Blammer Catcher...Ignore
This is a test
I took one year off of blog writing. It wasn't intentional. Part of it was a function of my workplace (which made accessing the Internet a bit difficult). Part of it was a need to devote nights and weekends to completing my PhD. Part of it also was a need to detach myself from the burden of writing. Blogging becomes addictive in the sense that one feels a need to keep coming up with things to write about, to keep the comments coming, to keep the blog interesting. Although I promised myself I would write regardless, I found myself trying to elicit responses, to keep a dialogue going, to keep my few readers interested.
Ever have an experience that normally would get you all up in arms. One in which you feel violated. Taken advantage of. One which ordinarily would get you seething. Burning. Offended. Yet, this time, you are surprisingly taking it in stride. Naturally disappointed, but comfortable with the outcome. ever have the experience of being pleasantly surprised with yourself that you are not getting bent out of shape over something that in the past would REALLY bend you sideways.
I had been itching to get out and soak in the energy of Super Bowl week for awhile, so my buddies Airtime and Chrysler Guy heade out for several hours to see and be seen. The evening began with a vist to Hooters to say hi to Andrew Siciliano and the fine Fox Sports Radio team broadcasting live on location. I am sure you are familiar with his work on FSR, as well as the ocassional subbing for Rome (BTW, he is by far the best at that). After spending some time there, we headed downtown. A stop at the Town Pump whetted our appetite, and we observed members of the mayor's security detail drinking while the mayor hosted a party at Centaur.
and all I want to do is mingle with a bunch of sports radio nuts, talking shop, exchanging random trivia and selling people on Detroit. I have no interest in the Vivid, FHM, Playboy, or other VIP parties, where it costs $100s just to get in and you are ignored if you don't either stink of money or look like somebody's sex toy.
Shh! Don't tell anyone, but the big game, the extra large Kwame version of football excess, is coming to town, and I won't be there. That's right, I'll be here for the week of parties, red carpet VIP stuff. I'll be mingling with all the celebs, jock sniffers, and other Stump the Schwab wannabees. But on the day of the game, you won't find me within 100 miles of here. That is right, I am escaping to the Great Wolf Lodge. Why? I don't know, something about a water park in February that has a hot tub and a bar and lots of large TVs sounds more and more appealing to me...
So people have been giving me a hard time for leaving Dear Dave Dombrowski for over a month. Well, what do you want, people? I was trying to send a consistent message to Tigers management!! I still believe that deal will get done before the next time a team goes 35 and...oh wait a minute, that just happened.
Dear Dave,