My Great Big Community Service Initiative

L&G, may I have a drumroll, please?

Rllrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrlllrlrlrlrrrlrlrllrlrlrlrlrlrlrlrl (text approximation of the sound of a drumroll)!


Starting in January, Mix 106 is going to launch a new initiative, parterning with all of our local non-profs, lots of businesses, and every single person who lives in Delta County. It's called:

100 Hours of Hope


Here's how it works. We are asking every single resident of Delta County to give 100 hours of their time over the next year to the community. "Holy shit!" you say, "That's a lot of effing time!" Well, not really...it's less than 2 hours per week (1.923 hours, to be precise, which is just 115 or so minutes). You can count the time you spend grocery shopping as long as you donate a can or two of what you buy. You can count the time you spend cleaning your house as long as you donate some old thing to Goodwill or the Army or St. Vincenzo's Department Store. You can drive an old person to the store, rake a bit of someone else's yard, snowblow the whole block instead of just your piece of sidewalk, sort food at the pantry, walk a dog at the shelter, answer phones for a telethon, usher at the Bonifas, docent at the lighthouse, play cards at the old folks home, take out someone else's garbage or bring something to the dump for them...it all counts.
We will list on our website a TON of volunteering activities from all sorts of organizations. You call them and sign up, and we will give you a 100 Hours of Hope t-shirt. You don't HAVE to wear it, but if you do, everyone will see that you're doing your part and maybe be encouraged to do theirs, as well. Our website will have a blog area, where you can chat about your experiences, and then pick a volunteer of the month and an organization of the month for prizes, recognition, and whatnot. We will push the whole, 'more time than money' thing, too, so that people don't just try to buy their time, although we figure you can use minimum wage to calculate it, so that if you donate, say, $71.50 worth of stuff to the Salvation Army foodbank, you can call that 10 hours. You can also write letters, research online for ideas, or clip coupons for organizations to use up your time.


I am SO excited about this project. Maybe it's asking too much of people, but even if they TRY to participate...totally worth my time. Yay for digging in! :)

Oi! So, today is Friday, and my mind is tossed on the upcoming Holiday season. Being a non-Christmas kind of girl, the gift-giving thing always perplexes me. Also, being a no-money-having girl also impacts my approach to this most delicate topic.
It's not that I don't WANT to give gifts...in fact, quite the contrary is true. However, the way I see it, most of my friends have everything that they NEED. There is nothing I can provide them that they can't provide for themselves. Then again, as CJ pointed out, if someone needs it, it's not really a gift. A gift should be a quiet statement between people that attests to their friendship and private moments.
I am a big, big fan of finding one amazingly unique item and buying it for everyone, kind of like a collector's item. Last year, it was a Yodelling Pickle. I think it's hilarious and would LOVE to get it for a gift. This year, I am considering this for my work friends, these (amonst many Nick and Nora designs that I just LOVE) and this book for my good friends, and maybe a few of these for assorted others. If I try to go out and buy something unique for everyone, I spend too much, make weird leaps in judgement when pressured, like, "Oh, well, Charity is going to school this semester, so let's see...school....school....school....fish travel in schools. What about tuna steaks?" and then, overjoyed at having thought of something so personal, I immediately order and pay for it, and then think, "Um...wait. Did I just buy tuna steaks for my vegetarian best friend? Well done." And the tuna steaks go to someone who a. doesn't deserve that expensive a gift from me and b. has no idea why I would have gotten them tuna steaks when everyone else got inflatable toast. AND I don't have anything for Charity yet. Then there's the issue of this awesome Obama poster from moveon.org, and I can have three of them for an $85 donation, but I have five people that would love it and I absolutely do NOT have that much money to spend on posters. Fathead.com does not make a giant Paul Newman wall stickie, I am not a fan in any way of gift cards (here's some money, essentially, I'm just dictating where you are allowed to spend it), and the exclusive vanilla beans I wanted for a few of my favorite people have been embargoed by the government of Myanmar or something.
Which brings me to the Polar Bears. Surely they need $20 more than any of my friends need more stuff? Surely it's a good and worthy cause...have you seen those horrifying tv ads with the mom and baby floating away on a chunk of icy doom? Good LORD! The polar bears need it. As do the people of Darfur, poor kids right here in Escanaba, the Animal Shelter...can I just give $200 to someone and get a stack of cards? And can everyone just appreciate that as much as they would this?
I propose a holiday season where we all make food for each other as gifts and have wonderful times together, throw all of our gift money into a bowl and then draw charities from another bowl to send it to. And maybe play charades with the nominees. I will entertain a motion to adopt this into policy. Any discussion?

Be vewy quiet, I'm hunting psychoses..

Something odd that happens to me from time to time has just come up again.

I cannot STAND to be talked to.

I feel I should elaborate, because it probably seems conceited or something. I'm sitting in my office, working on stuff, and one of my best friends stopped by for a visit, but I couldn't listen to anything he said. And Dustin is here today, and I haven't seen him in ages and who knows when I will again, and I can't stand it. It's not that I don't want to see either of them, I would just rather enjoy their company by sitting in silence with them. Like maybe presence is enough, and anything else is TOO much.
Seriously, anyone in the world could show up today...John Cusack, Corey Feldman, Jesus....and I would not be able to listen to them talking because I really just want solitude, though it could easily be with someone else in the room. Does that make sense? No, it doesn't.

On days such as this, I should leave my phone at home, lock my work door, and wear some sort of sign that says, " I have a bizarre pathology and anything you say to me today will not stick in any fashion because even though I am looking at you, smiling and nodding, I am really just waiting for you to go away and leave me alone. In fact, I hate you for speaking right now. "

However, I don't want to be alone. I want to be in public, I just don't want to be PART of it. I don't wish to be addressed, nor do I wish to talk, though I am enjoying very much being around people. Which is why it is a good Benson day. He takes the spotlight off of whomever is around him, and every once in a while, it's nice to be part of someone's entourage instead of maintaining an individual identity.

On days like today, the only person I can stand is Kevin. He gets it and we cover for each other when either one of us experiences this odd emotional phenomenon. How do you get people to not take it personally that you can't stand to listen to them? I mean, if someone said to me, "Look, Bridge, it's not that I don't value what you're saying, I just absolutely cannot stand anyone today and your voice is like giant picky spiders crawling up my back," I might could get offended by that, yeah? Hmm.

And then there's Maude...

For some reason, I woke up this morning with the theme song from Maude in my head, but it was the Family Guy version, and I don't know the words at all, so basically, I am just walking around the office today saying, "And then there's Maude, dammit!"


My life as if it were a game of Jeopardy!:

Alex Trebek: Five thousand dollars.
Me: What is the price to fix my basement! Yes!!
Alex Trebek: Correct.
Me: I'll take Bad News For My Entire Future Career, please.
Alex: Cumulus took a giant hit in the market and is laying off countless people in countless markets, as well as instituting a hiring freeze corporation-wide.
Me: What is the reason I am not getting the job in Green Bay, Alex?
Alex: Correct!
Me: Whoo!!
Alex: Bridgette, choose again. You have Moles That Look Like They Might Be Skin Cancer, The Most Difficult Part of Quitting Smoking Is Still Ahead of You, or The Bed Is Broken, There's a Terrific Pain in Your Foot, and Other Minor Problems That Seem Insurmountable Today.
Me: Ooh. Let's see...I'll go with the Minor Problems, I think.
Alex: Good Choice. Here's your answer: Homeless, penniless, alone, and without food or needed medication.
Me: I got it! How I'm Gonna Die?!
Alex: Oh, I'm sorry. The question is actually 'December'. 'December' is the question.
Me: That's not a question, it's a month.
Alex: That month is fully IN question for you.
Me: Oh. Okay. Thanks?


I just feel bleak and blah today. And whining, for some reason, is making me feel better. My lungs will not give up the damn infection despite Day #5 of Levaquin, I am out of asthma juice, my basement is f.o.u.l., I loathe my job, I have to bartend tonight until the end of time, I didn't get to my advising appointment today in Iron Mountain, and I am a crabby, crabby girl from nicotine withdrawals.

On the good side, I am Monty-confident today. Kells and I went to get the carpet tubes which will soon be steam pipes running up and down my brilliant set design, and when I stopped by her new house, I saw a very grizzlied-up Mark in a nightdress (I hestitate to label it a gown, as it was mostly a fitted blanket with sleeves and a collar), and for some reason, seeing a normal guy that I know sitting around in an outfit like that, with bedhead and bedbeard reaffirmed my faith in men. Why? No idea. It was just nice to see, I guess.

As for Hween costumes, the Benson is resplendent in his Michael Phelps outfit, and as much as I absolutely love him for his Hween creativity, I just canNOT get into it much in the past few years. I was thinking on a tshirt that says, "I'm a PC and I don't wear costumes", but now I think I might just wear a tshirt that says 'Liberal' on it and then pierce a doll's head with an arrow, bloody up the whole thing and be a 'baby-killing Liberal'.

It seems a little angry, though.

Maybe I'll just be a Liberal. No matter what else, I am definitely going to take a nap. Right now.

Average Tuesday Shenanigans

Lawd hep me, I hate doing the sales. Yuck. I am HORRIBLE with rejection. Horrible. This one time, about three months ago, I stopped going to my newly-found, much-appreciated, humanist, awesome, god-free church because I had told this boy that goes there, too, that I liked him and he showed up at the Delft with this wretched thing called 'Alison' two days later and the rejection was so off-putting that I stopped with the church and anything else which maybe would have caused me to face said rejection and accompanying embarassment. It's okay now...I can have a delightful conversation with him, but he's still with this 'Alison' and whenever they are together, I am again mired in my psychological rejection quicksand. Fortunately, he likes to go for drives and celebrate Proposal 1, so that gets us some quiet, 'Alison'-free time.
On to my first point today. I had some good luck with sales today, and it's made me unsually chipper and hopeful. Granted, it's in support of our 30 Days of Christmas Promotion, which is the coolest annual thing we do, quite frankly, and you'd be an absolute idiot of a business owner to NOT do it if you have any faith in advertising whatsoever. I sold three days of it, and perhaps four to five, which is WAY above and beyond what I normally try to do. I'm happy and proud and emboldened, but here comes point #2:
Bill is the most worthless effer who's ever walked the earth. He's SUPPOSED to be our sales guy. We fired the greatest Sales Manager in our history in order to give him a shot, and he shows up maybe two hours a day, maybe three days a week. He has the bulk of the accounts, the bulk of the commission, and has folded under the responsiblility like an accordian in a trash compactor. The reason I am busting MY ass to sell this thing is because Bill is not. A list of his multiple work failures, alphabetically for convenience:
*Chronic, unexcused absenteeism
*Complaints from clients (many, many complaints)
*Creation of a hostile work environment
*Disrespect of co-workers
*Excessive use of work time for personal matters
*Foul language in front of clients
*Ignorance of company mores, practices, policies and procedure
*Insubordination
*Misappropriation of funds
*Misuse of company property
*Poor job performance
*Repeated disregard for chain of command
*Unprofessional attitude, dress, and demeanor

Now, let's make a list of reasons why he hasn't been fired yet:

*His dad owns the radio station


And....that's it. Tah-dah!
Any successes we're having are in SPITE of him, and any problems we're experiencing are BECAUSE of him, either because he's NOT selling and making us money, he's effing up the stuff we have already, or his grossness is alienating potential advertisers, not to mention what he does to morale around here. Jesus. We should pay him to stay home!! Oh, wait...we do.

Issue #3
Filing a Homeowner's Claim

Sucks ass. Here's what happened: for a few weeks, I noticed a distinct and advancing 'gurgle' in the pipes. Thinking it was the wet ground and etc from the autumnal advent, I ignored it. The drains were draining, the water was running, the toilette (french accent for fanciness) was flushing, and with the exception of the candle I accidentally melted and with which clogged up the whole of the dishwasher workings, all was good with my wastewater disposal mechanisms. Until last week.
I got out of the shower and noticed that my slow drain was at a dead stop. No tinkling of soap and skin-y water down the old cast iron intestines was heard at all. So, being a maverick of home maintenance, I plunged.

Terrible, terrible mistake.

The pressure of the plunging on top of the completely backlogged (though I didn't know that THEN, did I?) pipes caused the main drain off of the shower to DISENGAGE from the shower itself, and gravity pulled my shower water down onto the wall of the basement and made a sort of grody plywood cascade down there. The only reason I knew that was because the floor is rotting out behind the shower itself and I am somewhere in the process of turning that space into a linen closet, so from the hole in the floor that looks down into the basement next to the shower, I could HEAR said waterfall. I ran down to the basement and lo and behold, not only was there a waterfall, it was practically an entire park down there, with a wave pool, bog, and (I think) a critter or two. The pipes had been blocked for...oh, say...three or so weeks, and all of the excess, plus the weather water, was flooding my basement. I couldn't step down into it, in fact, from the bottom step of the basement stairs, because it was up to the top of the bottom step. Gah-ross-ah.
Being the me that I am, I hoped it would heal and babied it for a few days. I didn't run unnecessary water, didn't flush every time (ick.), but did shower freely, since that was just running down the wall anyway. Well, Sunday came the reckoning. I started the dishwasher, and shortly thereafter had a piece of beet come up in the bathroom sink. Then even more foul came up in the kitchen, and I stood at the ready with latex gloves, old towels, shopvac and mop in hand in case the toilette decided to vex me as well. Thankfully, it did not, but I did realize that my house's digestive tract was not about to heal, and that someone needed to root out the polyps in the system. Where the eff is THAT money going to come from?
"Oh, ho! Insurance!! Insurance will SAVE me! This is what it's for!" And I called Cindy, the Savior Insurance Lady, who calls you two days before you're cancelled and covers your payment if you need to post-date your check, and left a message. Well, as great as Cindy is, she is only my agent, and the independent adjuster hired by Hastings Mutual is not as prompt, courteous, or sympathetic as Cindy, and here it is Tuesday and I am just having the drains rooted out today. Then the adjuster comes tonight, tells me what the deal is, and I can file my claim. I still have to pay for the drain cleaner, but now can have the basement sanitized, the water removed, and the plywood wall replaced, but the detached pipe, aforementioned rooting, and any other charges are mine. Does that seem fair? So here I interject the celebrity part of my blog title and charm my way into impromptu commercials for the drain-rooting fella in hopes that he will charge me less and my insurance company more.

Wish me luck. Otherwise, it's poop-rink ice skating in my basement this winter. Yay!

Everything is bright and gaywads....

I'm sitting in my office editing The Superior Radio Hour. I've got 8000 things I should be doing that are NOT this, but I promised it by the end of the week and lo, it is very nearly the end of the week.
It's been strange, too. I had sex, which is unusual, and kind of brings me to the topic of my blog today. I was expounding upon it in an email to Steph earlier today, and it makes me want to confess things to random strangers who may stumble upon it.
I think I'm weird about sex. I also assume that most people feel that way about themselves. I mean, really, what points of reference do you have? Am I a porn star? No, not at all, but that's the most sex I've seen outside of soap operas and David Lynch films, so when I DO have sex, that's what I think of as normal, although that's not at all what makes me happy. So, I usually put on a big show, have a terrible time, and then leave (or ask him to), disappointed. If I am comfortable enough to be myself, I feel like I am horrifically odd about the whole thing, as I usually feel that I am horrifically odd about everything else, and that the poor fella is gonna be like, "You want me to say WHAT?" or "Holy christ, how do I get out of here?"
So then, what do have for comparison, judgement, or a control model? Pretty much just your partner's comments, right? The first few guys were very complimentary (though the very first one was also overwhelmed by it being HIS very first one), and I took that to mean that I was, in fact, a phenomenal lay and that all of my research and reading and movie watching had made me a new but expert practitioner of the sexual arts. However, when I realized that most of the sex I'd had had been relatively bad, and that I had told each and every one of those men that they were really quite good at it, it occurred to me that they had probably said complimentary things about me so that I wouldn't feel bad, much as I had done to them. That left me COMPLETELY flummoxed as to my ability to provide good and satisfactory sex, so I got really good at cooking.
Bringing me to this week. I've had sex a grand total of six times this YEAR with two people. I was reading a report on MSN about how we are having a sex crisis overall in our country due to stress, obesity, busyness, and etc, and it made me feel better for a second. I was a raving skank for a year when I was 27 and since then, it's pretty much been a straight draught with the exception of a little here and there. March 30th was the last time, and that was pretty good, but the guy ended up being icky, so I went into this one excited about the potential, but cautious.
I think part of the problem is that the attraction was completely ripe about three weeks ago, and if it could have happened THEN, it might have been okay. I waited too long, though, and it felt like payment on an obligation more than anything. I had to get drunk and other to do it at all, and in the very brief moment that I let myself get, you know, caught up in the moment, he freaked out about the fact that wanted some commentary on how I was doing, and that made me shut right up and shut right down. And now I feel like I have unacceptable needs and am just generally not good at it.
I'm still novice enough to get excited about it. EVERY time. I think, "OMG, really? I get to have sex right now? Awesome!" and then we get started and then I think, "Oh, shit. I have no idea what I'm doing." When I'm not having it, I can't think about much else, and when I am starting to have it, I am a nervous wreck, and there have only been two times in my life where I got past the nervous wreck stage, and then it turned out that the guy was either a lazy, no-job-having douchebag or a lazy, no-job-having douchebag who found me physically repulsive when it came right down to it. So, what is a girl to think?
Suffice it to say that this was definitely a one-shot deal with this week's fella, since I can't imagine I could even look him in the eye again. What I'm most bummed about is the tremendous blow to my confidence this has left..I mean, I'm already freaked out about it, and now I'm freaked out and sure that I'm the worst ever. Maybe I'll pick up some sort of idiot and get one under my belt before I attempt a serious try again.
Or maybe I'll become a secular nun.

Decisions, decisions

What the eff is going on with me? Last week, on Friday, I interviewed Senator Carl Levin. I was struck near-dumb in his presence; anyone shouldering a burden like he does on behalf of the American People is an amazing person, in my book. The interview was marvelous and he left me a chocolate peanut butter cupcake for it.
Then Bart Stupak shows up all of a sudden and needs a new tag for his ads. Whom did he come to see for it? Me. I was feeling darn good about myself and my ability to make radio. THEN, I'm online, registering for my first semester of Nursing classes, when all of a sudden Dan from Green Bay calls and says, "Hey, Bridge, my morning guy has decided to retire in December. Are you still interested in our morning show?"

Am I? My own show in GB with the largest broadcasting company in America? And a boss who believes in me and my show idea and the notion that I could syndicate it from Chicago within five years?

COME THE FUCK ON.

Could it be more divinely obvious that I've got to make a decision and a giant leap of faith soon? Which way do I go?

To further muddy the sitch, I got a call yesterday from a certain station in Marquette. THEIR morning guy doesn't want to do it anymore and am I interested in going home and 'facing' (being the flagship personality) that radio station to my hometown? My hometown, to which my dad has just moved, which features a Target, two vegetarian friendly restaurants, an organic grocery store, a relatively free house, a liberal attitude, and an entirely different run at it than I used to have. It's tempting. However, this is the same group of stations whose management I have been criticizing for the choices they made here in Escanaba.
I'm going for an interview with them tomorrow. We'll see.

I figure, full-throttle all of it. Register for classes, apply in GB, meet with the guy in Marquette and try to impress the shit out of everyone I meet on the way to wherever I end up.

Thank you, unnamed Deity, for being so blatantly obvious. It's a delightful kick in the pants.