Remo Sez

2011-12-17T13:45:00.002-07:00

The storm has moved on and another one is lurking in the Pacific, apparently trying to decide whether it will wait until everyone around here has put their jackets back under the bed before ripping us a new one again. Whatever.

One of the voodoo sacrifices I made last week must have paid off. I finally latched on to a steady security gig, which means even at the low pay rate I'll now have at least enough money to go to and from my job. It's something. I got an email back from my stand-up performance/oral board and they apparently liked me enough to move me forward and I now belong to the category of "eligible candidates."

Woo.....................hoo...............

The email came with the not-so-subtle disclaimer that in the event I am not chosen, my name will be placed on the list of next-available candidates. That's like being chosen Almost-not-quite-too-ugly to be Homecoming King. At least it's not a "No."

Voodoo-Fu is also in effect for Pam, as a friend of mine, a former ASU Color Guard member from years-gone-by, got in touch with Pam and asked her to do a couple "working interview" days in the dental office she manages. Pam is to dental management as I am to whiskey, so it was a mere couple days before an offer was made (and accepted). It's good to still have female friends who wouldn't have slept with you in college no matter what you offered them. I think it adds an air of maturity to the scenario. She has plenty of dirt on me and I know she has been filtering most of my exploits to Pam but it's nothing that Pam couldn't get from reading my blog archives. :)

It will be a bit of a drive into PHX from Gilbert but we don't have kids to worry about and I'll be working a swing-shift so our hours are our own. We've also determined that the workplace commute is always made easier by a steady paycheck. Christmas is somewhat of an afterthought this year but we're hoping to be back in the black after the first of the year and I don't see any reason that can't happen.

Did I just write that outloud? :)

2011-12-13T16:44:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhhhhhhh....rain. It's been off-and-on for a couple days now and it couldn't be nicer. Most of the perpetual dust in the air is gone, the skies are (for us) chilly and some of the mountains surrounding the Valley of the Sun are dusted with snow from about 3,000 feet and up. Quite frankly, it's the kind of weather we dream about around here and once the clouds blow away it will be Chamber of Commerce perfect.

Work update: I'm still waiting to hear back from my comedy performance. Not getting a "No" is as good as a "Yes" right now, so I find myself not wanting to check my email. I finally got hooked up for a gig as an Security Officer, not quite as far as the original site. It will be good to have some money coming in again. A man can only eat so much PBJ crackers before it starts to get mundane.Pam is road-testing a new gig, mostly helping out an office temporarily, but it would be nice if something came through for her on a permanent basis. Okay...it would be nice for us both.

Time to go back to watching the rain. For people in AZ, it's just THAT exciting.

Touch 'em All!!

2011-12-09T19:44:00.001-07:00

Remo is money in the oral interviews. Hit 'em fast - hit 'em hard- leave them breathless when you're done. Quite frankly, I'm just that damn good.

I'm hoping my Remo-Fu was in full effect during my last interview. I had all the right answers and even managed to crack the entire room up with the best damn one-liner I've had in years, coming hot on the heels of a query about what I thought was most important in delivering services to this particular work group. My answer was, of course, documentation. Documentation is your friend, your best tort attorney and your best insurance clause against vicarious liability. It can make sure that even in the most innocuous of mistakes, no one gets caught with their pants down.

Now...in fairness to me, it was just one of those turn-of-a-phrase things that seemed to make sense. And it was, until one of the women on the panel decided to chime in humorously with "I'm not sure we'll want you working with your pants down."

Really? REALLY?? You're gonna throw that out at ME and not expect something back in return?

These people have obviously never met me.

My mind reeling, I simply grabbed the first one on my tongue and let 'er fly: "No...that would be a fireman."

Thank you - I'll be here all week. Try the veal.

The entire room erupted in laughter, coughing and I noticed them all eye-pointing at the porty guy on the end. He was about to have a convulsive conniption, coughing up a lung and actually turning in his chair to face away from the rest of the panel, presumably so no one got nailed with a stray bronchial nodule.

I'm gonna guess he's the resident Fire Dept dude. Oh well.

They might not hire me but they'll NEVER forget me.

One thing...just one...stinking...thing

2011-12-04T23:48:00.001-07:00

Hey Fat Guy! Yeah...you in the red suit and reindeer. I'm not asking for much here. All I want is a stinking job. One job.

I've actually been "hired" by a local firm but the location they would prefer I take is an hour-each-way on our infamous State Hwy 101. That means I'd spend two hours a day, unpaid, driving to my job for what I have to presume is a less-than Princely sum.

I say "presume" because they haven't actually nailed down the numbers yet. I know what the entry-level line folks make and I ain't driving two hours a day for that unless my commute takes less than a half-cup of QT coffee. They have hinted that my rate would be "substantially" higher than the base rate and while I believe them, it's still hard to budget gas money from a phantom number.

Their description of the job sounds great. The company is fantastic. Everyone I've met with, from the principal partners to the V.P. seem energized and squared-away. The benefits? Less than admirable.

I've got another pan on the fire locally and some major-league coaching for that position from someone in the field. It's a better gig all things considered but I'm not in a position to be picky right now. I need a job. Money. A paycheck.

Forget all the baubles and electronic bells & whistles. All I want for Christmas is a damn direct-deposit stub.

2011-12-03T08:27:00.001-07:00

Pam? Meet my blog audience.

Blogger crowd? Meet Pam.

Yes.
No.
Not yet.
3, all grown.
Dental office manager. Damn good. Wanna hire her?
Of course she's from Texas. Can't you tell?
Ooooohhhh Yeahhhhh.....

That's enough for now.

A Day To Turducken-Cover

2011-11-25T09:13:00.001-07:00

Just kidding. I like to cook but I can't imagine anything more wasteful than sticking a chicken up a duck's ass and shoving the whole thing inside the corpse-white carcass of a turkey. Isn't that what second-helpings are for?

We took advantage of the hospitality and spaciousness of my sister's house yesterday, where the schedule of events included an early brunch and a later full-metal dinner. I was in full Macys balloon mode by noon but managed to be polite and eat several helpings at dinner. Anything else would just be uncivilized, right?

My potential employment radar identified a couple blips for targeting and I'm scheduled for an oral board in a week or so for one of them. It's more or less up my alley and I have connections in the field so I'm at least getting good coaching on what they expect me to say and all the proper inside lexicon to use in order to give good foreplay.

We'll see.

2011-11-22T20:49:00.000-07:00

Here is what I am sending out. I'd like to get some honest feedback to improve/change whatever needs to be re-worked. Thanks!
Objective

As an organized professional with more than twenty years of law enforcement experience, I will provide your company with superior verbal/written skills and the maturity required to meet and/or exceed your job requirements. I am seeking a position to utilize more than three decades of customer-service experience with the goal of creating success in the workplace while honoring the integrity of the organization. My lifetime of work experience covers a wide spectrum from public service, public relations/guest services, consumer collections, manufacturing, route service and warehousing. I can draw on all the experiences to find solutions within the workplace and have the maturity to function independently.

Demonstrated skills

Conflict resolution/verbal skills with the goal of negotiating agreement for the most appropriate results. Superior written skills demonstrated by submission of thousands of detailed, factual reports subject to scrutiny under oath and/or litigation.

Prudent and reasonable use of physical presence/force to manage critical circumstances with least-amount of intervention possible.

Detection, documentation and collection of evidence to support investigative efforts and/or prosecution.

Interview/interrogation training and experience towards deductive analysis and cooperative admission.

Use of Microsoft-related tools, Internet engines and associated programs to document, manage and evaluate aspects of job performance and goal achievement.

Experience in consumer collections and connected requirements/practices (4 yrs) via use of auto-dialer in high-volume environment, skip-tracing.

Supervision of 6-15 collection employees for Fortune 500 firm environment.

Experience with inventory control, shipping/receiving and operations associated with route services.

Light manufacturing experience within aerospace machine shop and pre-fab cabinet assembly.
Ability to read blueprints, knowledge of close-tolerances, deburring techniques.

Training and coaching for employees to achieve proficiency and measureable employee performance. Used common practices to insure confidential records were processed and maintained with regard to confidentiality.

Professional experience

11/2010 - January 2011

Precision Document Shredding Field Service Representative

▪ Conducted route duties to include the collection, security and disposal of confidential customer documents from high-value clients. Personal responsibility for logistics and efficient route service across Maricopa County geographic region. Operation of company liftgate truck with no incidents.

▪ Temporary position as vacation fill-in.

01/1990- 07/2010

Gilbert Police Department/Town of Gilbert Police Officer

▪Performed any/all general and specialized law enforcement work to preserve public peace, protect lives, property, and rights of the public.

▪ Intensive personal interaction, verbally and in written form, with public and other stakeholders with the goal of compliance and mutual understanding, to include personal counseling to persons in crisis.

▪ Enforced statutory law and municipal ordinances.

▪ Competed detailed reports for prosecution and administrative review to articulate facts and circumstances.

▪ Provide sworn testimony in Court pertaining to the veracity and character of submitted materials.

▪ Two+ years (2) performing as Detective with advanced skills in interview/interrogation, crime-scene management and other specialized investigations. Advanced training in sexual crimes, homicide investigation, auto theft. Program coordinator for agency Repeat Offender Program, to include identification, investigation and arrest, if needed, of identified targets.

▪ Ten years (10+) as Field Training Officer to newly-hired recruits with a focus on adherence to laws, policies and professional standards. Completion of reviews and evaluations to recommend advancement or cessation of future employment. Knowledge of current common practices and guidelines pertaining to confidential personnel issues.

▪ Extensive interaction with employees in exigent and non-critical events to achieve results-oriented goals and support job functions across multiple parameters.

Additional experience

4+ years as collector and collections supervisor. Utilized auto-dialer in high-volume environment for delinquent accounts 90-180 days, supervised 6-15 employees in collection of corporate credit card accounts. Experience in personal secured loans to include collections and recovery of personal collateral used to secure financing.

5+ years of amusement park employment (FL/AZ) dealing with intense customer service demands, interpersonal verbal negotiation/mediation skills, guest operations management, employee coaching and development.

2+ years experience with warehouse/inventory control/shipping & receiving

Education

01/1990 – 05-1990 Arizona Law Enforcement Training Academy (Tucson, AZ)

08/1978 – 05/1980 Arizona State University (Tempe, AZ)

08/1973 – 05/1978 Marcos De Niza HS (Tempe, AZ)

Occupy Casa de Remo!!

2011-11-22T10:56:00.002-07:00

Yo-hoo....I'll make ya famous!

I'm still here, both physically and emotionally. Still bouncing off the caliche and desert-brown gravel that passes for landscaping in AZ while pine'ing for some real mountains and trees. Yeah, okay. That aint' gonna happen for a while.

I've been spinning my new-to-me-but-used truck wheels in an effort to find work. Had some close calls with legitimate employment only to find my best efforts thrown down in the mud like a cheap dancehall partner after a whiskey-soaked brawl. Close but no paycheck, Remo. I'm officially closing in on 50 cyber-applications submitted to various firms for jobs ranging from legitimate exercise of my talents to just-give-me-a-fucking-job pleas. No dice. You can't get a face-to-face anymore and that's Remo's forte.

It's come down to literally doing a cut-and-paste of their skill requirements and artfully inserting a version into my resume, all in hopes of pulling the Jedi mind-trick on the parsing software that replaced actual human beings.

My conclusion? No one is hiring. Period. I know, I know...there are tons of jobs posted on company sites every day but I think it's just an exercise in administrative masturbation for the companies. They get to keep the doors open, allow for a little personnel attrition while maintaining a profit margin all the while stomping their feet that they can't get "qualified applicants."

Bullshit.

Just because a company posts openings doesn't mean they have to have any intention of filling them. Period.

In the meantime, Remo is in the pipeline for a position in the high-value market as rent-a-cop, meaning I have to apply to the State Police (DPS) for an actual permit that says I'm qualified to be a Security Guard. In return for submitting my fingerprints to the FBI for a background check (I've been in the system since 1989), a fill-the-cup drug screen/penis exhibition (I haven't even taken an aspirin since 2007) and a background check to make sure I'm not a Communist, thief or similar member of elected office, I'll earn the Princely sum of $10 an hour for waving nicely at really rich people who talk bad about me as they drive by.

I should have been a porn star when I had the chance.

For A Limited Time Only!!

2011-06-05T08:05:00.002-07:00

Fortune favors the persistent.

After more than a handful of sputters and starts over the last year, Ian breezed into Sky Harbor Airport last night, courtesy of Southwest Airlines. It would have been nice if SW would have delivered ALL his luggage as well but we're not picking nits today.

The lad has been squirreled-away for nearly a year, getting secret-squirrel training on a host of things he either can't talk about or that I simply don't understand. Fair enough. There are some things we just don't need (or want) to know about. He's here for a couple weeks before heading to Kadena AFB (Okinawa) for another 2+ years.

There's nothing like seeing your formerly-mophaired teenANGER strolling down the gangway as a squared-away member of the U.S. Military, attired in BDU's. I already sense some great changes and some not-so small ones. Since Drew is also over this weekend, we came up one bed short and I told the lad he was welcome to sleep in my bed. When I peeked in on him this morning, sleeping the sleep-of-the-dead, I expected to find the floor of my bedroom awash with discarded clothing. Nope. His stuff is stowed at the foot of the bed as if R. Lee Ermey had tucked him in himself. I'll take it.

We were only home a short while before he borrowed my truck (HORROR!) to go see friends, while mentioning that he was a "bit rusty" driving and relating a near-hilarious event with a golf cart on his previous base. It was a relief to see him (and my truck) arrive back intact last night around midnight. I was only slightly more glad to see him.

I need to check out rental car rates if I'm going to survive the next two weeks.

Not back in the Blog-saddle yet but I haven't sold the horse...

2011-05-24T04:38:00.003-07:00

So far, so good.

The truck is still trucking, and although I still feel like I'm borrowing someone else's vehicle each time I slide behind the wheel, it's growing on me. I wish I could say I've gotten better at parking it. I wish I could say that. I'm hiding my considerable lack of parking-Fu by parking it far away from other cars in lots and claiming I just don't want it to get scratched or dented. Shhh - it's our secret.

I've made a couple road trips. Flagstaff. Winslow. Casa Grande. It's been fantastic except for the price of gas. It takes about a C-note to fill it up from scratch but I'm playing a psychological game with myself by filling it up when I get to a half tank, so it hurts less. I'm heading out to the area near Clint's Well this weekend to join others in a holiday camping fest and while I normally HATE camping on holidays, we're going to be dispersed in the forest away from the regular madness and that will hopefully bring a little solitude. I noticed a huge low-pressure system coming in from the Pacific which will probably arrive just in time for the weekend. It would be nice to get some rain.

I have a job interview this week or else I'd already be in Joplin, trying to find a way to help Team Rubicon help the tornado-ravaged community. The weather seems to be making sure I'll eventually get a chance to pitch in somehow.

It'll happen.

Truckin... got my chips cashed in...

2011-05-11T04:58:00.002-07:00

I'm throwing caution to the winds today and the smell is killing me.

Yup. Still here, physically and otherwise. My oldest managed to graduate from USAF Intel school and is now ensconced in the next phase in Panama City, Florida. Wunnerful. It took me over two years to escape the eyeliner-junkies and baby-making homewreckers of Florida and the US military sends him intentionally. He's been duly advised to avoid making any unintended (on his part, at least) deposits, lest he find himself making monthly installments for 18 years. Enough said.

I also did some finagling and outright horse-thievery in order to buy a new vehicle. The Blazer and its continued assault on my psychological and financial state is gone. Banished forever. If karma is an evil mistress, then the former co-worker who completed most of the repairs on it is now in charge of the bunny-boiling radiator and balky starter.

I think the Blazer's last words were "I won't be ignored, Dan." It's a good thing my name isn't Dan.

I found a local group called www.theautomatchmaker.com that specializes in Sun City cream-puff vehicles, mostly resales from widows, estate fiduciaries and anal-retentive ex-military retirees who keep their vehicle records meticulous and their front lawns even neater. I was looking for something with the muscle to pull a trailer/fifth-wheel eventually so I settled on a 2005 GMC C2500HD. It's got 60,000 carefully-tracked miles and even came with the original window sticker. I told you the guy was anal. It's set-up for fifth-wheel towing, has a bumper hitch as well and, I swear-to-God, still smells like a new car. Amazing.

I had my aforementioned mechanic give it a once-over and he proclaimed it a genuine deal-steal. He actually owned a similarly-equipped model years ago and loved it. He was amazed at the condition, including an engine compartment that looks like you could eat off the manifolds. It's just that clean.

I was out the door for $18K and I haven't looked back since. Okay, maybe I peeked over my shoulder the first time I filled the tank, since it felt like someone was doing-me-dirty without lube, but it's all good.

Now it's time to see what this baby can do.

What Time is Check-out?

2011-03-05T08:19:00.002-07:00

1. Yes
2. Not yet.
3. It's going well.
4. Facebooking, looking for work, a little golf.
5. We'll just have to see what happens. Won't we?

Paddling Trifles

2011-01-22T07:55:00.002-07:00

For a guy who swims like a rock, treading water is something of an accomplishment.

I've been summoned off the bench of unemployment a couple-three times as a fill-in for the paper shredding company. It's helping to fill the gaps but it's not so much of a plug in my financial situation as just a wad of gum in the crack. The cost of the transmission repair wiped out my nest-egg and while I make ends meet at the end of the month, it would me much nicer to be able to tie a bow in the whole damn situation. I figure there's a big difference between poor and destitute. I have some reserves, in the form of the tangible assets that I could part with if needed but I'm reluctant to do so because they're called reserves for a reason. Things are never as dire as we think they are. Besides, what's a bunker-mentality guy without his bunker?

This is also the time of year when the thoughts of guest-ranchers turn to hiring a whole new crop of retreads and retards willing to cast aside the trappings of civilization and haplessly venture into dusty dorms and intermittent showers, all in hopes of giving miles of smiles to vacationing urban-dwellers eager to get horseshit on their shoes. It's like Disneyland with the flies.

I've already sent out more than a half-dozen application packets to places looking for help in jobs ranging from mucking stalls to help staff on overnight cook-outs. Giddie-up, Mrs. Liebowitz. Would you like some more brown stuff for dinner?

I'm not sure how they'll react to a guy my age or if I'll even get considered. Remo writes a handsome cover-letter and after conducting some psychological study into more than a dozen guest-ranches and the style of their operators, I think I cracked the code. It's probably violates every rule of cover-letters, which is why I think it will get me a job.

Friends,

I’ve recently completed a 20 year career as a Police Officer in Gilbert, AZ and am looking for a new way to use my personal skills to make folks happy. My experiences and personal tools give me unique abilities to be able to communicate with folks at any level, in any situations, to help them find solutions to the issue at hand. I also have prior experience (5+ yrs) working in amusement park settings which allows me to understand the mind of the guest and anticipate their expectations. I believe my talents and abilities would be a benefit to the ranch and to your guests.

I have the benefit of a wide-range of life experience and perspectives and I’ve reached the point in life where I don’t have to wear my ego on my sleeve to prove myself. I’m just as content to be mucking stalls or lugging baggage as I am to be doing something else. I spent many years training new officers and I always tried to remind them that they woke up in the morning just the same as anyone else. It was how they conducted themselves that distinguished them from anyone else.

I’ve found that most situations involving guest relations center around guest perceptions or a misunderstanding of expectations. Applying a little common-sense and listening can go a long way to finding a solution and unless the scenario involves something that isn’t safe or is simply unreasonable, find a way to make it happen. After all, they paid to be there and you’re getting paid to help. That’s why they call them “Guests.”

We'll see what develops.

They don't generally open for business until April/May, so even if I'm lucky enough to land a slot I still have time to plan my bug-out. Accounting for the Nega-Man Effect, I expect a half-dozen offers to come rolling in, all requiring an immediate relocation. When it rains it pours. In fact, the merest act of submitting all these applications caused my near-dormant resume on WorKamper to bring forth an offer to host a campground near Gunnison, CO for the summer. It would be a great gig EXCEPT for the fact I don't have a rig for the gig. My pop-up camper is sufficient for weekenders and such and I could certainly live in it for an extended period IF I HAD TO but it doesn't even have a toilet and the electrical hook-ups would probably set the thing on fire the first time I plugged it in.

But it's a start.

Something Old - Something Gnu

2011-01-01T10:41:00.002-07:00

Yup. I'm still here.

I've left a dozen blog posts on the cutting room floor the last month. It was a month filled with changes, big and small, and every time I tried to connect-the-dots on this blog it seems I got distracted by something, mostly Facebook.

Last hired - first fired. I didn't exactly get "fired" from my job with the paper shredding company since I was a mere stand-in for another employee on leave but I'm out nonetheless. They told me they would keep me on call for heavy service times, vacations, etc but I'm not putting too much stock in it. The company is relocating to a new building locally for expansion in March, so there's the chance they'll bring me back on but I don't know if I want to go back to living on the cheap. I make ends meet but the extra income came in handy and I'd really like to replace my emergency funds lost to the transmission repair.

I've got some feelers out there for work so we'll have to see what comes my way while I start beating the streets again. You never know.

There were a lot of serious personal changes in my life in December. Relationships ended and new ones spring forth, originating in the most unlikely of faces and places. It's hard, it hurts but it happens.

I'm happy. I'm healthy. I'm ready for whatever comes my way.

That's good enough for me.

Maybe

2010-12-01T16:44:00.001-07:00

http://apps.facebook.com/halcontest/contests/64704/voteable_entries/11849461?ogn=facebook&ref=mf

Please vote for me.

That is all.

You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up...

2010-11-25T11:34:00.004-07:00

Remo went Oh-fer for turkey in Texas.

I went to work Wednesday with the Blazer loaded to the gills with Ian's guitar stuff, a few bags of "Bring-me's" and enough clothes to last a couple-three days.

I only needed a jacket and my debit card.

I managed to finish my route fairly quickly and got gas, road food and headed down the highway for a nice Thanksgiving meeting with my son. I guess everyone else had the same idea since the freeways leaving PHX were a parking lot for 25 miles. Southbound I-10 didn't clear out until almost Marana and we really didn't start sailing until Benson.

The Blazer was running fine and I was making good time. I made it to the AZ/NM line in record time, thanks to 660 AM, which apparently broadcasts their bountiful list of Navajo chants and songs across the night skies from the Rez, and was soon rolling into Texas.

As I hit El Paso, the "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" came on but since I needed gas and a urinal that didn't resemble a Gatorade bottle, I figured I'd kill three birds with one urinal-cake stone. It's never come on before. I got out to attend to business and noticed the rear window of the Blazer was covered with something wet. It wasn't damp enough for dew so I swiped my fingers across it and sniffed. It smelled like burned-diesel fuel. That's a bad thing. The Blazer uses regular.

I checked the undercarriage and confirmed the worst. I had popped some kind of seal on the transmission and the residue had been swirling behind the Blazer and accumulating underneath. The transmission dipstick was drier than a bone and smelled like the back window.

Fuck.

Remember the rhetorical question about the guy who swims halfway across a lake and realizes he can never make it to the other side without drowning?

What does he do? I was stuck, literally halfway to San Angelo, on Thanksgiving Eve, with a broken car and no reasonable options for at least a day. My son is sitting alone in a dorm on a distant air base, on Thanksgiving, with his lone connection to the real world trying to get the taste of burned transmission fluid out his mouth and wipe the tears from his face. I think the sensory overload of that moment will stick for a while.

Fuck-Fuck-Fuck.

I called Ian and told him what happened and that I wasn't going to be able to make it and I figured I had three options.

1. Spend the night at the Texaco in El Paso for the next day and a half and hope to find a shop open on Friday that can fix it, meaning I could be there until next week waiting for the repair to be done.

Nope.

2. Finish the drive to San Angelo and hope for the same sequence of events, leaving me even farther from home and with the distinct possibility that I'd never make 10 miles from El Paso.

Uh-uh. There's only one choice - turn around and go home.

I figured if it was running well enough to get me to TX with no fluid, it should damned well be good enough to get me started back home. I figured that no matter what happened, I'd be closer to home when the damn thing went out and I'd just sort out the bodies afterwards.

I bought the Texaco out of transmission fluid, topped it off and headed home. I drove about 50 mph for the first 100 miles, stopping every chance I had to replenish the fluid and curse the darkness. There was lots of that. I told Ian I would text him if I ended up broke down somewhere but I was driving until I got home or I pushed the smoking carcass off a highway cliff with my bare hands.

The drive across the desert from AZ to TX is a desolate, mind-numbing experience during daylight and only barely less so in the dark, even at 75 MPH. The drive back is an excruciatingly tedious task at 50 MPH. Forget waterboarding the terrorists - just give them a '78 Pacer and send them from Phoenix to Texas. They'll kill themselves before they get to Lordsburg.

I limped into my apartment complex at about 6:30am this morning. I made sure Ian knew I was back safe and we exchanged some rather poignant messages and hopes for his visit at Christmas. I sat in the Blazer and cried like an idiot for about ten minutes before unloading the really important stuff and going inside. I had been up for about 24 hours straight, and quite frankly, was about to start losing my mind. I turned off my phone and made a few notifications to people who were expecting news when I arrived safely and crashed, in more ways than one.

With my apologies to family and friends on this Thanksgiving, I'm going to take my lead from recent news and institute a temporary policy on holiday gatherings for this week:

I'm opting out.

I Guess I'll Have To Grope Myself

2010-11-19T20:23:00.002-07:00

Ian wasn't able to get a flight out for Thanksgiving. That means this Wednesday, after work, I'll load up all his bass guitar stuff in the Blazer and plunge headlong into the dark of the desert for the 18 hour trip to glorious San Angelo, TX.

Yippity-freakin-doo-dah.

At least I'll have the cover of darkness to spare my eyes from the endless and repetitious desert scenery, which after about 300 miles becomes the looping backdrop from every Flintstone cartoon. Tree. Rock. Cloud. Tree. Rock. Cloud....

The bad part will be not having adequate visual detection of lurking Troopers. I tend to drive a little bit under the speed of light on the open highways so I better bring along an extra grand for the bail. I hear Texas prefers cash.

My job is working out just fine. I'm becoming friends with the office staff in about 20 different doctor offices, ranging from plastic surgeons to regular MD's. The highlight of my route is the visits to the attorneys who need files shredded. I've determined the higher-priced the lawyer, the hotter the women in the office. The same rule applies for the women working for plastic surgeons except I think they're all taking advantage of their boss's talents. One of the offices features a half-dozen Maxim models all sporting the same perky-tit posture. The page in that book is probably dog-eared by now.

Not that I'm complaining.

It'll give me something to ponder as I rocket across the panhandle. I have to drive back Saturday. I wish I could take a detour to visit the Cowboy but I have to be back at work Monday morning and I can't risk a couple days in the local jail/Walmart/Angus burger drive-in to delay me.

Besides, there's never been a jail made that could hold the two of us.

Right, Sundance?

Time to let the Shredded-Cat out of the bag

2010-11-06T17:58:00.004-07:00

Relax. No one is shredding cats.

I was referring to my new gig with a document shredding firm. I didn't want to jinx the deal and I wanted to meet with the owner before giving Nega-Man a chance to sink his jaws into it. I just finished my first week as drone-in-training, dutifully shuffling three steps along behind the regular route guy, getting in his way and trying to not screw things up.

It's pretty easy work. Drive the company truck to various businesses that keep locked boxes for secure document disposal, open said box and empty documents into another locked bin and take the bin back to the truck. I drive the truck to the shop where a massive grinder turns all manner of paperwork into itty-bitty pieces and then bales it into 1,200 lb bales.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I have a couple accounts that generate shitloads of paperwork every couple days and others who get serviced every couple weeks. It makes for a nice variety and gets me outside where I can trade paint with motorists stupid enough to ride in my blind-spot. It'll happen. I get to wear shorts and a golf shirt so I'll have to make sure I'm not throwing "Melvin's" at the clients.

That is all.

Nega-Man is Alive!

2010-10-28T07:26:00.002-07:00

Things seem to be settling down around my Fortress of Solitude.

I've managed to sneak in a handful of day-trips. My recent excursion was to the Humphrey Peak area outside of Flagstaff, where I escorted a fellow ASUSDMB alumni to find some fall color and "prettylicious" spots so she could add to her photography portfolio. I picked her up from her casa on the shitty-side of the tracks at about 0400 and we whisked up the interstate in order to catch the early morning light against the mountain. Humphrey Peak is about 12,600 feet and is a dormant stratovolcano. It sits on the northern outskirts of Flagstaff and is also home to the Arizona Snowbowl ski resort. In the summer time, they run the lift up to the upper lodge and you can hike down.

I guess summer was over.

With the temperatures at a brisk 38 degrees, we headed off on the trail that starts at 9,300 feet and eventually ends up at the summit. I was mostly playing Sherpa and the role of bear-bait as we headed up through the aspen and firs, making countless switchbacks while pausing for her to take pictures of stuff I would have peed on. Art is subjective like that. The frequent stops were a good excuse for me to cover-up my pounding heart and hypoxia. I think there was only a couple times I contemplated the helicopter rescue from the mountain and I know I cursed myself for not taking a couple aspirin to my wrist.

We reached a trailhead at about 11,000 feet and signed the trail book. When my partner asked about the purpose of the book, I told her it was to record the last known location where your body was alive. She wanted to head to the summit, which was covered in about 6" of snow from a recent storm, but I pulled a shiny-object Jedi mind-trick and convinced her to take the trail back to the ski lodge, thereby saving my dignity and an expensive bill from the helicopter ride to Flagstaff Regional Hospital.
It was a good day and I think she got some exceptional shots.

I'm still occupied with the occasional brain-fart burst from the X but it's nothing too dramatic. I think someone, somehow has managed to turn on the light and she might actually be taking up residence in reality. Here's hoping.

I've also determined that anytime I mention/talk about/discuss or even ponder the possibility of an eventuality, the lurking presence of Nega-Man emerges to squash it like a grape. I've never mentioned Nega-Man before so I'll dispense a short primer on his origins...

When I worked as a Detective, our nefarious squad of subterfuge nitwits, commonly known as Narc's, would come bursting into our office with news of an impending drug-deal and demand we immediately drop everything else we were doing to accompany them as security/lookouts/human targets. We would dutifully don our tactical gear (tennis shoes) and drive our barely-unmarked K-cars to points unknown and sit for hours while the bad guys decided to wake up from a night of doing Meth/dope/hookers. It rarely came to fruition. We'd end up leaving with a car that smelled of farts and sunflower seeds and a stack of unworked case files screaming for our attention. The Nega-Man moniker was applied by one of my co-workers after one of these goose-chases resulted in a six hour bladder-busting waste of time and all future events were wagered on his predictions. He claimed that the slightest mention of a potential drug bust was enough to send the universe into a full-stop mode and curse the deal into oblivion.

I'm bringing back the Nega-man.

I'm not going to mention any potential job offers or events nor the merest inkling that such an event, whether real or imagined, might even exist. I'm announcing a kibosh on anything that could be kiboshed because of any announcement of kiboshing.

So there.

Azurite? Of course I am...

2010-10-20T18:39:00.002-07:00

If there's gold in them thar' hills, it's still there.

Remo and the Remo-Daddy unit loaded up for a little road-tripping action this morning, all designed to see some sunshine and maybe scrape in a few nuggets along the way. We didn't have firm destination in mind but when you're looking for gold in AZ it doesn't matter much since half the state is composed of igneous intrusions and porphyry updikes.

Try saying THAT in San Francisco without getting arrested.

We decided to head north for the hills just south of Payson, where a half-dozen mines were founded at the tail end of the 1800's and where a few weirdo's and retired-types drag their trailers and trucks to take up semi-permanent residence on their claims. It's not bad driving, bladed gravel roads mostly, but it soon became apparent the Blazer was in no mood for four-wheeling itself on a 2WD drivetrain. I found a sandy wash and we spent about an hour putzing around the gravels and sand trying to earn some gas money.

Yeah - and for everything else... there's Visa.

We found about 200 shell casings and a dozen old nails before deciding to head into Payson for a swarthy brunch at the 260 Cafe where they serve a too-legit-to-quit chicken-fried steak & egg breakfast. I think the too-tattoo'd-to-date waitress was having a good time at my expense when she brought my water in a glass that was more fit for a specimen than a grown-up. I asked her if she was still mad about Saturday night and she just giggled, displaying her attention by using all eight of her visible teeth. Nice to know I still have it.

Since nothing says "long-distance driving' like a circulatory system clogged with animal fats, we headed back down the hill and took a scenic route to the worldly twin-complex of Globe-Miami to visit a friends antique shop and get an impromptu tour of a clients disused copper mine. I was in rock-heaven on top of the piles of tailings, picking out specimens of copper, azurite and some malachite to bring home so they can lay around my apartment until I move again, leading me to curse myself for being fascinated by rocks.

The city of Miami, AZ bears a close resemblance to Miami, Florida, except it has no beach, no palm trees and it sits literally in the midst of 500 foot tall mine tailing hills that blow an incessant swirl of toxic dust into town. Can you say mesothelioma? The resemblance comes from the high number of cocaine smugglers and illegal aliens who are brown and speak Spanish. Aren't they all?

Miami also has a dilapidated, decaying downtown as a result of the boom/bust copper fortunes. It's trying to come back but it's still a place where you can get a 3000 sq ft storefront for about $50,000. It's also a place with a slightly-spooky aura and where all the people seem to peer from behind swept-aside curtains, only to disappear when you give them a glance. If the Children of the Corn had a real-estate crisis, they would be in Miami.

It was a good day to be on the road in Arizona. Temps were finally below 90 and a storm system kept the skies cloudy and our sunglasses on the dashboard. I got to see some new places, some old faces and I came home with a pocket full of pretty blue rocks.

I'm so easy.

Fossil-seeking-fossil

2010-10-07T06:25:00.003-07:00

That was fun while it lasted. Was it good for you?

While everything else seems to be going swimmingly, I had to turn down the job offer that rolled in on the heels of my last post. Great gig, excellent pay and benefits but the shift they wanted me to work (Wed-Sun swingshift) would have killed my visitations with Drew.

Deal-killer.

Damn. I've never turned down a job in my life so it was a little awkward making the appropriate notifications. I managed to reach my contact via cellphone while he was in the drive-through line at a fast-food place and I explained my predicament while he wavered on whether to substitute money-mustard for the mayo on his chicken sandwich.

Nice.

In the meantime, I'm just plugging away with other things and seeking other opportunities. I received a rather nebulous solicitation to be a local writer for one of the Examiner.com sites but the whole thing seems somewhat hinkey. If legitimate, I'm glad to have a shot at it but it has the sort of ring to it that normally comes with getting a Publishers Clearinghouse announcement. We'll see.

A fantastic storm swept up across Arizona from Mexico and dropped rain, hail and tornados. I've taken to barging out the door, Flip camera in hand, and heading into the weather for some fun and excitement. I trailed the tornado-storm up to Flagstaff yesterday but was unable to get ahead of it after everyone on the road insisted on driving like it was a tornado storm or something. I probably could have caught up with it but I had to stop for breakfast at Rock Springs. Go figure. I got to Munds Park, south of Flagstaff, about 20 minutes behind a tornado but the storm was moving too fast so I took one of my favorite AZ roads back across the Mogollon Rim in an effort to find some new camping spots.

Lake Mary Road (AKA Fire Road 3) runs from Flagstaff to a place called Happy Jack on State Route 87 (AKA Beeline Hwy). In between is some of the nicest and seldom-used areas in the Coconino National Forest. I tracked off into the forest roads and spent the better part of three hours putzing along at 5 mph and gawking at the woods. The area is also a geological funzone for rockheads like me, dropping from volcanic outcrops and overlays through ancient limestone and sandstone layers that hold fossils. I probably picked up a half-dozen specimens along the way, mostly shellfish fossils about the size of large clams. I also found a few pieces of fossilized coral to boot. I have no idea what I'm going to do with a watermelon-sized glob of fossil-rock that weighs about 50 lbs but I've got one and you don't.

I posted some video of the weather on my trip at my Facebook page, if you're interested.

In last weeks episode...

2010-09-30T13:09:00.002-07:00

Could this really be happening?

The reality-show masquerading as my personal life took a decidedly upwards turn the last few weeks. I am, of course, waiting for the other shoe to drop but I'm willing to ride the bull until the buzzer sounds. So be it.

I've mentioned that some issues in my previous marriage, financially and otherwise, left me saddled with some rather extraordinary debt obligations and encumbrances. I've been digging out from underneath it since 2008 via hook-and-crook and a fair amount of creative (but not illicit) financing, not to mention the ever-present garnishment of 25% of my paycheck. Add to that a reasonably-small child support payment, repetitive car repairs, teenage kid costs and some other items and it was just downright iffy sometimes. I got help from friends. I got help from family. It was ugly.

The primary focus recently was the sale of the house. As part of the divorce settlement, the house was to be sold to satisfy remaining debts and any proceeds split, certainly a reasonable proposition except for one fact: one of the creditors placed a lien on the property.

I won't go into the whole sordid affair of that fiasco, simply because it was a goat-screw of biblical proportions. A solution was finally reached where the creditor holding the lien would receive any proceeds from the sale as part of an agreement to release the lien, which had to happen in order to sell the house in the first place. No release - no sale. I was fortunate enough to find a cash buyer for the house and in this market, that is a rare happening. If ever. I have some things out of sequence but I'll continue anyways.

The papers were written and everything was ready to roll. I signed. The buyer signed.

Did I mention that the buyer and I signed?

Apparently afflicted by a sudden onset of terminal fuckingidiotitis, my Ex refused to sign. She was pissed because the agreement meant she wasn't going to get her $4,799.32 settlement from my previously-accrued vacation/sick time. Gimmie mine. Gimmie-gimmie-gimmie.

She's still alive, mostly because I was on the golf course when the title woman called to tell me the deal was nixed and the guys I was playing with would rat me out in a heartbeat. I admit to sending her a text that read "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Fast-forward several days later.

I'm guessing she either gave up on her money or (more likely) bitched about it to someone who educated her on the fact that if she didn't sign the agreement and sell the house, I was willing to let it foreclose and she wouldn't get jack-shit. Considering the money I had taken out of MY PAYCHECK from the garnishment and the additional settlement I paid out-of-pocket, her little $4,799.23 left her in the hole in the I-Owe-Remo side of the balance sheet but it was a card I never had to play. She came in a few days later, signed and the deal is done.

Casa de Remo is now under new management. Good for me.

The proceedings effectively wiped my financial-slate clean. I think. Unless some fart-mongering surprise sticks their head out of the prairie-dog den, I'm back to Square One. I also had an interview recently for a job I didn't really seek but won't turn down and I just found out I got the job. Literally. They just called with the offer while I was typing this paragraph.

I could get used to this.

Remo-Clyde Goes To Texas

2010-09-18T20:01:00.002-07:00

There comes a time when you just have to release the yoke.

Thursday was the first of a two-day Air Force BMT graduation process for Ian. I flew out the night before, landing in the greater San Antonio metroplex/fleamarket/redneck complex shortly before noon. Good for me. It gave me plenty of time and daylight to absorb the ambiance and aura that surrounds such a sophisticated city, evidenced by the shuttered strip malls and plethora of tattoo parlors and muffler repair shops ringing the infamous Connolly Loop. When the Thrifty rental car shuttle dropped us off at the lot underneath some gawd-forsaken freeway overpass, I had a brief flashback to the brave souls at The Alamo and wondered why the hell the Mexicans even bothered.

I fought my way around town to the area around Lackland AFB and found my hotel. Thanks, Expedia. I wasn't expecting the Ritz-Carlton and they certainly delivered. Located conveniently near the base and under the flight path of all training flights, I quickly settled into my room and into the task of removing all the dead and not-so-dead cockroaches from the floor. It's been a while since I did my own exterminating so I kind of confused the odor of insecticide with air freshener. Silly me.

I did my normal forensic room inspection before unpacking. I checked under the mattress, under the box springs, inside the toilet tank, under the bathroom counter, in the drawers and behind the credenza for the TV. It was all good to go until I yanked the bedspread and found a cockroach inside. Yummy. I spent the next 2 days sleeping on top of the bed with my shoes on. I NEVER go barefoot in a hotel room. People stay there and people suck. Forget the commercials that show freshly-scrubbed happy folks lounging around a spacious room. If you wouldn't buy a used rental car...

Those beds have seen more action than Paris Hilton's under-carriage cargo storage compartment.

Anywho...

The ceremonies were incredible and a thrill of a lifetime. Lackland AFB churns out over 39,000 AF trainees a year and the punctuality and professionalism of the experience is second-to-none. It's amazing that they do the same thing, every week, every month, every year and the courtesy and guidance to attending families and friends was remarkable. I have to feel sorry for the staff and personnel working around the base since each week brings a new batch of well-meaning but ignorant civilian visitors to their environment. It seemed the flights/classes were fairly lazy about getting the guest passes mailed to attendees so Thursday morning meant a pile of about 200 people mobbing the guard shack in search of their authorizations to enter the base, a fact not especially lost on the mondo-pregnant female Airman working the post. She worked tirelessly to handle everyone in between sharply-barked orders to close the damn door and stop letting out the air conditioning.

I grabbed a handful of Flip video from the various scenes and posted them on my Facebook page if anyone is interested. It's impossible to overstate the transformation of my son from the day he left. While he looks skinnier than his usual 145 lbs., he's actually gained 11 lbs of muscle. Emotionally and psychologically, there is no comparison.

It's a good thing. A damn good thing.

I've got more stories about the experience that I'll share as they come back to me. His mother and her folks made the trip and I know that was special for him and we all managed a respectful detente for the duration. I managed to only cry like a baby a couple dozen times, mostly when he wasn't around, but I lost it for good when greeting him after the Retreat ceremony the first day. I tried not to embarrass him but when I saw everyone losing their minds I figured I'd just go with the flow. It flowed.

Letting go of the yoke doesn't come easy when it's your first flight.

:::the sound of Stephen Hawking:::

2010-09-07T23:07:00.000-07:00

Good morning everyone

Since I spent all that money on my son's Dragon speak naturally program I figured I might as well put to use I've been listening to the commercials for the stupid thing and figured hey what the heck I can do that too. It's good take a little bit of time to get used to not look at the screen.running my figures across the keyboard, and knowing where and when to put in the punctuation this program. Hopefully I'll have the bugs worked out with a week or two will be my normal walking talking chewing gums healthy due time.

Of course, I didn't bother to read the instructions so I'm just kind of flying by wire. Buried somewhere in the boxes the move or the disk and instructions to get with the program. Since I spent about 250 bucks on the damn thing I should probably use it to its fullest potential but for now... It'll do.

I took my first golf lesson in almost 20 years this morning. I did some Internet searches and found a local LPGA player, Lisa Seary, who formerly played at Arizona State University. Our first session went pretty well and even though she detected some major swing flaws in my setup and impact position, I think it will be salvageable. One of the worst things that can happen to a golfer is to actually see your own swing on videotape laid out for the world in front of you. I knew I wasn't the best golfer in the world but to see your own swing resemble a man inside a phone booth trying to kill snakes left much to be desired. Lisa Hauser work cut out for her but we are both visual learners and her teaching style meshes well with my learning style. She remarked a couple of times that we seem to be moving rather quickly through what she is normally used to and she did give me some credit for being quick to respond to her instruction. It doesn't hurt that she's attractive, blonde, and possesses a remarkably sexy British accent. For the money I paid her, she could at least wear lip gloss.

The process of dictating or speaking of blog entries is really going to take some getting used to and quote train unquote the computer to recognize sounds and certain words that are common vernacular. It's a work in progress it's a little disconcerting to see your own words spelled out in front of you as if typed by some drunken gibberish monkey. I'm quickly discovering that there a lot of semantical tricks of the trade that will have to be resolved, such as voice inflection or a laugh. The program comes with the ability to train the recognition software to pick up on the nuances of human speech and of quickly discovered that the computer recognizes my voice is very similar or identical to my sons. It's a little spooky.

If anyone else uses this kind of a program I'd be interested to know what your results have been and how you feel about the editing portion in different aspects of the program. I believe the best use of this program will come from repetition and perhaps a tall, cool beverage. Here's hoping...

Politics, Pigs and Army Boots

2010-09-05T08:13:00.002-07:00

I've been trying to stay away from posting about politics. I really have. It's not that I don't still have the same fervent (rabid?) positions but I've probably just developed a growing resistance to engaging in the rhetorical mutual-masturbation that ends up being the result of the argument. I'd much rather just punch someone in the mouth and be done with it.

Anywho...

My beef de jour happens to fall with the predictable position of liberals to lump the Tea Party in with the Republicans, as if everyone involved/favoring/sympathetic to the Tea Party marches lock-step with the RNC. Hardly. Most of the Tea Party anger is actually directed AT Republicans, who have been just as culpable in the destruction of our economy and liberties as their guerilla counterparts across the aisle.

Arizona State once had a feared and tough SOB as football coach, Frank Kush. Cut from the the coal hills of Pennsylvania, Kush was ruthless in his criticism and treatment of his teams. In the early 70's, a player was asked if Kush ever discriminated against his players. The response?

"Coach don't discriminate - he treats everyone like crap."

Exactly the point of the Tea Party. Folks outside AZ don't know that John McCain has been routinely scattered & smothered at his (rare) meetings here in the state, mostly form Tea Party folks who are tired of his election year grandstanding. I have great respect for his service but McCain has developed a reputation for being a Sunshine Patriot when it comes to his positions, and if he hadn't been running against JD Hayworth (and spent $21 Million on a primary) he'd be sitting in a rocking chair while his wife wiped his chin.

Another fallacy is that the Tea Party is somehow bankrolled by the Conservative versions of George Soros. Not true. I know a couple hundred Tea Party members in the area and was around when they got involved in the movement. These folks are nice but they'd have a hard time planning and organizing a garage sale. If they were somehow on the receiving end of vast and untold amounts of covert funding we'd know because it would look like the Beverly Hillbillies suddenly arrived.

Is there influence and guidance from some well-heeled Conservatives in getting folks off their couches and pointed in the right direction? Probably. But the totality of their influence pales in comparison to the decades-long influence of Soros and his machine in displacing the Democratic programs in favor of wholesale Socialist design, which gives Conservatives and Tea Party members even more reason to giggle. We saw it coming even if they didn't. They're being eaten from the inside-out by a parasitic bug that has now overrun the ability of the host to defeat it. I guess we should send Soros a thank-you card - we couldn't have done it without ya.

Anywho...

A Conservative isn't always a Tea Party member. Tea Party members aren't always Conservative. Libertarians can be Tea Party members but they hate Republicans and Republicans are scared shitless of Libertarians for their "liberal" views on topics. For the record, I consider Palin/Beck/Paul to be Libertarians. Limbaugh is a Republican. The rest of Conservatives fall somewhere inside the spectrum, depending on the issue.

We all agree, however, that Keith Olbermann is a colossal pussy in need of an ass-kicking.

So when you're tempted to lump anyone right of the MSNBC dial into a tight-knit group called "Tea Party," remember that it's a great big circus tent with a dozen different acts.

The difference is we'd all rather be inside the tent cleaning up after the elephants than sitting outside on a jackass.