Writing about the myriad of disjointed, unique interests that hit me
Voracious conversationalist, though often confused. Loves talking about movies and Vine compilations.
Twitter: Danny [email protected]
A Playlist To Make The Bench Press Your Bitch
You're inhaling the mingled scents of oft-used air freshener, hastily swiped deodorant, and the musk of hard labor. You're tasting the first wave of salty sweat trickling from your temples to the edges of your mouth and wetting the corners of your lips. You're hearing grunts of exertion and whatever particular program is being presented by the one who holds the remote. You're about to grasp the handles just underneath the seat of the cycling machine and breathing in deep- but suddenly a little lightbulb moment happens and you remember the most important part of this workout session.
I like my hair. I do. That wasn't always the case though. The Hustle See, my dad is African-American- Philadelphia born and bred. My mom is Trinidadian- from San Fernando, specifically. You mix those two together and you . . . get a coily mess on the first child. More relaxed than my father's curls (and bigger), but definitely not the waves my mother's hair relaxed to in her adulthood. I can't tell you how perplexed I am every time I see photos of her as a baby with big ringlets that . . . she just seems to grow out of??? If there's one thing I haven't let go of, it's the envy I have over my mother's fast growing, healthy hair. Mine has never once reached those lengths, though it's my dear wish to make it happen one day.
Yeah, I Snitched
The Pandemic we currently trudge through has made some . . . awkward, albeit necessary adjustments to nearly all aspects of our lives. One of those prominent changes to our lives deals with our jobs. Now I confess that I am extremely grateful to not only still have a job during this uncertain time, but to have full-time and its accompanying benefits to rely on as well. The hosting job I've held for about a year now really came through for me, the company providing for as many of its employees as it can and I'm thankful to have been included in that protected group. Despite the faults I can lay at its feet, and the sort of chaotic nature of it all, I was happy to get back to it and a more normal routine when the venue finally reopened. I acknowledged, and even anticipated, some changes to not only the rules but to the customers that would cross our doorstep. I accepted the changes social distancing, new COVID-19 safety protocols, and the ensuing public reaction, would doubtless call for an even greater amount of flexibility and patience than I've ever needed to dole out before. I agreed to meet the expectations of the business, to promote revenue incoming and uphold the values of the business to the best of my ability.
The Dark Night Playlist - 3
Happy Halloween you bunch of freaks! Thank you for following this playlist to it's final, ominous end . . . You were here for part 1 and part 2 (feel free to click on the links for a refresher), and I was very careful to make sure I could make it to three, to honor the auspicious number on what is going to be a providential Halloween weekend. I'm giving you 13 reasons tonight to get spooky, get weird, and get real acquainted with the Dark. Let's not dawdle, the night only lasts so long!
Support Your Local Comic Shop
There's a little store tucked in between a Subways and a music shop. It's called Coliseum of Comics, and it's my favorite comic book store. That I've only been to two in total is of no consequence. They have a couple of other sites in Florida, and a pretty nice following on social media. I made my first visit there last year, bored with the slim pickings at the bookstore and intrigued at what lay beyond the dominating worlds of Marvel and DC.
5 Reasons Why Watcher Should Be Your New Binge Obsession
Do you like wholesome, maybe random content? How about content that lovingly showcases local (to Californians!) gems, incredible bonds of friendship, and history taught by puppets?
Dorothy's gaze was trained on the blazing hearth, but her mind was admittedly elsewhere in the world. Her wine colored nails tapped against a cherry printed mug, steam wafting from the tea inside of it. Every so often she would raise it up, not to sip from it for it was still too warm, but to inhale the fragrant aroma. Her feet slowly slid back and forth over the plush, blush pink rug that covered the built-in cream carpet flooring. She could hear a heavy storm push wave upon wave of rain onto her windows, but her curtains had been firmly closed since the last ridge of daylight had left the sky.
What's It Like Working In Jurassic (Park) World?
What would it really be like to work at Jurassic World (I’ll use the official title, but it’ll always be Jurassic Park to me, and that’s that)?