Since our show ends at 9am, I’m often asked the question, “What do you do after the show?” Well, just so I can now have a place to send people who ask that question, I present to you, dear reader, a snapshot of my post TGOR life as it played out today. Get ready for the glamour.
Recorded promo for next day's show. During these recordings is usually the time the three of us completely go off with the most crude jokes and loudest laughs you ever heard. A product of spending all morning trying not to use profanity. No big laughs today.
Had shish tawouk from Sami’s deli downstairs. Delish. Ate it while I wrote radio commercial for my golf tournament. Garlic smell from the shish tawouk grosses everyone out.
Spent time lounging in production, discussing new Sens’ playoff song with production whiz Barry Hayes and creative director Rob Mortimer. We agree my new song idea doesn’t suck. That’s all I can hope for. Majic morning man Kevin Nelson rolls in to read a commercial. I greet him with the usual, “Hey now.” Like Hank from the Larry Sanders show. Why? Don’t know.
Laugh my *** off for a while with John Rodenburg and his Bob producer Matt Hamer, formerly known as M-Roz from Sportscall.
Lee Versage asks for my opinion on a personal matter. I’m of no help at all.
Left the station. Went back in to get something. Forgot what it was. Left again.
Car is gone. Stolen! No, wait. Vaguely remember the many notes left on windshield from parking lot guy. “You have to pay or you will be towed away..” Right. That’s probably it.
Have Hamer drive me to grubby towing company lot. $75 for the tow. Another $60 for the ticket. Drive to my car in the muddiest, most jalopy filled lot you’ll ever see.
Hamer and I agree we need chicken wings.
Drive to Local Heroes to eat chicken wings. Customers wonder how we can eat chicken wings at 10:40am. We smile politely. Having been up for 7 hours is a factor.
Mark Kosmos stops at table to say hello. Talk Renegades. Mark comps our lunch. Best guy ever.
Homeward bound. Actually shovelled snow off my lawn. Felt like loser. Looked around, cherishing the weather for a moment. Went inside and watched Jon Stewart, who I Tivo every night.
Went to Scotiabank Place for meeting about the golf tournament I co-chair. Ate pizza. Figured stuff out. Committee is excellent. Kevin Pidgeon from Tommy and Lefebvre cracks me up.
Outside the Sens foundation office, ran into Roy Mlakar and Jeff Kyle having what looked like a private conversation. Broke it up immediately with hearty handshakes for both. Wowed them with conversation like, “Hear anything about Phillips?” like they hadn’t been asked that 1000 times already today.
Dropped off my income tax stuff at my accountant. Elevator smells like ass.
Came home again. Crashed for an hour.
Kids get home. Make snacks.
Kids complain about being bored. Neighbours’ kid comes over. Find dead mouse in backyard window well. Kids begin CSI investigation. Demand proper burial.
Ran shoeless after son (autism) who smashes through the rear hedges, scraping himself up so he can run off to god knows where. Eventually catch him. Send him to room for time out, whatever that is. Wait for intense adrenalin rush to subside.
Reply to a TGOR email from an old aquaintance from Venosta where I did a good chunk of growing up.
Make supper for kids. Wife gets home. Fly off to 67’s game to sell 50/50 tickets in support of Sebastien Savage. Try to figure out the crazy bib I’ll be wearing. Joke with Dave Gross, Dean Roberts, Steve Lloyd, Glenn Kulka, Liam Maguire, Buzz and his date and JR. Dean talks about Herbal Magic.
Hang with Angry Al, who’s as loud as he is Angry. Discover that loud equals sales. 67’s win. 50/50 sales max out.
Go home. Kiss my wife. Check the scores. Write this. Go to sleep at approx…(CLUNK!) zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
