E's Report

I found me a tractor.

2011-08-07T14:01:00.001-07:00

You know that feeling when the stars align and all seems right in the world... like when you swing into Sam's Club to find it's taste test hour AND one of the nice old ladies with the hair net is is handing out an ENTIRE SLICE OF PIZZA. FOR FREE.

Or maybe you don't dream that big... maybe for you it's sitting in your assigned middle airplane seat and watching screaming babies and many a "well-fed" passenger pass you by, and OH SNAP ... you find yourself by your lonesome, with your WHOLE ROW TO YOURSELF.

It's that feeling. When you just know someone's keeping score and noted: you've been living life right.

Well, I had that feeling the other day. We were sent out to a special town about an hour north for a story, and I had to pinch myself after seeing this.

How did the powers that be know I was in the market for this very model?

I've been scouring craigslist for months, but oddly enough, not a lot of selection.

I've put in a bid, and hope that I can get it home ASAP. I have land that needs tending to.

All three anemic inches of it.

For those of you who don't know, a monkey with no arms and legs could grow a garden here. I am a disgrace to Portland living. There's this whole "eat local" vibe here. More on that later... but needless to say, short of a "fish and loaves" miracle here, I won't be feasting on that basil plant. Pretty sure it has bugs.

Don't be fooled...

2011-08-03T00:35:00.006-07:00

This was for a very serious story told by a just another incredibly intelligent TV reporter (we all have off the chart IQ's)...

Don't be fooled.

I clearly work in a VERY glamorous profession. Don't be fooled by the child floaties... local news is always a very serious, important, polished, and most importantly, a high-paying profession.

Don't be fooled.

Like all TV reporters, I have the brain of Einstein, the bank account of Donald Trump, the makeup and hair team of Oprah, and, oh yeah... the humility of Mother Theresa.

Don't let the floaties fool you. I am a VERY big deal.

Lions and Tigers and Bears (and Thank God... I Phones) Oh My.

2011-07-31T10:25:00.003-07:00

Sure. I grew up in Kansas. Spent the majority of my adult life in places where you could wave at your neighbors two states to the north and count the cows in their front yards. People, you think you know flat. But your idea of "flat" is a hefty, heart-pounding climb to me. I grew up thinking the pitching mound at Royals games was some serious elevation.

So, I say all this to help you understand why all of THIS makes me nearly wet my pants every day:

This is my new home. It's in my backyard. It's insane. Gorgeous. Majestic. Spectacular. And probably soon to be the scene of the next great American hiker tragedy, thanks to yours truly.

I like to fancy myself an outdoorsy person. I have this delusional image floating around my head--looks a little like something off the cover of that National Geographic Outdoors magazine. (Let me tell you, I look BAD ASS standing on top of that mountain armed with my huge backpack and granola with the Bald Eagle perched on my shoulder. Side note: after meeting me, you may wonder if drugs were involved in this hallucination.)

So it's with this horrible misappropriation of confidence that I tackle this kind of wilderness:

And it is with deep shame and humility that I admit the following to you.

During one of my first hikes, I was armed with an apple, my Royals hat, running shoes and Hiking Guide book from the outdoor store (what could possibly go wrong? I had THE BOOK). Anyway, I didn't get lost, but I had a lot of time to think and think about all the bears out there. My first thought... "Oh E, stop being silly. People hike here all the time. Just because there are trees doesn't mean there are bears."

Five minutes later, I had very clear mental visions of herds of black bears (don't they travel in herds like buffalo and cows?) ... HERDS of them attacking me, clawing off my face and passing my scraps around to the cubs.

So what did this outdoorsy girl do?

Pulled out her Iphone, and googled "how to survive a bear attack".

(yes, I was so far out in the dangerous wilderness that Verizon still had 5 bars and a great wifi signal).

I'm back.

2011-07-30T01:41:00.004-07:00

Hello. I've moved.

I work in a new city. I have a wonderful new job. I work with incredibly talented people and feel lucky to 1. be employed and 2. be employed. (Come on economy. I thought I was good at procrastinating, but you are really showing me up here. GET ON IT.)

So yes, in the spirit of "The Law of Attraction" and positive thinking and Zen moments and everything else I now have to re-teach myself now that Oprah bailed...
yes, I am incredibly thankful for all that I have right now....

buuuuut...

Having said all that...I'm still figuring out how exactly to fit in with my new digs.

People call this place PDX, Portland, West Coast, progressive, etc.... but I'm pretty sure Portland is just German for Middle Earth.

(I've never felt so boring)

Jerry Springer ...

2010-12-29T11:52:00.001-08:00

Somedays I do believe my job as a journalist has been switched to host of Springer. You know, the shows titled, "Is the baby daddy sleeping with the baby mama's sister?" or... "Is her fiancé really a woman and a drug dealer?" ... In the end we all know these show titles are just rhetorical questions... and unfortunately, a good description of the story I'll be reporting on tonight's news.

Now, you'll have to excuse me, I believe the baby daddy's dealer is calling me back to confirm he's no criminal, just a victim in a love triangle.

God help me.

I snagged me a feller.

2010-09-10T04:35:00.001-07:00

I wasn't even trolling for men, just hard at work, headed to a flooding story in a town straight out of Deliverance. (I still have banjos playing in my head this morning). But when I saw this truck, my knees went weak.

Who knew? The man of my dreams, my future husband, has been hiding at a McDonald's truck stop parking lot. I sure hope his cousin didn't beat me to the punch.

Nepotism. It's not that simple.

2010-09-06T13:00:00.002-07:00

Oh where do I begin?

Well, how 'bout nepotism?

The rule is, no one in public office here is allowed to promote or hire a person within that local government who is within three degrees of being related. That means no brothers, sisters, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, cousins, and you get the idea. Simple enough?

Well, depends on where you live.

Just ask the prestigious city hall officers (in a town of 300... on a good day) where I adventured for my story last week. (I do say "adventured" because we began our drive on a paved highway, and then one gravel road, two mountain goats, and one forged river later... we arrived. I was crossing my fingers we didn't get dysentery or a snake bite along the way. For those of you who haven't survived Oregon Trail... only the greatest computer game ever invented... look it up.)

Aaaaand I've come back from that tangent.

Back to the city hall officers in the bump in the road town who are all under investigation for, among other things, you guessed it... NEPOTISM.

We found city hall right next to the car wash... the second building we found standing in town. We found some very nice gentlemen leaning up against their trucks, steered clear of the chew they were firing into the wind, and asked them where we could find the city officials. I was sad to find out we just missed them for the day because everyone had cut out to go "dove huntin'."

Lucky us though, one of them, the city manager rolled up just a few moments later.

I'll fast forward through the name calling, chew spittin', and engine revving that was the standoff between the angry town folk and the city official... and get right to the part where I asked him about the allegations.

I asked, "How do you respond to the allegations of nepotism? Is that happening here at city hall?"

He responded, "Well, young lady, that's a tough one. In this town, 'bout 98% of us is all related, so... not sure what we can do 'bout that."

Touché.

cows.

2010-09-06T09:08:00.002-07:00

"Vehicle into cows and cows return fire."

That was the subject line of a newsroom email this morning.

Just saw the story on our news and an eye witness say the following during an interview:

"They was like 3 (counting on her fingers) or 4 heffers and then... LAWD have MERCY!"

Needless to say I am excited to go into work today.

That is all.

Things I learned in prison:

2010-08-24T15:44:00.001-07:00

Did a little road trippin' today for an interview with an inmate at a prison about 5 miles north of the middle of nowhere. The following is the list of things I learned during the 8 hour round trip:

1. My photographer chews with his mouth opened.

2. I knew this but forgot how many times I have to tell him to STOP IT.

3. 4 hours one way is too long to wear a suit, so bringing a change of clothes for the interview makes sense...

4. ...until you realize the best place you can find to go all Clark Kent/Superman is an Arby's bathroom in a town the size of your big toe.

5. It takes and act of GOD to change--shoes and all--without touching the "mystery disease of the week" infested floor.

6. If you use an Arby's as a dressing room, it is common courtesy to purchase some curly fries.

7. Prison security is just like airport security, plus the bonus round of a body cavity search.

8. Convicted murderers can be little punks during interviews.

9. Telling said inmate about the drama of your Arby's bathroom and body cavity check and 4 hour drive with a mouth breather doesn't result in sympathy or more informative answers.

10. Karma eventually balances out when the prisoner tells you he likes you so he's going to tell the network magazine show to SUCK IT because I'm the only person he's gonna talk to now.

So SUCK IT network people who stood him up a few weeks ago because you didn't think he made the cut for your story. I may work with a man who should wear a bib, and sure, I do what may look like a rain dance while trying to dress and avoid hepititis in the fast food bathroom... but now I'm getting the interview (and probably going back to prison and changing in that same Arby's bathroom) so HA.

The "Virtual State Fair"

2010-08-24T09:24:00.003-07:00

I've mentioned the current love affair news management has with social media. (Note: "Love affair", just a nice way to describe sick stalker-esque unhealthy obsession along the lines of Kathy Bates with a meat cleaver standing over James Caan's bed... or tweens in line for Jonas Bros tickets.)

So. You get the idea.

Well, we got another reminder today to "get social", to get out and commune with the people online. Fine. I've learned how to handle some of the creepier landmines and have gotten used to the idea of gettin' my social on. But the reminder likened social media to a "virtual state fair".

I am no professional motivator, but I would just like to give one bit of advice. When asking someone to go balls-to-the-wall with any task such as the aforementioned festival of tweets ... do not, I repeat do NOT, liken the task to a state fair.

Hey folks, I love a fried oreo and a bucket of cheese curds as much as the next free-loading reporter. And I know I may offend a few fair lovers out there who like to roll the dice of life and saddle up on one of those rides operated by only the finest of dental and mental health. But you know what? Even you folks don't want to be there everyday, right? Your odds run out eventually, and your immune system can only take so many food vendor violations. And did I mention I made the mistake of walking by the "World's Fattest Pig" exhibit last time? I'll take their word for it because it smelled just about how you'd imagine the World's Fattest Pig would smell. Oh and usually, it's about 105 degrees which isn't doing the pig any favors ... or the rest of the crowd who usually is of the "deodorant is optional" persuasion.

All I'm saying is that I like a good old fashioned slice of Americana every now and then too... especially if it involves cheese curds. (No seriously, you MUST have one). But. I don't want to be there every day. Neither do you.

So to the manager who thinks a "hey guys, it's not all that bad, it's just like a virtual state fair" reference will motivate a newsroom to "get social" ...

minus ten points for you.

Sometimes you can't fake it.

2010-08-15T06:40:00.001-07:00

There have been some days when the alarm clock didn't go off, you were late, got a flat tire, lost your cell phone, and you found out you were adopted and your real parents gave you up because you were ugly.

Doesn't matter. If you're doing a story about fuzzy bunnies or breaking news, news folk are supposed to look good, smile, shake hands and fart rainbows if that's what the story requires. You leave your baggage at the newsroom door.

But then there are some days you can't fake it.

Case and point in the following picture.

I have a horrible phobia of snakes. I blame it all on Indiana Jones and that damn snake pit scene. HORRIFIED doesn't not even begin to describe how I felt when that movie scene scarred me for life.

So, naturally, I would be sent out to cover the 6-ft Colombian Red Tail Boa that was caught in some neighborhood backyard. It almost ate a dog. Did you hear me?!

The snake catcher (who I'll be sure to share with you later, encyclopedia of rabid animals included)... he thought it would be a good idea if I held it as part of my story. Note: he was telling me this as I remained standing on top of the picnic table in fear of the second snake that was most definitely lurking nearby and plotting to murder me.

So no. I was not smiling... or farting rainbows. I was nearly wetting my pants and wondering which one of the cute neighborhood children I would duck behind when the snake attacked.

New People.

2010-08-14T11:42:00.000-07:00

I am NOT a people person. Stop right there. I know what you're thinking... WRONG LINE OF WORK MUCH?

Let me explain.

When I say I am not a people person, I mean it is not easy for me to befriend just any stranger. From birth, I've been a shy kid, deathly afraid of people not liking me. I'm not giving anyone cold calculated laser death looks. I'm nice, pleasant, smiley, and will be an all out blinding ray of freaking sunshine if the situation necessitates. But let's just say, when I take a seat on an airplane, I'm not looking to strike up chit chat with the person life's lottery placed next to me, or if I'm lucky, partially in my seat.

Oh, and stop right there. This has nothing to do with being a TV person with a big ego. Ha. Lest we forget. The "I'm kind of a big deal" t-shirt I wear (yes, it says that exact phrase)... that t-shirt was given to me as a JOKE. NO ONE recognizes me. My immediate family sometimes takes a second look to make sure.

So...

Back to the point. When new hires start in the newsroom, I dread it, ESPECIALLY when said newbie replaces my soul glo soul mate and sits in his desk RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Oh I was not happy. Who does he think he is, this new reporter person who I will not give a name because he's just the new guy who is probably going to have gall to want to be nice and TALK TO ME. I wasn't about to have it. Oh Hell NO.

But then he did start talking and well, my "I am an island and you aren't invited" attitude started to subside. Foul language, crude humor. He had me at his first inappropriate joke. But we didn't start exchanging halves of our BFF heart necklaces until he let me play dress up with him and photograph this divine look.

And that's when I knew. Like you know about a good melon.

Eye Candy.

2010-07-23T14:26:00.002-07:00

It was the MOTHER of all Mondays. Bad day all around with stories falling apart, equipment breaking, etc. What didn't help was the 115 degree heat index. Everything gets worse when you're pitting out a shirt. They say "excessive heat warning" around here so much, it should really be turned into a drinking game. This heat makes Hell feel like a beach with a nice sea breeze.

Anyway.

We were driving back to the station after sweating it out in an attic (yes, the only story that worked out that day landed me in a un-air conditioned attic for 2 hours). And then EVERYTHING CHANGED.

Karma righted itself, the stars aligned, and the heavens opened up and delivered this sight for sore eyes and dejected reporters. I give you the male midriff:

I would like to thank my photographer who alerted me to the overly confident male ahead. I immediately told him to slow the car to a slightly-faster-than-stalker-crawl so I could snap a pic. This had to be shared.

I don't know why this male model in the making turned my frown upside down so quickly, but it was magical. Sure I finished my story that day, but I must say a good chunk of time was spent dissecting this sweaty nugget of brilliance. Midriff or tube top? Tube socks, really? Is that hat necessary? Are those gym teacher shorts? Where was he going? How will he explain that tan line? Is that a Huffy?

I know this hot bod on wheels will never know the joy he gave me that day, but I would just like to take this moment to thank him. Thank you creepy man for flying your freak flag. You did something that usually only free food and pictures of ourselves can do. You made a reporter smile.

SIT DOWN COOLIO!

2010-07-21T05:58:00.002-07:00

Don't you imagine that's what our friend's hair dresser was saying halfway through his 'do when Coolio BOLTED because he saw something shiny he just HAD TO HAVE?!

MISTAKE.

Yes. Mistake because stealing is bad and illegal and yada yada yada and it landed this looker a spot in the slammer.

But. The bigger mistake was not learning a very important lesson in life: hair is everything.

And, when you are blessed with an explosion of fro like our buddy here, you best sit down and prioritize those hair appointments above all else, including your penchant for grand larceny.

SHUT UP.

2010-07-14T11:31:00.001-07:00

No. I will not. This mug shot is not only real, it is just hands down impressive.

Meet Jesse.

Also goes by Lucifer and Puff (the Dragon, not the Daddy). And because he was arrested for trying to run over his landlord, I imagine "My Hero" might fit the bill for a few of you as well.

(I'm just sayin' if my rent gets bumped up any higher next month, well, I won't go all dragon on them. But. I'm just sayin'. I've been there Puff. I've never shifted that rage into drive and let the horsepower do the talking, but I hear ya big guy.)

Sidenote: He didn't hit the target. What do you wanna bet he's shaking his head right now thinking, "Should've breathed fire, shoulda breathed fire."

Snakes and Stalkers

2010-07-12T14:04:00.002-07:00

Keeping things interesting around work, the last two weeks we all recieved a few, "oh, that's interesting" emails, giving us a heads up about interesting characters lingering around our parking lot, including the following reptile.

Email from a studio camera man to the newsroom:

"Just wanted to give everybody a heads up that there is a snake out by the north door under the awning where the morning show guests come in. Not sure what kind it is. It was wedged in the door up by the handle when I found it like someone had put it there."

This was followed a few minutes later with the following email, assuring us all, everything was A O-K.

"I watched the snake go into the rodent/bug catcher that is sitting on a a piece of stone next to the trash can by the North entrance door."

PHEW! Glad someone took care of it.

Ha. If snakes were the only thing to worry about around here. I did tell you where we work right? The Bermuda Triangle of late night good times.

Real mature.

2010-07-11T02:00:00.009-07:00

I feel like the doorman these days at our station. Greeting and sending off new and outgoing reporters. I've been there for about 4 plus years and well, that's a long time in local news.

Sometimes, I want to bolt the door down, and go on the air with a fabricated report of a massive volcanic cloud that will stop travel indefinitely... all in an effort to keep a few of my bestest of best friends from leaving.

Such was the case recently with F-dub. F-dub was my cubicle neighbor, inappropriate joke person, paper football instructor, and stylist.

He also had a love of himself in photos. As do most TV folks. So we took and posted a lot of pictures and giggled like school girls every time we saw our own pictures... that we had just taken... of ourselves. Sick. I know but still... we were ADORABLE. No?

F-dub is also a self-proclaimed expert in matters concerning the jheri curl. F-dub didn't sport that greasy ball of fantastic on his head, but on a daily basis you'd think someone was paying us to say it as often as possible.

So, in honor of F-dub, while he was out on a live shot during his last night, we papered his desk with some Soul Glo goodness. We counted, about three dozens jheri curls. Nothing says "we'll miss you" like Lionel Richie, Ice Cube, and Little Richard letting their Souls Glo all over your desk.

Nobody knows me and that's ok.

2010-07-10T08:34:00.001-07:00

"THOSE DAMN PAPARAZZI!" is a phrase you'll never hear me say.

Remember the kid with the "who the %$#& are YOU?!" face?

There are a few occasions when for whatever reason someone does recognize me and it sounds a little something like this:

"Hey, it's E! You are E right?" (said with a puzzled, she looks like she's 12-years-old/little boy without that make up and stuff, why do they let her do the news? look on their faces).

I prefer that to the alternatives: "Wow, you're a lot smaller than you look on TV!" And from those who don't know who I am, my favorite: "YOU are on the news?!" (note: said with more confusion than excitement).

But on days like today I am thankful for my unmemorable mug.

I just got back from my first half marathon training run with a group and coach. I felt a bit, oh, out of my league. Every wrist sported a $300 garmin GPS watch and every body part was covered with body glide and nip guards. Spandex, out of control. Oh yeah, and they were speaking German, I think. (Need to google "fartleks" and "yassos"). I held my own but they all go so fast and as has previously been explained, I sweat like a whore in church, especially when it's 99% humidity and 90 degrees at 6:30 am. Pretty sure I live in the first circle of Hell.

So we're running. I'm sweating. Pretty standard. I'm thinking I'm doing pretty good keeping up with these crazy people. And that's when our coach, who's leading the pack, starts talking about her marathons and her latest in particular (the day I ever discuss marathons... like, in the multiples... somebody smack me and tell me to get off the crazy train).

But I'm listening, intrigued by this psychological disorder that must plague those who run multiple marathons. And that's when she's all, "Yeah, during the last one, my hip popped out of place during mile 10 and it hurt, but I could handle it. I ran the last 16 miles and just sucked it up."

DID YOU HEAR ME?!

HER HIP BONE CAME OUT OF ITS SOCKET PEOPLE.

and... THAT WAS OK?!

The first thing I thought of was how I don't like to shower after getting a paper cut 'cuz it stings real bad when the soap hits it.

So back to my point.

Next week when I'm writhing in pain and look like a drowned rat after sweating out a 10 mile run... when I stop halfway begging for mercy, it'll be nice knowing that it doesn't matter. I can look like road kill and sound like a wimp, and it won't be any different than when I'm reading magazines in the grocery store checkout line, putting them back moments before checkout, while wearing my pajamas.

I can be a loser without anybody noticing.

Nobody knows me. And I like it.

Creepy poking

2010-07-03T21:01:00.001-07:00

I understand social media is a part of our jobs now. "CONNECT WITH THE PEOPLE!" That's what the office people tell us cubicle folks every day. Ok, it's not all that bad. BUT. I also caution: some of "THE PEOPLE" are creepy. See: man who suggested doin' some slappin'.

On that same nasty, slightly perverted note, I'll get the random facebook message that asks me everything from "What's your astrological sign?" to "Would you ever date a rancher/biker/tattoo artist/etc. ?" My favorite was a strange man with a solid porn-stache in his profile pic. His (latest) message read: "You sure do look purdy in that black dress. Bet yur feller is mighty prouda how u look."

Note: I do have these folks to thank for teaching me things like how to spell "feller".

But the thing that gets me more than the requests for slappin' and datin' is this feature on facebook called a "poke". Most of you probably know what I'm talking about, but for those who haven't had the privilege of being fingered by a stranger on facebook... basically anyone can look you up and "poke" you. A little hand with its finger pointed shows up on your facebook page with a message that reads "You've been poked by (fill in random creeper name)."

Not once have I ever had the pleasure of being "poked" by a friend, family member or really anyone without a pedophile-esque mustache.

So a big thank you to facebook. Thank you facebook for allowing suspect strangers to give me the finger on a daily basis.

SHOCKER!

2010-06-22T12:38:00.001-07:00

So this handsome devil doesn't have a name yet. This is a picture from surveillance video at a Walgreens drug store. Guess what? He stole prespcription drugs.

I know. I know. Pick your jaw up off the floor. But it does explain why he felt like posing for the camera in his classic "Jimmy Hendrix meets drunk Jamaican" disguise.

Note to prescription drug thieves: Being high DURING the burglary will lead to fantastic ideas like, oh, posing for the security camera. Genius.

Viewer Email, correct spelling optional.

2010-06-22T11:41:00.002-07:00

This one is a winner if only because it includes discussion of a mystery rash. Enjoy. (verbatim, of course):

"The water in town is non healthy! There is dirt, black junk, and what ever other stuff that can come through the lines. It has cause an out break in the past of a rash that no medicine would cure it. Well now the problem is coming back with all the nasty stuff again. The rashes has not come back yet...This people has woke up and not have water for half a day or more. If ya are interested and want to help and look in to it I can led you to a guy that has deal with them before."

A guy who "has deal" with the rash, the "black junk" or the "other nasty stuff"?

Does it matter? I'm sold.

Why we have no life.

2010-06-22T11:22:00.004-07:00

If you've ever had difficulty making plans with a friend or family member who happens to be a reporter, here's why.

Newsrooms do send out "schedules" and sometimes we're lucky enough to get that schedule the day or even week before that schedule kicks in.

Schedules, however, like our journalism degrees, hold little value. I was reminded of that fact today when we all got an email that went a little something like this:

"Hey you people in the cubicles! The schedules are out for the first two weeks of July, but they're TENTATIVE. So check again and again and again until the hour before your shift starts because we may need to change it again and then again and then call you in when someone calls in sick. So, what I'm trying to say is that nothing is really scheduled. Schedule is a loose term for "you have no life". Just please be aware of the shackles on your desk that are meant for your wrists. There are tents out back. Bed pans are on order."

We're on call 24/7, just like those doctors, minus 99% of their paychecks.

Yes, I WOULD LIKE FRIES WITH THAT!

2010-06-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

Let's call him Indiana Jones. Goes by the name of Brian. But Samurai Warrior or Indy Jonesy are both more appropriate. Why?

Our tweaker here was arrested for robbing a Whataburger. But please, read on. This freak show walks up to your friendly Whataburger counter, asks for a small fry, and then when the kind soul at the register tells him, that'll be $1.40. Brian didn't take kindly to that price.

He whips out his machete from his basketball shorts, (yes, I am wondering about the physics of all that too)... and he then informs the cashier, he will not in fact be paying for that small hot box of greasy goodness. Oh no. Our Whataburger warrior snatches the fries and runs away, sword and all.

No, he did not take money. No he did not harm a soul. The man just wanted his fries.

I hear that.

Social Media Slappin'

2010-06-16T07:16:00.004-07:00

Social media. Shhh. Don't say it too loud. I mean, just imagine a crack addict who hears a dealer on the corner has a stash for sale.

News management can't go more than an hour without hearing it, saying it, tweeting or facebooking about it, or they do get the shakes. Thanks to the kool-aid consultants have news management drinking these days, tweets and facebook wall posts are hotter than that Justin Beaver (or Bieber as I recently learned was his actual name. Though I prefer Beaver).

SOCIAL MEDIA is being treated like the Second Coming. Mention such social media in a story pitch and well, a turd of a story just got dipped in gold. (Hey, TV stories are only about a minute long. Gold-plated is good enough.)

And, I must admit. A year and a few months now since the mandate came down in our newsroom to tweet and facebook as part of our daily routine, (saying this under my breath) I actually don't mind it too much.

Having said that, I am not the most professional when it comes to this. The idea is to tease your upcoming story, post links to the station website, etc. I just checked, and my last tweet went a little something like this:

"Do you think Lakers player Gasol uses Soul Glo?"

(note: my story last night was not about the NBA Finals or the jheri curl.)

So fine. I get to have some fun. But there's a fine line between fun and fun house weirdos. Thanks to facebook and twitter, it's like an open casting call for the freak show. Case and point: Last week, I wrote a tweet about a woman I was interviewing about a BBQ joint we were profiling. She told me "This BBQ is SLAP YOUR MAMA GOOD!"

So, I shared on twitter. "A woman just told me her BBQ was SLAP YOUR MAMA GOOD."

The first response on twitter directed at me:

"E, Did you have some? Do you wanna do some SLAPPIN'?!"

Hmmm. Can I think about it?

Consider this your inappropriate social media comment of the week. Many more to come.

Thank THIS GUY.

2010-06-14T19:15:00.002-07:00

Really? Yes. Really.

Yes, buddy redneck here decided he'd take this opportunity when there is national media attention focused on the state's incredible flash flooding today, to put this face out there. Taking suggestions for captions. I'm going with:

"Don't mind if I do go and git my tan on in this here loverly make shift pool that was my driveway. Shoot. Tell you what. I sure could use a cold one."

Really? Yes. Really.

So when you get upset about people thinking just a bunch of rednecks live in this part of the country, thank THIS GUY.