SomaCow

 

 248: SynSowSay? [54:30m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

SomaCow Media is proud to present SomaCow brought to you by Def Leppard’s Drummer.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to do things one handed? You might laugh and think, ‘Jen I only need one hand for that‘ and to that I say… sometimes you have to switch hands! Cramping!

One day Geoff asked me what advice I’d give moms-to-be, and while I pondered the answer to his question, while holding Rowan, keeping her from grabbing the knife on the table, while I cut my food with a fork, he interjected, ‘I’d say doing things one-handed’. Until that moment I hadn’t noticed all I had started doing, albeit slowly, with only one upper appendage. And I’d have to agree with him. Laundry, dishes, eating… all are done differently now. Multi-tasking at its finest.

And why am I even talking about this? Because I am typing this whole blog one-handed, duh.

But I digress (before my arm cramps up more) and back to hour 2 of SomaCow…

In this hour, the guys talked about their dream bedrooms, their love of music… and then realized that they were SomaCow, not the new Say… Anything. So they decided they all needed to talk about their manly things they did this week… and their not-so-manly things.

Speaking of a new Say… Anything, as you may know (and if you don’t I’m about to tell you), I co-hosted a show called Say… Anything. We had been going for about a year and a half and through some personnel changes, job changes, and just life changes, the show is down to me. As much as I’m sure everyone would just love an hour of me and Rowan (/sarcasm), it just isn’t the best idea. So Geoff and I are talking about doing a show together, reviewing the music that comes into the studio and previewing albums for you, The Heard. We’re flushing out the details (and the name… SynDown? ComaSow? Say… Anything?) and will keep you posted!

Mickey reminds us all at the :40 to put on our mask first, and good advice that is!

smooches until Friday (join us live at Ustream 7-10 PM Eastern)!

 

 238: The OPECalypse [1:02:47m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

SomaCow Media Inc. is (proud?) to present SomaCow.  This hour is brought to you by piled up disasters.

A little back story.  A few months ago, my best friend was in the hospital.  He wasn’t sick.  He was (physically) doing fine.  He was there for the birth of my goddaughter.  Actually he was at the birthing center, and then ended up at the hospital.  His wife, one of my best friends, was on death’s door.  There were complications, but like a trooper, she pulled through.

On that day, we were confronted by the universal flow of karmic spirituality of the nature of man… or whatever the hell kind of mumbo jumbo in which you have a belief.  A voice inside me said, “Mickey, the universe is like a fat girl in a rocking chair.  She goes back and forth and creeks a lot… with her chubby cleavage hanging out everywhere, but she always ends up right side up.”  I said, “You know voice, that makes absolutely no fucking sense what-so-ever, and Chubby-girls-in-rocking chairs is a blatant ripoff of fat-girls-in-party-hats (dot com).”

But, it made me think.  Every action has an opposite and equal reaction.  On that day, we were assaulted by the media.  They were blasting away telling us that gas would rise in price.  The gas did rise in price, but the major cause was the pure speculation that gas would go up in price.  We (J and I, joined by The Chick That I Am Dating) decided to fight back.

We pronounced and announced on that day that we would start a rumor.  A rumor to help drive gas prices down.  A rumor that called out to the world saying, “I heard a rumor that gas would be one dollar a gallon by March of 2009″.

People around the globe joined the battle.  Ross, took up the cause and spread the rumor around the airwaves.  Reports from all over, Chinamen, Singaporians, People of Canadia, West Uzbekistanians, and even Iranistanians were yelling from rooftops that they heard a rumor that gas would be one dollar per gallon by March of 2009.

For the first time in eons, the People of Earth were United.  Most of the people.  There were some that did not like our agenda.  Some claimed that for this to happen, the global economy would have to crash.

I said, “So Be It!”

Some claimed that wars would be waged, I said, “Bring it on!”

Some said, “OPEC is gone done fuck you up.”

I say, “Let them come!”

And they did.  OPEC (although we have no proof what-so-ever) sabatoged our beloved Hopper.  They cut power to the studio (again, no proof, only assumtion and conjecture).  And still we scream, “‘We will not go quietly into the night!’ We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!”

So I dedicate this (really poorly done) episode, to you… the people that took up a hopeless cause and brought forth on this continent, a new, lower gas price.  Get Jiggy with it.  Na na na nuh na na.

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All men think they’re hot. It’s how you can tell us apart from women without using a speculum.

I, being very realistic, think I’m hot, too. But the key is that I realize that I am RELATIVELY hot. I’m hot when compared to some people, but not so much when compared to others. Compared to the Reverend Al Sharpton, I am on FIRE, but compared to, say, any of the professional male dancers on Dancing with the Stars I am…ummm…well, at least I’m hetero.

At the beginning of 2008, I determined to regain some of my former hotness that has been lost over the years to a sedentary lifestyle, a plethora of fine pilsner treats, and numerous mexican food products.

I want to lose an astonishing SEVENTY pounds, get a tan, and beg, borrow or steal an ab.

So, as I progress through my Journey to Hottness, I’ll keep you posted on how relatively hot I am, using this convenient Journey to Hottness thermometer:

On an unrelated note: a wart can be an embarassing and unsightly blemish. I have a small wart on my right hand, and I decided to get rid of it before little kids started calling me Old Man Wartmonsterhand (kids are not very creative in these times of talking sponge cartoons), and avoiding my house at Halloween.

To this end, I purchased a product called “Compound W One Step Invisible Strips”. “Great!”, I thought, when I read the box. “Now I don’t have to use some nasty ointment that looks worse than the wart itself, causing women to flee in alarm and disgust, which they hardly ever do now!” Continuing to read the label, I was delighted at the part that said “New Invisible Strips to Hide the Wart!” I was flushed with patriotic consumer pride to be using this new, state of the art, stealth-wart-pad technology that would not call attention to my one, tiny bodily flaw.

Below is a high-resolution picture of an actual “Compound W One Step Invisible Strip” applied to my actual hand. It is absolutely undetectable to the naked eye! Who says America no longer leads the world in the design and production of quality consumer goods?!