antenna debacle

Fact: I really enjoy the Olympics, especially the summer games and I will do most anything to watch them. Up to an including driving 2 and a half hours to go to a friendly home that features cable TV to see the games and get a home cooked meal.

Fact: I am intensely poor right now. Americorps doesn’t exactly shell out the big bucks… and the market for a side job isn’t looking so hot right now (check back for future posts on that can of worms), thus I am constantly looking for ways to get by on the cheap.

Considering these two facts, and how they press upon my conscience at all hours of the day this time of the Olympiad, the following tale must be amusing in the utmost for you, dear reader, and the universe on the whole.

At some point on Monday I decided that I had enough. I couldn’t take any more hearing about Michael Phelps’ amazing performances over the phone, couldn’t take missing out on all of the gymnastics and reading about it the next day. No, I was going to do something about it. I was going to “Be Proactive” (Habit 1 for those Steve Covey fans out there) and fix my situation… economically. Because I wanted merely a glimpse at the prime time Olympic events (none of that handball or rhythmic gymnastics bullshit they relegate to daytime CNBC ) and do so cheaply, the way to go would be to get the most basic of cable packages. Determined to get this cable as soon as possible, I charged across the street to the Comcast office during my lunch break and demanded a breakdown of their packages. Much to my chagrin, their most basic package consisted of only the first 20 channels and cost a little over TWENTY BUCKS a month. Not going to happen, I thought. It was time for Plan B: RABBIT EARS to nab the FREE NBC floating around the airwaves. Heck, I thought, if I buy the right kind, I might be able to pick up broadcast HD… for a second I thought I was going to be money in the bank (if not literally, figuratively perhaps).

Everything was turning up Brendan at Wal-Mart, especially when I discovered that not only were the rabbit ears five dollars cheaper than advertised online, but that they were HD compatible in a big way. SILLY, I thought to myself, I am going to be checking out that synchronized diving in HD in no time. I was cised until I walked up to the register, when I was served my first cruel dose of cruel reality.

Things first seemed too good to be true when I stepped up to purchase my device. I was being rung up by a ONE TOOTHED (I wish I were kidding, but this is FroRo after all) cashier named Betsy (again, if you are thinking that this is too stereotypically Wal-Mart, I will take you to her myself).

// My inner monolgue just before making purchase //

“I am such a fucking peasant grundoon right now,” my higher conscience told me. “There is no way you are going to get what you want out of this, there is a reason that Comcast sells ultra-basic cable for plebeian assholes like yourself.”

“Shut up, cheap TV, dreamy Michael Phelps,” my lower order brain replied.

// and that was that //

The purchase made, and Betsy’s visage burned in my mind’s eye, I raced home to give my TV the gift of life.

Cue Cruel Dose Of Reality #2.
Antennas are a bitch to set up. Each channel has its own frequency that demands a certain positioning from the rabbit ears and a setting on the knob that masters the set. Not only that, newer TVs (like those made before the stone age) expect to get some input that is better than 1950’s style technology, which makes optimizing the output from an antenna difficult. I didn’t know this until I spent an hour and a half trying to get the damned set to work.

Call this CDOR #3:
After hour number 2 of fussing with the primitive device (the last half hour spent looking up possible solutions on the iPhone, my lone connection to the outside world) I came to a singular and very disappointing realization: the reason that Comcast offers an ultra-basic, just the broadcast channels service in FroRo is that the signals from D.C. DO NOT REACH THIS FUCKING PLACE! Nestled comfortably in the Shenandoah Valley, the town is impervious to signals from surrounding cities… bully!

I let the immense disappointment set in for a second, gathered my wits, and decided to put the whole thing on ice until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do to get cheap TV.

More on the Great Satellite Con later…

soul mountain

Soul is a word that is thrown around quite freely these days. One can listen to a local KISS FM and hear very “soul”-ful music. One can go to the local barber shop and get a treatment of Soul Glo for their do. One can even hop on board the Soul Train if one is lucky enough to catch a rerun. The creation of any number of soul-related products and concepts cheapens the meaning of a potentially powerful word. After all, the soul is the metaphysical essence that all humans supposedly possess. That’s some important, weighty stuff. Clearly not meant to be bandied about to describe just any run of the mill person, place, or thing.

Upon my move-in to FroRo, though, I believe I reached the pinnacle of dining experiences in a place that is well deserving of its moniker. I scaled the face of Soul Mountain.
Soul Mountain is a black enterprise in the heart of downtown FroRo, specializing in Caribbean fusion cuisine presented in a culturally rich atmosphere. Its menu features a wide variety of spiced poultry and seafood, with an equally impressive drink list composed of both locally grown wines and fine international beers. The walls of the restaurant are festooned with various cultural items from far flung corners of the world: ancestral masks from west Africa, a large Persian tapestry, and a rotund ivory Buddha to name a few of the items. Unique not only in menu and décor, the restaurant also features entertainment programming that makes it even more attractive dining location. Colorful fliers on its chalkboard make it clear that each day has something unique to offer denizens of Soul Mountain: open mike on Wednesdays, Las Vegas lounge-style entertainment on Saturday nights, and dance music Thursday and Friday.

But no great restaurant can truly stand out without service to match. Soul Mountain does not disappoint in this aspect either. Ashad and I were treated to bottomless glasses of the most delicious, thirst quenching pink lemonade we had ever experienced. Our respective entrees were not only delicious in of themselves, but the speed and courtesy with which they were delivered made them even more savory – if that were somehow possible. Now, one may expect such a royal feast to come at an equally princely sum, but nothing could be further from the truth. Our meals came to a grand total of six dollars apiece thanks to a generous lunch special that capped off the entire dining experience nicely.

All of the facts considered, I hope to become a regular there. And I wouldn’t mind at all – nor would I be surprised in the least – if heaven turned out to be located upon the frosty peaks of Soul Mountain.