tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-310865482024-03-15T03:25:25.047-04:00This Blog May or May Not Suck(mostly may)I used to be a television news photographer in Charlotte, USA. Now I work for a cable network doing techy stuff which isn't as much fun, but pays better. There is a good chance you'll think this blog sucks. I don't blame you.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.comBlogger253125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-38835201824369544982009-07-24T21:41:00.000-04:002009-07-24T21:43:00.315-04:00Eff ThisHow often do you get sick of your daily routine? I'm pretty easy to please and my work schedule is nuts, so I don't get sick of mine very often but I imagine your run of the mill banker or office worker often sits in their cubical and wants to get up, hop in the car, drive to the airport and go somewhere far, far away on a regular basis.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aDklQ2ah7bbS8By6pKEbrCJkPQxxXM0mUrSkM3aKG0VfocvUkBO1nO0yMLWhU_A5LEsR-Ke4AJPkb3xKMFBiAl8PMVwtVpke12nEpfzf2meuakBT6p4oXRXlnK0uTNY8owc1Vg/s1600-h/Ireland.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362158459812157346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aDklQ2ah7bbS8By6pKEbrCJkPQxxXM0mUrSkM3aKG0VfocvUkBO1nO0yMLWhU_A5LEsR-Ke4AJPkb3xKMFBiAl8PMVwtVpke12nEpfzf2meuakBT6p4oXRXlnK0uTNY8owc1Vg/s320/Ireland.jpg" border="0" /></a>Enter Matt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Pedigo</span> and Drew Hunt. Matt grew up in rural Kentucky, was a Marine and eventually ended up shooting tape in Reno and Knoxville before Covering the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Carolinas</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">WSOC</span>. Drew hails from Savannah and is an enormous <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">UGA</span> and Panthers fan who shot news in his hometown before making his way to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">WSOC</span> a few years ago. Oh yeah, Drew also was a professional wrestler who has more than one belt. Two great dudes who are good enough friends they decided to rid themselves of local television news and skip town.</p><p>Leaving Charlotte wasn't quite far enough. Leaving North Carolina wasn't far enough. These two bought a one way ticket to Ireland. Next Sunday they'll land in Dublin, spend a couple of days sampling the locals and the local beverages before they start walking. They'll probably hitch a ride here and there, but for the most part, they'll lug big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">assed</span> backpacks around the country for a while, then make their way through various other parts of Europe relying on their friendship and the kindness of strangers for survival. </p><p>Matt just got back from shooting a documentary in The Republic of Congo and Drew sold his condo and truck so they have nothing American to worry about while they're over there. </p><p>When I see people I know doing stuff like this, I always wonder if I could do it. I'm not sure I could, even when I was single. Let's be honest. It takes enormous balls to say, "Eff this, let's go backpacking!" That's exactly what Matt and Drew are doing. I'm impressed and happy for them. It's always nice to see folks who used to do what I used to do for a living do something really cool on their own accord. They'll have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">freakin</span>' blast. Many of their friends, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">colleagues</span> and coworkers gathered at <a href="http://www.ginmill.biz/">The Gin Mill</a> Wednesday for a final pint and goodbye before they head east. Neither one of them looked nervous, just really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">freakin</span>' excited. </p><p>Oh, and they'll be <a href="http://www.wanderingbear.org/">blogging</a> along the way, too.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-26452340431243537382009-06-27T23:37:00.004-04:002009-06-28T01:20:53.560-04:00Bummed with the Sanfords<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmIeeUdo2OyL_sVbXg5re6Iuz-HRvn83hHwF8AqHdeLqejLGx6D7tbMhZvXqgSpQIsUrdw8sr2g7sPHeQ8z8vFBeFQ_XkoxRGrApn00xH3jLCxE9pd4Oos_qcqILMBhiPcKij4ww/s1600-h/mark.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352217711785298450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmIeeUdo2OyL_sVbXg5re6Iuz-HRvn83hHwF8AqHdeLqejLGx6D7tbMhZvXqgSpQIsUrdw8sr2g7sPHeQ8z8vFBeFQ_XkoxRGrApn00xH3jLCxE9pd4Oos_qcqILMBhiPcKij4ww/s320/mark.jpg" border="0" /></a>I try to stay away from the popular stories. I find if media if providing way too much coverage, there isn't a chance anyone would want my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">opinion</span> about it. Lucky for all of you, I'm not a Michael Jackson Fan. I have been fascinated by the Mark Sanford deal, though. I love this dudes fiscal policies. Anyone who pisses off Republicans by refusing to accept federal money is my kind of politician. As the governor of the lesser Carolina(yep, I said it,) he hasn't given a horse's ass what anyone thinks about what he does. As governor, he's always seemed to do the right thing. Democrats hate him and alleged 'fiscal conservative' Republicans hated him, too when he brought pigs to the state house. It almost made me want to move to South Carolina. That's a big almost.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafVUGNsK-A2otOozh_27pW44dOZ9jdMBF0n3wGPpHaEF_fMjLryyTAkIFum6yhXTCrjDknufebYXFoW9_BQHAjvkFJm26RHRyjNbRLq7chU6-hCry18jT4ZS-7qyn3ilN-HlDmA/s1600-h/DSC01131.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352217709386999298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafVUGNsK-A2otOozh_27pW44dOZ9jdMBF0n3wGPpHaEF_fMjLryyTAkIFum6yhXTCrjDknufebYXFoW9_BQHAjvkFJm26RHRyjNbRLq7chU6-hCry18jT4ZS-7qyn3ilN-HlDmA/s320/DSC01131.JPG" border="0" /></a>I was fortunate to cover the <a href="http://thisblogmayormaynotsuck.blogspot.com/2008/09/tale-of-two-cities.html">Republican National Convention</a> last year and we got to do a ton of cool stories as part of my last big assignment in news. Hurricane Gustav was about to Katrina the Gulf Coast again and they were talking of halting the convention to focus on the would be victims of Gustav. The Republicans <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mobilized</span> a bunch of their politicians, their wives and delegates to get ready for Hurricane Relief. Reporter <a href="http://www.news14.com/content/about_us/shawn_flynn/default.aspx">Shawn Flynn</a> and myself scoured St. Paul, MN looking for people doing hurricane stuff and one of the Republican PR folks set us up with Governor Sanford's wife.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9iKXlciQlwqdzN1VvAuN8SsTwtn31OzEBoecAtSdv7vux3IeeMdJHIOyQUawzPx-bKWFoh8cV9-n47yMmro-50Ml_UuwztGKPj_M_ifa_VitUd5j89n8696Ez211zKVKi2jmcXw/s1600-h/Jenny.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352217713552436610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9iKXlciQlwqdzN1VvAuN8SsTwtn31OzEBoecAtSdv7vux3IeeMdJHIOyQUawzPx-bKWFoh8cV9-n47yMmro-50Ml_UuwztGKPj_M_ifa_VitUd5j89n8696Ez211zKVKi2jmcXw/s320/Jenny.jpg" border="0" /></a>I knew nothing about Mrs. Sanford. I knew I liked almost everything I'd heard about her husband but I'd had no reason to hear anything about her. We met up with her in a random section of the <a href="http://www.xcelenergycenter.com/index2.jsp"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">XCel</span> Energy Center</a> and when you set up for an interview, there is typically some awkward small talk while we photographers get set up and typically the reporter takes care of that small talk. Mrs. Sanford was different. She immediately told us to call her Jenny and asked us where we were from. This was way better than small talk. Jenny was cool. Way cool. She told us she was from Illinois and loved everything about The South. She even mentioned she enjoyed shopping at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wal</span>-Mart. Weird, yet pretty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">badass</span> considering three weeks before we talked her husband was mentioned as a serious contender for John McCain's vice presidential nominee. We did the interview and more talk continued between the three of us while I got some cutaways. A few minutes later, she issued Shawn and I a very sincere invite to the South Carolina delegates party later that night. Unfortunately, we already had a ton of <a href="http://thisblogmayormaynotsuck.blogspot.com/2008/09/tale-of-two-cities.html">free beer</a> lined up for the evening at a different party, but she was serious about having us over. Once I got done with the cutaways, she shook hour hands and took off. What a cool first lady. It wasn't until this week I learned she went to Georgetown and was a Vice President for a banking firm on Wall Street. After she was gone, Shawn and I both had your typical dude reaction, "She's kinda hot, especially for a first lady." Anyway, she made an impression.<br /><br />Thus, I was bummed for a couple of reasons. I was hoping Sanford would keep pissing off Republicans enough they and the rest of America would eventually figure out a more Libertarian fiscal policy was the cool policy. I'm also bummed because Jenny is a cool lady. She should run for congress or something.<br /><br />I could go on about the whole deal but none of us really know anything. I'm sure the governor has his reasons and they may or may not be legit, but the whole situation is one big assed bummer. I hope the Republicans find someone else to carry their fiscal torch who feels the same way Sanford does. More importantly, I hope Jenny is doing alright.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-87202292420063692122009-06-14T21:41:00.000-04:002009-06-14T21:52:14.171-04:00Los AngelesWhile a kid in elementary and junior high school, I'd often tune into <em>The Late Show with David Letterman</em> because his sarcasm made me chuckle even at such a young age. I would often look at the bump shots of New York City and want to go there so badly. I didn't know anything about it but it looked cool on television. I knew I would love it once I got there and sure enough, in 2000 I finally made it there and it indeed whipped ass. I loved it. Back in 2004, I was in the city working for ten days and I was ready to get the eff out of there. Up until that point, I had always thought I could live in New York, but that rid me of that desire(though I still flirt with the possibility.)<br /><br />Enter Los Angeles, another place I'd always wanted to visit. All I knew of it was sun, celebrities, Compton, traffic, beautiful weather and of course, good friends Debora and Polo. Deb had always told me I'd like California because it's pretty laid back, much like myself. That was another draw for me and yet another reason to visit. Of course, I'd read a ton of stuff about daily life in greater Los Angeles courtesy of <a href="http://coolshots.blogspot.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BeFrank</span></a>. His tales don't often take place in rosy neighborhoods and I still was pretty sure I'd love LA.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6GJQ7r7eRBJc850Ooh-QrNiojCwihnNvrwbl4uSweB_ApKFdqX1ysdJ9KHlsNAz4o2ZSI3rbr1QarKgDoej9ssPD8R0hoNiyF6OyBfitf_ilDB26c8JVgmMZZVSg0d3ETwYNUA/s1600-h/2LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631044973221906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6GJQ7r7eRBJc850Ooh-QrNiojCwihnNvrwbl4uSweB_ApKFdqX1ysdJ9KHlsNAz4o2ZSI3rbr1QarKgDoej9ssPD8R0hoNiyF6OyBfitf_ilDB26c8JVgmMZZVSg0d3ETwYNUA/s320/2LA.jpg" border="0" /></a> Thankfully my red hot <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">smokin</span>' wife agreed a spring jaunt west to Los Angeles would be the right thing to do in April and so we did. Touchdown! Jennifer and I arrived around lunchtime that Sunday, rented a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">thugged</span> out Dodge Magnum and drove about five minutes to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ornelas</span>-Wong household high atop a bluff in West Los Angeles. We walked inside, hugged the hosts and took a tour of the house. Shortly after that, Debi and Polo headed to a birthday party and we headed to Manhattan Beach. For those of you that don't know Debi, she is one of the best people I know. Real, polite, a wonderful person in every way whom I've had the pleasure of knowing for more than seven years. Of course, she had prepared us a beach bag full of goodies like towels, water, Trader Joe's snacks, sunscreen and even a volleyball. What a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">freakin</span>' hostess!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStmaj1pVwsjj0ZrclRvZb4WKmnyN7QpGLVcID6elSPnCA4PCrY_c4U2fdBt5a8-dwT5rDHioDlaCFqixD3iciVEt16QgCtyWgZlMT01Frhyphenhyphen2bI9VhGawQMG6xLL7zcuUVVicX9Q/s1600-h/1LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631048489890834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStmaj1pVwsjj0ZrclRvZb4WKmnyN7QpGLVcID6elSPnCA4PCrY_c4U2fdBt5a8-dwT5rDHioDlaCFqixD3iciVEt16QgCtyWgZlMT01Frhyphenhyphen2bI9VhGawQMG6xLL7zcuUVVicX9Q/s320/1LA.jpg" border="0" /></a>Manhattan Beach is about as good as beach life gets. You cruise south past a couple of beaches and enter a cool town that is everything a beach town should be. Cool restaurants and bars, awesome houses, a spacious and beautiful beach and a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">assed</span> pier! People were nice and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">jetlagged</span> Jennifer and I were able to catch a quick nap. Once some kids playing nearby woke us up we walked to a <a href="http://www.petrosrestaurant.com/">restaurant</a> and had a wonderful meal outdoors. After about ten minutes, we decided we could absolutely move to California. More on that later.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTPsbv6Ja-eXTZvhavyMzMfcMd7mtFsrgbYSFwrRNLs_n_4DAkKattIiflTfjAgbTuD1VvfqJyYj-IktStAIXt4HPfggg58dRMPD8PM-acW1RtDpB7kUtlI-Yi8cNXNypimLzOQ/s1600-h/3LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631042515094930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTPsbv6Ja-eXTZvhavyMzMfcMd7mtFsrgbYSFwrRNLs_n_4DAkKattIiflTfjAgbTuD1VvfqJyYj-IktStAIXt4HPfggg58dRMPD8PM-acW1RtDpB7kUtlI-Yi8cNXNypimLzOQ/s320/3LA.jpg" border="0" /></a> Day two brought forth an amazing breakfast from Debi who all of the sudden is the Asian Martha Stewart. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Strada</span>, grapes and a salad got the day started off great. That worked out well since the time change had us waking up at 7 AM which never happens for us on the East Coast. We hopped in the Magnum, got on the 405 and headed east on Santa Monica Blvd to Beverly Hills where we parked and did a TON of walking. As soon as we got on Rodeo Drive we spotted our first celebrity. I know you were hoping for Brad Pitt or Megan Fox, but it was even better. It was character actor <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0636694/">Michael <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Nouri</span></a>! I know, I was excited to see Dr. Roberts, too. We walked through some shops and checked out the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Wilshire</span>, typical Beverly Hills stuff. It was pretty neat. Did I mention it was literally 95 degrees? Sure, it's a dry heat but it was quite warm.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VBEuNv-XXUKwA5VLx8G73Ss91Dxt_WD4RFW3UlK23nbZiB5sL-XaDu-pwL0r8rXBiUAEq1-gKZ88vtPV147YTFlPCy-JGzQ7sJ2V_X9wTsGNHBcaYhEB8kTrBc4kL22G2dLnPA/s1600-h/4LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631042404776370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1VBEuNv-XXUKwA5VLx8G73Ss91Dxt_WD4RFW3UlK23nbZiB5sL-XaDu-pwL0r8rXBiUAEq1-gKZ88vtPV147YTFlPCy-JGzQ7sJ2V_X9wTsGNHBcaYhEB8kTrBc4kL22G2dLnPA/s320/4LA.jpg" border="0" /></a>That didn't keep us from enjoying cupcakes from <a href="http://www.crumbs.com/">Crumbs</a>. I can't help myself anytime I walk past a Crumbs Bake Shop. I always get the Artie <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Lange</span>. It didn't suck but I must say an enormous, sweet cup cake on a 95 degree day wasn't the greatest call. Jennifer didn't seem to mind it, though. We left Rodeo Drive and instead of paying money to be a bad tourist on a Star Tour of celebrity homes, we hopped in the Magnum and drove around neighborhoods where celebrities probably live. Big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">assed</span> houses and beautiful scenery once you got up into the hills. After the drive, we headed to Culver City where Polo hooked us up with a sweet tour of Sony Pictures and we sat in on a pilot taping for a CBS sitcom. It was mildly funny and only twice did I emit a fake guffaw. We followed up the taping with dinner at <a href="http://www.akasharestaurant.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Akasha</span></a> where we sat about ten feet away from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004978/">Adrian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Grenier</span></a>. I'm pretty sure Jennifer peed her pants, but I was more excited about seeing <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0240797/">Dennis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Dugan</span></a> at the studio than sitting near Adrian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Grenier</span>. Maybe it's because I'm a dude. Regardless, it was a great way to end a wonderful day. The food whipped ass, too.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631238947340754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RjlypDUFl4qPJHHd3taMwzEy2l8RyzK5lsTm450E6Kbfm80QIjvbbiWYC8DkE034GANfCU9qfN5evk4oD_gSZy05tGVKaL23btVf_Rc-yfjjOK7SBLZwCkoLTXO4fTmx5oHVNw/s320/5LA.jpg" border="0" />Day three we got back on Santa Monica Blvd. for lunch in Beverly Hills at The Ivy(which is pretty amazing considering yet another super Deb breakfast. This one included a Mango smoothie.) Though ridiculously expensive, The Ivy was quite good. After lunch we got back to The Magnum and Jennifer noticed the paparazzi was shooting someone inside a store on Robertson Blvd. Who could it be? Somebody yelled it was Britney Spears so Jennifer got pretty excited. You wouldn't <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">believe</span> the fuss. People were stopping their cars in the middle <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">of</span> the Blvd. to see who it was. I assumed LA residents wouldn't go nuts for celebs but I was wrong. After all of the fuss it turned out to be <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1027847/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Samaire</span> Armstrong</a>. Michal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Nouri</span> still takes the cake for biggest celeb thus far(at least in my opinion,) and that includes Jose <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Canseco</span> who was on our flight.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631239627680034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_N6ADlWrp-vyp8DUeTeGfcIjeQdvqSTQfSDCqGLc6OpEpuCiDwi3F7iJSFYATOPjSkcMu9Dpwn3bNpjnE2xdgEVo3LqRjE2zhB8zHm4vFJwyylfwNVSLOa06-Cq-jdq4RhTWe3g/s320/6LA.jpg" border="0" />After lunch we continued east to Hollywood where we did the Hollywood tourist thing. We only took three or four star pictures. I went with Marty Robbins and George <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Takei(Hey Now!</span>) Jennifer went with Betty White. A solid threesome! After a long walk down both directions of Hollywood Blvd. we realized that Hollywood is just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">okay</span>. In fact, with all of the souvenir shops it's not unlike Myrtle Beach.<br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QEICQo_CX0Ek5LsM39CeZffdZ7l1KK3ISxDJErN6rpy0v7UOPiua7IHLr0bxoCZ9khxN5i05Ce3_NnKNNc_6cEI67GZ9Vk2Y-73kVQaihciRgkSdxoz-AfwHuYoD4grh9I6eTg/s1600-h/7LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631233072335794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QEICQo_CX0Ek5LsM39CeZffdZ7l1KK3ISxDJErN6rpy0v7UOPiua7IHLr0bxoCZ9khxN5i05Ce3_NnKNNc_6cEI67GZ9Vk2Y-73kVQaihciRgkSdxoz-AfwHuYoD4grh9I6eTg/s320/7LA.jpg" border="0" /></a>After a change of clothes we parked the Magnum on La <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Cienega</span> for some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">pre</span>-sushi beverages. <a href="http://thebelmontcafe.com/">The Belmont</a> was the first place since it was near the car. It seemed like a friendly neighborhood joint with lots of locals. Of course Jennifer and I are beautiful and classy so we fit right in. After one pint there we walked next door to a place called <a href="http://www.onelittlewest12.com/stkla/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">STK</span></a> for another beverage. It seemed pretty fancy and I may or may not have been a bit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">underdressed</span> in flip-flops. We paid three times more for the same beverages there but despite giving them our debit card and signing a receipt, they never charged us. Thanks for the beer and martini, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">STK</span>! Finally we crossed the street to <a href="http://www.koirestaurant.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Koi</span></a> for dinner. Sushi is a new love affair for me. I'd never tried it until I met Jennifer but it's quickly risen to top 3 status on my list of foods that whip ass. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Koi</span> was amazing. I tried a dish that marries raw tuna with sushi rice and fried onions. My gracious what a meal! Jennifer ate a crab concoction that didn't suck either. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005450/">David Spade</a> dined a few feet away from us and somehow never managed to hit on Jennifer. That was kinda disappointing but didn't ruin a fabulous meal.</p><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7esSWjUwAXcmZhp0_6wieZY07EClloM2W9tEUa9sWziPvCpPx0ZuXL_UNR7Vu_4HjRH8DGhQVo2GTgmPveCh1GTNy3DgnOwwHCCIS_p25JWr_eZ4HjOJQ44hyphenhyphenIz3aeJ3gqvCRg/s1600-h/8LA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346631233013013698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7esSWjUwAXcmZhp0_6wieZY07EClloM2W9tEUa9sWziPvCpPx0ZuXL_UNR7Vu_4HjRH8DGhQVo2GTgmPveCh1GTNy3DgnOwwHCCIS_p25JWr_eZ4HjOJQ44hyphenhyphenIz3aeJ3gqvCRg/s320/8LA.jpg" border="0" /></a>Our final day we went to Venice Beach, rented bikes, rode to Santa Monica and walked on the pier. We then walked around with the crazy people at Venice Beach. That was neat. I like crazy, weird people. We called it a day early and headed back to the house to get ready for dinner with Deb, Polo and Matteo. They took us to a whip ass tapas bar called <a href="http://www.primitivowinebistro.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Primitivo</span></a> in Venice. I tried Ox Tail for the first time and we all enjoyed some tuna tartar on potato chips. Matteo enjoyed his first glass of wine at the ripe age of eight months. We followed up dinner with a walk down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Pinkberry</span> for some amazing ice cream or whatever the hell it is. It was a great evening and a wonderful way to wrap up a great week.</p><br /><p>This is a group of days I'll look fondly upon for quite a while. It was the first time since our honeymoon Jennifer and I have had several days together without work being involved. We were able to spend time with three of my favorite people in the world. Debora is the best. I could write three <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">separate</span> blog posts on how much ass she whips. Polo was slammed at work all week and still went way, way out of his way to hook us up with cool stuff. I know all babies are cute, but Matteo is the cutest damned kid in the country. Seriously. Plus he bites everything. It's hilarious. </p><br /><p>Los Angeles agrees with us. I've known a few people who have been to LA who didn't care for it. Sister Anna spent last summer there and really enjoyed it. Jennifer and I, we felt eerily at home driving around. I am 100 percent sure we could move there tomorrow with no regrets and be happy. All we need is jobs and a place to live. Sure, our entire families are here in Charlotte but I've never moved away from here. We love it here. Our lives are here, our families are here, the Panthers are here, The Gin Mill and The Thirsty Beaver are here and I've always pictured us raising our family here with our families around the corner. Moving that far away would certainly put a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">assed</span> damper on all of that stuff. </p><br /><p>No reason we couldn't move out there for a year or five, right? I'm off to do a serious/pretend job search. Seriously. Kinda.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com275tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-60465947345026833572009-06-01T13:46:00.003-04:002009-06-01T14:18:18.422-04:00R.I.P.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKrobv89h-tnrfwtO6m21zH6CBjlO9U5vOEBqdeh6u2DjBMvk-KbrucutR5Tws9VcoPNabH2oZeNqsRf42d3ZEdza4oQJRUxvJHxqw_6OMrdl0wi_B7ax3Admm7zKKOgMeb21eQ/s1600-h/becky.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342417680626989794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKrobv89h-tnrfwtO6m21zH6CBjlO9U5vOEBqdeh6u2DjBMvk-KbrucutR5Tws9VcoPNabH2oZeNqsRf42d3ZEdza4oQJRUxvJHxqw_6OMrdl0wi_B7ax3Admm7zKKOgMeb21eQ/s320/becky.jpg" border="0" /></a> Becky Hill died Sunday evening. She was a friend to our family for more than 30 years. I hate this is the only picture I have of Becky, but I think it actually fits her pretty well. Becky probably weighed damn near 400 pounds and as far as anyone could tell, she was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span> with it. Here she is watching Jennifer walk down the aisle probably whispering to herself, "boy she sure is a skinny little thing." Becky was like that in a joking manner. She whipped ass.<br /><br />Most of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ya'll</span> know Mom was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">diagnosed</span> with Multiple Sclerosis a little more than ten years ago. At first, there were some dicey weeks where Mom wasn't doing well at all. Becky cooked dinner every Tuesday or Wednesday for a couple of years. After mom was better, she kept cooking dinner for them every week even though everyone was healthy. Her husband Ralph always delivered the meals. After he died, Dad would go by Becky's to pick them up every week. She was the greatest cook, so good she submitted more than 75 recipes for her latest church cookbook. She used eight different names for her recipes so she could remain "discreet." She whipped ass.<br /><br />After Ralph died in 2004, Becky was certainly sad. She'd never kill herself or anything, but she always made it known she'd be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ok</span> if she died sooner than later. Mom used to get upset with Becky for saying that but Becky never lied about anything. She was a nurse for thirty years and was pretty sure Ralph died because a nurse gave him a blood transfusion of the wrong blood type. When questioned about why she never said anything to doctors or hospital administrators, she smiled and told everyone that Ralph would still be dead if she went through all that. She missed him dearly. She whipped ass.<br /><br />Becky had severe type 1 diabetes and was on insulin, but that never stopped her from sugar. She took her coffee with sugar and would eat dessert anytime she wanted. She'd just take an extra insulin shot beforehand to offset the effects on her body. She whipped ass. <br /><br />I honestly can't remember the last time I saw Becky. It may have been four or five months ago when Jennifer and I picked up something from her house. It may have been our wedding day. I'm not sure. That kind of sucks. She gave us a wonderful wedding gift, that cookbook and an heirloom <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Chrismas</span> tree that will remain in our home for the rest of our lives. Becky was sarcastic, kind and self-aware. Brutally self aware. My kind of girl. She whipped ass.<br /><br />Becky has been in and out of the hospital several times in the last few years for heart issues. Three weeks ago she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and given nine months to live. She went into the hospital last week with unrelated issues and Saturday developed congestive heart and kidney failure. Becky had been wrestling with whether to fight the cancer or let it run it's course. I'm glad she didn't have to decide. Ralph is, too.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-72542689675544308002009-03-26T01:00:00.003-04:002009-03-26T01:57:25.427-04:00You Betcha!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZClvfr_SXEU9KpPQvVl75XZXvx8omAcBMc2mdEHTV8Dk2Q0Sm9xC7pMvcV5R0nlPKKM4Js4YiaNpPwyyaFpoD9wFMFqpiKUAJy8HVhU5kiWBx2lm8QgOr77Hy7H18lIPa4iBm7g/s1600-h/oh.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317357004619274866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZClvfr_SXEU9KpPQvVl75XZXvx8omAcBMc2mdEHTV8Dk2Q0Sm9xC7pMvcV5R0nlPKKM4Js4YiaNpPwyyaFpoD9wFMFqpiKUAJy8HVhU5kiWBx2lm8QgOr77Hy7H18lIPa4iBm7g/s320/oh.jpg" border="0" /></a> Prepare for the most random post in this <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blog's</span> history. I've nothing in particular to say so here she blows!<br /><br />I wish I blogged more. Every time I get back on here I remember why I used to update this thing every day. Maybe I should get out more and blog about whatever it is I do, even if it isn't that exciting.<br /><br />Sister Anna marries her fiance Brad next month. She and Mom are neck deep in planning, a process I've deliberately stayed out of. I did have a say in bachelor party activities, though. That should be a good time. I'm excited for them both. Two good people who seem to have good qualities where the other one doesn't. Does that make sense? Regardless, they seem awfully good for each other.<br /><br />I haven't seen my grandparents in more than a month. That makes me a complete douche. They live an hour away. <br /><br />The day after Anna and Brad's wedding Jennifer and I are headed to Los Angeles! We are staying with old friend Debora, her husband Polo and their little son Matteo. I can't wait to see them and introduce them to Jennifer. They are two of my favorite people and I haven't seen them in five years. We are stoked. We've always wanted to go to LA. I've been <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">skeered</span> to visit California because I'm afraid I'm going to like it. It's the same reason I've never smoked weed.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Yard work</span> is upon us. I've cut back the monkey grass, blown the last of the leaves and currently Jennifer and I are working on a new patio in the back yard. Their was a dog pen the previous owner used for his 85 pound golden retriever. It has a concrete pad and everything but Jennifer cut down the bushes around it and I'm about halfway finished tearing down the pen which unfortunately was built very well. It's been a big job but has been helped by my good friend Craig's List. I've gotten rid of a bunch of rocks and a doghouse thanks to the list and I have another guy coming back for the fence part of the dog pen. If you have any junk, don't take it to the dump until you post it on Craig's List. People will come get damn near anything, god bless them.<br /><br />Here I sit at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cpu</span> at 1:56 Thursday morning. I'm staying up until 6 to prepare myself for a weekend of overnight shifts at work. Evidently this Formula 1 thing is pretty popular and my presence has been requested to make sure every second of of the Australian Gran <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Prix</span> is forever embedded into a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">assed</span> server. I don't mind the occasional overnight shifts. It gives me an excuse to drink more than one Red Bull, eat from a catered <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">omelet</span> bar and learn more about a sport I'm not familiar with. Not a bad way to spend a work day.<br /><br />I miss shooting tape, but I had my first gut punch this week since I left local news. It was media day for the Quail Hollow Championship. I <a href="http://thisblogmayormaynotsuck.blogspot.com/2007/03/glorious-case-of-mondays.html">wrote about this two years ago.</a> It was such an amazing day and I was sincerely bummed to miss it. However, I'm happy to be where I am. <br /><br />It sure did suck missing media day this year. Oh, sorry. I already wrote about that.<br /><br />I love my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">BlackBerry</span>. I never thought I would use it as much as I do. It is sweet.<br /><br />I've been doing some writing for a couple of friends who are starting a new website in the next year or so. It's focused on local news jobs and it's been really neat to look back on some of my better days in this business and write about them.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Facebook</span> is nuts. I've caught up with so many people I thought I'd never see or speak to again. It's been a blessing to see how everyone is as we all grow older.<br /><br />My mom is whipping ass in grad school at the spry age of 55. She starts an internship in August and I am stoked for her. She knocked her first interview in 20 years right out of the park.<br /><br />Every day I get more and more like my dad. The other day at work I stepped out of our area for a while to make some phone calls. Someone asked where I was and a coworker said, "He's probably somewhere telling a story." Even though that wasn't the case, it happens a lot. My Dad tells a shit ton of stories, some of which are interesting. I hope more of my stories are interesting. If not, I hope people tell me they aren't so I'll stop telling them. I also wear khaki pants in the yard, just like Dad. At least I can say I wear them so I won't get bitten by a brown recluse. Again.<br /><br />I bought a sweet ass <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">HD</span> television from pal Tracy about 4 years ago. It's an old school tube CRT. I was looking at houses for myself back then and he needed to make room for his new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">tv</span>. Of course, I didn't end up buying a house until Jennifer and I did a few months ago. Thankfully Travers didn't mind giving it a home in his basement for the time being. This evening, he and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">TV's</span> Kris Cook helped move it to the house. It is now the centerpiece of what will be our Panther room. Jennifer ordered pizza and beer and we all had a good time.<br /><br />Speaking of Jennifer, I'm digging <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">marriage</span>.<br /><br />Kathy returned to Charlotte USA from Dublin last week for her second straight Charlotte St. Patrick's Day. She bought us shots at <a href="http://www.ginmill.biz/">The Gin Mill</a>, brought us Irish chocolate and brought me a six pack of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Smithwick's</span> in CANS!! You can't get those over here and they are terrific. Kathy whips ass and I wish I had gotten more time to visit with her. What a lovely person.<br /><br />I've been learning a lot at the new job especially audio stuff. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">HD</span> is a whole new world I'm proud to be a part of.<br /><br />I'm going to go to The Thirsty Beaver one night next week. It's been too long.<br /><br />Speaking of <a href="http://www.ginmill.biz/">The Gin Mill</a>, Jennifer and I returned for a media night since Kathy was in town. The crowd was great and I caught up with a ton of old friends. It was a super evening that reminded me of the good old days.<br /><br />Some of you remember me covering the NCAA tournament in Detroit last year. For some reason I can't get that place out of my head. I check the <a href="http://www.freep.com/">Free Press</a> website a couple of times a week just to see what's going on up there. It's such an intriguing place with some of the best people I've ever met to go along with its deteriorating economic issues. I love that place. I'll get back there someday.<br /><br />I apologize for the rambling, it was probably a bit much.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-84710668038266518962009-01-25T02:39:00.004-05:002009-01-25T03:15:41.133-05:00Not Used To This<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnMGXNsb_eYA3miPxfx152cTzuj58xILTdDnmtYpHA4dt21vyR3Aw4OjfTi5jkmVifg8lId9KdofzkqEemZrRmQFudrjJ5zapM9i5ZuXPgmzs1T0GElc__y_SkUcarubi6iblqA/s1600-h/IMG00106.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295133118109233698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnMGXNsb_eYA3miPxfx152cTzuj58xILTdDnmtYpHA4dt21vyR3Aw4OjfTi5jkmVifg8lId9KdofzkqEemZrRmQFudrjJ5zapM9i5ZuXPgmzs1T0GElc__y_SkUcarubi6iblqA/s320/IMG00106.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Working inside has been quite the adjustment. It's 2:41 AM on a Sunday morning and here I sit in a corner in the room I share weekly with six other coworkers . I work in a television facility that is new, clean, freshly painted and full of technology. It's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">badass</span>, and completely different from life as a news photographer. I've gone from working for a local television station to a full fledged national cable network covering sports that typically involve motors and wheels. There are some good things about that. I feel I have a little more job security, a higher salary and catered meals on busy days. There are also some bad things about it. I'm inside, I'm not shooting and I'm dealing with more mouth breathing than I thought possible. Thankfully I get to keep my same, "it's just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tv</span>" attitude and force it upon people who feel much differently. It makes for some awkward moments and general good times.</div><div> </div><div>Life is different. My back hasn't felt this great in more than ten years. Wow! What a difference! I haven't even been to the chiropractor in three weeks, and I love going to the chiropractor. My schedule is different every week and I'm actually <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">enjoying</span> that. I get a good mix of days, nights and weekends. Jennifer and I have more time to ourselves and since sometimes I get bored at home I've picked up the guitar a few times recently and I haven't done that in a while. I also have some more nights free and since I don't work in news anymore, I can actually put my actions where my mouth is and get involved in politics. I've already been to one meeting. I've met some great people here at the new place along with some characters that make working in television great. I don't much care for being inside all day, but so far I enjoy the work. It was so much technology at the beginning, I'm just now getting a handle on it. Every time I figure something else out, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">gets</span> more rewarding. </div><div> </div><div>Shooting news, you know every <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nook</span> and cranny of your town. I still know Charlotte better than 98 percent of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Charlotteans</span>, but I don't feel like I'm connected to it much anymore. I drive to work every day. I drive to poker once a week. I've seen uptown maybe four times since I started the new gig. I don't really know what's going on in this town. What I miss most is just driving around. I have to pay for my own gas and drive my own truck if I want to that now. However, I didn't have to go to the airport when plane crashed 700 miles away. That whipped major ass.</div><div> </div><div>I really can't complain too much. In a heinous economy I got a new job with a significant raise with a lot of new opportunities. I really miss Phat Burrito, though.</div>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-28499701647801471922008-12-16T22:43:00.003-05:002008-12-16T23:25:02.375-05:00Another One.....I love live in general. It's freaking awesome we all get to live. We get to wake up, eat good meals, enjoy relationships with friends and significant others. We get to listen to music that doesn't suck and sometimes we even get to score! Seriously, even when life sucks, it's really not that bad. Sorry, I didn't mean to get off on that tangent, but perhaps my favorite part of life is the random moments that help you realize there are reasons for everything. The coincidences that keep you thinking for hours, "This is really weird, and really cool." <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLDTxjmNURtY4MuD8S-T-NscYWgHe15djpVzTDc3Mn00aNAbH9rEw8ZiKbyNdE2fNEw6JMqoYzTWGfdBk4Y2zebbGKI6q26q1Iy7NVV4NL9z35rajdZ80ulIgU0fIXyx35EPajQ/s1600-h/Wilmington1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280599998625825970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLDTxjmNURtY4MuD8S-T-NscYWgHe15djpVzTDc3Mn00aNAbH9rEw8ZiKbyNdE2fNEw6JMqoYzTWGfdBk4Y2zebbGKI6q26q1Iy7NVV4NL9z35rajdZ80ulIgU0fIXyx35EPajQ/s320/Wilmington1.jpg" border="0" /></a>Last weekend Jennifer and I went to Wilmington for Kelli's birthday. Her age is not significant, but is indeed a milestone. It's great to go to Wilmington. Most of Jennifer's friends are there and they are all super people. Plus, I usually get a chance to slide in and see cousin Lee and family, so I was really happy we made the trip. Kelli wanted to celebrate at <a href="http://www.indochinewilmington.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Indochine</span></a>, a pretty good restaurant featuring Thai/Indochinese/Indian/Japanese and probably three or four other kinds of food. It whipped a ton of ass. Good food, cold beer and good people. We had to wait a while in the bar and I thought the manager walking around the restaurant looked real familiar.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwLDyVfVIVxqejX80QFp6GUIsOYkshDlHQr6_VENoVwVbWfxKutJkoxDKb9NAjUo07j-7j3ZpTaCftAvgTcoqiA0MuWMjDkCKlGzV1LmIJyj2irldIcLpJmwElO8vgcMDk5Sx4g/s1600-h/Wilmington2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280600006069598274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwLDyVfVIVxqejX80QFp6GUIsOYkshDlHQr6_VENoVwVbWfxKutJkoxDKb9NAjUo07j-7j3ZpTaCftAvgTcoqiA0MuWMjDkCKlGzV1LmIJyj2irldIcLpJmwElO8vgcMDk5Sx4g/s320/Wilmington2.jpg" border="0" /></a> I didn't think much about it, but I was pretty sure I knew this guy from somewhere, but I couldn't quite figure it out. We sat down, ordered and he walked by our table. I decided to stop him and ask him where he was from and he had lived in Charlotte for a short time, but as soon as he said that, I realized Charlotte isn't where I first met him. Some of you know I was in real college for a few months at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">UNC</span>-Greensboro as a vocal performance major. I sang pretty good in a previous life. Anyway, my good friend Brad got an apartment off campus our second semester and had a seriously flaming gay neighbor who was always throwing big gay parties on Spring Garden Street. They were always inviting us over but I was a bit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">skeered</span> to take them up on the invitation. Mom had always taught me gay people were nice and not scary so I finally convinced Brad's then girlfriend to go over there with me one night. I was 18 and had zero experience around gay people. I was nervous and not sure what to expect but I vaguely remember walking up the stairs and some dude yelling, "Watch out!! Here comes some straight people!!" I felt a lot better after that knowing they all knew I wasn't gay. It was an experience I'm glad I had at that age. I found gay people to be way more entertaining than myself and my friends, and I got to see people doing hard drugs for the first time. This 18 year old was soaking up life, a completely different life than I'd ever been around, and it didn't scare me. The gay neighbor's boyfriend named talked to us for a while and even after that night always spoke to us and was real nice to us. Sure <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">enough</span>, that was Rob managing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Indochine</span> in Wilmington! Freaking random!! I'm glad I don't forget many faces and he actually remembered us, too. Talking to Rob brought back some good memories for me, memories I'd forgotten to tell Jennifer about so I was able to do that. Rob moved to Wilmington a few years ago, retired and now has what he described as a short, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">vietnamese</span> boyfriend and is about to have a child with a woman. I don't know about all that, but it was good to see Rob.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVTcJ7CclAwIvNfGbg95xN7v3wBo9nWbAMABUajRM2pz5eKrQp4NQWf45pSkzicc8XLlNpV1B9-aQfwhp85UCpJf_D53XKADtEQdx2nQBKQtlPfxRSXUVnmOGz17OQa8neUFUcg/s1600-h/Wilmington3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280600010841498178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVTcJ7CclAwIvNfGbg95xN7v3wBo9nWbAMABUajRM2pz5eKrQp4NQWf45pSkzicc8XLlNpV1B9-aQfwhp85UCpJf_D53XKADtEQdx2nQBKQtlPfxRSXUVnmOGz17OQa8neUFUcg/s320/Wilmington3.jpg" border="0" /></a> We left there and headed to the Sofa Lounge for a few more drinks. Jennifer, Kate and Kelli talked about something whilst the boys talked about traveling to Wales for the next Ryder Cup and other manly stuff. <br /><br />We need to make more trips to Wilmington.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-11661682578014406812008-12-12T21:42:00.007-05:002008-12-12T22:45:21.865-05:00Well<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6N2fJgO9prcTqAtvOuiu6_wV57uqVdSFN6UrrcVkCjVmXfxqcWGoG47iT-N8xBwQ597ECsEAM35kqlj-CvIMZm7wAIkfoHEBnaIC7IGS_eJ-GKke0pYiF174Wnd5GRvcTpcIwQ/s1600-h/footballwide.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279100798693426466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6N2fJgO9prcTqAtvOuiu6_wV57uqVdSFN6UrrcVkCjVmXfxqcWGoG47iT-N8xBwQ597ECsEAM35kqlj-CvIMZm7wAIkfoHEBnaIC7IGS_eJ-GKke0pYiF174Wnd5GRvcTpcIwQ/s320/footballwide.jpg" border="0" /></a>I'm not a photographer. It's weird to say that. I'm a pretty comfortable in my own. I rarely feel out of place, but I'm not yet comfortable with not being what I've been for the last ten years. It's not like I got out of the business or anything. I went to work for a cable network that covers sporting events on wheels. I'm not carrying a camera, though. I'm sitting in front of a computer that controls a shit ton of satellites and imports video into a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">assed</span> server. I'm not one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hundred</span> percent sure I'll like it. In fact, I may be bored with it. I won't hate it, though and I do get to sit in a room with four 52 inch <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">HD</span> flat panels and several other smaller ones. I'll still watch television for a living, I'll just have a much smaller role in creating it. To make a long story short, it's a sneaker in a much higher paying door with a lot of exciting possibilities. While this is exciting, I'll miss my old gig. Not every part of it, but I'll miss knowing what the hell is going on in this town. I'll miss taking trips to small towns ninety minutes away and not being upset about it. I'll miss knowing every street in every neighborhood. I'll miss running into friends in random places and I'll miss asking police officers if I can stand next to the crime scene tape with the other civilians if I go put my camera back in the truck. I won't miss live shots in the rain and I won't miss trying to turn a complete piece of shit into something that doesn't look like a piece of shit. Mostly, I'll miss shooting high school football. By pure luck, twas my last assignment.
<br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAHBWB7k0xp3er-VAIrS2hAf3Lfkut08TjbwuaWRmLM2LET7Fzn_ZT0lB01fJ2rlRUy_VpDWJTDSlAI61tE-EAcehQ3XGPQ8GGnBCeuNdAsq12NWAbGO6D044R6PdDLTfX8ALfw/s1600-h/last+meal.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279100803020520066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAHBWB7k0xp3er-VAIrS2hAf3Lfkut08TjbwuaWRmLM2LET7Fzn_ZT0lB01fJ2rlRUy_VpDWJTDSlAI61tE-EAcehQ3XGPQ8GGnBCeuNdAsq12NWAbGO6D044R6PdDLTfX8ALfw/s320/last+meal.jpg" border="0" /></a> News photographers have an astute knowledge of eateries in every town in their coverage area. I could rattle off twenty that make my socks go up and down at the thought of a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">vittle</span> there, but there isn't a place that I enjoy eating at more on the job than Bridge's BBQ in Shelby. I pull the sat buggy in the parking lot, walk inside, take a seat at the bar and a nice man doesn't ask me what I want to drink. He simply asks, "Do you want a lemon in your tea?" It's that kind of treatment I live for in a restaurant. I effing love it. Last Friday, my final assignment took me to Kings Mountain for a state semi-final football game featuring the Mountaineers and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kannapolis</span>. Luckily, I was able to leave the station early, mount my Sirius Satellite Radio and drive a good twelve minutes past the high school to eat at Bridge's. I ordered my usual BBQ plate with fries and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">green</span> beans. I know it's weird I don't care for baked beans and slaw, but that's how I roll. Bridge's is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">the</span> best. I love it and will miss it dearly since there's a good chance I won't be "swinging by" Shelby anytime soon. I sincerely got more sentimental in Bridge's than I did shooting my final night.
<br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi491GaCLY4rzTUwcFV4W0wUOMMWxjyJ1X_9QzLOxfSStkrBHz_HURg41DV4nkdlkB-2CUrsCI_ILeXDXi7SOxyxy5hzSeVONRLgRcD41YogA9jBYhy_wOa0qMzrnwAwjt-s-tbdA/s1600-h/up+top.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279100806402340802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi491GaCLY4rzTUwcFV4W0wUOMMWxjyJ1X_9QzLOxfSStkrBHz_HURg41DV4nkdlkB-2CUrsCI_ILeXDXi7SOxyxy5hzSeVONRLgRcD41YogA9jBYhy_wOa0qMzrnwAwjt-s-tbdA/s320/up+top.jpg" border="0" /></a> I had to put together a package for the game and arrived twenty minutes before kickoff. That allowed me to tune in and snag some quick sound from some drunken Kings Mountain residents before the game. They delivered with some great tape like all small town high school football fans in the fifties do. I grabbed rosters from the press box and made my way to the field where I was greeted with the weird looks I'm used to directed at my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">hairy</span> legs in shorts exposed to the 38 degree temperatures. It's high school football! You're supposed to wear shorts!!!! Anyway, I had one of the better football shooting nights I've had in my shooting career. Not the best, but I didn't miss anything and I was on target all night. It helps I shoot <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kannapolis</span> almost every week. They won, too which was special for me since there's a ton of good people up there who have treated me well for the last several years. I'll miss meeting new people every day.
<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279101623459563042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8Aa8W9ilNFlSH7ULoAbw8e-KGl9VqIH5hkVNyp0MYxyc-80vQrcWYHnwBzaKjgpow1_vqokJVnLdULqJnxCT5Gt5Wx1LqrGFCVGOvjTQABz9WwFyxz3P2m4xn5gy6HahHi_wfg/s320/top.jpg" border="0" /></a> I got my victory shots, trekked back up the hill to the buggy where I edited and tracked my package. I tracked it sans script since I used to be a sports anchor and wanted to prove to myself I could still track it 'live.' It turned out alright. It wasn't my best package, but it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ok</span>. (You can watch it <a href="http://news14.com/Default.aspx?ArID=602185">here </a>if you press play, then arrow right to the second segment. It's the second game in that second segment.) My final assignment allowed me to finish this part of my career doing what I loved most about my job. I got out of Charlotte, I was able to eat at Bridge's, and I got to shoot high school football. Life as a news photographer is a good one. It is one I'll miss dearly despite several parts of the job that truly suck. My new gig allows me to work with some absolutely amazing technology I'm soaking in daily. That's exciting. And I work in a room that producers won't even have access to. How <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">freakin</span> awesome is that?? I could go on for hours about what I'll miss, but it's mostly the people. I'll miss the random folks knocking on the live buggy door with a story idea when you're slamming out <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">television</span> magic. I'll miss the politicians who I've learned a lot from, the other media members who I've learned a lot more from and I'll miss my co-workers who have made work worth showing up for for the last seven years. Thank Jesus I married the hottest one.</div><div> </div><div>I'm not sure what this blog will be in the near future. There's a good chance it will suck more than it has lately. Travel usually brings out my best blogging and I won't be traveling with this job. We'll see how it goes. I'm not sure how the higher ups feel about detailed blogging about the job so I'll likely stick with extra <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">curricular</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">activities</span> which is mostly what this blog is about anyway. Stay tuned.......oh, and shoot some good tape for me, please.</div></div></div></div>
<br />Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-50020669905019494842008-11-28T16:39:00.004-05:002008-11-28T17:33:45.635-05:00Effing Atlanta, AgainA trip to Atlanta happens at least once a year for me. I have some good memories of that town. I also have some heinous memories. Let's say I've been down there a dozen times. Something bad happened on at at least ten of those trips. The other two, the Panthers beat the Falcons and we got out of Dodge, quickly. Some of the bad memories include wrecking my friend Sherrie's car and major camera malfunctions. Bad news.<br /><br />Anyway, I traveled to Atlanta last Saturday to hang out with former Road Reporter and dear friend Jason Bronis and his lovely girlfriend. I knew despite what happened the rest of the weekend, it'd be a great Saturday night. We had a steak at Morton's, then made our way to the Cypress Street Pint and Plate for more beverages. Several beverages later we made our way back to Jason's place where a hooker was walking down the street.<br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH8aGGnJnUZ2Zv5qSLh9vAA2vmRP6VJcwKKGYKcZAGwmFPNTpC55vPnz0sEF0i2W7Y135OzqHKh2PT9WpWi8PvGkH-iLBd2_crgyOjmj6PaQCnaE8JDH4kXSStj6jYZTsk0pvPA/s1600-h/whore.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273835179307416162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH8aGGnJnUZ2Zv5qSLh9vAA2vmRP6VJcwKKGYKcZAGwmFPNTpC55vPnz0sEF0i2W7Y135OzqHKh2PT9WpWi8PvGkH-iLBd2_crgyOjmj6PaQCnaE8JDH4kXSStj6jYZTsk0pvPA/s320/whore.jpg" border="0" /></a> Of course, I did what any other inebriated photographer does when he spots a hooker at 3 in the morning, I utilized my camera phone! Regardless, Bronis was the gracious host like he always is and he's missed greatly in Charlotte, USA. It was great to see him and meet his girlfriend. A fine meal, an inordinate amount of beverages and good company made for a tremendous Saturday night. </p><p>I made the trip Saturday because <a href="http://news14.com/content/about_us/mike_solarte/default.aspx">Solarte</a> and I were slated to cover the Panthers vs. Falcons game at the Georgia Dome Sunday. Solarte shoots the Panthers every week and is a way, way better football shooter than myself, so I jokingly said he should shoot the game and I should sit in the press box. Lo and behold, I get to the dome Sunday afternoon and he's wearing wind pants with paint stains. Thus, I sat in the press box for the game. It was weird and I was visibly uncomfortable there. Regardless, the game sucked since we got spanked, but the Papa John's personal pizzas at halftime and unlimited Diet Coke to nurse off Saturday night were nice.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpiar48uRDHYcskw0tU3KoViM2dmvxiEsff-QLqTNzepGqm_1G5Ols4SVtDG4V3CYaKY0UpS6rGs3XNdOYG1q0XicjJ8gU1vy0fpIQUPgYo9kqzXCLdxFkKv2bxgNNgFJjHW8Pg/s1600-h/Shane+Changing.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273827792751585586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpiar48uRDHYcskw0tU3KoViM2dmvxiEsff-QLqTNzepGqm_1G5Ols4SVtDG4V3CYaKY0UpS6rGs3XNdOYG1q0XicjJ8gU1vy0fpIQUPgYo9kqzXCLdxFkKv2bxgNNgFJjHW8Pg/s320/Shane+Changing.jpg" border="0" /></a> After we got sound(Solarte did let me shoot post,) we fed some tape and rolled up 85. Coming out of Atlanta, I ran over something. I don't know what it was, but we stopped in Commerce, GA for gas and BK when Solarte got out of the truck and heard a hiss. Well, the right rear was going down and in a hurry. Normally, you whip out a jack, change the tire and keep on going like most normal human beings but when you're in a satellite truck that weighs 12,000 pounds, the jack in the back of the truck doesn't cut it, thus you need a tow truck to raise the ass of the truck so you can change the tire.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeQEMts6-pEZQTWh7W4iOcKC8W-qJg89mnqoeWFj5tEc-onNyO2Vn3ikrVCpWX5oDMvSwz716pq_0-p0yLy8x63j01gckrKtTVZY-y6X-y2wFf0FjCODTClx9HyQB1Snb_jwcHg/s1600-h/Shane+Two+Shot.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273827796027956370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeQEMts6-pEZQTWh7W4iOcKC8W-qJg89mnqoeWFj5tEc-onNyO2Vn3ikrVCpWX5oDMvSwz716pq_0-p0yLy8x63j01gckrKtTVZY-y6X-y2wFf0FjCODTClx9HyQB1Snb_jwcHg/s320/Shane+Two+Shot.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p>After an hour, this guy named Shane rolled in with his tow truck and Shane whipped some serious ass. The tire had a gash the size of Fulton County so a plug wasn't going to cut it. We finally got the spare down and Shane swapped the good one for the bad one and we were on our way. We rolled in to the station at 4 am Monday, two hours after our planned arrival. Instead of Burger King, we ate ice cream sandwiches and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos from the gas station, but we made it home safely thanks to Shane.</p><p>Sure, Atlanta threw me another curve ball, but thanks to good folks like Bronis and Shane, I won't count this as one of the bad trips down there.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-24287924812777301872008-11-17T16:08:00.012-05:002008-11-17T23:26:51.703-05:00Chapel, Minister, Reception, Touchdown!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGy5kTiZF3Nnx-Puhaf5NWNUYI86tCXMvrk76QuqskfWdp0FBn0gGk7oIVXKCGk_3jFzZ9Bntzw-SQlk-1xH3k7xfIRFMHnDOv8cLEmBfVa4MNkSVYhr9PWKjv6M2o6hO-ifENmg/s1600-h/First.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269741229322077858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGy5kTiZF3Nnx-Puhaf5NWNUYI86tCXMvrk76QuqskfWdp0FBn0gGk7oIVXKCGk_3jFzZ9Bntzw-SQlk-1xH3k7xfIRFMHnDOv8cLEmBfVa4MNkSVYhr9PWKjv6M2o6hO-ifENmg/s320/First.jpg" border="0" /></a>After an eight month engagement and a ton of planning, Jennifer and I married three weeks ago. I'm not sure exactly what my expectations of the day were. I wanted to see family and friends and I wanted everything to go smoothly so Jennifer wouldn't have to worry about anything. Really, I didn't care about much else except marrying Jennifer.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-6QdcogEyJuJMeDiY0TpJ_7tGYcMKR5fyEB3jKPYBsHlaHbxLBdPFErQDGBx-WVHjQu2N7M3HNvcbkAI0Y0KAikdyXIlenmJz-KUJg3ZJFhtyCtLDsLm8RUIA8U6fNoeQpddsg/s1600-h/favorite.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269741231079480226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-6QdcogEyJuJMeDiY0TpJ_7tGYcMKR5fyEB3jKPYBsHlaHbxLBdPFErQDGBx-WVHjQu2N7M3HNvcbkAI0Y0KAikdyXIlenmJz-KUJg3ZJFhtyCtLDsLm8RUIA8U6fNoeQpddsg/s320/favorite.jpg" border="0" /></a>Some people spend decades searching for someone to spend the rest of their life with. I was fortunate enough to find Jennifer just nine years into my adult life. We grew up eight miles apart, knew a ton of the same people, went to the same restaurants, ate ice cream at Larry's in Mint Hill, shopped at Upton's and even went to the same day camp. We probably saw each other a dozen times growing up, but I never met her until she walked into the newsroom almost three years ago.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tlIt_KaAzpnQuorVU0v1nqbwbXPJHC5oR_yt6sC0Ysx_gwZ1BEcQiPLdOxeRf1fxJtKxEmL3v29-uYIHrH83vO4_3tAH7fZEGEO235VDxST2xqUYGCDMcsrcbbgBn99tTExL4g/s1600-h/gump.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269741225588135890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tlIt_KaAzpnQuorVU0v1nqbwbXPJHC5oR_yt6sC0Ysx_gwZ1BEcQiPLdOxeRf1fxJtKxEmL3v29-uYIHrH83vO4_3tAH7fZEGEO235VDxST2xqUYGCDMcsrcbbgBn99tTExL4g/s320/gump.jpg" border="0" /></a>I thought to myself, "Wow, she's tall! And really hot!" She was and she was. I wrote her off as another cool co-worker who happened to be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">smokin</span>' hot and that's pretty much what every other guy in the newsroom did, too. I honestly never thought I'd get a chance to have a beer with her, or go out with her. Who the hell knew I'd end up marrying the girl at work who was both hot and cool? I didn't, but a few friends helped convince me I at least had a shot. You know who you are, and thanks for giving me the extra <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">cajones</span> I needed to make something happen. All of you are a big part of this marriage.</div><div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269741226567298930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif07v6aCmg15vOge3uoTii8DjaOyw9VroVKT0gTWnbuS2cnbKcE8sR7BOEEVjgDLnSVF3YDXRZcoIb0zFwc_qBTQYNbHhTMrcVCDrfcBR4Pt53-4xtSmi186WaBzmTMb4qDRN0Wg/s320/hilarious.jpg" border="0" />The wedding was great. I don't think anything went wrong. We went out with friends from out of town the night before, I drove her home and then spent the night at my parents where I proceeded to sleep terribly. I don't think it was nerves because I had very few nervous moments the last few weeks. But, I slept very little and woke up early. Mom and Dad whipped up a big assed breakfast and sister Anna came over for a final family meal for me as a single man. I was tired, but excited. I went home, took Carmen to the vet and took my final single shower. I was really scared I'd cut myself shaving but made it through my entire face without a scratch.</div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCkbv2J7mBjsoI6BfMMlX604su2PVVR_97Lvn-CdJRgU9FcXgIkyBzrOfKdgkrcUOlXociPV7S-HkkSK31MCwcHLBOsA-h__q_OfKy97NPG-rJrN2rEPmFmZI_o34lV1sdDgB5w/s1600-h/inside.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269741220939301810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCkbv2J7mBjsoI6BfMMlX604su2PVVR_97Lvn-CdJRgU9FcXgIkyBzrOfKdgkrcUOlXociPV7S-HkkSK31MCwcHLBOsA-h__q_OfKy97NPG-rJrN2rEPmFmZI_o34lV1sdDgB5w/s320/inside.jpg" border="0" /></a>I dressed, met your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">friendly</span> neighborhood police officer Tim and his girl, friendly neighborhood police officer Melissa and we headed to the church where I spent the longest hour of my life chatting with people and standing in a room half the size of your typical <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">photog</span> room waiting to walk into the church. My dear friend Debbi from <a href="http://urbanministrycenter.org/">The Urban Ministry Center</a> married us in a traditional Presbyterian(even though we were both raised Methodist) ceremony after we recited vows we wrote ourselves. I wasn't down with that at first, but I'm glad Jennifer convinced me it was the right thing to do. It was my favorite part of the ceremony.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPB-3-ARb9dYJg04I-HTlqxjDn68v1NXw8YELZCY3I8Ztj5sjl7wigXpWUH5kviTtUuZXy0vUBHys26kbEnxKJBHzv7Bdjfw3u9N5nDRY_DqHmZcILIjd5hii51IDfVAxAa16RTg/s1600-h/official.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269740715751138002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPB-3-ARb9dYJg04I-HTlqxjDn68v1NXw8YELZCY3I8Ztj5sjl7wigXpWUH5kviTtUuZXy0vUBHys26kbEnxKJBHzv7Bdjfw3u9N5nDRY_DqHmZcILIjd5hii51IDfVAxAa16RTg/s320/official.jpg" border="0" /></a>I glanced into the congregation a few times to see who all was there. I remember noticing a few people who I didn't get to speak to, and a few people who I'd never seen before which I suppose is typical at a wedding. I eventually figured out who they were. After we made it official we hopped in a limo for a ride around town while we waited for the reception to start. We rode with Jennifer's matron of honor, Erika and her husband Mike who bought a five dollar bottle of champagne for the occasion. Good call!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdePx205AdDA0UAPIIjHbEqbnqOhHKcNdqMR4dKYz0wAndsWDW7tVY60xpKq7hZSXfF9qICsn8RDgl7Ga-RBUWCL_l0XqV9OH3aaTfkgW-PkqPb-2LrjqMj_7OxDo9uk6nxVOD9A/s1600-h/best+men.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269740711118947698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdePx205AdDA0UAPIIjHbEqbnqOhHKcNdqMR4dKYz0wAndsWDW7tVY60xpKq7hZSXfF9qICsn8RDgl7Ga-RBUWCL_l0XqV9OH3aaTfkgW-PkqPb-2LrjqMj_7OxDo9uk6nxVOD9A/s320/best+men.jpg" border="0" /></a>Once we arrived at the reception, Big Jim Slade made the announcements for the thankfully small wedding party. Once we walked in, waved and pretended it wasn't completely awkward, we had our first dance. I thought we'd get to drink a beer first, but we had to get right into the program. Once everybody kept staring at the newlyweds, I was actually able to visit with people at the reception. By the way, I think the first dance should be private between the bride and groom. That's a pretty special moment and it was weird knowing everyone was staring.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3XpFyj6Ng3b71BZNJD11c58SIA9-94I6pzI67NpdpH3rzoi9i_YqecSz8StH65V442Z19MUMdO2uR7u0htrO-celPqDESaIOqMJlEygtVCzFyHTKm2MV_lAxTJ5_gi6mCHJOw4A/s1600-h/church.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269740707366357554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3XpFyj6Ng3b71BZNJD11c58SIA9-94I6pzI67NpdpH3rzoi9i_YqecSz8StH65V442Z19MUMdO2uR7u0htrO-celPqDESaIOqMJlEygtVCzFyHTKm2MV_lAxTJ5_gi6mCHJOw4A/s320/church.jpg" border="0" /></a> Regardless, it was still a special moment and so was the dance with my mom, despite everyone staring. We tried our best to go from table to table to table visiting with people, some of whom we haven't seen in months or had never seen before! And this was with only 105 people! I'm glad we kept it small. It sucked horribly to not invite some people. That was by far the worst part of wedding planning for me(and I did very little planning.) But the small number did allow us time to visit more with those who were there.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOpvxB8Xo_5D-apAdc1oA9ruAu7XNMHniuAPgHAH4WKdBnGMNYotzFtybeg3X0-eJmChJiW3qth-S3GCyZCaGB_5jKbV2Lk65kRAJv7_AChLqIcS2Oj5fUvjm8vyG8mLSW9uFrw/s1600-h/reception.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269744027795478978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOpvxB8Xo_5D-apAdc1oA9ruAu7XNMHniuAPgHAH4WKdBnGMNYotzFtybeg3X0-eJmChJiW3qth-S3GCyZCaGB_5jKbV2Lk65kRAJv7_AChLqIcS2Oj5fUvjm8vyG8mLSW9uFrw/s320/reception.jpg" border="0" /></a> The food was great, the beer was cold and I heard the liquor was good, too. Yes, there was indeed a keg of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Smithwick's</span> and assorted domestics and no we didn't kill that keg. It was the only regret I had that day. We left nearly half of the beer in the keg and I don't know what happened to the rest. I hope someone drank it. </div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnLYurbEPnaTa0AjwOk6yBOiKFqj7Fvddf_OWAt-lyqFBfe78kh4eu4SosAyMMT36Xj8S3GjBvIfa5PFQAvaZUgyET0KdzP1nPEudmr0-Cf-4lq1t-fD-UMQSvbDjhTBsG-Osjg/s1600-h/skyline.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269740704912689506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnLYurbEPnaTa0AjwOk6yBOiKFqj7Fvddf_OWAt-lyqFBfe78kh4eu4SosAyMMT36Xj8S3GjBvIfa5PFQAvaZUgyET0KdzP1nPEudmr0-Cf-4lq1t-fD-UMQSvbDjhTBsG-Osjg/s320/skyline.jpg" border="0" /></a>By the way, you're an asshole if you don't fly in Larry Davidson from Tallahassee to shoot your wedding. He is absolutely <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">freakin</span>' amazing. These are only ten of the 1,400, yes that's one thousand, four hundred pictures he took. None of them suck, they are all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">freakin</span>' awesome and so is Larry!<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhBj2wIzMV84-UpHO_3yxxRKSjUMkBpdR3QjB7VzJ9IKQuTDn1YNDrbOZuxyhGGCjpqASgfPumoJ5a7QefPzzSVnQg1x0D15G_V9KiaTj2ySxIm62MaQUTNePl0tpENsNypjeIQ/s1600-h/CLT+USA.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269740700649289234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhBj2wIzMV84-UpHO_3yxxRKSjUMkBpdR3QjB7VzJ9IKQuTDn1YNDrbOZuxyhGGCjpqASgfPumoJ5a7QefPzzSVnQg1x0D15G_V9KiaTj2ySxIm62MaQUTNePl0tpENsNypjeIQ/s320/CLT+USA.jpg" border="0" /></a> We left the reception, checked into the hotel and went straight to the Gin Mill where we were greeted by probably 25 friends and family who had taken over part of the bar. The greeting there and the time spent with them there was probably my second favorite part of the day. I'm still not sure what my expectations for the day were, but it was terrific. Most importantly, I married Jennifer, the girl whom is both cool and hot and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-63070075882287074442008-11-03T22:03:00.003-05:002008-11-03T23:13:25.204-05:00TBMOMNS Voting Guide 2008!Uh oh! It's almost election day! The guide is up next, but first.......<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-eJfGPD76Xr6iUvmQmIqKBKcC3oupavzmoDdG0e18nUJ-Ni818_YuFBLAXHV-96Kjc0qm2JqGieG7VMxOFJn-7Yt1LLj14ujyAQmjt6HiGMAMOoED-ZOXL-P7_wLW1jDvOXjzw/s1600-h/cake.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264637775167159154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-eJfGPD76Xr6iUvmQmIqKBKcC3oupavzmoDdG0e18nUJ-Ni818_YuFBLAXHV-96Kjc0qm2JqGieG7VMxOFJn-7Yt1LLj14ujyAQmjt6HiGMAMOoED-ZOXL-P7_wLW1jDvOXjzw/s320/cake.jpg" border="0" /></a> Jennifer and I married last weekend. The wedding was great, the reception was wonderful and so was the honeymoon. Much, much, much more on that later this week. On to the voting guide!!! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Woooooooooooooooooooooooo</span>!!!!!!!!!!! </div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBVKETtHEcxcuzGeF5wRuSEJizXC71aE0eEF6eVUajcoNFzozBcnQTIjtHefMXjdrJkqWrRnuUBhY3IsN-EckgO7azovkuUhrU08ZRfGeKrNzsnzsn7OonZkFp7nBGnAMSj1LEw/s1600-h/Cole.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264637778239588514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBVKETtHEcxcuzGeF5wRuSEJizXC71aE0eEF6eVUajcoNFzozBcnQTIjtHefMXjdrJkqWrRnuUBhY3IsN-EckgO7azovkuUhrU08ZRfGeKrNzsnzsn7OonZkFp7nBGnAMSj1LEw/s320/Cole.bmp" border="0" /></a>The Senate race has been pretty close and heated here in the Old North State. You can vote for Kay Hagan who seems like a nice lady. You could also vote for Elizabeth Dole who is a nice lady and always leans past a reporter to shake this photographer's hand before an interview. Dole also hasn't lived in North Carolina for the last 300 years. She's from Kansas for God's sake and probably only voted against the bank bailout bill because she's up for reelection. Dole blows, but is a nice lady. Hagan has spent some in the state legislature and supported an ENORMOUS incentive bill to bring Dell to the triad. Chris Cole has run for office seven times and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hasn't</span>' won, but damn he's full of great ideas. Ideas like it's cool for people of the same sex to marry and government sponsored 1st degree murder(you may know it as the death penalty) isn't cool. When you vote, look for the 'L' and vote for Chris. Oh, and he's actually from North Carolina, too.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O-8SzBdjhHtqZlOHQUYpBFZ1eHO9qLmOPiLCGw2SH9FpIS1I7J8GX3zAN8cTxlpl3nbb5LJYD5ZDUBJHaQ3W7zw-5PLhqLq9Dv6CZt6aTWHAiBlZXG82Jgg3M8E1gIrUri_xjA/s1600-h/bob+barr.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264643164733229634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O-8SzBdjhHtqZlOHQUYpBFZ1eHO9qLmOPiLCGw2SH9FpIS1I7J8GX3zAN8cTxlpl3nbb5LJYD5ZDUBJHaQ3W7zw-5PLhqLq9Dv6CZt6aTWHAiBlZXG82Jgg3M8E1gIrUri_xjA/s320/bob+barr.bmp" border="0" /></a>Many of you know I'm no fan of socialism and feel we'd all be much better off if we would rely on ourselves instead of the government. Unfortunately, both Barack Obama and John McCain feel much differently. I admire McCain's service in the Senate, but he had some shady years with the FCC and I think we all know how most broadcast professionals feel about the FCC. McCain also rewarded banks for failing by voting for the bailout bill. Not my kinda guy. I have a ton of respect for what <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Obama has</span> done with Americans during his campaign. Nobody has mobilized and energized people who normally don't give a damn about politics like Obama has. I just got back from covering a rally where more than ten thousand people waited in the rain just to hear him speak for a few minutes. He's a rock star and I hope he turns out to be an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ok</span> president. I'm a bit <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">skeered</span> of socialism. Hey! Bob Barr isn't a socialist. He's a big time conservative from Atlanta who realizes there's not much difference between the views of Obama and McCain. Barr has brought Libertarian pole numbers higher than they've ever been. It's common sense, vote for Bob Barr. You won't be sorry, unless you're a socialist.</div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHoaXaBZ4HnZpcJR9i4qeT5cRv7_ldHn2IZ1ZPOmqWhJejlx0vumQ9Nm1fQ-IjkeInk9qQn_6n5j_ssQCrGokKg2babpAkLJ2LY6KjrH9-zr2VR-3VwTS0IKPzhZOewpxvTsQiQ/s1600-h/Munger.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264637782514328674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHoaXaBZ4HnZpcJR9i4qeT5cRv7_ldHn2IZ1ZPOmqWhJejlx0vumQ9Nm1fQ-IjkeInk9qQn_6n5j_ssQCrGokKg2babpAkLJ2LY6KjrH9-zr2VR-3VwTS0IKPzhZOewpxvTsQiQ/s320/Munger.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div><br /><p><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ya'll</span> know I love mayor Pat, but I love Mike <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Freakin</span>' <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Munger</span> even more. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">McCrory</span> has been a great mayor who wasn't afraid to spend a ton of public money on things despite painting himself a conservative. There's a reason he's been a 'republican' mayor in this blue city for so long. He ain't that conservative, but it may be that kind of 'republican' that has to run to make it to Raleigh. For the last two decades, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">governor</span> has only cared about Raleigh and points east. With <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Bev</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Perdue</span>, that won't change. Plus, her answer to every question is, 'I'll be a serious, strong leader who understands the needs of Wall Street and Main Street." It's so awful and I'm damned <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">skeered</span> she'll be the next governor. Mike <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Munger</span> is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">badass</span>. He's educated, so much so he's the head of the political science department at Duke. He has debated the other candidates with class and common sense and look at that smile. Have you ever seen a mug that screamed, "I should be governor!" more than Mike <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Munger's</span>? I haven't either, that's why I will and you should vote for Mike <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Munger</span>, a real American <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">badass</span>.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-3491539543734804672008-10-14T21:56:00.004-04:002008-10-14T22:20:27.056-04:00I'm Amazed at How Much This Blog SucksI'm sorry. I've been doing a lot of stuff the last few weeks and have completely neglected this blog. I will likely continue to do so until Jennifer and I get back from our honeymoon which starts in less than two weeks. <br /><br />Less than two weeks? Holy Shit! If the honeymoon starts in less than two weeks that must mean we marry before that! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6HN2TYiKnyJIZb7ZQR7LtZgN26LvCzw3x-IfB7Q35mSDSzjeSYGt_eBxW-HK114YvoyofQ2yhoMq40GpD-m3269XJ9QdxGCdxypS21f1D9BCZXaWCUjqK8uSi_z4godk3L5r3w/s1600-h/LicenseCPU.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257193958684655986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6HN2TYiKnyJIZb7ZQR7LtZgN26LvCzw3x-IfB7Q35mSDSzjeSYGt_eBxW-HK114YvoyofQ2yhoMq40GpD-m3269XJ9QdxGCdxypS21f1D9BCZXaWCUjqK8uSi_z4godk3L5r3w/s320/LicenseCPU.jpg" border="0" /></a>Yep, Jennifer and I marry in eleven days. That seems awfully soon, but I'm glad it is. We are ready to marry, have a party, go to a football game and leave the country for a week. We look forward to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">marriage</span>, our wedding and spending the day with friends and family. We also look forward to never planning a wedding again. And by we I mean Jennifer, who of course did the majority of the planning. This morning we headed over to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mecklenburg</span> County Register of Deeds Office to apply for a marriage license. It only costs 50 bucks to marry in this county! What a deal! The county gets 25 bucks of the fee. Evidently our property taxes aren't enough. According to a sign in the office, the other half goes to "Domestic Violence." I assume this means some form of assistance to domestic violence victims or maybe domestic violence education. Perhaps the 25 bucks goes to promote domestic violence. The sign didn't say, but in order to marry, the effing government says we have to give them 50 dollars. We spent some time filling out a form online, then plastered our right hands to a King James bible while professing everything we typed on the computer was indeed the truth. One debit card transaction later, we exited the old courthouse with a license to wed.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIN7kjw7iDqg2fEtiAH3vc0YsX-KaSVqqqDZZqddF6LlnoVoV-ARsE_yAoE0D5u-zTo4zoaLuyBHQrBEJMl_t0GOQhcfwaVUiWvcfn1rPtV_K_On_mZ9AWWcXWDj9skqMjjoSmQ/s1600-h/LicenseOutside.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257193961427319010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIN7kjw7iDqg2fEtiAH3vc0YsX-KaSVqqqDZZqddF6LlnoVoV-ARsE_yAoE0D5u-zTo4zoaLuyBHQrBEJMl_t0GOQhcfwaVUiWvcfn1rPtV_K_On_mZ9AWWcXWDj9skqMjjoSmQ/s320/LicenseOutside.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p>I'll get back on the blogging saddle right before election day with a new feature on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">thisblogmayormaynotsuck</span>.com. It'll be the TBMOMNS Election Guide. You can probably already guess who I'm voting for, but do you know why? I bet you can't wait to find out!</p><p>Until then, I'll be busy. Well, except for that week in Jamaica.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-70309747381542735212008-09-23T15:08:00.004-04:002008-09-23T15:55:15.853-04:00Team America!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_uIUgeJPRDiLYDBYK61WFYsij7upjqD2JIUChLKdn8EYOFQWevV1a9FiM5VIris4A8KTEiCzWaz4y2BVNTN-S2LjC43egiDWkWnz4RFkwJh5iNgghE81lAzvV8QzrU6allB4oQ/s1600-h/1RyderCup.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249295920951511154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_uIUgeJPRDiLYDBYK61WFYsij7upjqD2JIUChLKdn8EYOFQWevV1a9FiM5VIris4A8KTEiCzWaz4y2BVNTN-S2LjC43egiDWkWnz4RFkwJh5iNgghE81lAzvV8QzrU6allB4oQ/s320/1RyderCup.jpg" border="0" /></a> This was my weekend. I woke up Friday morning around 10 and sat on the couch until 2 when I had to go to work. Saturday morning I woke up at 11 sat on the couch until 7:30. Sunday it was from noon until 6. I was feeding on a steady diet of Ryder Cup Golf. Other than Panthers football and Mad Men, I've never watched something so intently. I cussed the Sony <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bravia</span> at every missed putt the Americans threw at the cup. I've always loved America and I've always loved golf, but for some reason this year was different for me. When the days matches were over, it's all I thought about. When the Panthers were playing Sunday afternoon and Jennifer and I were watching, I was thinking about the Ryder Cup and whipping Europe's ass. Jennifer spent Saturday cleaning house, doing chores and running errands. I continued to sit on the couch. I got up to pee, eat and occasionally let Carmen in our out the back door six feet away from my sofa position.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vaJrZdaGmaOYpnuFr8lgkPpWkFKoa8HVLMdkHHt31yQf1GF8QE-hd4rM3qIAJuHq_-e51djRDUfhGaGKANPLkvijvVBt8hMlQ5KqQoNG2nymqm2FgV-SGqHhkNob9GlMW7qHhw/s1600-h/LooseLugnuts.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249295925889625202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vaJrZdaGmaOYpnuFr8lgkPpWkFKoa8HVLMdkHHt31yQf1GF8QE-hd4rM3qIAJuHq_-e51djRDUfhGaGKANPLkvijvVBt8hMlQ5KqQoNG2nymqm2FgV-SGqHhkNob9GlMW7qHhw/s320/LooseLugnuts.jpg" border="0" /></a> I did sneak out of the house Saturday night to play with the Loose <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lugnuts</span>. I played a handful of gigs with Brian and Mark's band a few years ago. They were missing some members Saturday night so I filled in on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rhythm</span> guitar and Campbell filled in on bass. After touring with a hard rock band in the 80's for several years, I think it was the first time Campbell ever played classic country music and he whipped ass. It was probably the second time I picked up a guitar in six months and I had the finger pain to prove it Sunday morning. I'm out of guitar shape. Good thing Brian and Mark were in shape and carried the load. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lugnuts</span> continued to not suck despite the shortcomings of their substitutes. We played at a White Trash Prom party which featured a pig <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pickin</span>', Boone's farm, spam and Mad Dog Prom Punch. Oh, and at least one drag queen which was great when the cops showed up after neighbor complaints. Have you ever seen a drag queen tell a police officer they'll keep the noise down? I have and the memory will never get old.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxr8VonhrW_mPnxZBIM4w-yzs3DYIYDawIspaFDFeuFi318qqcFx5hksw_c6Wie_FeQhZq-lES24zK8EUA5ga1CndZOQIS0TSdhDujWTwPBgw5pHM1yYiPDUsPuZipM25IDLFiw/s1600-h/2RyderCup.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249295933532515298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxr8VonhrW_mPnxZBIM4w-yzs3DYIYDawIspaFDFeuFi318qqcFx5hksw_c6Wie_FeQhZq-lES24zK8EUA5ga1CndZOQIS0TSdhDujWTwPBgw5pHM1yYiPDUsPuZipM25IDLFiw/s320/2RyderCup.jpg" border="0" /></a>Back to the couch I went Sunday afternoon when the singles matches begain with the Americans ahead by two points. We got off to a good start and wrapped up the victory around 5:30. It was exciting. Europe whipped our ass for the last two cups. I mean, they really whipped our ass. We were underdogs this year and destroyed them. I yelled really loudly and I'm pretty sure the neighbors out in their yard heard the yell. I didn't care. Once the handshakes began and the champagne sprayed, we had the cup again and I was ready to celebrate!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8IxpKdf2HLM2cBiHV1ACkbqSydAqy8_9FuG00rSHroohy3zIf3N9OgTYHRjTdkLrhByltAck7jU6iA-aljxNFi3A42n-vm9y12yZkNiRbUixBXmM87bYprbsrOphOCI5QBhMBg/s1600-h/Azteca.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249295940786906322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8IxpKdf2HLM2cBiHV1ACkbqSydAqy8_9FuG00rSHroohy3zIf3N9OgTYHRjTdkLrhByltAck7jU6iA-aljxNFi3A42n-vm9y12yZkNiRbUixBXmM87bYprbsrOphOCI5QBhMBg/s320/Azteca.jpg" border="0" /></a> And what better way is there to celebrate an American victory than a meal at a Mexican restaurant? I was excited so Jennifer and I headed to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Azteca</span> where we lucked out. It was mariachi night! The band made it's way from table to table and asked for a request when they got to ours. I asked if they knew any Johnny Rodriguez. They didn't seem to understand but played Johnny Cash instead. They whipped ass and so did this weekend.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-8450213571172719872008-09-22T21:00:00.003-04:002008-09-22T22:39:50.807-04:00DBT in CLTI think it was in 2000. Pal and then co-worker Brian Wilson made me roll to the <a href="http://www.doubledoorinn.com/">Double Door </a>for a rock show one Tuesday night. Ironically Travers and Mark Campbell were there, too. Brian told me two great bands were playing so I figured I should probably go. <a href="http://www.slobberbone.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Slobberbone</span></a> and the <a href="http://www.drivebytruckers.com/">Drive-By Truckers</a> were co-headlining their tour that summer. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk45POKHhdKv1XppYjCX4uRR5HYStkwOxNj7z0S_xf4qxOm4H6wrxqstJVs3FNkzTYJQmzcDH5JZFeliSdNmmtlKmgyXGjmeZuAx1n2disBQxphcFRtZqpV1I_okI1UTAQwx2XZA/s1600-h/2DBT.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249020131404131570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk45POKHhdKv1XppYjCX4uRR5HYStkwOxNj7z0S_xf4qxOm4H6wrxqstJVs3FNkzTYJQmzcDH5JZFeliSdNmmtlKmgyXGjmeZuAx1n2disBQxphcFRtZqpV1I_okI1UTAQwx2XZA/s320/2DBT.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Slobberbone</span> got up on the small stage and whipped <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">everyone's</span> ass. Unfortunately they broke up a few years later, but still remain one of my favorite bands. After <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Slobberbone</span> got done, the Drive-By Truckers got up and blew the roof off the Double Door. It was so effing awesome. I was 20 years old and thanks to some great friends I was finally understanding why everyone loved live music so much. I loved it. The lead singer crooned lyrics I understood and could relate to. Songs about growing up in the South and how most outside the South assumed we were all rednecks who hated Yankees and black people. Most importantly, they had three guitars turned up to eleven and were LOUD! For the first time in my life, a band's music spoke to me. From then on, I claimed the Drive-By Truckers my favorite band.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdGAQXaY7A5XMyTQvKXi8I5owzT1EfT9KjhLG-02qdNNt2g5hkQjfC_kKNJ_59F9Wl_W1J97wf60zIqwd9v6MSR6doyzCzTWtZmps_TdvxuuARidW4_5g7QHSssLVqmvGpDwzig/s1600-h/3DBT.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249020134846663090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdGAQXaY7A5XMyTQvKXi8I5owzT1EfT9KjhLG-02qdNNt2g5hkQjfC_kKNJ_59F9Wl_W1J97wf60zIqwd9v6MSR6doyzCzTWtZmps_TdvxuuARidW4_5g7QHSssLVqmvGpDwzig/s320/3DBT.jpg" border="0" /></a>I've seen <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">DBT</span> at venues in Charlotte, Winston Salem, Raleigh, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Asheville</span>, Chapel Hill, Atlanta Richmond and even Baltimore. I loved every song. I knew every word to every song, even the songs I thought were just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ok</span>. I made most of those trips with Brian, Mark, pal Sherrie and sometimes a few others. All of them were great trips with wonderful memories. Well, except the Atlanta trip. That's a whole other blog post. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2oio1cAe-yHuki1gZrWGTgP3VYVY6JoB_8fUfx6dPCS-pcieSbB4Q3IpSwtBlSBj75kQZ11RHbBi8T8B2zZt0dMbj0BniIivFMibelq5_x-uQeQxluLq2dnqqXpIWc93tHClUA/s1600-h/4DBT.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249020137119631586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2oio1cAe-yHuki1gZrWGTgP3VYVY6JoB_8fUfx6dPCS-pcieSbB4Q3IpSwtBlSBj75kQZ11RHbBi8T8B2zZt0dMbj0BniIivFMibelq5_x-uQeQxluLq2dnqqXpIWc93tHClUA/s320/4DBT.jpg" border="0" /></a> There may have been 75 people at the Double Door that night enjoying the rock show and $1 Natural ice cans. When they visited <a href="http://www.amossouthend.com/">Amos'</a> Thursday night, there were more than 1,000. The Truckers have gotten bigger every year. More people hear them every day and more people like them. They aren't the same band they were in 2000. They've been through two bass players, three guitarists and added a steel guitar. They don't necessarily suck, I just don't enjoy them like I used to. Maybe it's because there was literally more than 10 times the crowed than there was eight years ago.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFIA0KGLHd3-_rN5BOQJNVuLqsOTnMx663raUrjT88F5zM5JcdfVo6Oa-gun_KpGWjTVO7aJybA6jUJF9NzwSoMhTUm_YX5BBrWSeN4mCM6Al603oSMBeDdIi3gBqaOib8rSteQ/s1600-h/5DBT.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249020137602643170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFIA0KGLHd3-_rN5BOQJNVuLqsOTnMx663raUrjT88F5zM5JcdfVo6Oa-gun_KpGWjTVO7aJybA6jUJF9NzwSoMhTUm_YX5BBrWSeN4mCM6Al603oSMBeDdIi3gBqaOib8rSteQ/s320/5DBT.jpg" border="0" /></a> Maybe it's because they aren't as good as they used to be. Now they did play five or six songs that really did whip ass including a Van <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Halen</span> and Neil Young cover and they closed with a song from one of their early albums aptly titled <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Buttholeville</span>. After a pretty weak first half of the show that had me wondering why I loved the band, they came around with some old stuff.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7h0MIS8rwaonrHGvV1gmkFiQdbrLAhWl2aSHwIInUViHOEsu7i9oBueJbVeWINlR9TORUZMda0-sX0OVF_vKGMXY9UiX-NKShaDaRYc_gqpzVI019y49h-u-j68hSBUe1nqRg1Q/s1600-h/6DBT.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249020143632263362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7h0MIS8rwaonrHGvV1gmkFiQdbrLAhWl2aSHwIInUViHOEsu7i9oBueJbVeWINlR9TORUZMda0-sX0OVF_vKGMXY9UiX-NKShaDaRYc_gqpzVI019y49h-u-j68hSBUe1nqRg1Q/s320/6DBT.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I considered not going to the show Thursday. It cost 25 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">freakin</span> dollars and it was a weeknight, but there was a rock show, cold beer, good friends and I didn't wear my Dick Trickle t-shirt for nothing. The Drive-By Truckers didn't suck, but it sounded a lot better if I closed my eyes and pretended I was at The Double Door.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-7504901800979465192008-09-17T20:26:00.005-04:002008-09-18T15:38:06.128-04:00PotpourriI've been all over the place since I got back from Minnesota. Here are a few random musings.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkKmrvbljwb-wxUoGBTC8WVvTvMOzCQAN9RYkH9jPuHVfho7jjlvjfA6kAcTKcaAzI0HbDA8hftqmzmV5YIIMDKhx0Go7OIygepO56kM-vg6Yvn_8uyzMdfPq6YiVNBRr3GLd3g/s1600-h/NoSticks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247151654715764738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkKmrvbljwb-wxUoGBTC8WVvTvMOzCQAN9RYkH9jPuHVfho7jjlvjfA6kAcTKcaAzI0HbDA8hftqmzmV5YIIMDKhx0Go7OIygepO56kM-vg6Yvn_8uyzMdfPq6YiVNBRr3GLd3g/s320/NoSticks.jpg" border="0" /></a> Above you can see the inside of Live Buggy 3. You can see a camera, microphone, battery and....................uh......................... Where's the tripod? How can a professional news photographer like myself expect to shoot steady video without the assistance of his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cartoni</span>? I was headed to a bank robbery so I couldn't use a hotel table. Dammit!! I had to rely on the rock some people know as my right shoulder. It rests four inches lower than my left and makes my chiropractor cringe every time he looks at it. Unfortunately when zoomed in from a hundred yards away my shoulder doesn't really resemble a rock. It's more like a pile of mud. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Banco</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gente</span> didn't look much like a bank. It looked more like a sign in an earthquake. I made sure I had sticks the next day.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6r3iSv4PIAyR1uFni6SNy6x9ag_BFxcasODOw9zJCUjOK2BSfBhWcCiJfibEVIn8pv1V-9pziJSstayci-MY-N4yKTSqRtsl8RfS8nU0v12HDag2-sk7XmVrlCU5cOY2EPd_srQ/s1600-h/Blue+Skyline.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247151659244025282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6r3iSv4PIAyR1uFni6SNy6x9ag_BFxcasODOw9zJCUjOK2BSfBhWcCiJfibEVIn8pv1V-9pziJSstayci-MY-N4yKTSqRtsl8RfS8nU0v12HDag2-sk7XmVrlCU5cOY2EPd_srQ/s320/Blue+Skyline.jpg" border="0" /></a> It's football season! Before focusing their sights on Merrill Lynch, Bank of America torched the cap of the corporate headquarters in Panther blue. Some seasons they keep it blue for a while. It's a nice change for uptown Charlotte, USA. It also gives me something to think about that doesn't suck before entering the government center for a city council meeting.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzuAMjnVAJMjLN7iV2yVLbFa958UyJoeQqTV7CZKBoHGs50uX7aHZZhz2y5Dr7OZ_sykmgVCTs3Fvqwlrp2vyWdHl2abI_FyeEy6uLBJqLirhlI-szcqI1WLjq6qZeP5Vuoe1ig/s1600-h/GameView.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247151661876461682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzuAMjnVAJMjLN7iV2yVLbFa958UyJoeQqTV7CZKBoHGs50uX7aHZZhz2y5Dr7OZ_sykmgVCTs3Fvqwlrp2vyWdHl2abI_FyeEy6uLBJqLirhlI-szcqI1WLjq6qZeP5Vuoe1ig/s320/GameView.jpg" border="0" /></a> Speaking of football season, the Panthers had their home opener Sunday against the Bears. Jennifer was in Wilmington for her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bachelorette</span> party so that left me with a wide open Sunday morning to do nothing but tailgate. I awoke at 7:45 and had the truck parked by 9:10. I was joined by the usual suspects and new for 2008, Jennifer's folks and their pals joined us, too. Their tailgating spot is now condos. We had a good time, especially after we whipped the Bears' asses.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74eHqgyzTfga8lhn78MOTyv0G3ejLKK1oX1KeJEDJemae6fLlLKpKGktir105SkFR0FPYaW6gKiNmZbiKQPGGxDwobk04wyLT9xb6SEcE3RcitEuQW6avIxH4pOxGDQSwXVN73w/s1600-h/LarryMac.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247151664015538786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj74eHqgyzTfga8lhn78MOTyv0G3ejLKK1oX1KeJEDJemae6fLlLKpKGktir105SkFR0FPYaW6gKiNmZbiKQPGGxDwobk04wyLT9xb6SEcE3RcitEuQW6avIxH4pOxGDQSwXVN73w/s320/LarryMac.jpg" border="0" /></a> The walk down the ramp from the upper level is always better after a win. Hell, even Larry <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">McReynolds</span> was whooping it up. Instead of watching Robby Gordon rip up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Loudon</span>, Dale's former crew chief was taking in some NFL action in one of the luxury suites. Actually, I don't know that he was in a suite, but he was dressed in all black and it was damned hot in the bowl Sunday afternoon. Larry's a good dude and didn't mind stopping for a picture.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S98CUGkunHt77fn0VGJ4aIG5705fQFgiv11shLRb5__eRyuaF6ZXWgJmtQk2osKsZ0dBGFIjnVM68AA8OQoA3kKpmqlukJuMyS9_lQOjgJODzc2-pKsv1ID2GwNJUIL87ScBlQ/s1600-h/perdue.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247151667589231890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S98CUGkunHt77fn0VGJ4aIG5705fQFgiv11shLRb5__eRyuaF6ZXWgJmtQk2osKsZ0dBGFIjnVM68AA8OQoA3kKpmqlukJuMyS9_lQOjgJODzc2-pKsv1ID2GwNJUIL87ScBlQ/s320/perdue.jpg" border="0" /></a> I haven't covered much state <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">politics</span> this election season but I did cover Lt. Gov. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Bev</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Perdue</span> earlier this week. She was in town visiting a business that received a grant she said she created. This wasn't a campaign stop, though. Nope, this was definitely not a campaign stop. In fact, it wasn't a campaign stop at all. After taking a jet from Raleigh(evidently three hours <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">chauffeured</span> by a State Trooper is too far a ride for Mrs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Perdue</span>,) she arrived, listened to a presentation, asked the employees questions and took a tour of the facility with a scribbler, radio reporter and two television cameras in tow. In case we and the Lt. Gov. couldn't handle this ourselves, one of her employees(well, a state employed assistant to Mrs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Perdue</span>,) drove from Raleigh to help all four members of the media that flocked to the event. This wasn't a campaign stop, though. Just official Lt. Gov. business. Once again, it was not a campaign stop and her flying to Charlotte for this event had nothing to do with her current run at the Governor's mansion. God Bless America!Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-32610191812407111142008-09-09T15:44:00.002-04:002008-09-09T16:37:00.528-04:00Final Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKwNwC94u19JTyNlhouF5-cB7to1IT2sUlMFjvIWr12faBRxgCmKXz-tUpFDDKYnM67tiXimp6H8GBhttwJ8KSPQEbfbpb5uS98zoscIgl6gAyQBVVsF0SvpuFQ6kcErUQJ5feA/s1600-h/McCain.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110665972140082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIKwNwC94u19JTyNlhouF5-cB7to1IT2sUlMFjvIWr12faBRxgCmKXz-tUpFDDKYnM67tiXimp6H8GBhttwJ8KSPQEbfbpb5uS98zoscIgl6gAyQBVVsF0SvpuFQ6kcErUQJ5feA/s320/McCain.jpg" border="0" /></a> As promised, I did take a trip to the arena to see John McCain's speech with my own eyes for about ten seconds, just so I can tell our children I saw him give the speech. The final day of the convention was pretty <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anti climactic</span> after the Sarah Palin Festival the day before. Either way, the Republicans seemed to enjoy it.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYay22t3CxScgMC16X_vKM39-VWL5dT96uzoK1ggFTJV-LSwmLgS1DP0vhVK8DrOYPeY2CB1tWMZ25yl2O1XgBJAolXfG_Y3peR0fh2EQpPezEUQrhlIfptnDSsES6b2A3fKvcmQ/s1600-h/69.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110669283646146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYay22t3CxScgMC16X_vKM39-VWL5dT96uzoK1ggFTJV-LSwmLgS1DP0vhVK8DrOYPeY2CB1tWMZ25yl2O1XgBJAolXfG_Y3peR0fh2EQpPezEUQrhlIfptnDSsES6b2A3fKvcmQ/s320/69.jpg" border="0" /></a> I didn't know it actually existed, but what male television news professional hasn't joked about how awesome it would be to work at a Channel 69? Turns out, there really is one! <a href="http://www.wfmz.com/">WFMZ</a> in Allentown, PA was covering the convention. I never got the balls to ask if I could take a picture with one of the photographers who had enormous 69 logos on their cameras, but I did sneak this shot of one of their cpu's during McCain's speech. Who knew we should all strive to work in Allentown?<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVCYzDegsJ3Er88w1G7S3aMvGsIU0Hdwp3ROH4vOkkbMubnRZQtGInXI0B7ZteVYq6yThrVSLjuZVyYbKPAY5x3tGaqPl6RWH_AQdsSHt6phaAXhDh_hCPc1gQU8htO9PFY_zuw/s1600-h/Plaza.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110499331712642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVCYzDegsJ3Er88w1G7S3aMvGsIU0Hdwp3ROH4vOkkbMubnRZQtGInXI0B7ZteVYq6yThrVSLjuZVyYbKPAY5x3tGaqPl6RWH_AQdsSHt6phaAXhDh_hCPc1gQU8htO9PFY_zuw/s320/Plaza.jpg" border="0" /></a>After it was all over we made our final walk from the convention center to the parking ramp. Parking ramp is Minnesotan for a parking deck or parking garage. MSNBC had their outdoor set on this little plaza in downtown Saint Paul. It looked like Christmas every night the way they had it all lighted. It felt like Christmas, too thanks to the cool temperatures. Saint Paul's a beautiful place.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH0F5RQXICQhBO-hQLc75G4t45VYUizeWokQsMWGa-wFJkDcL4DyxMqgBK3szwrV7VypZrTpV_qhuOk6F6Hkg6ZsExZk30H_pZr9MTA71BouUt40sfN30W0G-YBV85g9PKM4JzA/s1600-h/Coach+Brooks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110496927997026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzH0F5RQXICQhBO-hQLc75G4t45VYUizeWokQsMWGa-wFJkDcL4DyxMqgBK3szwrV7VypZrTpV_qhuOk6F6Hkg6ZsExZk30H_pZr9MTA71BouUt40sfN30W0G-YBV85g9PKM4JzA/s320/Coach+Brooks.jpg" border="0" /></a> Not everyone has heard of Herb Brooks, but if you're from Minnesota, he's one of your favorite native sons. He and Bob Dylan. Herb Brooks was the coach of the USA hockey team when we whipped Russia's ass en route to the gold medal at the 1980 Olympic Games in Lake Placid. Herb engineered the miracle with awful plaid suits that seemed to give us good luck throughout the games. Brooks coached several colleges, a couple of NHL teams and even gave the USA team one more go in 2002. He unfortunately died in a car accident a few years ago but his statue is pretty sweet.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUZcApXxo3zmmKGoldHqSo9cNkWBwKOZutANg-Cn_pPxFDwDKv1F4xDarQKBpsqDJoP5n0DoML-XXv2giyE_STX3oAjGCwbX3r4MH9a0SsLYlqEmpSEqJ1wcRwoOj58zikkVfTQ/s1600-h/Charles+Schultz.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110499777240866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUZcApXxo3zmmKGoldHqSo9cNkWBwKOZutANg-Cn_pPxFDwDKv1F4xDarQKBpsqDJoP5n0DoML-XXv2giyE_STX3oAjGCwbX3r4MH9a0SsLYlqEmpSEqJ1wcRwoOj58zikkVfTQ/s320/Charles+Schultz.jpg" border="0" /></a> Charles Schultz is also from Saint Paul. In fact, every Snoopy character is somewhere downtown in the form of these big assed brass characters. I tried to get Shawn to pose with Linus who sits on a bench nearby, but he sprinted to Charlie Brown with Snoopy on his lap and I couldn't pull him away.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHE8fMM5GKFahWmCmpPeYhRmTD6v4F2AKEsPP7e3ADM40_9hGbJL_FwgLkqqg0UHvOdHShbjMNsN-X_TEMDgfVsoD8vOsYQBwKgw1lhHjyGwCE67cNgcyXG-1R6CWaDfqkRxJmYw/s1600-h/Pitcher.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110502298655282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHE8fMM5GKFahWmCmpPeYhRmTD6v4F2AKEsPP7e3ADM40_9hGbJL_FwgLkqqg0UHvOdHShbjMNsN-X_TEMDgfVsoD8vOsYQBwKgw1lhHjyGwCE67cNgcyXG-1R6CWaDfqkRxJmYw/s320/Pitcher.jpg" border="0" /></a> We predictably ended our night back at <a href="http://www.bullwinkles.net/">Bullwinkle's</a> for five dollar pitchers of Grain Belt's <a href="http://www.grainbelt.com/ourbeers_info.php?id=11">Premium Light</a>. It was a pretty big crowd for a Thursday but our new friends behind the bar found us a place to sit and pitchers to pour beer into.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85Wc1BgYjWTtlcgeExLgqGqsRQGCBatQrH_5GBgpTfLh3fdJD7-_j644OibfPFHWGBfpX_vuJaJNHyKyJtBWWy8-QqQAUY_HXFnqpLcyfPSK5eLulOXKn_8CCDUSxmpfXTTEaoQ/s1600-h/Bullwinkles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244110504049925090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh85Wc1BgYjWTtlcgeExLgqGqsRQGCBatQrH_5GBgpTfLh3fdJD7-_j644OibfPFHWGBfpX_vuJaJNHyKyJtBWWy8-QqQAUY_HXFnqpLcyfPSK5eLulOXKn_8CCDUSxmpfXTTEaoQ/s320/Bullwinkles.jpg" border="0" /></a>Every time I visit the Midwest, I meet people who are welcoming, hospitable and genuinely nice. Sure, we have the famous Southern Hospitality here at home, but I think it may be hyped too much, and maybe even overrated. Folks like Tom and Jenny poured us pitchers and treated us like regulars. The hotel staff was accommodating with whatever we needed. Every server in every restaurant was polite and proud of their home. Minneapolis and Saint Paul are beautiful places with good people. My kinda towns.</div>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-6382395293910014012008-09-09T15:01:00.002-04:002008-09-09T15:32:35.605-04:00Cleaning Out the Cell Phone RNC EditionWe flew into Charlotte, USA Friday afternoon. I took a nap, shot football and promptly took the weekend off. Well, except for painting, yard work and Panthers football. Now that I'm back at work I've got time for my final two <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">RNC</span> posts.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVMjmzrC4LobLWewihQd5q9maRqqsmA0BYdTj53dBuz4kCJRBd8NMLy5t7g3947bBx2z9zKZpbRg8W5IG5UPgfEzIvVABtKcSmO4GFDCgO5WoBeuZTKNowbf1Hk34wV_pP_-HQA/s1600-h/presser.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244098983924290594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVMjmzrC4LobLWewihQd5q9maRqqsmA0BYdTj53dBuz4kCJRBd8NMLy5t7g3947bBx2z9zKZpbRg8W5IG5UPgfEzIvVABtKcSmO4GFDCgO5WoBeuZTKNowbf1Hk34wV_pP_-HQA/s320/presser.jpg" border="0" /></a> It's weird covering a press conference with two hundred people in a room, all of whom are credentialed media. It's really weird when you're covering that press conference in a room in a city you've never been to. A city you landed in four hours earlier. A room that has enough riser space for 20 cameras when there's 65 in the room(I counted.) Shawn and I got to our workspace, got the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><a href="http://www.streambox.com/">Streambox</a></span> running, shot a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">standup</span> and got word there was a press conference upstairs in ten minutes regarding the Republicans changing their entire convention schedule courtesy of Hurricane Gustav. I hurried up there, found a spot on the floor where only three or four scribblers were blocking my shot, plugged in my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">XLR</span> cable, walked back to my camera and was about four feet short. After a call to Shawn, he brought another cable in and we got all of the press conference except for the first three minutes. It even looked pretty good, too. Those kinds of things are a great rush, but I'm glad I'm not covering national politics where those things happen every day.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQf8GPL0LpufW25e7azmC6o0kHTKoV7ZZdR54UOhvOsO4JW3yyWOybCzavJa7BFa-rWe6z6fwMkpTnBPhZ15S9cCs8D8Lp27QQM7CYQ9quZSGhI7yJvzdOUSckT4wDqewT3G1zw/s1600-h/Swannie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244098995645757762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQf8GPL0LpufW25e7azmC6o0kHTKoV7ZZdR54UOhvOsO4JW3yyWOybCzavJa7BFa-rWe6z6fwMkpTnBPhZ15S9cCs8D8Lp27QQM7CYQ9quZSGhI7yJvzdOUSckT4wDqewT3G1zw/s320/Swannie.jpg" border="0" /></a> Lynn Swann was there. That's really awesome if you're a Steelers fan. It's just another football player if you're not a Steelers fan even though he is a first ballot hall of famer. He was everywhere last week. I suppose he's a Republican. I didn't ask him.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfv8OOr2FeemTNtE5Ft2D35XC4Z2Yvg5t9Mg64AcUpYlRnY51bH3R3ijt45HFctFs0txPJe2dV0Azj1AXSbyY6u9S3I16ePWJjhB-0O8rUmeooME0t2pNd4yFdIvwmuFpZOrBeUA/s1600-h/voight.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244098998141365394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfv8OOr2FeemTNtE5Ft2D35XC4Z2Yvg5t9Mg64AcUpYlRnY51bH3R3ijt45HFctFs0txPJe2dV0Azj1AXSbyY6u9S3I16ePWJjhB-0O8rUmeooME0t2pNd4yFdIvwmuFpZOrBeUA/s320/voight.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Everywhere you turn at one of these conventions, there's a face you recognize. It may be a network news anchor you've been watching your entire life. It may be someone you worked with seven years ago. It may be the Washington Post scribbler you've seen on Meet the Press every other Sunday for the last five years. It may even be Jon Voight! Coach Kilmer was working the XCel Engergy Center all week talking to damn near anyone who'd talk to him. He also had three or four syringes filled with cortizone on his person at all times. I'm not sure why, but he seemed to have a lock on the limping Lynn Swann's whereabouts. Weird.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-91702432772436436162008-09-04T21:44:00.003-04:002008-09-04T22:13:04.789-04:00Minnesota Daze<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMyfsh1g04A4iZLDZA7dw0dPAB-L_0jyBN6RQ2ezbBjl2yxe6SuJT1hjj6rQ75JcgAfG1vbLDqCrZXiIUHbN5cSQdzM3R1rxVAsJwHdA7W1miLebtOveeaBAkodlTpq9W4hX0dQ/s1600-h/DSC01125.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242347628853064498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMyfsh1g04A4iZLDZA7dw0dPAB-L_0jyBN6RQ2ezbBjl2yxe6SuJT1hjj6rQ75JcgAfG1vbLDqCrZXiIUHbN5cSQdzM3R1rxVAsJwHdA7W1miLebtOveeaBAkodlTpq9W4hX0dQ/s320/DSC01125.JPG" border="0" /></a> Check it out! It's Bob <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Freakin</span>' Van <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tieghem</span>! Bob used to pilot news partner <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">WCNC's</span> sat buggy all over the south. Turns out he was so damned good at it the folks at the Peacock hired him to run their truck out of Chicago. That's a hell of a gig, especially if you like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">uplinking</span> six different paths at the same time. I know, ladies. That's right, six paths at the same time. No small man I know can do that. That's why Bob says he's put on a few since he started sitting in the big chair full time. I didn't notice, he looked as sexy as he ever did. It was good to see <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Snowboy</span> and his driver Wednesday morning.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboiTwo85WuQlBJXOawekZbOvf_xgd6ceYW1qX3w7fnMwVhmexxDPKWTVIItf2fsWEh-tJTVRipBag-PdW6TsuYTidWOafLt5LcpOLdh_jXqB5H_BCYlo3N-MxKyedKhWxz1D7-Q/s1600-h/DSC01127.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242347638071205954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboiTwo85WuQlBJXOawekZbOvf_xgd6ceYW1qX3w7fnMwVhmexxDPKWTVIItf2fsWEh-tJTVRipBag-PdW6TsuYTidWOafLt5LcpOLdh_jXqB5H_BCYlo3N-MxKyedKhWxz1D7-Q/s320/DSC01127.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">After</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Palin</span> mania, we headed west from St. Paul and ended up back at Bullwinkle's. I always have ideas of trying several different places when I visit a new town, but as soon as I find a place I love, I just go back there. Shawn and I didn't throw any more dollars at the ceiling, but they did have five dollar pitchers and free popcorn.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSb5k7KaUmRTUphQ1EJBjqTHBxf0vdas-A0PJtpWGM22r3-6tpcywWPhHL86RggSQFvs_Fx-i9r-FR-0PjU2vONHQV45_NhjP3_Rir36bhd-TE3L222qaKNDUGPruu2wFHzPHVQ/s1600-h/DSC01128.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242347641928520450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSb5k7KaUmRTUphQ1EJBjqTHBxf0vdas-A0PJtpWGM22r3-6tpcywWPhHL86RggSQFvs_Fx-i9r-FR-0PjU2vONHQV45_NhjP3_Rir36bhd-TE3L222qaKNDUGPruu2wFHzPHVQ/s320/DSC01128.JPG" border="0" /></a> Covering the convention is weird. You have to carry a ton of gear, but you can't use all of that gear everywhere, so you end up leaving stuff at the convention every night. Most photographers would use a tripod, but when you don't have a tripod or lights, you have to improvise. Luckily the Holiday Inn has a good supply of tables and chairs that work great for a seven minute sit down interview. I was pretty worried about it but it ended up looking pretty good. I used my big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">assed</span> wallet as a steady bag and diffused the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">toplight</span> by pointing it over top of the lady's head. Not having a tripod is no excuse for shaky video.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhBFIJhFR9DZfLOWVdChDhJVvMzlVrfwVA2y6xuBajxiamT8XcwT3Xgcj-0_cTDVXWfG4vhpeLYRU9Y0v7QTDkJJSEl9t_ok2AwyupQe9HvE2oAkO1Gy5PV9__6G4Uc8QahwQtg/s1600-h/DSC01130.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242347644481663266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhBFIJhFR9DZfLOWVdChDhJVvMzlVrfwVA2y6xuBajxiamT8XcwT3Xgcj-0_cTDVXWfG4vhpeLYRU9Y0v7QTDkJJSEl9t_ok2AwyupQe9HvE2oAkO1Gy5PV9__6G4Uc8QahwQtg/s320/DSC01130.JPG" border="0" /></a> Well, unless you're on the convention floor where tripods are strictly forbidden. Shawn and I got floor passes for 19 minutes Thursday night. We had to shoot a package and two <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">standups</span>. Unfortunately we got down there as the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">convention</span> was convening which means everyone stands quietly for ten minutes while the colors are presented, the pledge of allegiance spoken and the national anthem sung. When you only have 19 minutes, that's a real pisser.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaWKbCJiwD5_o1t0EF_XZlFeut0uB43gkliUw28SRpFysQWVyh-8muR_3wyiaOIPFnor71nKNeG0fgAaO7ieafKuWpB6q65DKUx0MeQd7TgYFGTRiSUhW-tSasJSx5chwjp8_bw/s1600-h/DSC01131.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242347649132848690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaWKbCJiwD5_o1t0EF_XZlFeut0uB43gkliUw28SRpFysQWVyh-8muR_3wyiaOIPFnor71nKNeG0fgAaO7ieafKuWpB6q65DKUx0MeQd7TgYFGTRiSUhW-tSasJSx5chwjp8_bw/s320/DSC01131.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />You can't do interviews during the invocation, but you can sneak off a still or two. We got the package done using a few interviews from Wednesday and the package wasn't bad, either. Now it's time to break down the equipment while McCain speaks. I could go watch his speech from the floor with Shawn, but I'm not terribly excited about it. I'll go take a peek so I can say I saw him give his speech, but I've seen him before and I've seen the keynote speech of a convention before. Plus, he isn't as easy to watch as Sarah <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Palin</span>.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-30851827659900237002008-09-03T10:15:00.002-04:002008-09-03T10:43:02.497-04:00Elephant Tuesday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYFW0DqnQZnac2zxJk1YvjOQO7AovtjAZi0YMEf-qx2zm_MobAx9eM4rPxuUG1zW4rYn5rKyDj6ekP9bVz655-XaNJZc44ehkXr3DcttaszxCoW7RQkjoKmoablNTUKigxE4r7Q/s1600-h/DSC01115.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241799113591718210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYFW0DqnQZnac2zxJk1YvjOQO7AovtjAZi0YMEf-qx2zm_MobAx9eM4rPxuUG1zW4rYn5rKyDj6ekP9bVz655-XaNJZc44ehkXr3DcttaszxCoW7RQkjoKmoablNTUKigxE4r7Q/s320/DSC01115.JPG" border="0" /></a> Meet George. George is an engineer for Fox News. He also is their representative to the Convention Communication Committee. That means while walking around the convention doing his daily Fox duties, he's also looking for people like me who may be using wireless microphones. Most television stations around the world use wireless microphones instead of a cable. It's easier, sounds good and you don't have to mess around with the cable. At these conventions with thousands of cameras and frequencies all over the place, you're not allowed to use them unless you're <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre-</span>approved by George and his committee. I knew about the rule so Flynn and I have been carrying the trusty green cable around with us all week. In fact, I left the transmitter in the trunk of the rental Mercury since we can't use it. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS0A_xzuNSVvySLP75Cvp0VJbTpxMK_s7i8J1RXsS1BfZPLAomKBiqKFMREtdzBqE7bLv_GWJM_mCzj6LtHmmeNSS8XQN-PnYX63Fahn02Uv_C_vM-C1eUxz0R4MvlWC7B_q7iQ/s1600-h/DSC01116.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241799117272359730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcS0A_xzuNSVvySLP75Cvp0VJbTpxMK_s7i8J1RXsS1BfZPLAomKBiqKFMREtdzBqE7bLv_GWJM_mCzj6LtHmmeNSS8XQN-PnYX63Fahn02Uv_C_vM-C1eUxz0R4MvlWC7B_q7iQ/s320/DSC01116.JPG" border="0" /></a> Shawn and I were about to tape a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">standup</span> on the convention floor when George came up and introduced himself and his frequency detector. Once he saw the trusty green cable, he was pleased we were following the rules. He showed me the list of offenders. It included locals, video <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bloggers</span>, and some international offenders. George said the Russians have by far been the worst and don't take kindly to frequency enforcement. If you're out and about and see George, quickly hide your transmitter and produce an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">XLR</span> cable. You'll thank me later.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRN10erEyhEny3pswyNfOwUk6lEwB7ULKB2gRofPUoXDVK1-vk1dWjBGdqEKUBp-sI1-UKaewW4PhNunsZxZ01tvo1OP2Hcwql0Hkt24xDMz7-z5OyNlR6O3XvGpdG0lVw7LZGQ/s1600-h/DSC01120.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241799121147375538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRN10erEyhEny3pswyNfOwUk6lEwB7ULKB2gRofPUoXDVK1-vk1dWjBGdqEKUBp-sI1-UKaewW4PhNunsZxZ01tvo1OP2Hcwql0Hkt24xDMz7-z5OyNlR6O3XvGpdG0lVw7LZGQ/s320/DSC01120.JPG" border="0" /></a> Our hotel is in the Seven Corners neighborhood of Minneapolis near the University of Minnesota. There's a bar on every one of those seven corners and we've visited a few post convention. Our new favorite is <a href="http://www.bullwinkles.net/">Bullwinkle's.</a> It looks a bit shady from the outside and looks like a whip ass bar inside. We walked in, I saw the old, wooden bar, a popcorn machine and felt right at home. We drank the local light lager for two bucks a cup and talked about the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">midwest</span> with the bartender who wanted to know more about the south. After a while Shawn looked up and noticed some weird things on the ceiling. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOsqWPvIJOXbwHegc47zeau0slg2FykP8I2opw-Ubnz4E-wBS4Xzj86jVLQjPxmMlLq_PdST-ex-3f4rXOco4KFLBEDGTYYOI5YY9h7doWEuvlrhc1ebaJk2sy-eV8PByCKjUTw/s1600-h/DSC01121.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241799126697755810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOsqWPvIJOXbwHegc47zeau0slg2FykP8I2opw-Ubnz4E-wBS4Xzj86jVLQjPxmMlLq_PdST-ex-3f4rXOco4KFLBEDGTYYOI5YY9h7doWEuvlrhc1ebaJk2sy-eV8PByCKjUTw/s320/DSC01121.JPG" border="0" /></a> It's a Bullwinkle's tradition to take a dollar bill, put a thumb tack in the middle, use two quarters to weigh it down a fold it up. Then you use all your strength to hurl the dollar bill hard enough towards the ceiling it sticks there. Flynn nailed it on his second attempt and added another dollar fifty to the ceiling. We don't really get why they do it. It's a ceiling with probably five hundred dollars on it. I like it, though. Weird ceiling and cold beer.<br /><div></div>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-18923807316532103822008-09-01T20:57:00.002-04:002008-09-01T21:33:03.125-04:00Tale of Two CitiesHitting the road has its pros and cons. This trip's pros are I won't have to shoot any city council meetings, I'll get to cover an historic event, I'll eat on an expense account and I'll get to meet new people in a place I've never visited. This trip's cons are I have to leave home for a week meaning I'll leave Jennifer and Carmen home alone, covering a rather boring convention and leaving Jennifer for a week.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1qB_4b4cSnynVc7q1Pj0XTSnFNdQyaxVq9IZq0jqmQJvO7RR2rIwXPmKBtdv6QplxkB5gMS2mzEscvYt1cTPRAm9PoFut_dgn4Q4lvmETiQL-pb5pZCRl3RRM2N3eXyPVedmqg/s1600-h/DSC01107.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241222612410118994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY1qB_4b4cSnynVc7q1Pj0XTSnFNdQyaxVq9IZq0jqmQJvO7RR2rIwXPmKBtdv6QplxkB5gMS2mzEscvYt1cTPRAm9PoFut_dgn4Q4lvmETiQL-pb5pZCRl3RRM2N3eXyPVedmqg/s320/DSC01107.JPG" border="0" /></a>Flynn and I arrived in Minneapolis late Sunday morning, went straight to the convention center to pick up our credentials for the Republican National Convention. This isn't my first, I covered the 2004 convention in New York, but I was mainly driving a satellite truck around Manhattan and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">uplinking</span> for a week. This time we're turning stories about the North Carolina delegation. Above is our workspace our friends as sister station <a href="http://www.ny1.com/default.aspx">NY1</a> have provided at St. Paul's <a href="http://www.xcelenergycenter.com/index.jsp"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">XCel</span> Energy Center.</a> It's a bit tight but there's always snacks, beverages, a fast <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">internet</span> connection and coffee.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtYYpEmIw3H1GZM0ZCam1rHPfxqIdwyFDSYLIzv3sbuExVIXgOPUqiEyEfVkd2QMaFUFLA8378f6oSDjaW3heJVzYKhdSu4enk_fa_8bCRUBDfH_eLsHCrfu9EichtsJEG62-Yg/s1600-h/DSC01106.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241222617109852818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtYYpEmIw3H1GZM0ZCam1rHPfxqIdwyFDSYLIzv3sbuExVIXgOPUqiEyEfVkd2QMaFUFLA8378f6oSDjaW3heJVzYKhdSu4enk_fa_8bCRUBDfH_eLsHCrfu9EichtsJEG62-Yg/s320/DSC01106.JPG" border="0" /></a> We have this little corner to ourselves. Well, ourselves and about eight other people. We aren't doing any live shots this convention, but we're feeding back a shit ton of content via that laptop I'm using. It's called a <a href="http://streambox.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Streambox</span></a> and it's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">badass</span>. I load stories into this computer, upload it to a server in Raleigh, press a button and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Whamo</span>! It's ready for air across the state. It's also 14 tons lighter than your average satellite truck. After getting our credentials we hurried to the convention, and barely made a press conference announcing big changes for the convention due to Hurricane Gustav. We turned a story or three and finally made our way to our hotel.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7n2SorwpOqJCBHI_bOcpLb98bfIIe0yMh_HAVFhRWWjdGNayKnb5TC2Lj7zKk6dbJxAqcDX5WRW4uEvFMFhraMIsOIEpFjS8HjDTfypiZ6lPx-MTsT3kld7ryrxWcjv28LzBdNQ/s1600-h/DSC01113.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241222624479423586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7n2SorwpOqJCBHI_bOcpLb98bfIIe0yMh_HAVFhRWWjdGNayKnb5TC2Lj7zKk6dbJxAqcDX5WRW4uEvFMFhraMIsOIEpFjS8HjDTfypiZ6lPx-MTsT3kld7ryrxWcjv28LzBdNQ/s320/DSC01113.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here's the view from our hotel room. We're pretty sure it's the bridge on I-35 that collapsed a little more than a year ago. The interstate is still closed and they are still working on it. It appears to be an enormous project.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbrfmZbbguv_1fJpD701UZFXqjzd_F8uuSFEG4zq86f034IfIzu-Q5OsyQRs-rJaWsf_x3JmXa5NQnPchtPhjhZTrEpACYlO9gkW_uS8DKD1kDOG85iH1jzizPhLV_NeerknYtg/s1600-h/DSC01109.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241222630313614370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbrfmZbbguv_1fJpD701UZFXqjzd_F8uuSFEG4zq86f034IfIzu-Q5OsyQRs-rJaWsf_x3JmXa5NQnPchtPhjhZTrEpACYlO9gkW_uS8DKD1kDOG85iH1jzizPhLV_NeerknYtg/s320/DSC01109.JPG" border="0" /></a> After we checked in to the hotel we hopped into a cab and headed to uptown Minneapolis to meet 25 of our colleagues from the other Time Warner News Channels. We ate dinner at a spectacular restaurant called <a href="http://www.chinolatino.com/">Chino Latino.</a> I'm not sure how to describe it, but we started with cold beer. Then waiters started bringing plates of food about every four minutes. It began with some fancy fried shrimp, then moved on to lettuce wraps, scallops, wings, ribs, kabobs, sushi and...........<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBx05GcVsxqrh4OAjDm_0eZPidQzPyTaXqHs1mm0Z2efWvIGwFx0dJPtNz0Z4zTOGmxH8ImELnkSkYyymDMKhDtlgMyuTk7b3ZrHbawqzFrzHMnbtALVKKbjUMbHgvZZ7I9ukXQ/s1600-h/DSC01110.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241222635852451298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBx05GcVsxqrh4OAjDm_0eZPidQzPyTaXqHs1mm0Z2efWvIGwFx0dJPtNz0Z4zTOGmxH8ImELnkSkYyymDMKhDtlgMyuTk7b3ZrHbawqzFrzHMnbtALVKKbjUMbHgvZZ7I9ukXQ/s320/DSC01110.JPG" border="0" /></a> Sake Bombs! Have you ever had one? It's a cup of beer with a shot of sake in it. It tastes a lot like beer. At this place they make you wear a Daniel Son headband before you count to three, slap the table and drink quickly. Shawn beat me, but only because he's Irish and beer got in my left eye when I slapped the table to drop the shot into the beer. Well, that and because I can't drink very fast. Either way, it was a long day that ended with a sensational dinner. Tuesday wasn't as long and Wednesday shouldn't be either. Stay tuned for more from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">RNC</span>.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-40566979327822650612008-08-15T15:55:00.002-04:002008-08-15T16:29:53.227-04:00Hey, Look! A Church!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBW-XwOFeF2v-97fMwWw2JVtq_j0ScEwp1HPWNSVpW-8nOB-U0EeO1XgaWnkQxegnoM9vlG7LX5BC4-hGM8O3TSujDDMYkC17RdS-myLDJbAeP_9hIEi05-t6q5jG-C0nJWxPX9A/s1600-h/1StMarys.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234836065542603346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBW-XwOFeF2v-97fMwWw2JVtq_j0ScEwp1HPWNSVpW-8nOB-U0EeO1XgaWnkQxegnoM9vlG7LX5BC4-hGM8O3TSujDDMYkC17RdS-myLDJbAeP_9hIEi05-t6q5jG-C0nJWxPX9A/s320/1StMarys.jpg" border="0" /></a> There it is. St. Mary's Chapel east of uptown Charlotte, USA. That's where Jennifer and I marry in a little more than two months. I visited for the second time today. The first time was probably in 2000 when <a href="http://news14.com/content/about_us/tara_lane/default.aspx">Tara Lane</a> married there. I didn't know Tara then, I was simply a date for one of her then-coworkers. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Anywho</span>, it's a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">beautiful</span> setting, especially in the fall.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnK7JNdtCh3Mkv8rVqLo0etv3pRM8n4v4bYF8S05Ifm9Eb_05qW_9-d1VNIk18yxyRblmXFOhtNugSwixq3FDKcxqr93OGYcn11vsM3PFKlE6ONYfLG30WQ5NNlb19Io6mCM4KQ/s1600-h/2StMarys.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234836071088015794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnK7JNdtCh3Mkv8rVqLo0etv3pRM8n4v4bYF8S05Ifm9Eb_05qW_9-d1VNIk18yxyRblmXFOhtNugSwixq3FDKcxqr93OGYcn11vsM3PFKlE6ONYfLG30WQ5NNlb19Io6mCM4KQ/s320/2StMarys.jpg" border="0" /></a> Jennifer and I met Mom and sister Anna at the church Friday afternoon to test out some decorations. Luckily the chapel has a ton of character on it's own and doesn't need that many flowers. Jennifer asked me what I thought and shockingly I had little insight to offer. I said they looked good while the ladies(along with a few other future brides checking out the chapel) kept mixing, matching, measuring and taking pictures to make sure everything looked good.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOMRjEFIlLMcmSMcKh1gzTGiQjKpA-1LvzJIr9MfkK5a7abQVJOCv0RO2DDP4ePllrMeicfRtOdC0S151zSokYO82F2ElAEN61d2ZAI8sE3GyNq938VJ4YkvpYGVgBQtuzrDTPw/s1600-h/3StMarys.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234836068146070834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOMRjEFIlLMcmSMcKh1gzTGiQjKpA-1LvzJIr9MfkK5a7abQVJOCv0RO2DDP4ePllrMeicfRtOdC0S151zSokYO82F2ElAEN61d2ZAI8sE3GyNq938VJ4YkvpYGVgBQtuzrDTPw/s320/3StMarys.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p>I knew the chapel was tiny, but my gracious it's small. 125 people can allegedly fit in there. I'm not sure how but I guess it will happen. I'm glad I'll be standing. </p><p>Actually being in the church helps you realize it's actually happening. It's not talking about it, tasting a cake, looking at limos on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">interweb</span> or dreaming of honeymoons. We're marrying for real, and it doesn't suck.</p>Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-60534787539341850202008-08-11T15:55:00.003-04:002008-08-11T16:14:26.301-04:00I Needed a ShowerI got up at 7:30 Saturday morning. Understand that I don't ever get up that early unless it's for golf or something spectacularly awesome. Unfortunately, this time it was for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">yard work</span>. A TON of it. I've been messing around with a large bed in the yard that was full of old leaves, pine needles, weeds, a baby snake, yellow jackets and some old shrubs that looked like ass. I spent several hours on it one day last month and decided to finish it Saturday morning. I started early so I could take advantage of the temperature in the 60's. After spending five or ten minutes putting on my shoes and yard pants(I quit wearing shorts in the yard after the spider bite,) off to work I went. It took about three solid hours of weed pulling and NPR listening to get it done. By the way, I highly recommend National Public Radio on the weekends. Yes, I know taxpayers subsidize eight percent of their operating budgets and I'm against all things we have to unwillingly pay for, but that doesn't mean it isn't great radio. Unfortunately I couldn't listen that afternoon for the two hours of grass cutting, weed-eating, edging and blowing.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WdsQbIRro-qu9S7kjJVCiMMCKOU0xIe_DBy455SDJ0Fh-zM7nJb5ZJxA2NP_hSm3cSEmfUpzY3UNkCgGk3IVH6DmosleQdgTprorJjAlmaGYh9R4WG0nhw2TmmBUDM7no1UqrA/s1600-h/Shower.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233351340603676450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WdsQbIRro-qu9S7kjJVCiMMCKOU0xIe_DBy455SDJ0Fh-zM7nJb5ZJxA2NP_hSm3cSEmfUpzY3UNkCgGk3IVH6DmosleQdgTprorJjAlmaGYh9R4WG0nhw2TmmBUDM7no1UqrA/s320/Shower.jpg" border="0" /></a>After finishing the yard the Panthers had their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre</span>-season opener Saturday night but why go to a football game when you can go to a baby shower?!?! Sure I was disappointed to miss a Panthers home game. It's rare I miss them but the shower was for Jennifer's best friend Erika and her husband Mike(who may or may not have fixed the air conditioner in my truck for less than $250.) It was more of a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">assed</span> party with some baby presents at the end. There was a huge deck, a huge grill, tons of cold beer, tons of good food and even beer pong. It was my first baby shower, but I imagine it was better than most. We had a good time. For the record, Jennifer told me to go to the game so I did indeed go to the shower on my own accord. I'm glad I did, and not just because I got to snap this picture.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-63222439832763535222008-08-08T16:26:00.003-04:002008-08-08T22:44:43.918-04:00Older<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dWoISXHeqTXH_6sFxso2h_M7eCOP5Jhufrw5r3_pcdirmyZjNCCtmzCyJkt4dv7gc7R8nb3_4nT7UZ531SNT6xrKDZvSwLB9kSr6ejByUq0a8YEEZZRmzBlJB68VBDzOLdMKRw/s1600-h/1Dish.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232246169915996066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-dWoISXHeqTXH_6sFxso2h_M7eCOP5Jhufrw5r3_pcdirmyZjNCCtmzCyJkt4dv7gc7R8nb3_4nT7UZ531SNT6xrKDZvSwLB9kSr6ejByUq0a8YEEZZRmzBlJB68VBDzOLdMKRw/s320/1Dish.jpg" border="0" /></a> I turned 29 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">years</span> old this past Saturday afternoon. That's damn near 30! My next birthday I'll be married and 30. Weird. We started the day off at the Panthers <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">FanFest</span> where we were treated to 95 degree heat and a football practice. I reckon football practice is better than no football. They were serving beer, though. We ate lunch at Tavern and headed home for a two hour nap.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4m4BWXZ1VRJ_F_8UmkeNDKKuamG0UVR3cAusOR5kjARz8oPGSATeJbKmkbouCQb14ePEhw1b0eYgeNUl6fBeslVuMd6vq8a600Muk77R8MuBiEuVxuZhBxV-dqqhB_CKvJZOHQ/s1600-h/2Dish.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232246170497032434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4m4BWXZ1VRJ_F_8UmkeNDKKuamG0UVR3cAusOR5kjARz8oPGSATeJbKmkbouCQb14ePEhw1b0eYgeNUl6fBeslVuMd6vq8a600Muk77R8MuBiEuVxuZhBxV-dqqhB_CKvJZOHQ/s320/2Dish.jpg" border="0" /></a> I didn't plan much, a simple dinner at <a href="http://www.eatatdish.com/">Dish</a> followed by cans of beer at the Thirsty Beaver. Dish is my favorite restaurant but I never get over there to eat. Everything you order comes with a deviled egg and a biscuit. Nothing sucks about that or the shrimp and grits. Jennifer got a veggie <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sandwich</span> which had some black bean hummus. If you're a vegetarian, chances are you go crazy for anything that features black bean hummus.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHWLaS56pEb2ke7FaMSjZh9MDHjy-xE5Yii_P7T_IkAtCYzm-SKJebtJdRpve2uovSQcuKM3XkvpaflXNhtuqYVw8dKha3jrYojLSWaaJCp96Kxi4seySpz4jJ6wwLV0pFysqsw/s1600-h/1Comet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232246169564584370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHWLaS56pEb2ke7FaMSjZh9MDHjy-xE5Yii_P7T_IkAtCYzm-SKJebtJdRpve2uovSQcuKM3XkvpaflXNhtuqYVw8dKha3jrYojLSWaaJCp96Kxi4seySpz4jJ6wwLV0pFysqsw/s320/1Comet.jpg" border="0" /></a> We left Dish and headed to the Thirsty Beaver. We walked in and didn't recognize anyone, not even the bartender. We asked her where everyone was and she said The Loose <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lugnuts</span> were playing the Comet Grill. We finished our beers and headed to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Dilworth</span> to find the Comet was packed with people we knew and a band that actually didn't suck. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lugnuts</span> have come a long way since they let me play with them for a couple of months a few years ago. Mark and Brian added a bass player a while back who doesn't suck and found a guitar player named Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Noonan</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Noonan's</span> been around Charlotte for years with his own band, but really enjoys playing with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Lugnuts</span>. Word leaked it was my birthday and all of the sudden Shelia had shots for the band and myself. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ya'll</span> know I'm not a liquor drinker, but I damn sure enjoyed the Jim Beam. Once again, I loved it, thus I don't typically drink it.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdCIZE486AprG51d63kXX8Ne0ftyx2tEus1uWyZWjY6SJkJpPq01wWNN1-OkJjWLToI8ByeQ3wQAIDlpSDH6WVcUQH_Il9aLANOHkeRB3zb3TPsPzCuMCP-hX6zg0jxkQ2hQhxw/s1600-h/2Comet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232246172387392402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdCIZE486AprG51d63kXX8Ne0ftyx2tEus1uWyZWjY6SJkJpPq01wWNN1-OkJjWLToI8ByeQ3wQAIDlpSDH6WVcUQH_Il9aLANOHkeRB3zb3TPsPzCuMCP-hX6zg0jxkQ2hQhxw/s320/2Comet.jpg" border="0" /></a> We did most of our hanging out upstairs where my old college friends Wes and Tiffany came to meet us. I hadn't seen Tiffany in probably seven years when Jennifer and I ran into her at the hospital last year. She asked me if I had Wes' number and they've been dating ever since. Tiffany went to see Journey Saturday night and a few emails and text messages later, they were at the Comet. Despite my High Life and Jim Beam induced drunk, it was great to see them. We need to see them again so I can really catch up instead of hollering over the music and trying to remember what they told me. <br /><br />With dinner, The Loose Lugnuts, good times, good friends and great oldies, my 29th birthday was one of my better ones. Maybe 30 won't be that bad.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-10841964842784778912008-08-01T22:22:00.003-04:002008-12-10T00:10:40.463-05:00British, Old and Whipping AssSeveral months ago <a href="http://www.geocities.com/jimtravers/">Travers</a> told me Mark Knopfler was coming to town. If the name isn't familiar, the band he fronted for many years is. Dire Straits. Dire Freakin' Straits.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-q4Yy7e0il5elGVpL3ZahwJLZbkF9FSaG4nh2LF1sMztpcbDycLSxb1cMWbhSUqJYWtux2FnTu4MYWyoVYwrDkc4wMkX54zBD0b0mMYbsTnTOfX6G0BZpNWB-zg9CWWIhcWCDtQ/s1600-h/1Knopfler.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229740231182560402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-q4Yy7e0il5elGVpL3ZahwJLZbkF9FSaG4nh2LF1sMztpcbDycLSxb1cMWbhSUqJYWtux2FnTu4MYWyoVYwrDkc4wMkX54zBD0b0mMYbsTnTOfX6G0BZpNWB-zg9CWWIhcWCDtQ/s320/1Knopfler.jpg" border="0" /></a> I can name a handful of Dire Straits songs and another handful of Mark Knopfler songs and none of them suck. The man can play guitar better than anyone I've heard in person except for <a href="http://www.unknownhinson.com/">Unknown Hinson</a>. Seriously, he's in his 50's and strides up to the microphone in fashionable jeans and a blazer to start whipping ass.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2MJkJZIIIEM_35K9VwfMPFtMTyBdixIqprefolCi9zayuR53vNzT8MRCWQnll54H4GOXLpNH5xLSoU22yizcEkO3-PIw2N8tLRW3EbIjtN7fBwVFCJj6XgrKpYryIeHA2QcuS1g/s1600-h/2Knopfler.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229740241442308866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2MJkJZIIIEM_35K9VwfMPFtMTyBdixIqprefolCi9zayuR53vNzT8MRCWQnll54H4GOXLpNH5xLSoU22yizcEkO3-PIw2N8tLRW3EbIjtN7fBwVFCJj6XgrKpYryIeHA2QcuS1g/s320/2Knopfler.jpg" border="0" /></a> He played some of his old stuff, some of his new stuff, a few Dire Straits classics and some instrumentals that had all of Ovens Auditorium on its feet. Even Jennifer who had never heard of Mark Knopfler thought it whipped ass.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFepnW6aAB1Pu7R4RaKAumb7CFSFfKbbEpROuBGBRO8ourDyIN6yFX11UgyHf_NtEGtl-qP_7tgtTQDNt_DFjUie2_uFdPeZP9Y9zXeg_t8nfuuwm_c-6i7hyjrk7I_MFFLDR2ng/s1600-h/3Knopfler.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229740248102368690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFepnW6aAB1Pu7R4RaKAumb7CFSFfKbbEpROuBGBRO8ourDyIN6yFX11UgyHf_NtEGtl-qP_7tgtTQDNt_DFjUie2_uFdPeZP9Y9zXeg_t8nfuuwm_c-6i7hyjrk7I_MFFLDR2ng/s320/3Knopfler.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Hey! 40 year old <a href="http://news14.com/content/about_us/tim_baier/">Tim Baier</a> was there, too! I didn't know he was such a big Mark Knopfler fan!Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31086548.post-42787955584051558772008-07-31T22:28:00.002-04:002008-12-10T00:10:40.974-05:00Happy Birthday, Ed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTrYufM01n91uZQeDlJ_LdnuMYrCgKulYcDgQyasTQ8pr13Se0MzsYFs-Gz6fFmm4ck04Xc3T_x-_sUuSbicO6IIa1d_zbXaA1qzdHjf1itj3CXJ8s9GydMj7fDnwJVffJBMeeQ/s1600-h/1Bday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229370832125678162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTrYufM01n91uZQeDlJ_LdnuMYrCgKulYcDgQyasTQ8pr13Se0MzsYFs-Gz6fFmm4ck04Xc3T_x-_sUuSbicO6IIa1d_zbXaA1qzdHjf1itj3CXJ8s9GydMj7fDnwJVffJBMeeQ/s320/1Bday.jpg" border="0" /></a> Dad turned 55 Monday. That meant it was time to party Sunday afternoon at the ole' Butler Homestead. Cousin Wayne, Aunt Agnes, Aunt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bibus</span> and Uncle Ben made their way from Monroe to join Mom, Dad, Jennifer, Brad and myself for chicken and potato salad. The afternoon was full of guffaws that are the norm when Wayne, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bibus</span> and Dad get together. They spend their time talking about how much they got in trouble as kids and laugh hysterically about it. It never gets old.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEhTDnJbdFYNprgurTRMwKQron-my8JmTFH2uzPCtJZjZhcaNIrQeHsOC0UU-9WXc5z5R67bEnzucf95_l-KX0ddFcDOmnGSZa1kHat-nOdjVr0WpZYjycgQr_4tBo4Bu6EL4jQ/s1600-h/2Bday.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229370834391417970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEhTDnJbdFYNprgurTRMwKQron-my8JmTFH2uzPCtJZjZhcaNIrQeHsOC0UU-9WXc5z5R67bEnzucf95_l-KX0ddFcDOmnGSZa1kHat-nOdjVr0WpZYjycgQr_4tBo4Bu6EL4jQ/s320/2Bday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Speaking of old, Dad claimed to have an ingrown hair in his mustache and shaved that bitch off last week for only the second time in 33 years. In fact, it's allegedly the first time I've seen him without it in my life. I think it looks pretty good, but Mom begs to differ. I've a feeling it'll be back sooner than later.Adam Butlerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13952005609944149429noreply@blogger.com0