Sweet Jesus, I've been tagged by Sir Guerrero. I've never been tagged before in my brief blogging life so hopefully I won't screw it up. Let's divulge, shall we?
1. I take American kickboxing classes every other night and some Thai kickboxing lessons on specific weekends. I find an odd comfort in an activity where I can barely move when it's done and often have to ice my knuckles afterwards. I also captain a dodgeball team in a charity league. One would think charity dodgeball is sweet and casual, but peg a grown man in the groin with a large ball and you'll see a side of humanity you really are better off without.
2. I used to work for the Tonight Show w/ Jay Leno out in LA. I got to meet several "celebrities" but I have to share the big trade secret that if you remove the lights and makeup they all look about as normal as the stuttering fool sleeping in the dumpster behind your nearest 7-11 (potentially worse in fact). That said, the coolest guy I met there, besides Leno who is extremely nice, was Jon Stewart. The worst was Dolly Pardon because I woke her up inadvertently and was scolded by her assistant. And I did get to meet Britney Spears prior to her destroying herself in every way, shape, matter and form possible. For what it’s worth, she was very nice too.
3. I am painfully judgmental when it comes to music. I stems from being a drummer my whole life and being in several rock, metal and punk bands (which, once you listen to that stuff enough, you can't help but become a bit headstrong). Certain bands like Bon Jovi, Nickelback, Coldplay, U2 and others infuriate me just when I hear their name much less their music. I've mellowed more in recent years and accepted I’m in the minority when it comes to musical taste. As such, I have resorted to naming my pets after my favorite musicians. The next dog will be a Rottweiler named Ozzy (the neighbors will love me).
4. I can play hockey as a goalie, but am generally awful. The last time I played I was decent enough until the playoffs where I accidentally stopped a point shot with the back of my catching hand, smashing my ring finger. I finished the period and still caught some shots even though my hand was throbbing and I could feel blood pooling up in the glove. The doctor who took an x-ray of my hand asked if he could share the picture of my shattered finger with his son who just started playing hockey to emphasize Dad's hope that he play safely.
5. I absolutely love traveling but hate flying. I have even taken pilot lessons and being at the controls doesn't negate the fear. It's an ordeal that requires either a lot of alcohol or enough mental preparation that I am shocked I can't move things with my mind afterwards. If you're ever on a flight and you see a little white guy with white knuckles from squeezing the arm rests and staring at the wing to help keep it attached to the rest of the craft, well that's me. Feel free to say hello (bring some whiskey along with you).
My good man Zanstorm, tag, you're up!