John Likes Grass... the blue kind.

Ok, so last weekend my lovely lady and I took our Dads up into the mountains for Fathers Day. We thought it'd be a nice relaxing getaway for them, with each of their oldest offspring. What mountains, you say?! Why the Poconos, of course! You know... the place where you can't walk 5 feet without bumping into a beer distibutor or a cheap mini-golf course. Oh, and yes, terrorists train there sometimes...

Anyway, great weekend. We took up the coon hound, some beers, a little meat, a few lawn chairs... I know it sounds like the prop list from 'Deliverance' but hey, it's the bare essentials up there! All that was missing was a banjo. Well... did we ever stumble upon the mecca of banjos- a freakin Bluegrass Festival! That's right, pack your plaid and leave the earplugs at home. And don't you dare forget your cooler! We's a goin' to the Great Pocono Bluegrass Festival, nah.

Well, we went, and who do you think I stumbled upon there? Go ahead... just guess...

Bela Fleck?! Nope. Lindsay Buckingham? Uh uh. The cast of Good Times?! Pfff.


Well, here's a hint...

Still like "Wha?! Intern Dave, you crazy. What the crap are you talkin about??"

OK. Let's zoom up a bit on the action... maybe you were distracted by Mount Fest (which, unfortunately, wasn't what you think)

NOW look!

You see?! Caught red-handed! Yes, that's him. JDB himself, the purveyor of classic rock- on a freakin upright bass, playin' a bluegrass festival! Are you freakin out like I was?!

No, I was not hallucinating (even though it does say grass fest behind him). The camera does not lie!

You still need further proof?! Hey. Whatever. Case is closed after this one... when you wake up tomorrow and hear "Dueling Banjos" instead of "Night Moves" don't say I didn't warn you!

Cover blown:




Notice the coloration of cheeks, due to the knowledge that his secret life of banjo-loving, upright bass slapping and Yee-haw yellin' days were now exposed! That's what he gets for making me drink toilet water. Intern revenge, at its finest. I rest my case.

Outbreak!

Well one thing's for sure, in radio, sickness abounds. Yes, in more ways than one, and yup, in that five-people-herded-into-the-same-small-studio kinda way. John was feeling the heat (or rather the cold) today, as I was last week. Go Go was sick before that, but that's just cause he quit coffee. Jen was sick too. I think. Wait... No, she just got pissed cause John said size 14 was fat. And that giant?! Ha! Well... he just likes to see sick. As in, me do things... that are sick. So then he can laugh. At me. A-hole.

But honestly, holy God I was weezin, sneezin and everything in ...betweezin last week. Pfff. Did I just write that? I did. Ok. Go ahead, Snoop, just... take it. Anyway, my allergies have been worse than ever this year. And we dont have many tissues in our apartment, if any. Do Downey rolls count? I don't think you start buying tissues til you have kids. So all last week I was just sending massive torrents of micro-spray into the apartment atmosphere. Picture a Skittles commercial, only replace the rainbow shower with my mucus. That was my Northeast habitat last week.

Are you enjoying this, Brian?! Hope so, buddy!

So yes, it's been rough... but we don't take any crap from anybody- including our noses! So I been takin my multi-vitamin, a lil Sudafed, a lil more Sudafed... some Benadryl... you know, just being mindful and responsible about it. That and I read recently that a sneeze causes the sensation of 1/8th of an orgasm. You heard right! I read it, it must be true. So by that calculation... which, by the way, how does one measure that you experience "0.125" of a sexual climax, anyway? And who are these horny math geeks?! ...but by that estimation, I, Intern Dave, had about 89 big O's last week!

Now that's lookin' at the brightside.

Intern Insight...

Well they tried again, and I had to strike down yet another attempt at Intern intellect! Today I unleashed a forceful blow of mindpower to the listeners of the DeBellaware Valley... and as it stands: ID-2, General Pop.-0! Perhaps it should be "IQ"...hmmm... eh, I'll wait til 3 in a row. Then I'll make the switch. Yes, I, Intern Dave prevailed once again this morning; hard to believe for some, easy to understand for others.

And if you are sitting there saying "Ha! This kid's a real piece of work... brains my ass... after that Yoohoo answer. Puh!" Well, all I have to say to you is... "like a cat with a mouse". I'm toyin' just with 'em! Gotta make it dramatic, why not give the listener a head start?!

Actually, ok, maybe you have a point. I want to come clean. So to give you a clearer picture of what goes on in my mind, I dug up a specialized miniature super-camera snapshot that was taken during a personal neurological exam. This is actual footage of what is happening in my mind at all times...

Yes, a fusion of genius in a stormtrooper outfit, balanced with a little not-so-genius, some say "delightfully absent-minded" mix, all being monitored by a small Asian man in my frontal lobe. Welcome to my world. It's really not that bad...

Anyway, what can I say? All I know is the Phillies keep winning when I do... and they are playing the Royals next week. So PLEASE, just try me! I'm right here waiting!

Don't forget to wear your sunblock. Peace.

May Daze

I gotta check my horoscope... just to get confirmation that this week was supposed to be as crazed as it was for me. Sometimes life outside of the studio is just as, if not more bonkers than all the shennanigans that go on over the air.

Hmmm. But let's see... on Tuesday I had my unprecedented man-on-the-street interview assignment with America's newswoman. Good ol' Katie Couric. What did the stars have in store then?

"Overview:'Let the good times roll' is your motto -- and when other people see how well you're doing with it, they'll want to join in on the fun. How convenient! 'The more, the merrier' happens to be your back-up motto right now."

Well there definitely were people joining in on the fun... if you count Katie-holics, angry husbands and homeless people! That's pretty on point. Oh, by the way, here's some action shots from the big night...
Now how could she not talk to me when I mean business like that. See what I'm sayin?! Yeah?? Good. Anyway I deployed many tactics throughout the night...

Notice the adoring young woman, staring in adoration of my journalistic prowess and determination. Either that or my boxers sticking out. But that was on purpose as well! You've heard those attraction to younger men rumors with Ms. Couric, oh yes...


And there she is, right before I struck. Yeah, that smile didn't last for long... Sorry to all the fans whose toes I stepped on and whose kids I may have shoved aside. Truly, deeply, I apologize. All in the name of the scoop. Anyway the mission was accomplished! Alicia Lane, I'm comin' for you next. Be prepared. Be scared.

Time to Strip Again...

Only this time there will be no broadcast, no video (sorry, ladies), alas... not even a mere casual observer. At least I think so. We'll see... the girlfriend and I are headed to the good ol' Jersey shore this afternoon! It's summer as far as we're concerned. As long as we can weather the thunderstorms and massive brushfires, we should be headed for the paradise of Lavallette, NJ. The destination where tourists are endangered species (or so I've heard). Let's just say I'm hoping to relax and catch a tan through the cloudy skies, without hearing 'Dance Dance Revolution' in the background.

Yes, the newly unemployed girlfriend and I will be reminiscing about the days of old... like last Thursday. The phonecalls. The databases. The shiny new coffeepot and the way it filled up our cubicles... Aaahhhh. Whatever happened to those days?!

THEY'RE GONE! And we just got to celebrate. Not even a week's anniversary... but we can't help it. Screw the dole, we are on the beach. So I am looking forward to that very much. What do you think, hot pants? Should I bust them out again? I don't think I have swimming trunks in Philly. Just gym shorts. Eh, it's Jersey, who gives one...

If Billy Joel can talk about weekends at the Jersey shore, I aint' worried about what I look like there. Just give me a quiet, needle-less beach and an ounce of sun. I'll be smiling. Oh, I'll also be smiling if my car makes it both ways. Yeah, that would be cool too.

I'm off to find a decent 6-pack.

An Intern's Commencement Address...

Loyal listeners, especially of the 21-25 yr ols demographic... you may have heard The John DeBella Show's own, Giant Brian, proclaim his wisdom on life after college today. I found it to be a rather noble and honest opinion piece on the life and times of the college grad.

I would like to further the discussion and offer my somewhat wet-behind-the-ears experience into the world of "post-degree". My advice? Take that bachelor's degree. I know, looks like a high school diploma. Hmmm... feels like a high school diploma. Well, you know the old adage- then it is the equivalent of a high school diploma!

Is it?! I don't know. I haven't really made myself too visible yet in the job-seeker pool. Can you believe I actually enjoy all the abuse here?! I guess I do. That and hugs from Brian. They make it all worth while. But can I get a witness?! College is the new high school, and finding a good entry-level job is about as easy as finding good entry to the Playboy Mansion. But I have been supplementing the money MGK pays me to strip, with various odd-jobs round the town...

And this week, I am happy to announce that I have once again stripped ...myself of my one and only CRAP job! Let's call it my "Sanjaya" gig- the one that started with some promise, a little hype and excitement, only to peak really early... and just cling there... and become burdensome, then loathsome, then disgraceful, then somebody hide my gun!

Well, I am happy and proud, bursting with excitement and freedom actually... to say that #2 part-time job, my market research gig, let's call it "Sanjaya and Associates" HAS BEEN VOTED OFF! And there won't be any work for him to follow... no coat-tails to hold on to. Sorry, your Idol Tour has been cancelled. Indefinitely.

Let's just say when John says "Don't take any crap from anybody," his intern listens.

Man-Maid?!

Yeah... not so much. I hope! Look, I love mothers as much as the next good son. I'm the oldest of 5- got nothin' but love, respect and adoration! But if I dress up like whatever freak y'all are voting on, I'm gonna lose all love. Respect. Adoration. ...Heterosexuality (which I happen to enjoy very much!)

So all you "kinks" out in DeBellaware Valley- 'Vote or Die' does not apply here. But if you must! Just remember... Brian wants maid and he is always wrong! In fact, after some internet research, I discovered that HE, in fact, has once donned the maid garb... witness!



Pink booty shorts or whatever the other crap candidate is will NOT be touching my skinny little white ass either, so let's just stop with the voyeuristic fantasies, shall we? Thank you. Don't even make me dig up pictures of that to deter you. In fact, here's an idea- start a petition for me. I know there's some 'Dave' fans out there, right?! And I don't mean the hippie frat-band guy. I'm talkin' routers for the underdog, the oppressed?! Well, here's your man. Right here. Help a brotha out! I am your Philadelphia Phillies, your Barbaro. If I gotta clean in one of these get-ups, you might as well break my leg and send me get well cards.


Think of my Mother then! Show some brotherly love for Christ's (and my) sake!

Check Engine... or else.

Well I know, I've become somewhat blog-slacker as of late. I admit it. There's a lot more goin though! Sometimes the memoir's gotta be the sacrificial lamb for churning out one amazing show after another. Dig?! Good...

Yes, a lot going on these days. More responsibilities on the show, in life! I wish John had Brian take that Bazooka bat to my car last week instead of me- it might have gotten my "Check Engine" light to shut off, and I coulda passed inspection! Unfortunately yesterday, I had to dip my hand deeper into my pockets than I did my face in mayo. And it was just to pay off a garage to tell me I failed inspection AND emissions!

Thanks, Tom (and fellow grease monkeys). I'm happy to dish out $95 for you to look at my tires and say 3 are shabby, and see that my check engine light is on. That's a sweet lil' pay-to-fail racket you got yourselves there- I'm in the wrong business! Good thing you're not my dentist... "Smile. Teeth could be whitened... 200 dollars, please." Or my landlord... "Your grass cutting sucks- rent's doubled!" Maybe my college professor... "Your thesis is a piece of shit- give me 50 bucks. Now."

God almighty. How does any car pass inspection?! Have you ever seen ANY car, made before 1998, that HASN'T had that stupid light on?>! I freakin' hate that light, man. That God-forsaken little orange turd that blinks... that obnoxious, money-costing, good-for-nothing, fear-mongering, choad sentence that now haunts me EVERY TIME I SIT BEHIND THE WHEEL!

Let this be a lesson to you, DeBella fans... don't let that little light stare you down much longer! It will get you. I don't care if you have to crawl up into the hood, inside your car, fore-arm deep in a jungle of twisted metal, gears and boiling oil... shut that damn light off!

Mazeltov!

I think that's how you write it. Cut me some slack! I just said it, yelled it, for the first time yesterday. And boy did it feel good! My first Jewish wedding. All I gotta say is, let's call a spade a spade- it's a bigass party.

The food, the people, the Hebrew... 'Grannies Gone Wild' on the dance floor... Enough wine to hold world-wide communion... pretty wild stuff. I'm a simple Gentile! Not privy to this stuff! I felt like a stranger at a Sopranos family reunion, only with smaller food portions and no pervading fear of losing my life. Pretty rowdy stuff though, for Sunday night.

But I made it to work today! I know some other fellow attendees will be succumbing to "the morning after" disease. It's ok- there's a cure! Water. Sleep. And... more sleep. Pretty sweet cure, I know.

Anyway, when I get home today perhaps I'll dig up a picture to post from my momentous, unprecedented experience. I'm easy to spot- the white guy without the yarmulka!

And yes, I had to look that up. And it is really spelled like that.

Mazeltov!

Craving Some Pastime

With Bill Giles in the other day and this current 5 game winning streak, I gotta admit... I am in desperate need of a Phillie fix! And not the kind you can find on a corner in Germantown. I gotta get me an ice cold beer, a warm Spring day and a decent seat at Citizen's Bank!

I'm feeling like a fake fan lately. Now 20 games into the marathon otherwise known as a baseball season... what are they, I guess 12% done?! Unacceptable. I deserve a fastball to the groin. Thrown by Randy Johnson... after he discovers his wife has been cheating on him. I'm ashamed! If John Kruk found about this, he would teabag me. And I would still be able to see out of one eye. So I guess that's where the Randy Johnson fastball should go!

Ugh, don't take after me true Phillie fans! Get your asses out to the park. Go today, go now! Tailgate, drink, chant, cheer, throw things, yell TO Sucks, whatever! And look for John, Jen and/or Brian today and realize I am there too... in spirit. My heart is in it. I just don't have any stubs. Soon! Payday is tomorrow. I'm coming for you "Flash"! I love you Chase! I want you Charlie! Oh wait...

Is that SUN?!

It is. It was. How sweet is nice weather?! Everyone is in a good mood... the Phils start winning... I even saw a pigeon sharing a street bagel with stray cat. But that was on 4-20. Probably the heat!

Anyway, I stayed in Philly the whole weekend. Truly a rarity, at least in this intern's life. Seeing as how practically everyone I know from college has moved out (back home, mostly). AND both mine and the girlfriend's kin reside in the Lehigh Valley (NOT the Poconos, as John swears!) we end up going home most weekends. But not this time!

Yesterday we might as well have been down in A.C. You coulda caught us two honkies, we were brightening up our Northeast neighborhood in the "backyard," which in reality is a 5 x 15 plot of concrete surrounded by chain-link fence. Nevertheless, we made it our beach as we layed out on our slick new Kmart loungers. We had Scrabble out, our sun tan lotion, wine... basically an unprecedented showing of whiteness in the nieghborhood. And it was heaven!

Until my skin started to peel. But hey, it's NICE! Who cares?!? I WANNA BURN!

Go outside.

2 Week Hiatus?! Well...

I apologize, loyal intern-supporters! Supporter? Anyone?! Got-damn. I hope someone is still out there... I feel like I'm back out in the Noreaster! Alone, adrift. Only this time it's cause I slacked. Well- I'm back like Don Imus. Oh wait...

In case you were worried, I was allowed back in, off my cutting-edge weather post. Jen was getting pissed- I was infringing on her show territory! At least that's what Giant Brian told me. So it's probably not true.

Anyway, I checked and it's been 2 weeks since I told intern tales. And those were not 2 weeks paid vacation- to quote Aerosmith and your middle school crush, "DREAM ON!" A lot has happened in the inter(n)rum... mainly, a lot of rock n roll... both at the station, at home jamming with friends, and out on the Philly rock scene. A lotta shows comin up for me and my gal, including last nights's Electric Factory pummeling by Sevendust.

Do yourself a favor before you die. The next time you're mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore?! Get yourself a Sevendust ticket. Go early. Get a spot as close to the drum set as possible. Remain patient through the ear-drum rape otherwise known as the opening acts. Or, build your anger for the release you will get once Morgan and co. take the stage. Once the lights dim, direct your attention to the floating armada that makes up Morgan Rose's drum kit, pump fist in the air and commence the ROCK. He will not disappoint! Forget the feng shui office with a shrinky-dink mulling your problems. Watching this guy bash his kit in for an hour and a half is my therapy! It's a freaking rush and a half. Picture watching a manic octopus of rock battling for his life! Yes, octopi have been known to give the finger. A lot.

...just take me up on it. You will understand. You will love it. Your wife will shake her head.

Spring Sprung

I know I said I'd continue my movie rental battle of the sexes, but I'm putting it off until I go to "the Block" tonight. My girlfriend has been fixated on this "Pursuit of Happyness". And that's how they spelled it, and no I don't have any idea why. But yeah, it's the father-son, cutesy shmutsey bonding flick with Will Smith and his son. She doesn't get it. I'll go appreciate something like that when I have rugrats of my own. Until then, I only wanna see Will Smith shoot at robots, thank you very much. If I'm pursuing happIness, I'm going to the 'Action' or 'Horror' section, not a sappy "just the two of us" melodrama. Pardon my inner guy.

And I know, Will Smith is Philly-boy turned good and all but come on! At least romantic comedies have babes and keen insights as to how females work. Some redeeming, useful qualities! I have a great dad. I don't need to pursue happyness with the Fresh Prince.

But anyway... what do I wanna talk about. The weather. Thank the Lord this crap came down today and not yesterday! If you heard the drama of "Deadliest Schkuykil Catch" play out, you'll know what I'm talkin' about. Had it been coming down yesterday like today, I mighta been getting rescued by the Penn row team. Gotta say though, it was quite the expedition. Be ready for more tours of duty in the future...

I gotsta run. Put the cell phone down and turn your wipers on. Thank you all, goodnight.

Battle of the Sexes

There's one scenario that every guy goes through in life. Every guy with a girlfriend, that is. I don't care how weird the couple, how offbeat or unique the pairing is- at some point you two are going to be pacing the aisles of Blockbuster together, engaging inTinseltown tug-o-war.

Just admit it. It's bound to happen. Visiting the videostore together is like trying to buy a car at a lot that sells pick-up trucks and sporty 2-door coupes. Compromise is an endangered species. You might as well be lawyers at trial, defending your client. In most cases, mine is Steven Segall and/or Bruce Willis. And they are always guilty- of kicking ass! More commonly referred to as the case of Mr. Action-horror flick vs. Sappy Drama-Romantic comedy (notice the emphasis). A case more common than custody.

Everyone has this problem. Couples simply cannot decide on a movie! It does not happen. Tell me the last time you did the old A to Z strut and had more than one flick in your hand. More than one flick that would be approved. Ah hah! There-in lies the catch, old boys. It's on the 2nd tour that things start getting sorted out...

I will continue the diagnosis after this weekend. Further research must be gathered to state my case. Court adjourned!

White Man Can't Jam?

A very popular sentiment. Truth? Myth? Just plain hate?! Well, while "jump" may be true, I beg to differ when it comes to jam. I'm bringing this up cause I discovered something amazing this past week. My favorite jam spot did NOT go quietly into the night as I thought!

Ever gone to Warmdaddy's? Check it out. Especially if you wield an axe and dig babybacks. OHH! I'll be here all night. Guitars and ribs, if you are completely lost. No, honestly, this place was one of my favorite Philly haunts since my freshman year at Temple. And when I moved back from New York- vacant! I thought it hit hard times, but never wanted to believe the hottest open mic in town bit the dust. Apparently it hasn't! My girl caught a glipse of it in her peripheral vision the other night, while cruising about town. I looked it up. She lives! Well, the warm daddy lives, and no he isn't a brothel or a strip club. Just straight up soul- food and music. That sums it up.

So next week- it's back to the old open mic night! Gotta brush up on my B.B.King and Otis Redding tunes... If you see me up there, hold off on the tomatoes. It's been a while!

Crap, I'm Below 'E'...

So yesterday I realized something. I don't know if it was an epiphany, or just a sad, sad wake up call. I am nothing without technology. Completely inept. Worthless! I was late for the show and went back to get my wallet... then hopped on the Blvd and realized i had forgotten my GPS unit as well. All good... I can get to the station with my eyes closed. It practically is that dark at 530am anyway.

But I got drum lessons afterward, in the suburbs. Oh God. Woods, windy roads, gated communities and golf courses. Only soccer moms at my disposal for directions. OK! That's where I should have "thrown in the towel", excuse the lame pun. But honestly, breaking down would have gotten me less lost than I did thinking I could figure it OUT! I ended up calling the gal to mapquest my way out of suburban hell over the phone.

So next thing, I'm stuck in Philly's 4:30 rush hour on the Schuykill. Oh, look! My gas needle decided to take a nose dive below the little orange landing strip! Jesus, I don't even have anything white, or clothy to hang out the window. Does a blue t-shirt/ oil rag work?? Will that count?! I'm gonna get towed! I'm gonna be out of gas AND paying Lew Blum $250 to get my wagon back. Damn you, technology, you've rendered me useless!

So what happened? I desperately got off Route 1, got lost in the ghetto of Germantown searching for gas. NO ONE drives in Germantown! It's a Septa mecca. I think I passed 24 bus stops before I saw what could be a ghetto mirage. I did 3 miles on fumes to finally stumble into a Hess where I would have gotten crack cheaper than a gallon of gas. And I almost did!

Ok, my point?! Don't forget your damn navigation system. Don't forget to fill up. Don't turn off Route 1 until at least Broad St. Thank me later...

"2 Irish Car Bombs"

There was a lot of that this weekend! It was a travelling circus back home in Allentown... yeah, the town with Dorney Park and that Billy Joel song. And the people that drive like Billy Joel. With the same levels of blood-alcohol. Without the same supermodel girlfriends.

We went out on the suddenly annual St. Patty's bar tour of A-town. A mixture of cheap dives, pretentious Irish Pubs, and people you haven't seen since hitting puberty. And those car bombs, of course! My dad even offered to pick us up later. I almost forgot we weren't going to sneak into rated-R movies! But as for my dad- good samaritan? Or vicarious pop tryin to catch a glipse of drunk college chicks. Hmmm. In any case, we didn't need him.

I called the attention of a 2-foot Wawa hoagie instead, which soaked up my potbelly of Irish beverage (not Shamrock shakes). And my very hangover-free Sunday morning benefitted as well from this 24 inches of glory. Oh, stop it! I was worried though, walking out of Wawa with this cardboard sniper rifle case. It payed off. We ate. We drank. It was merry.

Now take your damn kilt off!

Craigslist Addiction

So there's this list, goes by the name of Craig. Perhaps you've heard of it. I am personally indebted to it. I am gay for it, for Craig, and his online list. I admit it! I found my apartment, my jobs, furniture, entertainment, electronics... everything this year! I have more Craigslist paraphenalia than newly-weds have IKEA. It's that serious.

And yesterday I finally got the last 2 things I've been desiring- Playstation 2 and a love seat. Not necessarily in that order. Not necessarily to compliment one another! But they came within 24 hours of each other, and now I feel complete. They were the last things I've been on the prowl for since moving into my own place again, here in the city of brotherly love. And what brotherly love it is, to have one huge-ass garage sale online and live off each other's crap they don't want anymore! I embrace it. This whole future things is pretty alright.

So looks like it's back to reading about foot fetish parties and sperm donor ads. Craigslist, much like America is a melting pot of all aspects and walks of life! Just watch out for Nigerian wire scams. Oh, and the get rich quick schemes. You want to get rich quick? Rob a bank. Don't lick envelopes. As for me, my apartment is finally complete. And I don't give myself one week before I'm e-mailing somebody else about their junk!

Happy surfing.

Get Out My Way!

One week shoveling snow off your car, the next running around in a speedo. Welcome to Philly! Yesterday freaked me out a little. Outside I went from a jacket, to hoody, to long-sleeve, to t-shirt in a matter of 5 minutes. The last time that happened I was in college, sipping a 40 and holding cards.

But, alas, yesterday was not fun and games (just on the show). The rest of my day was a living hell on the roadways. See, rush hour sucks in Philly, but you add nice weather to rush hour? People can't wait to get in a gridlock! I'm sure of it, I'm telling you, people use nice weather just to get their lazy asses out of the house. Even if they have nowhere to go! OR NO PLAN! "Oh God, it's amazing outside, I gotta hop in my car and join the orgy on 76. The wife can't argue with that!" I swear, people don't just hangout and bike to the park anymore. It's beautiful out- time to hit the mall! What a nice day, perfect for a doctor visit!

So here's my advice, Philadelphians and other tri-staters: the next time nice weather kicks in here- experience it without the sun hitting you through a huge pane of glass. Or through the mall skylight. I don't care if you are one of those twenty-something runner dweebs that has to keep running in place at stoplights! I'll still hate you- but at least you won't be taking up space on the roadways! You'll just risk getting hit on them.

Which, could be a great thing as well. Time to hit the road...

It's been a minute...

but I'm back like your psycho ex-girlfriend! And better looking, most likely! Hope y'all classic rockers have been well, and are enjoying this lovely Spring that seems to have sprung... like Go Go at a-- ok, enough with the similes! You'll have to excuse me, I'm excited to be back at the station, back in my cubicle, spilling the intern beans as usual. They're 'Goya', if you're curious.

And what beans I have to spill! Actually, not really... not much has gone down since I left, just my heating bill. I contemplated getting Police tickets, but then realized I already got two this year and can't afford anymore. *knee slap* Now you see why my jokes come off the air...

But seriously, I really did contemplate going to see Sting and the gang rock Citizen's Bank Park. But really the only time I'd pay hundreds of dollars to see the police on the Phillies baseball field is when fans storm it after a World Series win! Which is going to happen later this year anyway. Patience is my virtue.

So until then, I will sit back, enjoy the nice warm weather and watch the Phils from my $20 seat. If I'm lucky I'll catch 'Sendin Out an S.O.S.' over the PA system, when opposing teams face bases jammed and none out. I'll take that!

I'll see ya at Dollar Dog Day.