Everyday, I have people tell me that what I do is not work. I take offense to that, and explain all that goes into putting together an award winning radio show. I explain to them the effort that goes into throwing a flawless party. I go into great detail about the sweat, effort and brain smoke that goes into writing Pulitzer Prize level blogs. I tell people that this is no joke. This is business, and I am a business man. And then, my boss comes down the hall playing golf with my Digital Managing Editor, and I have to rethink my position on this.

That's how we do it here on campus. Living large, wearing shorts, eating free food, and joking with our friends. So, the next time you hear me complain about anything having to do with my job, I want you to get a tube sock, fill it with ball bearings, and smash my teeth out of my head. I need to live through the shameful wake up call that is collecting my teeth off the floor like a spilled box of Chiclets. I need to be reminded that my life does not suck. It kinda rocks. Actually, it completely rocks. In fact, after I finish my show today, I'm gonna go home and chill. Tomorrow night, I'll attend the Guns and Roses concert with the free tickets I got from work, and Sunday, I will have to drag my ass out of bed, and haul it down to Gerard's Water's Edge Marina to board the I-95 Party Barge. I will cruise around the lake on the station's dime all day. That is work for me. I am blessed, and I don't feel bad about it at all.