I'm With The Band

Recent postings on my friend Terry's blog and several conversations with my friend/former roommate Chris over fantasy baseball have led me to finally share this little known fact about myself: When I was in college, I was in a band. Our name was Used Paint. Used Paint consisted of myself, my aforementioned roommate Chris, one of my other roommates, tad, and my older brother Steve. We had an album named "When In Rome. . ." We had several hit songs. We had a feature interview in Rolling Stone. We even had one member trendily spend a stint in rehab. Now many of you are probably asking (especially you, Mom), "Why don't I remember hearing about Used Paint in the early to mid-90s?" or "Why don't I remember you being in a band?" It's simple really, Used Paint didn't really exist. What follows is a brief albeit strange, history of the mega-hyped, super-powered sound explosion known as Used Paint. . .


At some point when you're studying education at Kansas State University, you're required to take a class called Human Growth and Development. The semester I enrolled in this class, Chris took it too and we coincidentally ended up in the same class. The class consisted of two parts -- lecture and recitation. The lecture part was incredibly boring, and you were informed that you could buy all the class notes pre-bound at CopyCo, but it happened to fall in-between two classes I actually needed, so Chris and I ended up attending regularly. The first couple classes we entertained ourselves by scribbling notes and drawing pictures about one of our roommates we referred to as Binky (that is a whole other blog people).

Somehow or other, we got on the topic of the Steven Wright bit about going to the used hardware store. He says, "I bought some used paint. It was in the shape of a house." I don't remember all the details, but I do remember Chris saying, "Used Paint. That would be a great name for a band." And he was right. So we set about creating Used Paint: The Band.
Human Growth and Development lecture time became our time to create Used Paint. We started by assigning roles: Chris played drums, I was on vocals, Roommate Tad was on bass, and my brother, Steve, played the guitar. We did not include Binky, though we worked him in as a peripheral character who was a former band member like all of Spinal Tap's deceased drummers. The band members were funny to us for several reasons. First, Chris couldn't play drums, nor did he own any. Two, I don't sing particularly well, and my area of musical expertise was the bassoon (no lie). Third, Roommate Tad actually could play the bass real well -- the stand up kind you play in high school orchestra. (Tad was always pictured as playing the stand up bass in Used Paint, rather than an electric one). Our saviour was Steve, who does play the guitar (and bass) very well, and actually did move on to join a real, live, good band in Austin.


Once we had that part down, it was time to create some music. Not real music, mind you, just album and song titles. We sat in lecture jotting down titles and placing them in lists for albums. Our first album, "When In Rome. . ." was a hit. If I remember correctly, the break out song from that album was entitled "Pope in a Can." Every weird thing we heard someone say, or that just popped into our head became a song title. In these days prior to Denis Leary hitting it big, we actually had a song titled, "You're an A**hole." And then felt grievously offended when Leary came out with his song by the same title.

This thing we created, Used Paint, began to grow and take on a life of its own. We told Steve and Roommate Tad about it, and they were on board, too. I spent way too much time devoting time better spent studying to creating my fake band. Sitting around the apartment, it inevitably worked it's way into every conversation, which led to us brainstorming more and more ideas for our band that didn't exist. We began working on our second album "Muck," which came together much faster. We followed "Muck" with a special album called "Used Paint's The Wide Album." It was much like The Beatles "White Album" with a white cover...but it was extra wide so it stuck out from all the other DVDs on the rack. Not only could we fake play in a band successfully, we were marketing geniuses!!! The band took a short hiatus while Roommate Tad went to rehab for fast food addiction. In all seriousness, and he was a great roommate mind you, he did eat a lot of fast food. Especially McDonald's.


With Roommate Tad back from rehab, and the semester of human Growth and Development coming to an end, Used Paint made one last grasp for glory. The band returned with a new album, "Songs from 1215 Bertrand #4," that we claimed was live stuff, unreleased tracks, B-Sides, and one new song. This isn't a new concept, since bands like Aerosmith and Def Leppard do this all the time -- usually to create just enough interest to have a mildly successful tri-state tour.

It was during this time that the Rolling Stone interview began to take shape. Inane questions were written down, followed by inane answers that played on the quirks of every band member. For example, Steve, a man of few words, answered questions several lines long with responses like "yep" and "mhmm." Roommate Tad, who overused the F-word, was censored out of most of the interview (though I did put the Beetle Bailey staple &%$#@! in place of the swear words). When I look back now, I think it was the notoriety of a completely untrue Rolling Stone interview that tore Used Paint apart. Maybe it was all the fake fame that went to our heads. Or maybe, just maybe, it was that we all started looking at graduation and stuff. I know one of us got a serious girlfriend, one of us broke up with a serious a girlfriend (not the same person), we got a new roommate who not only shared his VCR (unlike Binky) but also brought along a collection of adult films on VHS, and the semester dwindled to an end. Used Paint ended not with a bang, but a whimper. I can say for a fact that somewhere out there in cyber space is a file from one of my computers with a half-typed version of "Used Paint: The Rolling Stone Interview" -- hand to God, it's true.


I don't usually wax nostalgic, but it was fun thinking back on those times that seem so long ago. I guess eventually we all have to "grow up" and "be responsible," but maybe as we get older we take ourselves too seriously. I was watching "Step Brothers" the other day, which is really a pretty ridiculous movie, and I kind of got caught by the scene where Dale's dad tells the two matured man-child characters to never lose sight of that inner child, and to let it shine. Even though I still read comic books against my wife's wishes, and I watch cartoons with my kids--a lot, I miss my band. I am calling now for the Used Paint Fake Reunion Tour 2010. We need a bassist, so if anyone knows where Roommate tad is, let him know we getting back together.

By the way, the previous paragraph should be read as a voice over using the voice of that guy who narrated The Wonder Years. Peace out. . . . Used Paint Fake Rocks!!!!

Sudden Realizations

Every once in awhile things (these are generally called "thoughts" by most people) pop into my head. Whenever I can, I try to right them down. At the very least I commit them to memory. The following is a sampling of some of the random thoughts that pop into my head on a daily basis:

• I'm pretty sure that the ATF could end the war on drugs if they simply raided the NickToons studio. My daughter is hooked on a show called "Ni Hao Kai-Lan" which contains a koala who dresses like a panda, a monkey who spins turntables like a DJ, and a rhino that floats around on a balloon tied to her horn. There's really not that much more to say about it other than that. Seriously, a monkey playing turntables?
• I forgot to mention that "Ni Hao Kai-Lan" takes place in China. I'm still trying to figure out why the hell there's a koala and a rhino in China. If you really want to blow your mind consider this, there's also a polar bear in this show, too.
• Every time I tell someone that we're expecting another child, they always say, "Hey, congratulations! That's great!" Even though I'm very gracious, I always kind of want to respond, "It's not that big a deal, all I did was have sex."
• I really miss reading "Calvin and Hobbes." Not the comic strip, the philosophers.
• With my impending fatherhood, I've been trying to be more reflective and think of all the good advice my dad gave me so I can pass it down. The only thing I can ever seriously remember is the advice he gave me about girls: "If you don't want to go out with her anymore, just quit answering her calls. She'll get the hint." Hand to God, that is a genuine Fred-ism.
• A lot of the other things I remember my dad saying to me involve profanity. Since my mom reads my blog, I'll leave those out. I don't want the old man getting in trouble. And if you read my previous entry, you'll understand why I don't pass those on to my daughter.
• the Boomerang network is the biggest tease on the cable box. It plays all these shows you loved growing up, but then you watch them and realize how truly crappy they really were. Yes, "Jabberjaw" and "Speed Buggy" you fall under that category.
• On that same topic, you'd think the combined might of a house cat and a wizard could capture at least one smurf. Gargamel obviously didn't attend Hogwart's.
• I turned 39 yesterday. I celebrated my birthday by buying comic books, eating ice cream, and receiving several cards about farting. I can't wait for 40!
• You know how when there's a plane crash, everything is destroyed except for the Black Box?. . . Why didn't they make the Death Star our of that stuff. If the Empire had thought that through, Luke Skywalker would probably be a clerk at O'Reilly's in Tashi Station right now.

To quote Forrest Gump, "That's all I got to say about that." If anyone has any topics they'd like to see me write about (like why we need a re-boot of the Howard the Duck movie franchise), feel free to post them here or on Facebook. I'm always looking for topics. Until next time...Excelsior, true believers!

Of Darling Little Girls and Profanity

A couple weeks ago, I got to celebrate my daughter's 3rd birthday. It was a joyous occasion with Grammy and Grandy coming to visit from Texas and cupcakes and Hello Kitty things and Princesses everywhere. It's the kind of birthday party one would expect for a darling little three-year-old girl. Yeah, that's her up there. Cute as a button. The thing is that when others are not around, my darling baby girl is quite a stinker. It's called the "terrible twos," only the experts don't tell you that this phase actually begins at age three and lasts until roughly 8th grade.

I have to admit, I've been a bit spoiled. My son is, for all intents and purposes, a pretty low-maintenance child. He rarely acts up, and when he does it's easy to weather the storm because it happens so rarely. He's generally a pretty good role model for his little sister. Lately, though, she's taken to repeating just about anything her older brother says. Or anyone else says for that matter. It's a phase, and we deal with it, because the boy went through the same thing. I remember driving with my wife once, the same wife who was always on me about watching my language around our young son, when she told me, "Oh blow it out your ass!' That was followed by a small voice from the back of the van saying, "Ass mommy!" I think both of us were too stunned to say anything, so we just let it go and that was the end of that.

I bring this up, because it directly relates to my adorable, charming, beautiful daughter, who you might remember, is in the repeating things phase. The other night I was watching a movie on my free HBO, when my daughter decided to join me. I didn't think much of it until one of the characters in the movie said, "F- - - yeah!" I'd seen the movie several times before, so, again, I didn't think much of it. That is until a small voice next to me said, "F- - - yeah, daddy!"

Instead of giving her the stunned silence I gave my son in similar circumstances, I decided that I should nip this in the butt and take matters into my own hands. I was going to be the parent and correct this inappropriate behavior. I put on my teacher voice and calmly explained to my daughter, "Honey, we don't talk that way. Just because they said it on TV doesn't mean it's OK for little girls to say."

To which my daughter replied, "F- - - yeah!"

Now I knew I needed to take care of this, so I put on my mean teacher voice and said, "You do NOT say that young lady. That is totally inappropriate and I don't want to ever hear you say that again."

My daughter pouted and got off the couch and scowled and I knew I had made my point clear, and congratulated myself on a job well done correcting this little problem.

But as I sat smugly on the couch, my daughter turned to me, arms crossed, and said, "I say f- - - yeah all I want!"

Now there was stunned silence.

My darling daughter then turned and said, "I going upstairs!" and started to walk upstairs. At that point, all I could think to say was, "Don't say that in front of your mom!"

I related this little incident to my parents when they came up for the big princess party. In between owls of laughter, my dad said something about deserving everything I get. I don't know he says that, but I find that he says it a lot. Especially after my kids have done something incredible stupid/profane/dangerous/ridiculous/profane. I really, honestly don't know why my dad says that, because as far as I remember, I was a nearly perfect child.

Ang-er Issues

Awhile back, my AT&T U-Verse crapped out on me. I was literally without cable TV or Internet access for 24 hours. It was quite an ordeal getting it repaired, because AT&T had to send someone to the house to fix it. Unfortunately, they entered a wrong digit for my phone number int he AT&T data base, so it became a big pain in the butt to get my cable running -- and I missed Monday Night Football. it was a terrible inconvenience for me, which is exactly how I explained it to the nice lady who was informing me that I had missed my appointment because they had entered my phone number wrong and that someone would be out between 5-9 that night (it was closer to 9:00). The reason I mention this is that when I mentioned that I was now a FORMERLY happy AT&T customer, they jumped on the grenade and gave me HBO free for three months to placate me. And, this, ladies and gentlemen, has allowed me to watch The Incredible Hulk roughly 16 times in the past month.

Let me point out immediately, that by The Incredible Hulk, I mean the new one. The one with Ed Norton and Liv Tyler. The good one. I actually saw this twice in the theater, the first movie to earn that distinction since maybe Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Those of you who know me well will find this no surprise at all. I have been a huge Hulk mark my entire life. As a matter of fact, I even defended the first Hulk movie, The Hulk, and it's crappy Ang Lee directed story. I said it "wasn't that bad" and that "I liked the Hulk parts, I just wish there'd been more of them" and "Jennifer Connelly looked hot in it." What I've since discovered is that just like in the comics (except for crappy red Hulk -- Nice work Loeb), the new version Hulk always kicks the snot out of the old version Hulk.

Then, during one of the many viewings of The Incredible Hulk, it dawned on me.....How the hell did that happen when you have Ang Lee directing your movie??? Having Ang Lee make a movie that sucks is like turning your kid's little league football team over to Mike Ditka and having it lose. You have to take all things into account here. Ang Lee directed an Oscar-nominated movie about gay cowboys. Yes, gay cowboys and Oscar-nominated were used together in the last sentence. So how does THAT guy make the Hulk suck? Which would be harder to work with -- big green guy who smashes stuff or gay cowboys? In any case, Brokeback Mountain gets rave reviews, and The Hulk gets, at best, mixed reviews. And I develop a deep seeded loathing of Ang Lee.

I've actually spent a lot of time trying to figure out how this happened, and I think I have it figured out. When Ang Lee started to make The Hulk, he vowed to create a Hulk movie with feeling and heart, that was more than just "Hulk Smash!" Therein lies the problem. Die hard Hulk fans want to see "Hulk smash," not "Hulk looks within himself to try to figure out his daddy issues and how these have thus affected his relationships as he has matured." Remember the Incredible Hulk TV series? All I ever wanted from that show as to hear the late, great Bill Bixby say, "Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry," because that meant it was time for some Lou Ferrigno-fueled destruction. And that was fun to watch.

The new Incredible Hulk movie has lots of smashing. But, almost ironically, it has a lot more heart and feeling to it than the crummy Ang lee movie. As a big fan of the Hulk comics (I currently own a run of nearly ever book between issues 300 and 400 from the 80s and 90s), I thought the little things that the new movie touched on, like the relationship between Betty Ross and Bruce Banner, and the dynamic between Betty and General Thunderbolt Ross, was more successful in the new movie. The other thing I like about it?....lots of HULK SMASH!!!! And the Hulk shouting, "Hulk smash!" I am especially fond of the smashing parts.

Well, I think it's about time to wrap up my blogging for the night. I feel better now having unleashed some of my Ang Lee angst, and lauding my boy Hulk. I also just happened to check out the guide on the TV and just happened to notice that one of the 14 HBO channels I'm getting for free is showing The Incredible Hulk in about 15 minutes, and I don't want to miss that.

I Have Seen the Enemy...and It is Nerds

A couple Sundays ago, I found myself in the car - alone - running errands around town -alone- and realized that for one of the rare moments in my life the past few years, I was actually alone. So, I did what any nearing middle age father would do when face with similar circumstances, I went to the comic book store. This is, actually, a bit unusual for me, because I found that tiny voice in my head that sounds a lot like Jiminy Cricket telling me, "You never go to the comic book store on Sundays. There's a reason for this, you know." You know the voice I'm talking about. It's the same one that told Tiger, "You know, a voice mail here would be a BAD idea, Tiger." And like most men, I completely ignored that little voice. Then I walked into my local neighborhood comic book store, the esteemed Prairie Dog Comics, and realized that there IS a reason I don't go to the comic book store on Sundays. . .Sunday is card gaming day.

I will be the first to admit that I am a nerd, but one thing I have vehemently avoided is playing card games. Aside from a briefs dalliance with Magic, which I swear was a one-time thing and the result of some bad advice from a friend, I don't get into Yu-Gi-Oh, or Magic, or anything else along those lines. As a matter of fact, when I was teaching I was the sponsor of the Comic Book Club and rule #1 was "NO CARD GAMES." Generally, I leave card gaming people to their own little world. But that particular Sunday, in that Particular comic shop, our worlds collided, and I was not happy.

Why, you ask? Allow me to explain. The first thing about card gaming days in the comic store is that the store smells funny on those days. Yes, I know this sounds cruel, but people who work there can back me up on this. The other thing that struck me as odd, is that I noticed one of the teens playing Yu-Gi-Oh had a tripod with a video camera set up so he could record his Yu-Gi-Oh match......which I later learned would be posted on his facebook page. There was also another teenaged boy (that goes without saying -- they were all teenaged boys) who appeared to be some kind of game moderator or something walking amongst the (2) tables of gaming talking trash to the other players. About Yu-Gi-Oh. Seriously.

Now, here is the part where I started to get annoyed. First off, these guys make all nerds look bad. Through the carefully planned success of four "Revenge of the Nerds" movies, Bill Gates, Harvey Pekar, and the Spider-Man move franchise (OK, just 1 and 2) we've been able to bring about some semblance of respect for nerds. Then these guys come along. Nerds of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains! Only through solidarity will nerd-dom rise above the shackles of preps and jocks. Way to go card dorks, you've set our movement back 20 years.

The other thing that bothered me about this incident, was the sudden memory of what I was doing at their age. When I was a teenager, on Sunday afternoons, I was doing something apparently unheard of to the Yu-Gi-Oh playing denizens of Prairie Dog Comics...I had a JOB! If I wasn't working, I was probably involved in a backyard football game somewhere, or at least watching football somewhere. What I wasn't doing, was sitting inside the comic store, smelling up the joint (once again, this is confirmed by reliable sources), and spending my time declaring the dominance of my nearly unbeatable green deck of magic cards. I try not to get political when I write, but don't you think the economy would benefit from a few teens working part-time jobs. I'm not even going to bother bringing up childhood obesity, though I could, because most of the card playing kids are relatively thin but doughy. Seriously, I don't want to sounds all preachy and stuff, but I can think of about a million other things that teenaged boys could be doing on a Sunday afternoon instead of sitting in the comic store playing Yu-Gi-Oh.

In any case, I left the store as quickly as possible. I called my buddy Hugo, who used to work at the aforementioned comic store, who reminded my that "you never, EVER, go to the store on Sundays" and "at least you don't work there and have to smell the place after they leave." I was pretty relieved to get out of there, to be honest. But then I remembered, someone has to be the Robert Carridine in this scenario and turn the nerds into the heroes they were meant to be. I will be a role model and show these boys the light. I'm just not going to do it on a Sunday. And I'm pretty sure light burns their skin.

My City, My City, Why Has Thou Forsaken Me?

When I was a senior in high school, the vocal music teacher talked me into being a dancer in the school musical, Oklahoma!. Yes, you read that right, I said a dancer. Before you begin to plan some smarmy comment for the end of this blog, let me remind you that this occurred 20 years and a bout 50 lbs ago and that the music teacher recruited out-of-season athletes (like myself) to be the dancers. So there.

The reason I bring this up is because I was familiar with the famous Rodgers and Hammerstein prior to performing in it. What I knew about the musical really boiled down to it having a song titled "Everything's Up To Date in Kansas City." You remember the tune, "Everything's up to date in Kansas City / It's gone about as far as you can go..." As a young Kansas Citian, I took pride in the fact that someone famous had written a song about my city. And why wouldn't I be? You have to remember that my life is pretty much structured around family, work, sports, and comic books -- in that order. So, in that regard, things looked good, real good. The Royals were perennial contenders to make the World Series, and would eventually win it in 1985. The Chiefs were just a couple years away from Marty-ball and Christian Okoye and legitimacy as powers in the NFL. Even the NBA's Kansas City Kings were a respectable organization. Kansas City looked good.

And then something horrible happened, and things weren't up to date in Kansas City anymore. If you had to make an updated version of Oklahoma! the song might say, "Everything's gone to crap in Kansas City / It's gone about as low as you can go. / The Royals are a laughingstock / The Chiefs just flat-out suck / Event he Wizards don't do very much." It's kind of catchy really....also sadly very true.

I think the fall of sports in Kansas City started when the Kings left for Sacramento. I'd say it started when the NHL's Kansas City scouts left for Colorado, but even the most die-hard hockey fans I know don't realize that the NHL ever had a franchise in Kansas City (but this explains why I cheer for the New Jersey Devils, they are the old Scouts). Truthfully, though, every other sport actually got better when the Scouts left, so I don't think you can blame them. When the Kings left, however, there was hardly a whimper. I remember it as a fairly apathetic response from the City, "Oh our NBA franchise is leaving? OK." I think that's where sports started going south in KC.

News broke this week that the Royals traded Mark Teahen, one of their most consistent performers the past few years, and that they would not re-sign CoCo Crisp. Aside from having a name that just aches for jokes, CoCo seemed to be one of the bright spots for the Royales (with Cheese) at the beginning of the season. His season-ending injury coincided with the club's demise to their perennial spot in the cellar of the weak AL Central. He was brought in for veteran presence, so the management said, so why get rid of him? This is just another in a line of puzzling moves by the Royales. They seem to have no plan to improve their club. The Management actually reminds me of the owner in the first Major League movie, where the showgirl/owner tries to assemble the worst team ever in order to move the team to Florida. Is the Royales' management trying to get the team contracted into oblivion? If they are, they're doing a great job.

Of course, the Royales may actually be in better shape than the Chefs. How do you come off a bye week and look worse than you did before the bye week? Seriously! The Buccaneers came off their bye week with a rookie starting at QB (a questionable rookie at that) and they won! They looked like the worked over the two week stretch. I wish I'd been at Todd Haley's press conference afterwards. I imagine it goes something like this...

Reporter: Coach how did you spend your time during the bye week?
TH: I played some golf, signed another guy no one else wanted, oh, and I had that whole Larry Johnson thing to deal with.
Reporter: But what did you work on with the team?
TH: Ummm...yeah...I knew there was something I didn't do on my list...

In any case, I am trying to believe that the Chefs know what they're doing. I am willing to give them a chance. They did make a step in the right direction with their fans this morning. It's just interesting that no one seemed to see this coming as the team declined the past few years. Don't you think some draft choices could have learned from Willie Roaf or Will Shields for a couple years? See, I could do that job.

Hopefully, the sun will shine on the Kansas City sports world again someday ans things will be up to date once again. But until that day, it will be another long cold winter spent wondering what LSU player the Chefs will take with their first draft pick and which career back-up or aging veteran the Royales will sign as "that one last piece needed to put them over the top." When you think of it, I hope it snows a lot this winter to bury my sorrows.

The Best Thing I've Read Lately

I like to read. Maybe that's why I ended up majoring in English, because I've always liked to read. I will admit that majoring in English teaches one that while you might like to read, you generally only like reading things you like, and loathe things you find uninteresting -- like The Scarlet Letter. But I digress. I've always liked to read.
As a result, I've read a lot of good books. During my teaching career, I read Lord of the Flies, To Kill A Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men, and Animal Farm more times than I care to remember. I've also read Brave New World, 1984, Fahrenheit 451, The Odyssey, Great Expectations...OK, I didn't actually read Great Expectations, I Cliff's Notes-ed that one. I have a deeply profound dislike of Charles Dickens. But if you went over the list of the "Greatest Novels of All Time," I've read most of them.
I still like to read. I like all sorts of different genres, but mostly I just read for fun. Over Labor Day, I went to a used bookstore and stumbled across Spellsinger by sci-fi/fantasy stud Alan Dean Foster. The Spellsinger series was my favorite series when I was like 14. I was able to track down all six of the books through used bookstores, and by the end of the long weekend had polished off three of them. They're still fun to read 20+ years later.
I bring this up, because I'm always on the lookout for something new to read. I recently gave in and read Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Yes, it's geared towards middle schoolers, but nobody has ever accused me of being smarter (or more mature) than a middle schooler. Loved the book. I even happened to LOL at several points. It was good, but not the best thing I've read recently.
The best things I read are usually reserved for my favorite genre of literature. No, not early American literature, which I only professed to love as a thinly veiled attempt to get a better grade in Dr. Machor's graduate level "American Literature: 1776-1865" class on Tuesday nights. My favorite thing to read is comic books (SURPRISE!) and I read a lot of them....a LOT.
So, without further ado, let me tell you of the best thing I've read recently. It's called The Colorblind Art Teacher and can be found at http://www.mwteel.com. Mark Teel is a friend of mine. A very funny and talented friend. It would be very easy to write this off and say, "Oh, he just likes this comic because his buddy writes and draws it." The truth is, this comic --which is made up of vignettes from Marks life, past and present -- is about my life. And my friend Terry's life. And my friend Dave's life. Not your life, Hugo, but pretty much anyone around my age can relate.
Let me elaborate. The first issue of The Colorblind Art Teacherthat I received dealt with Mark taking his daughter to parent/toddler swim lessons. It was funny. It also reminded me of taking my son, Lukas, to parent/toddler swim lessons. Another vignette (oh, that's fun to say) on the web site tells of Mark getting "revenge" on a guy who annoyed him in high school. Mark, working at Price Chopper, refuses to sell the guy beer because he knows he's under 21. I did the exact same thing once, except I was working at Dillons. There's other examples I could give you, but I don't want to ruin things for anyone. When you get down to it, what I like about The Colorblond Art Teacher is that it reminds me of Harvey Pekar's seminal work American Splendor. It's the simple story of a simple guy leading a simple, quirky, funny life. For the record, Teel is not as dorky as Harvey Pekar (nor as rich). Also for the record, I am a big fan of Harvey Pekar (just in case he happens to read this blog).
So, this is my shameless plug of my buddies comic book. Please go to the website and check it out. I don't think you'll be disappointed. If you happen to be disappointed, don't get mad at me about it...and remember, I'm probably bigger than you. Until next time, excelsior true believers!!!