Let me say, for the record, that I just don't appreciate nothing.
Around last October of last year, I was contacted by Meg Beckum of local paper, the Savannah Morning News
on what I would put on an ultimate mix CD. I figured, why not? It'll get my name out more and give a boost to the webblog. So, I quickly typed out what I would listen to, say, if there were no more music made ever, or I had to go to a Michael Bolton concert and needed something to listen to. After languishing for months on the shelf after it was completed, I got an email from Meg on Tuesday, letting me know that they were finally going to publish my piece in Thursday's paper, and that she needed to get a photo of me on Wednesday. I had no time to call the Queer Eye guys for a Metrosexual makeover, so yesterday I just threw on the cleanest clothes I had left and got it done. I thought all went well and couldn't wait to see what I had written.
Now, let's fast forward to today. I got up, grabbed a cup of coffee and a bagel and went to dialysis. But, not before I went to the store to get today's paper. I didn't even glance at it until I got to the clinic. As soon as I walked in, all the nurses had comments. "Look at the big star! Oooh, Sam! You just popular, baby." I finally got to sit down and look at the paper to see how it came out. Here's the web version
of the story, with what could be the first time any of you have seen me.
Let me just say, it's not bad. I hate the picture. I wish I had a stunt double take the photo. I told mostly everyone there at the clinic, it wasn't me. It was my EEEEEVIL twin
, Kenny. Bad, Kenny.
Now for the most part, it's kinda cool to get your stuff shown. I would have hoped to get in a plug for the pages, but it never happened. I'm upset about it, but what can you do with a paper that still publishes "Cathy" and "Andy Capp"? Still, it's out there.
There was one thing that was interesting about going to the clinic today. For a while, there was a old lady who sat across from me who just stared at me the whole time. There's lots of pepperpots that go to the clinic and is full of them. This old crone was different. She had to be in her late sixtes, possibly nearing REALLY FRICKING OLD
and all she did for the most part while she was there is stare at me. I nodded my head hello to her and she just stared like I was the one to give her the gift of life to rejuvenate her youthfulness. After a while, her daughter, or granddaughter, or virgin sacrifice came in. The old lady looked at the younger one and said in a sarcastic stage whisper, " He was in the paper today. He must think he's special." I just hid in front of my sports section and tried not to throw any blood clots at her. I'm just happy that I finally got something in the paper that's not crime related.