Each week, the bartenders will be asked a very vague and general question about a random topic. We’d all like to THINK we’re experts on everything and that we live interesting lives, but the fact is we’re all a bunch of normal people with our own opinions. And let us you’re your answer in the comments!

Bartender: Jaime
Dream Job: Entertainment Mogul

I would have to say that my dream job would be that of an entertainment mogul like Oprah. I want to be the next Oprah! Oprah gets to host her own show about topics that she finds extremely fascinating and gets to meet people that actually inspire her. Not only that, but she gets paid a lot of money to do it! Having her own talk show has led to other endeavors like owning a magazine, becoming an investor in movies like Precious, and also doing a great deal of charity work for those in need. Her job is flexible, gives her freedom and she controls her own schedule. She has the power to change people’s lives by covering the topics that she covers and she also has so much respect in the industry. I would love to be able to have that kind of job where you wake up every day and know that you are going to inspire people, not to mention get a nice paycheck to travel the world!

Bartender: Joshy C.
Dream Job: Movie Director/Writer/Producer

I have always loved movies. From cheesy, gory horror flicks to low-budget independent films to big-budget megafilms, I love reading about every detail that went in to making a movie and analyzing the story and dialogue that is in it. A year after I graduated from college, I wrote, filmed, directed, edited, and produced a 15-minute short that won first prize in my college’s film festival. (If you’re interested, you can see it here: YouTube – A Case for Betrayal Part 1 and YouTube – A Case for Betrayal Part 2). My lifelong dream is to make a movie that makes it into a well-known film festival. I have “Screen-writing For Dummies” on my bookshelf and a few scripts half-written, so look out for me in the credits.

Bartender: Jonnie
Dream Job: Restaurant Chef

My dream job has always been to be a chef at pretty much any restaurant where I have creative freedom to add new and exotic dishes to the menu. Growing up I used to watch almost every cooking show that our “basic cable”, old wooden television set had to offer; plus I’d watch my mom and the ladies at our church cook wonderfully unique and traditional meals for the whole church family to enjoy…and we enjoyed the hard work immensely. My other dream job would have to be a foreign relations linguistics consultant working in Washington DC. Very different from culinary arts, I know. Ever since I went on a missions trip to Virginia and stopped in Washington, DC to visit the monuments, I have always day-dreamed about working for the government in some way. I do enjoy learning about different cultures and traveling but once I realized that I barely understand my own language and I’m prone to getting lost almost everywhere I roam, my dream was abruptly grounded. But no matter what line of work I find myself in, the advice my Dad always gave me was to find what you enjoy about the job you’re
in now, because no job is perfect.

Bartender: Katrina
Dream Job: Professional Organizer

I find such pleasure in making order out of chaos. Some people cry at a messy closet, I giggle with glee as I find a way for that closet to look fabulous. I love the feeling of standing back and looking at a finished masterpiece – everything in its place, everything easily found when needed. No more purchasing the same thing twice because you can’t find the first one. Beyond closets, I do e-mail inboxes, to do lists, and shared drives for any business I work for!

Bartender: Kyle Jones
Dream Job: Craft-Brewery Owner

There is no greater American tradition than the practice of commandeering traditions from the countries of our ancestors, and reinventing them in what can only be described as “The American Way”. American beer was once a term that brought a snicker to the faces of Europeans. Grain rations during WWII and the industrial revolution completely changed the way beer was brewed in the states. Flavorful ales gave way to light lagers and pilsners, malted barley was more and more supplemented with rice and other grains, and hops became a footnote–simply a way to tone down the subtle sweetness of the fermented sugars. But in a sort of cultural revival, the craft brewery has made a comeback in the last decade and a half or so, challenging the once-accepted view that the American taste for brew had simply changed with the times. There are hundreds of micro and craft breweries in the country today, the best of which make some of the most distinct and flavorful beers in the world. I have always loved to sample different beers–especially those of small American craft breweries–and the older I get, the more I find myself interested in the practice of brewing. Today, it is a billion-dollar industry, and one which I would love to have a stake in someday.

Bartender: Austin
Dream Job: Voice of the Red Sox

My dream job would be to be the radio voice of the Boston Red Sox. What other job would pay you to spend 162 days a year learning about, watching and openly rooting for the sports team you love? For me, there’s nothing better than a summer night at the ballpark to take in all the action going on around me–I have to be dragged away from the game even if they’re losing 11-0 in the ninth inning. Many people complain that the baseball season is too long (which is an argument that I believe has some merit), but there’s no denying–because there are games almost every day for six months–that a baseball team can grow on you unlike any other in professional sports. The three (sometimes longer) hours a night, plus pre-game and post-game routines, would never get old, because, as the old saying goes, “No two games are ever the same.” I would prefer working radio to TV as I believe that radio allows for so much more creativity to work its way into the announcing process, and that the announcer gets the privilege of painting the picture of that night’s game as the action unfolds. So move over, Joe Castiglione– I’m coming.

If you’d like to submit a question for the bartender, contact Joshy C at cortinajd1@gmail.com.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

What is Your Dream Job?

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When does killing someone become your best option?

I was in high school when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold walked into their high school and massacred students. After the killing was over it was discovered that their plan had been to cause even more destruction, but their home made bombs did not go off.

I have a few friends who were on campus when Seung-Hui Cho locked students in a building and killed many of them in cold blood. The campus was paralyzed and students devastated by the actions of one man.

Most recently, around 3AM this morning, three people were shot on the campus of Ohio State University, one was killed and the condition of the others is unknown. The shooting took place at a university maintenance building and no students were harmed – but life was still lost.

When did it become commonplace to hear about a shooting at a school? It began with High Schools and has moved on to colleges. And most of the perpetrators are members of my generation. What has happened to folks in our generation that killing our peers even crosses anyone’s mind?

I am sobered and sad about the shooting at Ohio State, but even more so, I’m sobered by the knowledge that my generation is responsible for most of these actions. Unless more of us stand up for our generation, we will be remembered for this.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

Ohio State Shooting

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Guess the little bitty living room aint gonna look like much
When the lights go down and we move the couch its gonna be more than enough
For my two left feet and our two hearts beatin’ nobody’s gonna see us go crazy

My husband and I are at the age that everyone we know is either getting married or having babies. The number of weddings we’ve gone to together in the three years we’ve known one another is more than either of us attended prior to that time. One good thing about going to that many weddings is that you learn the good, the bad and the ugly things which can be done.

One of the things that I decided was that first dances are mostly snooze fests. The couple chooses a 5 minute long song, puts their arms around each other, and rocks back and forth while people are STARVING. It’s very special for them, but after about 30 seconds the crowd is ready for the next thing. So I decided mine would not be like that – and took my fiancé along for the ride.

I did give him a choice – I’m not that much of a slave driver! We could do a real bona fide dance – like a waltz, or we could do some crazy choreographed dance. He chose the former. We figured out our song and I went on the internet to figure out what dance to do. We came up with the Viennese Waltz. There were bunch of instructional videos on You Tube, so we learned how to dance from the internet.

Our living room was actually empty at the time, and also didn’t have curtains. Jason didn’t want to learn to dance in front of the whole neighborhood, so for a few weeks we’d practice our dance in the dark in our living room. Sometimes it was frustrating, but others it was so much fun. And it was a huge hit at our wedding. I don’t think those people were bored for our first dance!

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

My Life as a Country Song – Why Don’t We Just Dance, Josh Turner

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The guest list. Of all the things you must decide on for the wedding, this could very likely cause the most contention. All parties involved have a vested interest in who is there, and a different idea of who should be invited.

1. I would suggest that you fist sit down and make your pie in the sky list. If you could invite everyone you know, this would be the list. This list should be comprised of people you as the bride and groom want to invite, as well as invitees of both of your parents. This will be your starting place.

2. Once you have your pie in the sky list you either have to cut some people or decide to invite all of them. If you have to cut your list, decide on the final number you would like to attend and add fifteen percent. You can generally count on fifteen percent of invitees declining for various reasons.

3. Now that you have your pie in the sky list and the final amount you would like plus fifteen percent, you have the number of people you can invite. Take the people on your pie in the sky list and separate them into two list. Your A list will be the folks who initially get an invitation – the number you came up with in step 2. Your B list will be the folks who do not get an invitation initially, but if you have more than 15% decline, you can send these folks invitations.

Keep in mind that your idea of who should attend may be very different than the two sets of parents’ ideas. If either set of parents are pitching in for the wedding, they do have a say of who gets invited. If their portion of the list is much larger than yours it may require sitting down and having an honest conversation with them. However, remember that this is not just a big day for you, but also for them. They want those who are close to them to be there for the big day, and as long as they’re reasonable, you should accommodate them.

If you choose to have a very small wedding, be very specific where you draw the lines. You can’t invite one Aunt but not another, and groups of friends may have their feelings hurt if you invite some in the group but not others.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

Wedding Tips – The Guest List

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I’m not cryin’ cause I feel so sorry for you, I am cryin’ for me

When I started dating my husband I quickly fell in love with his family – specifically very much with his Grandmom and Grandpop. They welcomed me with open arms and took an interest in me the way few others did. I found myself getting very excited to see them, and over the next three years every time I had the opportunity to be around them I enjoyed it more than I can say.

Towards the end of 2008 Grandmom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. We all knew that she was suffering from some dementia before that, but the new diagnosis was a blow. For some time she did pretty well, but about a year from when she was diagnosed she took a turn for the worse.

We lost Grandmom in December. I had only known her for three years, but in that time she had earned my love and respect, and I felt cheated. Jason and his family had had her for years and years, and I only had her for a short time. I knew that she was in a much better place, that she was no longer in pain, and that her thoughts were finally clear.

Shortly after she passed away I heard this Toby Keith song for the first time, and it really said exactly what I was feeling. Grandmom, the tears I’ve cried are not because I feel sorry for you, I’m crying for me.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

My Life as a Country Song – Cryin’ For Me, Toby Keith

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The following is the fourth in a series of posts that chronicle Kyle’s training for the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon in Raleigh, NC. Will he stick with it? Will he fail miserably for the amusement of all who read? Will he jump on stage and smash a guitar, eight miles into the race and be arrested? Will he leave it all—including his breakfast—out on the beautiful streets of downtown Raleigh and finish? Read on to find out.

With the first run debacle over with, it was time to take a more realistic approach. I had tried the baseless self-confidence route, and let’s just say I wasn’t going to will my way through a half-marathon. The agony endured on the first run equated to an addict’s dose of humility.

It was time for realism. The notion that the triumph of the human spirit would somehow take a completely out of shape 26-year-old and immediately summon the endurance in him to soldier painlessly through three miles faded into fantasy. The youthful excitement over the new mission at hand gave way to the realization that if I really was going to make this happen, it was going to be a long tough road. A road on which my heel had only just landed, and I hadn’t even finished the first step.

So if obtrusive naivety wouldn’t work—if the boyish reasoning that one could simply conquer any distance he dared was an unrealistic approach—then what exactly was the plan? I had a long way to go, and a base of only mushy cellulosic tissue to build upon. I needed some kind of strategy. Some kind of method to get me from here to there.

Next up was the weekend run. The big guy—four miles on Saturday. The training schedule I was now the victim of consisted of four runs a week. Medium distance runs Mondays and Thursdays, shorter distance runs Wednesdays, and long distance runs on Saturdays. It would be my first long distance run overall (as if the three miles I’d utterly failed in attempting that Thursday wasn’t long enough).

There was, admittedly, no way I way that I was going to be able to run four miles that weekend. Whatever false aspirations I might have once harbored about being able to persist running through such distances had been crushed earlier that week. I decided that the reality of the situation was what it was. If I wasn’t in good enough shape to run four miles then I would have to find a way to get into that kind of shape. And if I couldn’t run four miles, I would have to find a way to make it four miles one way or the other.

I resolved to run as far as I could that day. To run until the hyperventilated gasps were too much to handle, but I also resolved not to quit after that. No, this was not the same manifestation of foolish pride that arose earlier that week. Not the bull-headed self-gratifying naïve persistence. When I exhausted and couldn’t run anymore I would walk, but come hell or high water, I would make it four miles that day. There would be no out road. Strike rule number one from the record.

I tried to take note of the lessons I’d learned in my first failed attempt. For one, the ridiculous pace I’d started with that day all but guaranteed that I wouldn’t finish. I thought back to a conversation I had with my dad. His brother was a marathoner and is an avid runner to this day. My dad told me about a conversation he’d had with one of the guys my uncle used to run marathons with.

“Yeah, I run marathons,” he said. “But see, I have a method. I start slow…and then I ease up.”

And just like that, I had a method.

Check back soon for more installments of Kyle’s illustrious half-marathon training. Assuming he does not hyperventilate and die mid-training, this series will monitor Kyle’s torturous journey right up to the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon on March 27, 2010. Stay tuned.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

A half-what?!: I have a method

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It’s the day you will be celebrating for the rest of your life. The day that, hopefully, your husband won’t ever forget. Your wedding day. You may think that there is nothing to choosing the day, but there are many factors to think about.

1. Are your vendors, or any vendors for that matter, available?
If you choose to set a date which is in the very near future, you narrow your choices on pretty much everything. So, if you set a quick date, you can’t be picky about anything else

2. Any chance of natural disaster?
If you choose a date in the dead of winter, you may risk their being inclement weather. In the spring, a lot of rain. Weigh the consequences. I hope no one had a wedding planned this past weekend on the west coast – chances are no one came due to the snowpocalypse

3. Any conflicts?
I always thought I wanted a fall wedding. Until I met my football fanatic husband. Now, don’t get me wrong, he would have given up football for our wedding. But I was thinking down the road to our 7th anniversary when I want to go somewhere, and he wants to make sure his fantasy team is going to dominate. So we decided to get married in the Spring

4. Is there a significant date in your life?
Whether it be a grand-parents anniversary, the day you started dating, your favorite number, etc. choosing a significant date in your life may be the way to go.

5. Is it on a weekend?
You can save a lot of money by having your wedding on a Wednesday, but will anyone come? Also, people will not stay late and have as good of a time at a reception if they have to go to work the next day.

Remember, this is a day you will be celebrating for the next 50 or so years, so make sure it’s the right date!

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

Wedding Tips – Setting the Date

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Before going to college everyone warned me about the Freshman 15 – Fifteen pounds that most freshmen gain when they go to college because of all the late night pizzas and beer. I did gain a few pounds – the summer after my freshman year – but it certainly wasn’t because of pizza and beer, and I managed to lose it pretty quickly.

No one warned me about the marriage 15. I have been married for 9 months, and I have gained just over 15 pounds in that time. I have never weighed this much in my whole life. I have heard of men gaining weight after marriage because they go from cooking for themselves – which generally means they eat a lot of tuna fish sandwiches – to having a wife who loves to cook for them.

But no one told me it could happen to me too. I blame it on several things. First, it is the food I’ve been cooking. I cook more often now that I’m married, and I want to cook things that Jason will like. Unfortunately, the things which taste the best are not the best for you.

Additionally, Jason and I have always enjoyed having a beer together. When we were dating and engaged, we lived far enough away from one another that we only saw each other on the weekends. So we’d have a few beers on the weekend, not a big deal.

After we got married the weather had just gotten really nice. So we started a tradition of sitting outside after a long day and drinking a beer – almost every day. We weren’t getting drunk or anything, but those extra calories certainly do not help the waistline.

So now we’ve both gained between 15 and 20 pounds. In nine months. And neither of us like it one bit. So we’re working on it. Eating healthier, drinking less beer, and working out six days a week. I said it: I’m working out six days a week. I’ve never done that in my life, but desperate times call for desperate measures. We’re working on getting back into the shape we were in for our wedding by our one year anniversary.

So for all of you about to get married, this is your warning. If you want to still fit into your wedding dress one year after your nuptials and don’t have to start working out six days a week nine months in, watch out. It’s just as dangerous as the dreaded freshman 15!

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

The Marriage 15

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Some Beach, somewhere, there’s a big umbrella casting shade over an empty chair
Palm trees are growin’ and a warm breezes a blowing
I picture myself right there, on Some beach, somewhere

In this song, the character goes through a series of unfortunate situations throughout the day, and during each one, he imagines himself on a beach somewhere.

We are about to get a major snowfall here in Baltimore. The fifth or sixth time this year we’ve gotten enough snow to talk about – and this time, like the snowfall we got in December, it will likely shut down the city for a few days. Upwards of 20 inches. That doesn’t happen here. I’d like to be on some beach, somewhere.

Last night I woke up to an emergency in the middle of the night. It took me over an hour to fall back asleep. I wish I had been at some beach, somewhere.

Last Thursday it took me two and a half hours to get home from work. I have a 70 mile commute, so a long ride is usual, but two and a half hours is crazy. I could see myself in that beach chair drinking a Corona.

How nice would life be if we could just transport ourselves to a beach when we are in situations which are less than desirable? I think I’d be there for a portion of every day…

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

My Life as a Country Song – Some Beach, Blake Shelton

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The following is the third in a series of posts that chronicle Kyle’s training for the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon in Raleigh, NC. Will he stick with it? Will he fail miserably for the amusement of all who read? Will he jump on stage and smash a guitar, eight miles into the race and be arrested? Will he leave it all—including his breakfast—out on the beautiful streets of downtown Raleigh and finish? Read on to find out.

I was out the door running.  All of the anticipation had led up to this.

On the advice of council (namely, my wife), I had plotted my course carefully to include an escape route by which I could cut the 3mi. run in half if the situation became dire.

Rule number one: always leave yourself an out.  Better to live and fight another day than go down in a blaze of cardiac arrest. Why is it that a woman’s reason so often outmatches a man’s bullheaded self confidence?

The wind gusted headlong in my face as I turned the corner onto the sidewalk across the street from my house. It was a brutal omen of things to come.  I’d checked the thermostat in my car on the way home from work.  It was 28 degrees then.  It had only gotten darker and colder since.   I wondered while driving what it was going to feel like trying to run in this.  The wind answered that question with a quick, definitive, wisp.  It was taunting me to turn around.

It was doubting me.  Testing my resolve.  The wind knew that I was mere steps away from my warm, welcoming front door, and my nose and ears already stiffened and tingled like they do when you’ve been skiing all day.  It was questioning whether I really had it in me, like when my wife smirked before I went out the door, or the way my brother had started the email with “I probably know the answer to this…”

I picked up the pace.  I turned the corner and headed down the next street.  My breathing picked up.  My chest tightened.

Rule number two: don’t pick up the pace because you think you are stronger than the difficult conditions.   You aren’t.  This rule is particularly true when you have not run in about a year, and the conditions happen to be particularly difficult at the moment.  I tend to learn things the hard way.

The wind eventually calmed to disastrously frigid breeze.  I backed off to the pace that I guess I had always run at.  I could feel my heart rate through my sternum, and breathing had evolved into desperate wheezing gasps.

Rule number three: whatever pace you have run at before you tried to run three miles, is probably much faster than you ought to try running if you actually intend to make it three miles. Check.

I had studied the map before leaving to know exactly where each mile marker was.  What I’d planned as a rewarding set of milestones to mark my accomplishments began to seem like depressing reminders of the distance left between where I was and just how far away they were.  I hadn’t even made it a mile yet.

This is where the coughing starts, the nose runs, and everything else goes predominantly wrong.   You reach a certain point of exhaustion when you’re as out of shape as I was, where every second’s thoughts become tangled in chest-heaving gulps for air and the occasional unintended snot rocket.  I’d heard of the runner’s high that people who consistently conquer the types of distances that I was now training for talk about.  I’m pretty sure at that moment I stumbled upon the antithesis of that concept, and plunged face first into the runner’s low.

I started looking for my out, as stated in rule number one.  It was time to let foolish pride give way to reason, and accept the fact that your wife was right—you should have started with a mile.

Due to the fatigue-induced delirium I’d begun to experience (or perhaps just the onset of hypothermia as the wind pierced my sweat-soaked layers), I had already made one wrong turn, but thanks to the fact that I hadn’t run very far at all at this point, I knew I was headed in the right direction.  I had to be about 3/4mi. into it at this point, but somewhere amid the freezing wind, pitch black skies, and runner’s low, the name of my out road had totally slipped my mind.  The bitter disbelief that there is no way I hadn’t made it to the out road yet took over.

Rule number four: while in the runner’s low, disregard what you thought you knew before leaving.  You won’t remember.

I was getting desperate.  The wheezing gasps were beginning to sound more like pathetic cries for help.  I made an impulsive left turn and got lucky.  Not the out road I’d planned on, actually the street before it.  I hadn’t even made it to my shortcut, but the time for pride was long past.

Just over a mile into it, I conceded.  The chest convulsions now totally out of control, I erred on the side of self-preservation, and slowed to a walk.  When my breathing returned to a reasonably safe rhythm I picked up to a jog again, and went back and forth running and walking until finally I reached the warm, climate-controlled safety of home.

I was a hot mess when I stumbled in the door—soaked in sweat, freezing, sucking wind, and coughing uncontrollably.  Like I was coughing up a year of unhealthy decisions.

Round one goes to the elements.  I didn’t make it three miles.  I didn’t even make to the out road.  But I ran, and finished.

Rule number five: when you finish, tell yourself it won’t be so bad next time.  Eventually, it won’t even be a lie.

Check back soon for more installments of Kyle’s illustrious half-marathon training. Assuming he does not hyperventilate and die mid-training, this series will monitor Kyle’s torturous journey right up to the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon on March 27, 2010.

Stay tuned.

This is an awesome post from The Tipping Glass

A half-what?!: Rule number five

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