B365V2.112 - The bionic penis

If there is one thing I have learned during this blogging process, it is that the easiest way to garner page views is to do one of two things; 1) Post pictures, because getting people to read is hard or 2) Use sexual innuendo, so that way any time some one does a search for something perverted there is a chance that my blog will pop up.  Today we are going with the second method.

Our story, and it is a story, begins at a time in my life when I was in radio for about a year.   I was still working at The Attic as well, running the kitchen for the dinner crowd.  By running the kitchen I mean cooking all of the food, there was no second cook to help our, he'll I was lucky that I had someone there to wash dishes for me.  And of course I was working two jobs because radio paid shit, it probably still does given the number of people being laid off in that field.

Anyway, there was a girl that was frequenting the bar for a time, Persephanie Silverthorn (before you ask, no, I am not making that name up) and I had taken a liking to her. Which means at some point I garnered up the courage to ask her out, to our company Christmas party at the radio station no less.  I wanted to be the cool guy there, with a pretty girl on his arm.  She said yes, so we made the requisite plans on where and when to meet.

The Christmas party was held at the Winchester Room on Rte 30, a steakhouse type restaurant.   I can't remember what we had for dinner, knowing me I probably had a filet migon and back in those days the owner of the station would do something that I thought was cool on his part, he would buy everyone a Christmas present.  There were usually a couple of big presents, lots of intermediately priced presents and the gag gifts ended up being the centerpieces on the tables.  Everybody who attended, even the guests, got a present.  To determine who got what, everyone's name was placed on a card and dropped in a fish bowl, Alan would announce what the next gift was from the table of gifts, then pull a card and that was your Christmas present.  I did not get one of the big prizes, I got a Christmasy type snow globe, my date however got a $50 gift card to return to the Winchester room.  She said since I brought her it was only fair that she and I go back together to redeem it.

Our opportunity to redeem it came soon enough, one of my coworkers at the bar moonlighted as a DJ and was going to be spinning some vinyl at Seven Springs.  She and I figured this would be a good chance to go back, the Winchester Room is along the way to Seven Springs anyhow, so we made plans and decided to go.  I wish I could say the date was eventful, but I can't recall it being so.  I think I tore a contact lens and spent the whole time, including the drive up and back, trying to get my one good eye to stay focused because me without corrective eyewear is like Corn Flakes without the milk (circa OJ Jones, "Walking in the Rain").

There was no spark between us, and I don't recall us having anything in common save that she hung out at the bar where I worked, but ever the guy who try's to plug a square peg into a round whole, I got her to agree to go out with me again.  This time we were going to a hockey game.  Now the radio station I worked for was an all sports station at the time, I had press credentials and the station had two passes for the press box.  Usually we were only allowed one seat, so one person would go cover the game for us, getting coaches comments, player interviews and what not, but I had become a decent acquaintance of the Penguins ( or I would like to think so) in my previous year going to games, so I called Steve Bovino who ran the media relations department at that time and requested two press passes for a game, one for me and one for someone I was "training", which as you can figure out by reading this far, was a complete and utter lie.  I was taking a female simply to impress her, I figure we will watch the game and then meander down to lockerroom afterward for me to get my requisite audio and I would be the coolest thing since sliced bread.  Oh, I was cool alright, but for all the wrong reasons.

The game ended, I don't recall if we win or lost, and I guided Persephanie down to the lockerroom, I probably added some tips like "Don't ask for autographs" or "Act like you have been in this situation before", because after a game the players don't wanted to be hounded by fans while in varying states of undress.  And that was the part of the master plan that I hadn't figured in to my coolness factor.  We are walking around the locker room, I got audio from a few players and the head coach, Jaromir Jagr had a tendency to hide in the shower to avoid interviews so he wasn't in the room as I am doing my job with my "trainee" in tow. When I turned around to go get another interview or sound bite and what to my eyes should appear but a fully naked Petr Nedved.  He and his 5 million dollar a year penis flapping about, and while I am Mr. Cool for setting up this whole thing, I am not so cool that I have a $5 million penis.  Talk about a kick in the ego, that would be it.

Persephanie and I didn't go out again after that, I don't know if she went out with Petr Nedved either in case you are wondering.