyN," you say, "give me a glimpse into the glamorous life of a television editor!""This is the third episode in a row of [insert name of a moderately popular true-crime series on a network aimed at women] that has breast enhancement surgery significantly in the plot." Sigh. "Now, please, turn off your TV. Thank you."("No, I won't tell you when they are going to air!")

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-42643950997434315392008-08-11T11:19:00.002-04:002008-08-11T11:31:49.083-04:00

I have no culinary skills. I can attempt to follow a recipe, sure, but I have little understanding of how the ingredients are reacting together. Therefore, I have no ability to improvise.I recently discovered a relic from my childhood. In my desk drawer along with assorted photos, letters and cards, I found a well-worn recipe card. It was my grandmother's recipe for Russian Coffee Cake. The

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-10185015973653712942008-08-05T15:23:00.001-04:002008-08-05T17:16:56.014-04:00

Sitting in the clinic today, I'm staring out a glass wall and down into the cafeteria. Inviting smells of coffee roll through the air from the coffee shop also nearby. I can't concentrate on my book. I'm glancing at the clock over and over. Fifteen hours have passed without a drop to drink or a morsel of food. Soon the test (and therefore my fast) will be complete.I look up at a lady

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-14634730098445485602008-08-03T12:13:00.002-04:002008-08-03T12:18:54.615-04:00

The state of Tennessee has a huge sales tax rate (but no income tax). Occasionally, there is a sales tax holiday when the sales tax is waved on certain items (pdf). The timing of these weekends coincides with the beginning school. The theory is that people can get a break when buy school supplies (I'll let you draw you own conclusions about this one…).I underestimated the throng of people that

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-49355602843033543872008-08-01T09:38:00.001-04:002008-08-01T09:42:50.057-04:00

I am not a doctor's office professional. I was never a sickly child and have—so far—been fortunate enough to dodge any serious accidents. Lately, though, I've found myself going to the doctor more than ever. So, I've gotten pretty quick-on-the-draw with the battery of questions: "Are you currently taking any medications?" No. "To your knowledge, are you allergic to any medications?" No. I

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-87069701142502853532008-07-23T22:54:00.000-04:002008-07-23T22:54:54.390-04:00

Logging on to my online banking, the system wasn't satisfied with just a password, it also wanted me to answer a security question.What is your favorite pet's name?My one and only pet laid at the foot of the bed. I typed the answer: Kitty. [Name changed to protect her identity and my cash-ola.]The answer is incorrect. Kitty stares at me. What is your favorite pet's name?"Maybe that's not how

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6140031919520713397.post-43244525172901929922008-07-20T13:37:00.000-04:002008-07-20T13:37:56.922-04:00

Briskly walking down the greenway near my apartment, the keys hanging from my lanyard start clicking together. The click-click-click starts to really ruin the serenity of my walk. I snatch them from my neck and shove them in my pocket. There, much better.How is it that the simple click was annoying my stroll, but the sounds of Gogol Bordello coming from my iPod seemed perfectly natural?HOLY S#

TonyNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06729689681700928797noreply@blogger.com0