Frenchy's Rant

Now that we’re solidly on the Road to Wrestlemania, the days blur by, with one melting seamlessly into the next. New York? Was that yesterday or last week? Where are we now, and where the hell are we going next? Is Wrestlemania really only two months away? Where does all the time go?

Such is life in the great sleep deprivation experiment known as WWE in High Definition. Our new twin HD trucks, ‘Death‘ and ‘Taxes‘ continue to confound, but inch by painful inch we’re gettin’ there.

WWE A-Unit ‘Death’ – Sporting a fancy new graphic wrap

WWE B-Unit ‘Taxes’ – Still waiting for a fancy graphics wrap

So far, with eight shows behind us, I’d say the score is ‘Death and Taxes‘: six – Team Troubleshoot: one, with one show still undecided. Last night in… in… uhh… in… in the arena that has a football stadium next door was the first show that things seemed to settle down a little bit, and was the first show that I had time to think about writing a blog in ‘Taxes‘ Blogger Master Control. (And so far, the rambling blog is about as confusing as everything else in this truck has been… bear with me.)

The most ‘fun’ thing so far seems to be the completely random state that everything starts out in. Without getting into the pure technical details – mostly because I don’t have any clue what they are – everything in these trucks seems to be controlled by ghosts. What worked flawlessly yesterday won’t work at all today, or, if it does work, it works in a completely different yet surprisingly interesting manner than it should, depending on the mood of the HD phantoms that apparently are in charge. Green lights don’t always mean go anymore, and up isn’t always louder in this strange new high tech world.

Everyone on the crew is tired, everyone’s a bit on edge and definitely getting burned out, and on top of all that, now everyone is catching the bird flu. What fun! Just a small part of the ‘glamour’ that is TV production – the part that they don’t teach in TV school.

Tonight will mark a whopping nine shows down in these trucks, with only nine-hundred ninety-one to go until replace them.

Hopefully the poltergeists-in-charge will have turned into Caspers by then.

Evidently, I’m not the only one with a dream. This man has one too.

Meet Steve. His dream? To go to the Super Bowl and cheer for the NY Giants, his life long favorite team. Steve’s problem? He doesn’t have tickets. But that’s not going to stop him.

Here’s the back of Steve’s sign.

After donating to Steve’s cause, I asked him how it was going so far. He told me this was his first night on the street, and he’d already raised almost $90. Not bad, even if the sports team from my area is going to slaughter Steve’s team in the big game.

Might not be a bad idea for the Nova Scotia fund…….

On my birthday, it’s been family tradition for the past thirty-eight years for my Mom to tell me the story of the day I was born, today included. Since this year’s version arrived via e-mail, I thought I’d post it.

Take it away Mom!

This is how I remember the wonderful day you were born. Keep in mind it was 38 years ago so I may have forgotten a little.

I woke up at 2 am to go to the bathroom once again, but my water broke this time. Luckily, I was in the bathroom. I called Dad and told him what happened. Of course the first worlds out of his mouth were “Are you sure?” Of course I was sure, my knees were actually knocking. Dad called the doctor and he said to go right to the hospital. We drove to Sturdy Hospital knowing that on this day our lives were really going to change. I don’t know why, but for some reason I remember that I noticed the temperature at the corner bank in Attleboro read 2 degrees. We got to the hospital around 3 am and…nothing happened.

Finally around noontime they decided to induce labor. I remember there was another woman in labor and she was screaming. She had a girl… her seventh… and didn’t even want to look at her… she wanted a boy. I guess I slept through most of the labor because when I woke up they were wheeling me into the labor room. At 5:59 PM you were born and I thought you were the most beautiful baby in the world. In those days new fathers couldn’t stay with new mothers, so Dad went to school and I guess the doctor called him. He brought me a piece of chocolate cake from Chelo’s. Sadly, because I was nursing you, the nurses told me I couldn’t eat chocolate. I think they wanted my cake, but I still didn’t eat it.

So there it is. The Story. I was officially the most beautiful baby in the world at one time… no idea what’s happened to me since. Thank goodness I was born a boy, so my Mom would look at me!

And, just for the record, I still love chocolate cake.

Thanks Mom!

The title may be lame, but at least it’s online. My new work-in-progress photoblog is up and running.

Take a look!