Free Kick Masters of Disaster…

 

Saturday, July 5^th, a day that will live in…memory.

 

My Brother and Sis-in-Law had free tickets to an event being hosted at Reliant Stadium; the event was called The Free Kick Masters. It was a competition where internationally renowned football (soccer) players would shoot free kicks to gain points, proceed to the next round and eventually have the chance to win a million dollars, which they would then give to starving kids or something. Free Kicks, by nature, are not the most thrilling or entertaining moments of a football (soccer) match, yet I was intrigued to see how they would pull off such an event.

 

They didn’t, that’s how.

 

This event was a plate of ball sizzles from the ghe-tto…I mean get-go. It looked as if it was put together by a dude named ‘Shady Steve’ and ‘The Shyster Twins.”

 

We arrived at 7:15pm, 15 minutes after the event was slated to begin. We followed a trail of fellow Houstonians into the stadium expecting to hear the loud roar of the masses gathered to celebrate the wonder that is “The Free Kick,” what we got was a stadium that was ¾ empty and no sign of the event having begun.

 

Thirty minutes later, the Houston Dynamo cheerleaders ran out onto the field tossing their pom-poms back and forth, and for the first time we heard the deep, Latin announcer voice say…“LLLLLadies and Gentlemen, please welcome the…Houston. Dynamo…girls” and slowly faded out with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. We sat in complete silence again for 20 minutes, nothing was happening, we began to wonder if any of the players had shown up. My brother began to tell me how the organizers were charging $26 dollars a ticket a few weeks earlier, and how a week before the event, they were giving away the tickets in order to fill the seats.

 

It was so bad, that even writing about it is boring the shit out of me.

 

An hour after the intended start time, the event began…slowly. The Latin announcer guy was super excited about everything he said, even the most mundane things. He welcomed us and passed the microphone to this lady who had something to do with something? She proceeded to address the audience with a speech that lasted three years and would make the Pope get out of his seat and punch her in the face. Then she proceeded to give the same speech in two different languages which was impressive, but I knew what she was saying, so not really. This boredom was only intensified by the fact that the sound system was bunk and didn’t work half the time.

 

Then came the national anthem…oh yes. The young man began singing the national anthem with no sound coming from the speakers. From the large television in the stadium, you could see him continue singing whist trying to turn the microphone on. He continued in his effort when over the speakers you could hear as loud as day, “Check the bottom. Check the bottom of the microphone. I don’t think it’s on.” The singer stopped and grimaced at the sound booth. After switching the microphones, the young man gave a thrilling rendition of the National Anthem to the great satisfaction of the audience.

 

The rest of the event was to boring for me to describe. It was unorganized and barely entertaining; we spent more time waiting for something to happen than watching the competition. Even thinking about it makes me tired and bored.  

 

My brother was pissed. We got up and left early, my brother apologizing profusely, angry that we used three hours of our life we could never get back. On the way back to the train, we followed a young girl with bleach blonde hair and shorts that showed her vagina…literally showed her vagina. I think that we all got gonorrhea just by looking at her, she was dirty. Then we got on the train and listened to a large woman loudly talk about how she had been smoking weed all day and that she felt really good. Then she loudly proclaimed in a thick Texas accent that she was from London, or Luuuuunnnnduuuunnnn, as she said it whilst dropping it as if it were hot. As we departed from the train, we heard her loudly stating that she used to work for the YMCA, but was released because she “kept whooping those little n-words.” Seriously? Really? What the crap? If she were in Jurassic Park, a dinosaur would have spit poison in her eyes and eaten her alive.

 

All in all, the absurdity of the night made it completely worth it and I love spending time with my family. I rest assured that the event is still going on, that Luuuunnnnduuuun girl is high and whooping children at her new job and that dirty girl is making life choices she can never truly take back (or wash off) and all is right with the world.

 

Except that Iran is going to nuke everyone.

 

Have a great day!

 

 

 

 

Hancock…

     After golging, I met Krystin and our friend Laura at the local movie house to enjoy an early evening showing of Hancock, starring Will Smith and Hottie Mc Hotness Cheron. It was a enjoyable film. It started off strong, with a well thought out premise that carried it about 3/4 of the way home. The last leg of the journey was a tired one, not bad or anything, just not on the same level as the rest of the film. It was almost like two movies were sliced together right at the end, kind of like From Dusk, Till Dawn where the movie is all normal until the vampires show up and then its all gore and boobs and mariachis playing carcasses…yeah…like that, but not.

     I did enjoy it alot. Maybe the From Dusk, Till Dawn reference wasn’t fair. I would see it again.

    The film did raise the question…If you could have one super-ability, what would it be? Mine would be flying whilst invisible due to my superhuman strength and wolverine claws…you?

16 Holes…

 

            The nervous anticipation grew within me throughout the day as I executed my assigned tasks with ninja-like accuracy. I had only ever had the pleasure of hitting balls at the driving range; but now, now I would truly test my ability to hit a ball really far without causing personal harm to myself or others. When 3:20pm rolled around, I flew out the door, across the street and into the car. Then I realized that I had neglected to pay for parking and walked back to the machine feeling like a complete idiot.

 

And we’re off!

 

I arrived at Hermann Park Golf Course and changed into my new golf shoes, pulled out my archaic clubs and waited for my brother. When he arrived we paid the green fees and went to the “Starter” who was apparently going to tell us when to begin. He told us that we had to pair up with complete strangers since there were only two of us, to which we protested. He was one of those old gentlemen who didn’t really give a rat’s nut sack if you didn’t agree with the policy, he was there to enforce it and that was that. Respecting his wishes, my brothers’ face slowly transformed from an irritated grimace, to a sarcastic as hell smile as he oozed out sugary sweetness until the “Starter” said we could go ahead without a pairing up.

 

And we’re off!

 

            At the first tee, my brother teed up and hit a long, solid drive into the water hazard immediately to our left. “I’m going to take a drop.” He said. As I stepped to the beginner-level tee, I saw my future set out before me. Stretching out towards the horizon was a new outlet of natural skill and immense ability, an unlimited opportunity for fun and release. I teed up and prepared to wow my older brother with the first sign of his imminent defeat.  I took my mighty driver and sent the ball flying…kind of…to the right…into some trees.

 

The ball was not seen again…

 

”I’m going to take a drop too.” I said.

 

            Both brothers slowly improved through out the course of…the…course. There was the hole where I hit a ball onto a busy street, narrowly missing a jogger and BMW or two. Or the hole where I hit it high and to the right and it dove into a water hazard on a completely different hole. Oh, oh and when my brother and I were nearly killed by a fellow golfer shouting “fore” as his ball bounced off the front of our cart.

 

            All in all, the trip was a complete success! We finished 16 holes before calling it a day, loosing many original balls and finding many more along the way. There were over priced beer that helped to numb the sting. I left knowing that I had indeed seen my future, a future of finding comedy in something I was bad at, at laughing at myself for hitting a ball twenty feet with a driver. And knowing that while I am surrounded by people who spend thousands of dollars and take it so seriously, I love the game for it ability to make me look like a tool.

 

To be continued…

What is it with elevators?…

 

The elevator, a study in human nature. I truly believe that the elevator is the most uncomfortable place ever created by man. It is essentially a form of torture, placing complete strangers in an enclosed space and forcing them to interact. The task in itself simple, survive a 45 second ride with someone you don’t know by inanely discussing weather, sports or the current day of the week and its significance. The variable in this wonderful social experiment is the individual personality: and indeed, body mass of the passengers. This uncontrolled aspect creates the potential for hilarity or disaster, making the elevator the most dangerous place in the world, ever. (in your face “the inside of a volcano.”)

            This past week I have had several entertaining and potentially fatal experiences in the lovely, little elevator that takes me to and from my place of employment. There are four elevators that can take me to my destination, four possibilities, a crap shoot, a game of chance, I wonder how many commas I can use in this sentence, I know I didn’t use a question mark at the end of that question, but it was merely rhetorical, do you use a question mark at the end of a rhetorical question? Don’t answer that, it was rhetorical…or was it?

            Back to the issue at hand, I would like to share two experiences with you in hopes that we all become wiser and more aware of how to handle elevator mischief and misconduct.

 

(Listening to Michael Buble)

Guy - Listening to Michael Buble, eh?

 

Me – (pausing music) Pardon?

 

Guy - Listening to Michael Buble, eh?

 

Me – Yeah, it’s good stuff. It really gets the day off of you.

 

Guy – (puzzled, yet feigning understanding) Oh, yeah. My wife loves…have you heard?…Jazz guitar…we should hang out…never find the bodies.

 

Me – (polite as always) That’s great. Well, back to the ‘ol I-Pod eh?

 

Guy – Yeah, see you around.

 

Then we parted ways. I thought I may never see the guy again until the very next day, when I saw him again. In the hall way with coworkers, he stopped and actually introduced himself to me. I joke about him wanting to hang out and the dead bodies and all, but he was genuinely a nice guy who did break etiquette by speaking to someone with headphones, but we will forgive him. Although I am not quite convinced isn’t eventually going to kill me.

 

This morning I am riding up to work with an older lady in scrubs and a very old doctor. The doctor exits the elevator and I proceed to sneeze. The woman just stands there, looking at the buttons displayed in front of her. I sneeze a second time and look towards the woman to see if any blessings will fall from her lips, but to no avail. I am rather peeved at this healthcare workers lack of concern and decide to perform a little experiment of my own. As she exited, I made a very light, squealing fart noise with my mouth which immediately received a horrified look from the woman. As the door began to close I said, “Really? I sneezed twice in here, you know?” I felt better letting her think I relieved myself in her presence, I should have asked her to check my vitals.

 

Awkward situations I promise to instigate soon…

 

(As someone gets on the elevator with me.)

(Either on the phone or with a coworker.)

 

Me – And I’m not going back to jail for you, or ANYBODY!

 

Or…

 

(As a stranger gets on the elevator with me.)

(Into the phone.)

 

Me – Wait, wait, they just got on…(wait until completion of the ride. While walking away.) Wow, that was really awkward.

 

My chubs…

 

So I need to loose twenty pounds before the wedding, and someone just left donuts in the break room…benevolent temptation weavers. Isn’t it actually supposed to be doughnuts? My potential man boobs thank you.

 

 

Due to some introspection this weekend, I was planning on writing some deep post recollecting the poor decisions I have made in life and the many people they may have hurt. I was going to take you through a philosophical and spiritual journey, imparting sage-like wisdom about growing up and moving on. I was going to call the post…A Legacy of Pain. Then I had my coffee, realized that I was being melodramatic and decided LEGACY OF PAIN was a kick ass name for a metal band.

Having a CVS card does nothing to benefit my life. I give the that Pharmacy patronage like ev-er-y dizzle. I buy assorted products ranging from soft drinks and snacks, to toiletries and medicine. I occasionally partake in an office supply or two. When I get to the front counter they always ask the same question, “Do you have a CVS card with you today?” Yes…Yes I do. They scan it and record how much of your hard earned money you pour into their stores, then the coupon machine comes to life, spitting out a mile of money saving deals that have nothing at all to do with anything you have ever bought, ever.

$5 dollars off any $457 purchase of CVS brand items, one visit only.

You’ve never bought a douche here…how about $2 off one of those?

You would think that the brain trusts would give you deals on the things you actually buy there, rather than suggestive selling through coupons. I would rather they just not do anything at all resembling anything…ever with coupons.

Yes, yes I know you can get discounts with the cards, but the items are either a) discontinuing due to unpopularity, b) CVS brand items or c) every kind of deoderant other than the one I actually use.

Forget you CVS card.

Actual CVS conversation @ 11:00pm.

Lady: will this be all for you?

Me: Yes, thank you.

Lady: Do you have a CVS card you would like to use tonight?

Me: No I don’t. (Not a lie, because I really didn’t want to use it.)

Lady: Do you have a phone number you would like to use tonight?

Me pause) Ok..(Igive her my number).

Lady: I’m sorry, what was after the 713?

At this point, it is 1:45a…or so it seemed.

Me: You know, let’s not worry about it.

Lady: Pardon?

Me: I just want to pay for my Deja Blue and go home, m’kay?

She was stunned that I didn’t want a pack of coupons that I would never use, she was appalled that I didn’t want to repeat my information so I could get $3 off of a bottle of Redken Naturally Blonde Shampoo and Conditioner set that cost $5,000,000.00.

…Holy crap…CVS is the Legacy of Pain!

Where does Saddam Huessein keep his armies?…

In his sleevies.

ZINGA!

Misleading title, this post will absolutely not have the work “fuck” in it.

Cigarettes and Blackouts…

A couple of weekends ago, we opened a new show at Theatre Lab Houstoncalled Bright Light’s, Big City. The week leading up to opening was extremely strenuous and vocally taxing. By the first preview we were exhausted and ready to drop, yet opening night we picked ourselves up and rocked out. That Friday night, Krystin and the cast wanted to go out and celebrate the fruits of our labor with food, drink and frivolity. We went to The Maple Leaf Pub in midtown and was surprised to find it lacking food, luckily there was a late night pizza place open next door that we gave patronage. The pizza was awesome and the company was lovely, I had a couple of Blue Moons and a shot and was feeling comfortable.

After a while I began feeling overly drunk, spacing out and speaking really loudly. I thought, “There is no way that I am drunk right now, I only had a couple of drinks and I just ate,” I needed to get outside for some air. Outside some members of our party were enjoying a smoke and I decided to join them. I stood and listened to their conversation, when my mind suggested that I go and throw up. I excused myself from the party and walked to the bathroom like a man on a mission. It was a drunk walk…a straight for the destination, pale-faced, slack-jawed, “please don’t speak to me ’cause I can’t even hear you” walk. I entered the bathroom…walked to the stall…the room contorted…oh shit. 

The rest of the night was vignettes.

(Cue Vaudevillian Piano Music)

Someone picking me off the floor…

Sitting back at the table, the loud music, I just need to sleep, take my keys…

The car ride to Krystins, her crying, scared, I’m sorry baby, I just need to sleep…

Krystin watching me through the night, being so sweet…

Dreams of monsters, being drunk, being able to fly and able to make cars fly…wtf?

The following week was a fat sack of balls. I had a headache for a straight week, I went to the doctor and got checked out, drug test, EKG, the whole nine yards. I go back for labs tomorrow. The doctor suggested it was exhaustion and stress, that my body just had enough and said, “nope.” My eternal headache probably had something to do with the union of a bathroom floor with the back of my skull…mild concussion? Maybe…inoperable tumor…no.

Unexpected Guests…

On Wednesday of last week, my new niece Lilly was born. She wasn’t due until Monday, but we all forgave her for coming early. She is so beautiful, with her little head and cute face…jerk. She is adorable and Mollers loves her new bebe sister. My two older nieces come in from England this week and I can not wait to see them, they are growing up way too quickly. So, four nieces and two more when Krystin and I get married. Six adorable, awesome nieces. There are going to be a lot of scaring boys in the future.  

After rehearsal on Saturday, Krystin and I drove out to her parent’s ranch. Krystin’s dad was letting some company, or organization, or crime syndicate use the property for a family day, or family reunion, or team building day, or underground platypus fighting contest…only above ground. The event was scheduled to be over at four o’clock which was around the time we were arriving, a procession of luxury vehicles passed us on the small dirt road leading to the beautiful piece of land.

We drove in the front entrance talking about the wedding and how we wanted to decorate the trees that frame the drive to the property and were approaching the house when we saw a small, four-seater helicopter sitting in a clearing between the house and barn. The large propellers at the top of the beast were slowly coming to a rest, indicating a recently ended jaunt across the rural landscape. I had remembered Krystin saying something about there being helicopter rides, but had assumed that it had left long ago…and it has made an ass out of u and me…shut up.

            We pulled into the drive way and walked over to the barn, famished, hoping that there would be some delicious goodness left in the kitchen. To our fortune, there was food left that they would warm up for us…tenderness. Krystin’s dad came into the barn and said that if we wanted to, the pilot would take us for a quick ride before he left, which we quickly accepted. I had never ridden in a helicopter before and quite honestly, it made me hella nervous. I had recently watched some You Tube videos of helicopters crashing, babies farting and Charlie the Unicorn 2, all of which delight and scare me. I was sure that this adventure would be my last…

            Krystin and the pilot sat up front and put on their headphones as I secured my self in the back seat, locking the door, putting on my headphones and holding on for dear life. The beast slowly began to sway as the blades came to life; they soon whirled around the helicopter at a blurring speed, lifting the craft off of the ground. We ascended quickly, skimming over the man made pond in front of the house and narrowly missing an oncoming tree line. We climbed higher into the beautiful, clear sky watching the miles of county stretching out before us, seeing houses, cars and livestock become ants. We looked down on the ranch where we would be married and a wave of happiness and excitement flooded over me. I reached over and touched Krystin’s shoulder and watched her smile right back at me…then the pilot says, “Now, time for some fun.”

            Suddenly the helicopter banks on its side at a 45 degree angle, slowly tipping the nose forward until the craft began a quick descent towards the sea of trees. Krystin immediately started screaming a high-pitched, almost inaudible scream that reverberated in our headphones. The helicopter pulled up and began flying mere feet above the tree line, turning sharply, watching the world change directions in front of us. The shadow of the beast was clearly visible beneath us, the dark blades chopping at the foliage. We buzzed the lake, pulling up and turning, tempting the trees to eat the craft whole, Krystin screaming and laughing and screaming. I was screaming “This is awesome!!!” I closed my eyes and thought, ‘I am going to die, but I’ve had a good run, what a cool way to go.’ Roller-coaster on acid… made out of cocaine flavored sizurp.

            We soon softly touched down in the exact spot we started from and Krystin sprang from the helicopter beaming. Her whole head was a smile and she was proclaiming the awesomeness of our near death experience.

            We later rode horses and picked dew-berries.

            Yeah, we’re ballers.

 

Conversations with Jenny…

 

President…

Jenny – Is Krystin’s dad a president? ‘Cause it sounds like your dating Jenna Bush.

Me – No, he’s got a couple of companies and likes to give back to the community.

Jenny – Oh, so he’s a drug dealer.

 

Helicopter…

Me – It was like a roller-coaster on cocaine, but like…a roller-coaster that could actually       kill you.

Jenny – If you had died, I would have totally blogged about it. “Kregg dies in freak helicopter crash, R.I.P. Discojamboree.”

 

I’m honored.

 

p.s. I actually spelled company with an “ie” at the end. Thank you spell check.

Inspirations…

 

            This weekend was great! Saturday morning I had a lesson with a super talented kid who will be playing Captain Hook for the HITS theatre class shows. He cracked me up completely. I am used to working with teens and older kids, I communicate with them differently and I definitely expect more from them. Teaching acting differs from student to student; as I am sure it does in a classroom. The great thing about teaching privately is that I get to learn how to get through to these kids; to learn how their minds work and how to impart stuff I’ve read in books things I make up misdirected angst and frustration years of acquired wisdom.

            My Student is nine years old, imaginative and ready to learn. I would work with him on sections of the script, trying my best to communicate what I felt needed to be done in order to clarify choices both physically and vocally. After working on a sentence or two I would ask him if he understood what I meant and would receive an enthusiastic “Yeah!” in return, followed by a brilliant description of what he heard that hardly matched what I was saying, but he got it…you know what I mean? He didn’t get exactly what I was saying, but when he ran the scene again, he took every note I gave and made it his own with a great outcome.

            At the end of our lesson I had an incredible sense of contentment and joy, I remember why I love teaching, why I love yelling at kids feeling superior showing how smart I am molding young minds to develop and use their skills, because I am good at it…maybe.

            Afterwards I went to rehearsal, where I was inspired to take a year or two off of acting to write a book I have been imagining for a while and also to write the book for an original musical. I don’t know how long I will actually take off, but it’s time to stop being such a lazy douchebag and actually make my desires happen.

            I will write a book…

            I will write my show…

            I will teach young minds…

            I will make it big enough for the world to see.

            Inspiration holmes.

 

Here is a sketch I wrote, it feeds on stereotypes and obvious humor, let me know your thoughts. You have to read it with an accent…fyi. My writing career has begun.

Klaus & Günter in:

The Case of the Missing Schnauzer

By Kregg Alan Dailey

 

Klaus

Guten tag Günter.

 

Günter

Guten tag Klaus.

 

Klaus

Gunter, vere is ze schnauzer?

 

Günter

Ze schnauzer?

 

Klaus

Ya, ze schnauzer zat ve got for ze Christmas.

 

Günter

Klaus, ve got no schnauzer.

 

Klaus

Uh, ya ve did Günter. Ve got it from Muzah.

 

Günter

Nein Klaus, Muzah gave uz ze viener schnitzel!

 

Klaus

Not ze Viener schnitzel, ze schnauzer!

 

Günter

VE GOT NO SCHNAUZER!!!

 

Klaus

YA WE DID!!! I remember zat Muzah gave us ze basket wiz ze schnitzel, unt under ze blanket vaz ze schnauzer!

 

Günter

I recall no Schnauzer!

 

Klaus

Scheise!

 

Günter

Schnauzer?

 

 

Klaus

NEIN!!!

 

Günter

Zis is no time to panic Klaus! I recall nothing but ze schnitzel, ze party music and ze schnapps! Unt I remember ze schnAUZER!!!

 

Klaus

I TOLD YOU ZERE VAZ A SCHNAUZER!!!

 

Günter

Mein got in Heimmel!!! Vere is ze schnauzer???!!!

 

Klaus

Muzah vill kill us if ve have lost ze schnauzer!

 

Günter

Scheise! Vat if ve left it at muzah’s?

 

Klaus

Zat vould be awful, she lives only kilometers avay from Auschwitz!!!

 

Günter

Vat does Auschwitz have to do wiz anyzing?

 

Klaus

I use it only as a landmark to describe how far ve are from Muzahs house. Ve are several kilometers avay from Auschwitz!!!

 

Günter

Furzer zan ve are from Bergen Belsen?

 

Klaus

Ya! Much Farzah!

 

Günter

Scheise!

 

Klaus

Yah, Scheise!

 

(The telephone rings quite German-like)

 

Günter & Klaus

NEIN!!!

(They answer the phone)

 

Günter & Klaus

Guten Tag

 

Muzah

Günter & Klaus, zis iz your Muzah.

 

 

Günter & Klaus

Hello, Muzah

 

Muzah

I have ze schnauzer unt ze schnitzel.

 

Günter & Klaus

Scheise!

 

THE END