An American Rogue in Europe: Chapter Six

Moses had Aaron. JFK had Bobby. Batman had Robin (and, I suppose, Batgirl but that's not important right now). Everybody needs a sidekick. I'm not really sure whether today's topic is my sidekick or I'm his (probably the latter) but regardless, here comes...

Chapter Six: Tricky Dick and the Traveling Sharptons

I have been fortunate enough in my short lifetime to be gifted with many friends. Loyal, exciting, talented and above all fun-loving, they are all dear to me. There are only a couple I'd travel around the world to see, but for Richard, I'd swim. To say I was excited to see him would be the definition of understatement.

Since Richard and I met we were largely inseparable. Then he went and enlisted in the Army and he and his lovely wife, Allie, got sent half-way around the world. Ella and I attended their wedding (the night of Hurricane Rita) and then said goodbye. A year and change later, they visited us in Ruston while home for Christmas. That was five months before our trip.

As we landed in Nurembourg Ella and I agreed, "visit on the way home, sleep when we get to their house." We had an early morning to catch the train to Prague and knew we needed the sleep to get over our jet lag. All that went out the window when they picked us up.

One of my favorite things about Richard is that our friendship has more to do with personality and world outlook and less to do with day to day activities. Conversation flows just as easily whether it's been a day or a year since we last saw each other. That's why we ended up staying awake for 36 hours straight during his Christmas visit and why we didn't stop visiting and actually sleep until after 2AM that first night. It's good to have friends you can't get enough of.

Maybe it's technically against the rules, but I'm gonna quote myself here about my introduction to Richard. Ladies and Gentlemen, an excerpt from The Life and Times of the Drunken Rogue: Part Four...

Richard was a transfer from some Junior college in Mississippi, who after a year or so at Tech, had decided to get involved in the theatre. He was in "Goiter" (I shudder every time I write that name) but since I wasn't, we hadn't seen a lot of each other. It turned out we had a lot in common, and before long, we were hanging out frequently. We both liked to talk about music, movies, and politics. We both had open and inquisitive minds as far as spirituality was concerned and we both liked pretty girls. The pretty girl he had his eye on at the time (or more accurately that had her eye on him) was Allie. Allie is a year younger than me, but considering I didn't start dabbling in the theater until a year into my college career (and, that I graduated a year late) she might as well be in my class. Spunky, funny, beautiful, with a southern drawl (or is that yak?), Allie was the preeminent overachiever. She always went to class, was President of the theatre organization, made solid grades, and was beloved as dependable and trustworthy by her professors. I was, largely, none of those things. My grades were acceptable, I didn't lie but I'm not sure I would be called trustworthy, and while most of my professors liked me, they also knew I'd take the easy way if I could. I always liked Allie, but you have to see the dichotomy that existed. Richard was more like Allie I think in the beginning. Hungry to learn and prove himself. However, the more he and I hung out, the more we reinforced each others inner slackers.

So Allie and Richard got more serious as a couple, Richard and I got lazier, and theatre continued to happen. Amazing isn't it how much goes on in the theatre building?

Three reasons I love Richard:

1. Richard, Kevin and the janky TV -- Richard, like me was a film-lover. So much so, that in the early days of DVD, he had gone out and purchased a television with S-Video inputs. At the time it was fairly state-of-the-art, especially for a college kid, with zero money. He blew some $500 bucks on this TV and enjoyed for years the best video image he could afford. However by the time I knew him, this TV had seen it's better days. The audio output on the back had a loose connection on the inside, and while watching a movie, the sound would suddenly disappear. Without missing a beat, Richard or (his then roommate) Kevin would just stamp their foot down on the floor of their little rent house, shaking the TV set and turning back on the sound. Of course he could have gotten a new tv set, but probably not one with S-Video inputs. Richard was willing to endure the annoyance of dropping the audio occasionally so as to maintain high fidelity video.

2. Richard vs. Wendy's -- Yes, I mean Wendy's the fast food establishment. While Richard understands the health hazards and low-quality food of the fast food business, he also doesn't mind it as a whole. He and I have grazed at McDonald's more times than I care to count, and the man's love for Taco Bell knows no bounds. He does have a deep-seated resentment and anger at Dave Thomas' chain of burger joints. While the roots of this hatred, may be much deeper, the surface injury is easy to explain. Wendy's has, and still does, market itself as an "up-scale" fast food restaurant. They claim (and some swear to it) that the food is simply better than the "other guys." Richard stands offended. How dare they claim to be "up-scale" fast food and charge an extra thirty cents for the same crappy food? (This is Richard's opinion, I personally find Wendy's delightful).

3. He's a MonkeyBall Wizard -- For those that have not had the pleasure, let me introduce you to the single greatest video game series of all time. Super Monkey Ball from Sega. It's multi-platform now, out for PS2 and the Xbox, but I played it on Gamecube. Richard might claim otherwise, now that he's a serious military man and all, but let me tell, "That boy plays a mean monkey ball." The idea of the game is like Labyrinth or Marble Madness. You maneuver a ball through a maze, not by moving the ball, but the whole maze...oh and there's a little monkey in the ball. The game also includes dozens of mini-games, like bowling, target, soccer, baseball etc. all with the monkey-in-a-ball theme. Richard and I spent the better part of a year playing this game. We were very productive.

Now that we've been re-introduced to all the main characters (Allie, Richard, Ella and the Rogue) and experienced the obstacles we overcame to even get to Europe, it's almost time for our real journey to begin...

Coming soon -- Chapter Seven: On the Road to Prague

It's All Coming Together: A Week With the Rogues in the Big Easy

My apologies. It's been quite a while since I've left you (my faithful readers) high and dry for such a long time. In my defense, I was researching the next phase of my life, not just goofing off. I'll tell you all about how that went, but first let's take a trip down memory lane.

About eighteen years ago, Lil' Rogue developed a dream. There was a city, far away, where the bright lights and busy streets were simply too exciting for Lil' Rogue to miss out on. He got to visit the city, to smell its...particular odor, to partake in its most famous tradition, even to sample some of the local cuisine (which for those of you that know the Rogue, is quite surprising). The city was New Orleans, and Rogue was in love. A lot of things came and went on the list of Rogue's dreams in the next 18 years. But the city was always there in the back of his mind.

Last week, I took the first step in fulfilling that dream. This June, Mr. and Mrs. Rogue are heading to the Big Easy. We've found jobs, we've started searching for houses, we've learned our way around (sort of) and most of all, I've fallen even more in love than I was before. The week ended up much different than we had planned (we were supposed to spend some time looking for work in Baton Rouge) but it seemed to take on a life of its own. And standing on the other side, I think that was a good thing.

First and foremost I have to say thank you to a few people who made last week a spectacular success: Boyd and Tara, my brother and sister-in-law, who hosted an awesome Crawfish boil and let Ella and I discover the advantages of being close enough to spend time with our adorable niece; Ellie and Ryan, who have just become our new favorite couple friends and who have made the ridiculously long drive to Denham Springs more than worth by having such an adorable daughter, Ava; Nick and Jeff, without who's hospitality (and extra-large house) we might have gotten to experience being homeless in New Orleans, this is one Big Easy experience I think I can live without; Gwen and Cheryl Lynn, our adopted mother and sister who tried desperately (and still might) to give us jobs, took us to an awesome dinner, and gave us first hand lessons in the New Orleans accent; Gran and Gramps, for giving us a base of operations in BR and not minding so much when we only used it a little; Bear and Dee, who are just about the coolest cousins a guy could ask for, and who provide a great reason for finding a house in New Orleans big enough to have a guest room; Tootie and Randy, for completing the family get together on Saturday by making an appearance at the boil; Jena and Chase, for caring for the Rogue menagerie while we were away; and finally Pat and Chuck, the first people we met after moving to the city, that's right we had decided for all of about thirty minutes when we ran into our first natives while talking too loud at dinner.

My entire life, I've felt like the things I am supposed to do are shown to me by the fact that they seem to appear from nowhere. Ella and I each sent dozens of resumes out over the last couple of weeks. The jobs we took (or probably will take, in my case) were nowhere on the list of jobs we had applied for. The job interview that got us to New Orleans early (and the one that kept us in the city for an extra day) were not jobs we had known about or applied for. When we met Chuck and Pat, we were just enjoying our meal a little too much. How were we to know that they were successful people (who back Bobby Jindal, just like me) who happen to own several rent houses? Call it whatever you want, fate, Providence, coincidence, or the overt Hand of God. I'm pretty sure now that we are supposed to be in New Orleans. That is about as comforting a thought as I could have.

Now, with four weeks left until our European excursion, Ella and I are busy packing, selling and just plain getting rid of as much crap as we can stand to lose. We've got to be out of our house by at least the seventh of May, my last day in radio is the fourth, and in between here and there I've got about eight performances of "Zorro". It's a good thing we didn't put too much on our plate, isn't it?

Thanks to everyone who checked in while I was away. The Drunken Rogue is back, with a lot of things to say.

Welcome Back!

This post is not (I promise) an ode to "Welcome Back, Cotter" the seminal 70's TV series that introduced America to John Travolta (or the dancer's Tom Cruise, as I like to refer to him).

This post is also not (I promise) a reversal of my position on Sanjaya (or the blind man's LaToya Jackson as I like to refer to him).

This post is (I think) a hardy "Hello again," to one of my earliest readers and oldest friends. She's been away (raising a girl-child, and earning them big bucks) and unable to keep up with everyone's favorite drunken blogger (that's me!). So everybody say it with me, "Welcome back, Ellie!"

Since the earliest days of the Drunken Rogue (when a juice cup was the beverage of choice), Ellie has been there. She rode shotgun in the wheelbarrow (while Poppa Rogue pushed us around), she was my co-writer on a brilliant stage play we wrote based on a fire-safety pamphlet (I was a creative genius even at eight), and a year ago when I started blogging, she was one of the first in line to check 'em out.

So in addition to a big "thank you" for her return, this is a great opportunity to suggest some great articles to catch up on. (This is the part that not only applies for Ellie, but anybody that isn't up to date with the Drunken Rogue).

The first thing Ellie (and all my beloved readers) should know is that the Drunken Rogue has a new home (not that I'm vacating this one). You can now check out a different side of the Drunken Rogue (with almost no reading whatsoever) at Exclamations of a Drunken Rogue. It's a new-fangled Tumble blog. It's a great way for me to pass along the things that really crack me up throughout the day (and my extensive Internet viewing) to all of you. Visit it, bookmark it, visit it again, and again, and again.

Also, I would be remiss if I didn't remind people to check out Mrs. Rogue's new blog. Ella Finds and Shares, is a whole different world than my Ramblings, but it is just as (if not much more) cool. If you are into design, furniture, fashion, art, or just cool stuff, then Mrs. Rogue will find something that you definitely want to see. Don't forget to input your email at the top right for updates sent right to your email box. (The Preceding was a paid advertisement for "Ella Finds and Shares" the opinions expressed ARE the opinions of the Drunken Rogue and not following the suggestions presented therein, may result in negative consequences for the marriage of the Drunken Rogue. Nobody wants that).

Now for the real meat and potatoes (meat and potatoes here means blogging):

The Drunken Rogue's Favorite Recent Posts

1. I'm Turning Into My Father? Well, There are Worse Things I Could Be...

2. A Drunken Guide to Valentine's Day

3. She's Breathing My Air: Ode to My Baby Sister

4. One Final Bow

5. Just Shut Up and Sing: Fame, Speaking Your Mind and Responsibility

Whoo, sometimes I forget just how good I am (this sentence has absolutely no hubris in it). If you've missed any of this stuff, I strongly suggest it. For those of you that have been around lately, please feel free to suggest some of the recent stuff (last few months) that particularly tickled your funny bone.

Thanks to everybody for reading these things. I enjoy writing them, I enjoy getting your responses, I REALLY enjoy the conversations in the comments, and it means a lot that some people like hearing what I have to say. Thanks, and welcome back.

Merry Christmas to Me!

On March 3rd, 2006 I signed up for the original "Blogger" (which has just recently been replaced by the much cooler "Blogger"). I had heard so much about this new (well, it was new to me anyway) form of writing that allowed anyone to put their opinions out their in cyberspace. It was only a couple of days later that I created my MySpace page (only after discovering my buddy Richard had joined the MySpace masses).

I still love my Blogger page (especially the new redesign) but I have found myself focusing more and more on MySpace. Why is that? First and foremost, it's easier to promote myself there. My friends (and their friends) are already logging onto MySpace just about everyday, it is very simple to direct them over to my latest post. Also there is something about MySpace that truly does invoke the feeling of a personal "space" on the web. Blogger (as of now) does not give this same feeling (not that it is necessarily trying). Until I open drunkenrogue.com, MySpace is the closest thing I have to a home on the net. Welcome to my house.

It's been just over nine months since I first logged on to MySpace. I logged on this afternoon and this is what my Blog stat tracker looked like:

Joel

	Today	Week	Total
Posts	0	2	146
Comments	6	16	1210
Views	44	251	10004
Kudos	3	9	476

For the graph-challenged, that says that in my nine months of blogging I have written 146 blogs (not counting this one), those blogs have been read a total of 10,004 times (not counting the dozens of times I read my own, unfortunately I can't give myself stats). Those 146 blogs have received 1,210 comments and almost 500 kudos (tsk, tsk, you gotta kudo with your comment). I can't say thank you enough.

I never thought that I'd get this sort of response when I started blogging. My goal was to inspire myself to write more. I wanted a consistent deadline and some immediate feedback. I got that and much much more. To those of you that have been reading from the very beginning (Mom, Ella, Ellie, Nicholas) you started this as much as I did. It was you mentioning my blogs to friends and family that has given me such a large audience so quickly. Kudos to you. To the strong supporters that jumped in a little later (Deanne, Bro. Nick, Fox, Allison) you guys rock. Thanks for all the votes in what was a silly (but exciting) competition. To Jena, my beloved sister, thanks for always "forgetting" the kudos. You force me to reach extra hard for the funny, in hopes that I'll pry that praise right out of your clinched little hand.

Now, since it is the holiday season I thought I'd give you my wish list this Christmas (I promise this one has nothing to do with the Wii!

1. A new job. -- No, I'm not trying to run out on my current one, or even implying that I'm currently unhappy. Ella is approaching graduation, we are contemplating a move somewhere new, and I wish with all my might that I will find gainful employment. It would be great if someone would hire me to write (anybody looking for a writer?), but all I really require is a safe work environment, health benefits, and a fair salary. Santa are you listening?

2. A house with a dishwasher. -- For those of you that have visited the Rogue home, you know in a lot of ways it's awesome. Ella and I like so many things about our house, but the lack of modern conveniences as they relate to dish de-dirtification is completely unacceptable. The next one (in that mysterious somewhere new place) will hopefully remedy this problem.

3. Time with my family. -- I'm really excited about the upcoming Christmas weekend, and only partly because I'm gonna get some new stuff. I love giving and receiving presents but the real fun of the holidays is playing cards with your loved ones, watching football and basketball with my Dad and Aunt, going for coffee and beignets with D and Merrit, and sure the bonus Christmas cash from Gran and Gramps doesn't hurt my Christmas spirit!

4. Affordable plane tickets. -- Mrs. Rogue and I are taking this show on the road, as we've already told you. We're currently planning a trip to Europe in May to visit Richard and Allie and see all that old stuff that they keep in Europe. Here's a big holiday wish for cheap flights there and back. The cheaper the plane ride the more wine and cheese Mrs. Rogue can buy while we're there.

5. A book deal. -- Most of my other wishes are sort of touchy feely (or at least not really selfish) so I thought I'd throw in one just for me. Sometime in the next three to four months my first novel will be finished (the first draft, anyway). After a few edits, I'm gonna start pimping it out with a vengeance. It would be nice if this time next year, someone else was actually posting my Christmas wishes because I was too busy with a book signing or some such. What can I say I'm an optimist.

Merry Christmas to all of you. Wherever you are and wherever you spend the holidays I hope your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or just plain Monday, is as merry as I intend to make mine.

Coming next week: From the Vaults of the Drunken Rogue: The Best of 2006 'cause if you haven't read it, it's new to you!

By Dawn's Early Light: What Old Age Does to the All-Nighter

Richard (my hetero-lifemate and bestest friend, no offense Amanda) was in town this weekend with his wife which led to three things: most of the beer in the greater Lincoln Parish area was consumed, friends that I haven't seen in several months (in some cases years) showed up to visit with them (and us, theoretically), and we (Ella, Richard, me and the guests) slept very little.

My college days are far behind me (when you've only lived 25 years, the two and a half years that stand between you and graduation are a long time), and while I'm still a "wild and crazy guy" (I am the Drunken Rogue after all) my all-nighters are few and far between. I'll hit the highlights for you between an all-nighter at 21 and an all-nighter at 25.

5. The "All-Nighter" doesn't end with vomit and unconsciousness. -- At 21 you're guzzling the adult beverages at a pace that simply cannot be maintained. This generally results in most of the people at the party ending their evening (or early morning as it were) with their heads in the toilet. At 25 the beer is not only used for it's intoxicating effects but also 'cause it tastes so darn good. Sure you get drunk, but it's at four thirty or five A.M. just as things are winding down. No vomit is a good thing.

4. The thing pushing you through those last few hours is significantly less sexy. -- At 21 when the yawns start to sink in at 3am you keep partying because the redhead is giving you the eye, and you're sure with a couple more hours of drinks and flirtation, it could be your lucky night...morning...whatever. At 25 you think seriously about going to bed at 3, but then decide against it, because you are only two hours away from McDonald's Breakfast. Hmmmm, sausage McBiscuit!

3. The "Walk of Shame" takes on a whole new meaning. -- No longer are you ashamed because of your bed partner (I did marry her after all) but now the end of an all-nighter is accompanied by the shocking realization that it is embarrassing to stand around with your friends the next morning knowing you smell like a pirate.

2. That "fall anywhere" attitude is replaced with a...more conservative approach. -- Sure the 21 year old is happy to party 'till sunrise because he knows that when sleep finally does catch him, he'll enjoy it just as much on the floor of the bathroom, or curled up into that lawn chair as in his own bed. The 25 year old is still willing to make comfort sacrifices for the sake of the party, but also knows that his back will be screaming at him for sleeping on the pull-out sofa for at least a week.

1. The clean-up crew for the all-nighter is significantly larger. -- At 21 clean up crew consists of the people who live in the house, who don't have to be at work the next day, and couldn't think of some excuse. This is generally a very small number (often as small as .00001% of the party's attendees). At 25 the party is generally not over until the party goers have at least loaded all the empty bottles and plastic plates and cups into the trash can. You might even be lucky enough to get some help loading the dishwasher. 21 year old's come running for a keg, but run screaming from a vacuum.

And there's one thing that definitely hasn't changed from those 21 year old all-nighters:

At 5 am there is nothing more fun than going someplace where you're not supposed to be, at 21 it was driving around stealing road signs (no STOP signs, I promise) at 25 it's the local (and very rural) airport to climb the beacon tower. The good news is in the those four years it has become apparent that you should always have a designated driver. Woohoo for safety!

Sure, it was long, a little painful and ridiculously exhausting, but it was also about the most fun thing I've done in years. Christmas is right around the corner folks, and the Drunken Rogue is feeling pretty freakin' jolly.