Month: July 2013

Answering your painful questions about my softball season

(If you’re someone who doesn’t normally have flashbacks on a regular basis, but wants to start having them, this blog can help! And without expensive prescription medication or those annoying side effects, such as abdominal bleeding, thoughts of suicide or liver failure! That’s right! Welcome to Flashback Sunday, when we dig into the archives to a time before I had any readers who weren’t in the coma ward at Hackensaw Hospital; back when talking openly to a woman about your blog led to slap in the face; back when “Freshly Pressed” was a dry cleaners on Crenshaw Blvd. Today’s flashback is from 2004, when readers of my newspaper column wanted to know how my first season of men’s softball was going. You’ll be sorry they asked. I know I was…)

imageA few weeks ago I mentioned joining a men’s softball team after not participating in anything athletic since (conservative estimate) the golden era of dodgeball in the early ‘70s. In response, I have received letters and emails offering encouragement, support and, in an isolated incident, a lucky athletic cup from someone named “Derek.”

Admittedly, I was curious as to what qualified this particular cup as “lucky.” His response should be a lesson to us all regarding the dangers of continuous baseball usage.

“I used to get hit — there — almost every game,” Derek explained. “Sometimes two or three times. But my [censored] never got hurt.”

Though he didn’t mention it, I suspect Derek also has a “lucky” batting helmet. Continue reading Answering your painful questions about my softball season

… This Just In …

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…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our news room…]

Walking into my editor’s office, I stare at the newly-refurbished computer monitor on her desk, complete with “Good working condition certification” sticker.

Me: Wow, It looks like something from Star Trek.

Editor: Have you seen “Into Darkness?”

Me: I’m talking about the TV show. I think this was part of Sulu’s console. Wait, is that a tribble?

Editor: Get out before I set this stapler for “stun.”

Why this week’s ‘Nickel’s Worth on Writing’ isn’t worth a dime

My Engine 2 crew, in position for July Fourth; all dressed up and no where to go — which wasn't a bad thing...
My Engine 2 crew, in position for July Fourth; all dressed up and no where to go — which wasn’t a bad thing…
As everyone knows — and by “everyone,” I mean anyone who thinks today should really be Saturday — this is normally the day I post Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, my weekly feature on writing tips authors and publishers have heralded as “Insightful reading that should be a part of every bathroom library,” and “Tips that have helped countless aspiring authors establish themselves as parking attendants.”

This week, however, I’m asking you to hold on to your nickels. Not just because the postmaster here is getting annoyed sorting postcards with a nickel’s worth of change taped to them; and not just because the second part of my follow-up interview with self-proclaimed best-selling author Ima Knowitall was delayed by food poisoning while eating at The Enfermo Taco; and not just because the holiday put me so far behind here in the newsroom that I may need to call a proctologist to get me out. Continue reading Why this week’s ‘Nickel’s Worth on Writing’ isn’t worth a dime

Wimpy fireworks take excitement out of having facial hair

image First, the good news.

According to the National Council on Fireworks Safety, fireworks-related injuries have dropped by 75 percent in the last decade.

The bad news, as anyone over the age of 30 can tell you, is that today’s fireworks are about as exciting to watch as a pile of smoldering pencil shavings.

For example: It used to be that “sparklers” actually sparkled. They showered the air with tiny crackling embers so bright you could see them through your eyelids. The bravest kids would spin them like propellers, knowing full well their eyebrows would grow back by mid summer. Continue reading Wimpy fireworks take excitement out of having facial hair

… This Just In …

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…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…

[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our news room…]

Editor: “Is THIS all we have for obits? Just one tiny paragraph?!? How are we supposed to fill today’s news hole?!?”

Me: “Hey, you want me to go out and kill some people? Haha!”

Editor: *long, creepy silence…*

Every good journalist wants to be shown… The Door

Our actual newsroom door, and the envy of Barbara Walters.
Our actual newsroom door, and the envy of Barbara Walters.
It seems comments about The Door among journalists and bloggers — much like your favorite cream cheese or many Hollywood audition hopefuls — have been spreading quickly. Just yesterday, I got a call from Barbara Walters, asking if I would be interested in talking with her about what she called “Those wonderfuwwy wacky and whimsical journa-wistic pieces of histowy.”

I told her I was a big fan and extremely flattered but, “No.”

To which she replied, “DWOP DEAD!” and hung up.

So what is The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) exactly? Quite literally, it is a living, breathing piece of journalistic history assembled over 40 years by reporters here at Siuslaw News. That said, it’s no mere coincidence that the other side of The Door leads to the commode, where those same reporters have been depositing a different kind of history — and where, in a fitting twist, nothing living can breathe.

Today, we have a new first on The Door: a two-part clipping, meaning that whoever put this piece together has earned the coveted “Twin Globes of Shame” award, which is named in part because of its rare “two-shames-in-one” distinction, and partly because the trophy once belonged to a failed cosmetic surgeon. Continue reading Every good journalist wants to be shown… The Door