Friday Music

It's Friday. I need music.

And so does my blog friend Devil Mood. She's super cool, loves music, and has a great blog over at Love is Stronger than Pride that you should definitely check out. This week she's guest hosting "Friday Music."

She picked a great topic, which she explains well:

My request is that people provide links to music that reminds them of "Teen Love". I specifically highlighted that I don't mean songs that talk about teen love but the songs that remind people of their teenage loves. (It can be both if it's the case, of course).

So reminisce and suggest away. Please post links!

Adventures in Dentistry

Wow, I feel like a stranger on my own blog! It's been a crazy month and I just haven't been able to reverse my numbness much lately. I've missed you all terribly, though, and I'm happy to be back. I look forward to catching up on your many excellent blogs in the coming days.

So tonight I'd like to flash back to my college years, probably 1992 or maybe '93. I was very poor, of course, and often found myself selling CDs or baseball cards so I could afford to buy a few death dogs and potato logs from the local Dairy Mart. (My body cringes at this now.) I was always looking for ways to save money, and this led me to shop around a bit while searching out a new dentist to do some work I'd been putting off. Basically, I needed somebody who would be willing to bill me for at least part of the fee.

After a few calls to local dentists, I found a guy in nearby Monongah. It's only 15 or 20 minutes from Morgantown, so I gave the cat a ring.

Me: Hi, I need some dental work done. Do you offer payment plans? I'm on a college student's budget, I'm afraid.
Operator (an older man): Sure.
Me: Great! I'd like to make an appointment. I'm pretty busy with classes in Morgantown; what are your hours?
Operator: We're flexible. When can you make it down?
Me: I don't suppose you're open on Saturday....
Operator: Sure! Name a time.
Me: Uhhh ... 3 pm?
Operator: See you then!

Wow! I'd found the most flexible dentist ever! I was stoked and made it to his "office" a few minutes early on the agreed-upon day.

I put "office" in quote marks because as soon as I pulled up, it was obvious this wasn't an ordinary office. It was more like a house. An old, out-of-shape house. Still, poverty can make people do crazy things, so I rang the bell.

A man in his '60s or early '70s came to the door tearing into a sandwich. I could tell by his voice he was the man I spoke with on the phone.

"Hi, I'm Dr. XXX. You must be Bryan! Can I get you a roast beef sandwich? My wife will whip it right up!"

"Uhhhhh. No. Thanks."

Now, kids, when a dentist offers you a sandwich before a checkup, what do you do? That's right, you run. I think most people who know me would say I'm a rather sensible person, but on this day, I'm afraid my I just didn't have my shit together. So I entered the building despite the sandwich.

It was sort of basement like, with clutter stacked on every table and chair, as well as on the floor. The dentist clearly lived upstairs, and his wife came down to look for something, walking about as if I weren't even in the room. Then I heard the front door open and a somewhat younger, eccentric man entered. I soon found out he was a neighbor from up the street, and it appeared he had heard the news that the dentist had a patient and didn't want to miss the event. After a quick introduction, the dentist led me to his chair in a small room at the back of the building. The room was lined with compartmented shelves, and in each box was a plaster cast of a full set of teeth.

"So what are you looking to have done?" he asked.

Nothing by you! "Uh, well, I'm just kind of shopping around right now. I'm not necessarily looking to have work done today."

"Well, the first thing I always do is take a plaster mold of my new patients' teeth," he said.

Try to plaster me and I'll punch you in the throat! "As I mentioned on the phone, I'm really low on funds, and I can't afford to pay for something like this, I'm afraid. So I should probably be goi..."

"Don't worry," he replied, "my payment plans are very flexible."

"I really don't want to go into debt over dental work," I said.

"How does this sound?: A quarter a month. Twenty-five cents. Can you afford that?"

Dear god, this man is crazy, I must get out of here. Now. "Uh, you know, I'm really not comfortable with this situation. I think I'm going to just consider my options now, but it's nice to know you're down here and available."

This went back and forth a bit, with his friend constantly assuring me that he and I were with one of the great dental gods who ever graced the Mountain State. I finally made it clear that I wouldn't be having anything done that day. The dentist finally gave in, but not wanting me to leave empty handed, gave me four or five full-size tubes of Rembrandt toothpaste (this stuff was expensive at the time, like $12 a tube or something) and about a dozen toothbrushes. Then I started my retreat.

"Wait, there's one other thing I'd like to talk to you about," he said as I shimmied toward the front door. "I have two words for you: Colloidal Silver." His eyebrows perked up as his head cocked sideways, awaiting my response.

"Pardon?"

"You've heard of AIDS? Cancer? Herpes? Pneumonia? The common cold, even?"

"Uh. Yes. I've heard of those."

"Colloidal Silver cures them all, every time."

He proceeded to produce a small bottle of clear liquid with a homemade-type label which itemized all of the ailments this miracle cure could defeat. He and his neighbor explained that they'd both been taking Colloidal Silver every day for more than a year and they were both is perfect health. They felt like they were twenty again. The doc apologized for not being able to give me any, as his supply was limited, but he could put me in touch with a person who sold it for a very good price.

I told him that he and his friend did indeed appear to be in, err, excellent shape, but as I mentioned I was on a tight budget and, being that I was in good health, I would pass this time but thank you oh so much for thinking of me.

At this point I was really, truly freaked out, and I paid my respects and beelined for the door. But not before he could stall me one last time.

"Wait, I do have one more thing you can take with you, if you want, but I'd like you to bring it back to me the next time you come down."

I looked at the item in his hands, which he'd apparently picked up from one of the many stacks in the room. It was a worn, dog-eared, '70s era issue of Playboy.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh!" I was out the door in a flash. I fumbled with my keys as I tried to unlock my Subaru Justy while looking over my shoulder, convinced I was being pursued. When I finally got in I put The Silver Devil in first gear and got the eff out of there as fast as I could.

Of course I told my story to everyone I knew, and eventually to a buddy of mine from the Monongah area. He laughed and told me that the guy had indeed once been a very respected dentist in the area, but had begun losing some of his faculties in recent years. My friend always was prone to understatement.

I haven't been to Monongah since.

So that's my crazy dentist story. Want to learn a little more about Colloidal Silver? Then, by all means, check out this video, which the Dalai Mama pointed out the other day.

Gibberish

Learn Gibberish

Christian Movies

Christian Slater, who was the epitome of cool to me when I was younger, starred in three of my favorite movies. Here are few scenes from them. Spoilers if you haven't seen them, obviously.

Heathers
This was my real introduction to Christian Slater. Raoul Duke and I adopted "Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die" into our language.


Pump Up the Volume
I freaking love this movie and soundtrack. I found Leonard Cohen in this movie. Concrete Blonde and the Pixies too. The song is this clip rules.


True Romance
It's a top-5 movie for me, and this may be my favorite scene in any movie ever.

I Totally Remember "Pop Goes the World" Now

Happy birthday, Matthes!

Classic Spider-Man

This is for anyone who grew up watching Spider-Man cartoons, like I did.



By the way, this is the 200th post on RtN. I've been a bit too busy to post much during the last week, but I should be able to pick it back up this week. Hopefully that trailer hot spot will open soon, because I'm still looking forward to checking it out.

Batman and the Yellow Sports Wagon

It was the summer of 1989, just before my senior year in high school, and I was 17 years old. The greatest week of my year, camp week, was but a few days away. I was on top of the world. Then I woke up with a sore throat. A very sore throat.

At first I held on to hope that it would clear up, but it didn't take long for me to realize that this wasn't just an ordinary sore throat. Within a day I was admitted to the hospital with a hard-core case of mono.

Not only was I devastated to have to miss out on my yearly camp experience, but I felt absolutely miserable. My throat got so bad that the only thing I could eat for two days was whipped cream. I was so worn down that I could barely walk to the bathroom. I'd end up spending three or four nights in the hospital, watching the summer days pass outside my window and thinking about all the awesome things I was missing. I sank into a pretty deep depression.

During this time, there were only two things that made me feel better. The first was my nightly dose of Demerol and the second was knowing that Batman, starring Michael Keaton, was due to be released soon.

For some reason, I was just crazy about this movie. I wasn't even into comic books, but when I heard this film was coming out, I got all amped up. Somebody brought me a copy of Premiere, which had Batman on the cover, to read in the hospital, and I kept telling myself that I'd know I was on the road to recovery when I was finally well enough to catch this flick.

Anyone who's had a bad case of mono knows that recovery comes slowly, and after I got out of the hospital I was laid up for a good week or so before I could do much of anything. Eventually I started to come around, though, and as soon as I was remotely well enough, I called my buddy Raoul Duke (pictured). Time to go catch Batman!

We usually went to see movies in Fairmont, which was 20 minutes up the freeway, just because they had chairs that reclined back and it was always cool to leave town by ourselves at that age. Good ol' Raoul swung by my house and picked me up in his good ol' Yellow Sports Wagon. My recovery was under way -- everything was going to be okay.

Before he picked me up, I specifically remember looking at the thermometer, and it was a scorching 104 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). As we embarked on our journey to my well-being, I remembered that the Yellow Sports Wagon wasn't equipped with air-conditioning. Oh, well. The fresh West Virginia air would probably do me good, even if it was packed with 98 percent humidity.

As I reached down to twist the window's handle, Raoul said the following:

"Uh, what are you doing?"

I sort of looked around to see if there was someone else in the car he could be talking to, but when I realized that he was indeed talking to me, I answered:

"Uh, putting my window down."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, see, I'd really rather you didn't do that."

"Dude, shut the eff up!" I reached down again toward the window. He slowed the car down and said:

"I'm serious. I don't want the window down."

"What? It's 104 degrees! I'm freaking dying here! Why don't you want the window down?"

What Raoul didn't know was that I had a tape recorder going at the time, secretly recording our conversation. After nearly 20 years of keeping the existence of this tape a secret, I'm bringing it out right here on RtN. And I'm going to uncover it by playing Raoul's actual answer as to why I couldn't put the window down in this extreme situation. This audio recording hasn't been manipulated in any way and is 100 percent authentic.

Click here to hear Raoul's response.

It was his car, so I relented. My throat started to swell. After a few miles, I started to hyperventilate, and soon I was hallucinating as we raced zebras up the interstate. Eventually we made it to Fairmont and to the theater. As the door of the Yellow Sports Wagon opened up, I looked like an Army recruit fleeing from the tear-gas house at boot camp. I was lying in the parking lot, gasping for air, my throat well on the way to swelling shut again.

Raoul said Batman was great, at least as far as he could tell, since he spent the whole movie making out with some Fairmont chick in the back row. I wouldn't know, because I spent those same hours recovering on a cot in the theater's office. But I wasn't mad. Raoul's perfect hair got him the girl, and as a best bud, if you can't make a sacrifice for the greater cause, what kind of friend are you?

Friday Music

It's Friday. I need music.

Actually, I have lots of music to catch up on from last week, because life dictated that I wouldn't have much time to do anything this week. I remember a time with fewer responsibilities. I wouldn't want to go back there for good, but I'd go back for the weekend.

Hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah, I adore it
Hallelujah, Mary loved her son
Why don't my mother love me?

Hair.

There's always room for more music, though. What makes you feel free? Gimme gimme gimme!

Three is a Magic Number

This is probably the most famous of the Schoolhouse Rock toons from the '70s (also the first), but I hadn't seen the original in a long time. I can't believe how good this is, on so many levels. It's a great song with catchy and cool lyrics, a classic melody, and I think it's actually beautiful in places. I really like the art and the minimal animation, too. I can't wait to show this to my kids tomorrow.

Camp Days

From the time I was in seventh grade to my final year of high school, I went to a church camp called Camp Luther with my buddy the Lutheran. I still find it hard to believe that the place existed.

It was held in the beautiful hills of Cowen, West Virginia, and in many ways it was like any other church camp. We had daily devotionals, sang "Pass it On" around camp fires, played four-square and basketball and softball, ate together in a cafeteria ... those things probably happened at every single church camp that has ever existed.

But, man ... there were some ways that it was very much different, at least once we were in high school and made it up to senior camp. For example:

Smoking? No problem. Anyone in senior camp, including campers, was allowed to smoke at will. Camp counselors would pick up cigarettes for the kids when they went into town. The barn that held our morning devotionals had a smoking section one year.

Making out? No problem. We had two dances during the week, one on Tuesday, and one on the last night, which I believe was Friday. During these dances, every year, I openly made out with whoever my girlfriend of the year was. (Classy!) The dances always ended with "Stairway to Heaven" (what else?), and one year I remember making out with Jannasue Owens for the entire duration of the song.

That same year, there were two girls to every guy in senior camp. This meant there would be a chance that some girls didn't have boys to dance with. How was this resolved? The camp administrators organized a simple game of flag-chase. Every boy attached two flags (think flag football) to their wastes, we all got out in a field with all of the girls, and at the whistle, everyone started running. Whichever two girls got your flags were your two dates to the Friday dance. I got very lucky and scored Jannasue Owens and her blonde friend, but it was Jannasue I ended up sharing that memorable last dance with.

Cussing? No problem. We could say whatever we wanted to say in camp. No swear word was off limits, even during religious discussions. I remember hearing counselors and pastors swearing. One year we had a skit night, and the raunchiness of the skits was astounding. One involved a remake of I Love Lucy that involved a live theme song touting a specific body part that was "so nice and juicy." One girl played Lucy, one guy played Ricky, and they used a can of whipped cream as a prop.

Simulated sexual acts by high-school kids? No problem.

This sounds far-fetched, but it's absolutely true, and I'm sure there was more crazy shit that I just can't think of right now. The place was just an anomaly. My pal Raoul Duke was there when he was younger, but he bailed before the good stuff happened. Still, he always heard the stories. I'm still great friends with my buddy the Lutheran's older brother, and he was there -- he can vouch for this.

I really don't know what their reasoning was for allowing, and sometimes encouraging, this sort of thing at a church camp, of all places, but I'd guess it had something to do with the belief that if they just let the kids actually be themselves, maybe they'd open up and learn something. I'm not the church-going type now, so I don't think that tactic worked, but one thing's for certain: as far as I was concerned, Camp Luther ruled, and going there was the single most highly anticipated event of the year for me.

The Dregs of Humanity

I don't know where you guys were in 1984 and '85, but I could often be found in front of the television watching the classic but short-lived Jason Bateman sitcom It's Your Move. Jason played a high-school scam-artist named Matthew Burton who was constantly at war with his mom's boyfriend through one prank or the other. I freakin' loved that show.

It lasted 19 episodes, but I really only remember the two-part show featuring the band Dregs of Humanity. This band was just another of Matthew's schemes, of course -- the musicians were actually just laboratory skeletons dressed up like metal musicians and hooked up like marionettes. They ended up getting huge, and before the lie got completely out of hand, Burton sent the band off a cliff to their demise. Nobody ever figured out that they weren't a real band. (Read the Wikipedia entry for more on this episode.) Any time I've ever heard the word 'dregs,' I've instantly thought of It's Your Move.

I ran across the word today, then hit the Web. It sure was surprising to look on YouTube to find this. If you liked this show too, you're going to want to follow that link.

Playtime

My daughter's birthday is on Wednesday, and tonight we went to Target so she could use some of the birthday money she got from her aunt and uncle to buy some Barbies. (Because she won't get enough Barbie stuff at her party on Saturday, I'm sure.) I must have spent 30 minutes in the toy aisles, mostly with my boy, who is obsessed with "boy toys" that "turn on," i.e. make a bunch of noise. This got me to thinking about some of the toys I remember from my childhood. So tonight I searched some of them out online.

One of the most memorable toys I had, which a lot of other kids my age had, is the Tree Tots Family Tree House (pictured). This one probably goes back to when I was my girl's age. I always liked the elevator and the button that would make the canopy pop up, exposing the rooms inside. And I swear I can still remember exactly how that canopy felt. Like every other kid my age, I (or one of my brothers) also had the Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle and that little McDonalds restaurant that would ding when you pecked at the cash register (can't find a photo). What a marketing success that was. And man did I love my Six-Million-Dollar Man toy. On the show he could see far away, and to emulate that, the toy had a hole in the back of the head that you could look through to make things that were close actually look far away. I'd go to the top of the twirly slide and watch through his head as the poor Earp boys got pelted by park-lunch apples, thanks to Ed Rigger and other guys who were ten years their senior. I got around town on a Big Wheel, though I ditched the seat and used it like a scooter, which is why I never got into the Green Machine. Stretch Armstrong got all the press, but I had an Incredible Hulk version that I thought was much cooler. I liked the idea of my Lite-Brite, but I never had the patience to really do anything cool with it. I had all of the same board games you had, probably, and a thousand other toys that I still remember like it was yesterday. And to think, my kids will probably feel the same way about some of these toys that I trip over put away on a daily basis. Okay, my wife usually puts them away, but still.

So what did you play with?