My Seventeenth Job

No, I wasn't in the olympics. I worked security for the 2002 Olympics. I worked 12 hours a night for 18 days in a row. That sucks the life right out of you. You would think that with the overtime, that I would have been rolling in dough, but I make more now. I had to sit in the Hallmark Pavilion overnight to make sure that the heater in the trailer with the snow globes did not turn off. They were afraid that the snow globes would freeze and break if the heater turned off. Of course, snow globes usually have a chemical in them to keep from freezing, but I wasn't going to tell them that. It was cold, but I managed to sleep for a couple hours every night. I was the worst security guard ever. I got to sit where Kristi Yamaguchi sat and signed autographs and I got to throw away her lipstick stained coffee cup. That really was the highlight of my life for about a week.

My Sixteenth Job

I worked at the University of Utah Health Sciences Center in the Pulmonary Division as a Faculty/Clinic/Academic Coordinator. Wow, that's a mouthful. This was a really good job with two problems. First, it didn't really pay very well, but the benefits were good. Second, I worked in an office with a very annoying woman that spent her days chatting online on LDS singles chats. She drove me crazy.

The head of the division was a genius that didn't believe in a lot of support staff. Basically, it meant that there was me, the annoying woman and an Administrative Manager to run the whole division of a lot of doctors. It kept me busy and the doctors were all really nice. I lucked out there. It turns out that Pulmonary doctors are the nicest of any type of doctors. Neurologists and Cardiologist tend to have god complexes. GI doctors tend to be very money conscious and would sell their grandmother for profit. I never knew that doctors' personalities could be divided by what their specialty was, but you learn something new ever day.

My Fifteenth Job

I-link was a horrible job, too. It was a small company that offered long distance services through individual salesmen that then try to get more salesmen under them. In my training, they kept insisting that it wasn't a pyramid scheme. It was. Modified pyramid schemes are completely legal in Utah. I started answering the phones and helping people with long distance service. I then became the evening supervisor and then the day supervisor. At this point, I fired a couple of people. They were warned not to call each other while at work, but they kept doing it. I was mad because everyone else was going through hell and they would talk to each other on the phone all day about how great the mormon church was. On top of that, they knew that we could listen in to their conversations. So, they were idiots as well as lazy. I don't know if I had the same situation today if I would have fired them. Probably, they were pretty bad. This is where I met demridawn, who has a few choice words about I-Link.

I then became the wholesale account manager. I worked with companies that bought long distance from us that were not part of the pyramid scheme. It was horribly disorganized and everyone that I went to for demands from the wholesale accounts had the last name of Edwards. The owner's last name was, you guessed it, Edwards. I learned that the "Edwards" referred to me as "the queer" behind my back. That didn't really bother me, but I knew advancement was not going to be possible. On top of that, the company was going to crash and burn. It was clear. And on top of that, I was suicidal every Sunday night because I knew I had to go to work the next day. Quitting this job was really one of the best things I ever did.

My Fourteenth Job

It really wasn't Direct TV that I worked for. I worked for a company that did customer service for Direct TV. This was really my first taste of how horrible a corporation could be. When I was hired, I asked if it was incoming or outgoing calls. They assured me that it was incoming only. I told them that I would only do incoming calls. They said fine.

Now, to get to work, you had to park a mile away and take a shuttle in. You had a small window of time to clock in. When you were on the phone, the second someone would hang up, there would be a beep and the next call was put through. That's fine, but you weren't allowed more than the standard 1 hour total of breaks for the day. In other words, you couldn't use the bathroom unless it was an emergency. So, it was constant calls. They also just raised their prices, so it was a solid 8 hours of people yelling at me for something I had nothing to do with or had no control over. I don't know why they think yelling at a customer service representative would help, but they tried. (Interesting side note, it didn't help. They never lowered their prices again. So, don't bother calling). This was all fine. I could handle all of that.

One day, they took my team and said that they were going to make it a collections team. In other words, outgoing collections calls. It was horrible. I hated collections and as soon as you were off a call you were to call another person. We were required to make quotas and the person with the highest calls would get a prize like a bar of "Dial" Soap for "dialing" the most. Isn't that fun? In other words, you made the company the most money in the hell of a crappy job, here's a bar of soap. I requested to be taken off of the collections team saying that I was told I wouldn't have to do outgoing calls. They refused saying that I didn't have anything in writing. I wrote an angry but intelligently written letter, suggesting that they would keep a valuable employee by simply keeping their word. I delivered it and never got a response. Goodbye Direct TV.

My Thirteenth Job

Coming back to Japan, I decided to settle in Salt Lake City. I had a group of friends there already, all in one place and I was familiar with the area. I needed a job fast, so I went through a temp agency.

I worked for Lab Corps (at least I think that was the name). It was just a room with tons and tons of boxes. All I did all day was go into specific boxes looking for specific lab reports. That's it. Not very efficient on their part if you ask me, but it was a job. They asked me to go full time when I finally did leave because I showed initiative by suggesting changes to their system. No thank you, I was ready to try another horrible job.

My Twelveth Job

This picture really reminds me of the feel of Sapporo.  (Link missing.  It was probably of a lot of snow).

I taught English in Japan for almost two years. I tried to get a job before I went, but everywhere insisted that I come to Japan first. So, I flew in without a job and without speaking a word of Japanese. It was relatively easy and I got a job at EC, Inc. EC stands for "English Circles". Training was by this jerk from Canada who made it his personal mission to make every trainee cry before training was over. I never cried and I think that made him harder on me than a lot of teachers. Word of how he treated me traveled all over Sapporo and when he quit to find another job, no place would hire him. Such a perfect example of Karma.

It really was a lot of fun and very interesting. I learned Japanese a little, which I have now all forgotten. One problem though was that they fired a couple of guys while in training for being gay.

The snow in Sapporo is amazingly deep. The siberian winds come down over the Sea of Japan and really cool of the place. It would be a lot better if they didn't have such inefficient heating. I had a little kerosene heater that I would have to keep filled. Ever so often a little alarm would go off to remind you to open a window to let out the fumes. It really seemed to defeat the purpose of heating the room in the first place. Their water heaters, however, are the most efficient things I have ever seen. You never run out of hot water, because it heats it as it goes through.

I met the top drag queen of Japan. She was one of my students. Yep, "she". She was a cute little lesbian with the drag name of Luciano. It was a real Victor/Victoria situation. She was pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. I was told to keep it secret. I also participated in the first ever gay and lesbian parade in Sapporo. It was pretty sparse. Drag queens were in the back of pick up trucks with a boom box. Perhaps 75 people showed up and there were very few spectators and even less spectators that knew of the parade.



The sign says "Mother, your son is gay". It was from the parade.  (Another link missing.  I look great though).

Looking for a new job.

I'm taking time off. Well actually, I have Monday-Friday off this week and next week. I've used up all of my vacation. I just wanted to find another job and "live" during the day. I'm sick of working nights and going to bed at 5:00 AM. The closest I've gotten to a job is being a management trainee at Radio Shack, ugh. I've tried to get ahold of job counseling services that charge a fee, but none of them will give me a call. Am I that bad? Ugh. I'm not going to be a dealer much longer, damn it.

Funeral Director Magazine

I've always wanted to get my hand on a trade magazine for the Funeral profession. I finally did through, of all things, ebay. I got it in the mail today and I must say I'm disapointed. Apparently, these trade magazines used to be about how to get more money out of grieving families and how to mark up caskets by huge percentages. So far, I haven't seen anything that good.

New Hobby

I'm doing a hook rug. They are small and it is my idea of "craft lite". Greg got me to do it. I don't know what to think of it though. When I tested for career aptitude in High School, I scored well on everything but fine motor skills. Actually, I ranked just above mentally and physically handicapped people. So, you can imagine this is quite a challenge for me as was being a craps dealer. I'm up to the challenge and it will be almost perfect. Of course, I'm going to have to work in a flaw so as not to anger the gods.

This also got me thinking about business ventures that someone should take up. Imagine hook rugs of skulls and other "goth" things for sale at Hot Topic. These young folks need to keep their hands busy.

My Eleventh Job

This was in the field that I went to college for. I got the job before I even finished college. It was the perfect opportunity, right?

My job progressed like this:

Camera operator for the evening news
Audio/Chiron
Floor director
Technical director
Director
Director/Technical Director
Production Coordinator
Production Coordinator/Ad writer/Extra
Production Coordinator/Morning News Director/Technical Director

I was in an ad for Auto Parts Express. My wife was pregnant, in labor, and our car was broken down. I say, "I'll call Auto Parts express, they DELIVER." Then a guy in a gorilla suit comes and gives me an auto part. I rub my wife's tummy and look satisfied. This was aired constantly over late night to the point of me being recognized as the Auto Parts Express guy. It was slightly embarrassing.

Reasons for dissatisfaction. It paid about $17,000 a year. I felt it had no future. I had to get up and be at work by 5:00 AM. I had no window. The florescent lights disturbed me. The highest paid News Anchor was paid $24,000 a year. I was depressed. It was actually in Springfield when they passed the law allowing you to be fired for being gay. One of the producers would look at the TV monitor and say "fags make me sick" whenever a gay person was on. People knew I was gay, don't they gossip. Do I have to tell each person individually. Damn it, it's not a secret, please gossip.

I had to quit.

My Tenth Job

Pietro's Pizza. Their cheeseburger pizza was the best ever, working there, however, was horrible.

Great New Fetish

For just about $13.00 a month you can look at models smash cell phones with their heels. Wait, there's more, they even have models smashing laptop computers. As well as models smashing cell phones under a car tire while driving barefoot. Finally, a modern day fetish for everyone.

My tip

Last night, I had a group of gypsies playing at my $25 blackjack game. There was a father, wife, daughter, and son. The women were not allowed to play, but were just allowed to watch. Yep, gypsies are sexist. The father asked, "where are my cigarettes?"

The mother replied, "I thought you got them from the bar."

Father, "I thought you got them. I didn't get them."

Mother, "I didn't get them, they are your cigarettes. I'll go check the bar" Minute later. "There wasn't any there"

Father, "Any what?"

Mother, "Cigarettes. I couldn't find your cigarettes."

Father, "Why would I need cigarettes? I have some in my pocket." I laughed pretty hard at this, so did the daughter.

Couple of minutes later....the father asked, "Where are my cigarettes?"

Mother, "I'll go buy you some cigarettes."

Me..."You can get free cigarettes from the cocktail waitress, just ask for them."

The mother kept trying to go get cigarettes and the father said he had plenty a couple of times. Meanwhile, the daughter, the only sane was urging her mother to stay to get cigarettes from the cocktail waitress. The daughter lost, but the cocktail waitress brought back cigarettes before the mother came back.

Now, the son ended up playing by himself with his father watching. He did all the hand gestures that gypsies do and put himself into a little bit of a blackjack trance. He turned his $400 into $4,000 very quickly. When he lost a hand, he looked up at me, looked me in the eye and began speaking in a foreign language. He repeated what he was saying twice. I recognized it as a romance language that wasn't spanish or french. The only word I caught was "solamente". I grasped that and put it into my internal romance language translator and interpreted it as "only". Indeed, it is spanish for "only". I don't speak spanish, this just shows the power of my internal romance language translator. All bow to me. Anyway, I'm certain that it wasn't spanish. I just looked at him bewildered as I translated "solamente". He said, "Don't worry. It's a good thing." So, my tip was a gypsy blessing. No money. It better work or I'll be mad.

My Ninth Job

Yep, I was a sandwich artist at Subway. Really, not much to report here except that the store owners were really cheap. We were required to count the cups when we closed to make sure that we didn't give away any free drinks. We were only allowed to put two olive slices per six-inch sandwich, because "olives are expensive". Most of the time, I worked there by myself late at night, serving sandwiches to drunk people.

My Eighth Job

Oh my, I think that is the first time in my life that I have ever written out the word "eighth". It doesn't look right at all. I had to look it up and everything. Wow, what a strange word.


I worked for Olson Family Studios for two weeks. It was horrible. I had to call people and get them to come in for their "free" 8X10 family portrait. Whether or not they would fall for that, I would then have to try to get the names and numbers of 8 people they knew. We would then call those people saying that "so and so" referred us. Talk about an intrusion.

They had old generic beige phones. We sat at long fold-out tables and were not allowed to put the handset down. We were required to keep it on our shoulder and press down on cradle to hang up. This saved precious time in order to keep us dialing. I just didn't go to work one day. Oddly enough, they weren't surprised.

My Seventh Job

I wasn't sure if I should include this or not, but I did get money out of it. It was, however, voluntary.

First, a little background. The previous school year, I volunteered for the University of Oregon Cultural Forum by ripping ticket stubs and hanging posters. I did it so much that I became like an unofficial member of the Cultural Forum. My only payment was in the form of some dinners. I met documentary film maker, Ally Acker and cartoonist, Bill Plympton. I would be dropping names if anyone knew who these people were, but few people do. M.K. Hobson was also a member of the Cultural Forum. Overachiever that she was, she announced plans to start another film showing group on campus, Catalyst Films. This, I think, angered the Cultural Forum. They kicked her out stating that she would be spread to thin if she did two groups. I was also kicked out, basically for not doing anything besides being the best ticket ripper you ever saw.

M.K. was hell bent on revenge. She wanted to blow the Cultural Forum out of the water. She asked if I wanted to help. Of course, I actually was only in the Cultural Forum because I wanted to be around her, so of course I said yes. She made me the Co-director of Catalyst Films. We did just as she planned. We showed gems like "Pink Flamingos" and Pink Floyd's "The Wall". We were a little more "low-brow" than the Cultural Forum, but we knew what the students wanted. The film that pushed us over the top was a surprise. We had a packed theater for two shows for "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". I mean packed. More people than I ever imagined. I was happy about that, too. I spent a while on the poster for that one, which was just a picture of Willy Wonka looking at a bubble with the title of the film in it. It was cute. The Cultural Forum was appropriately jealous. M.K. got her revenge.

I missed the last term though when I was shot.

My Sixth Job

OK, so my sister worked here first, too. I didn't work for Paul Mitchell. I worked for a distributor of Paul Mitchell products in Ventura, California. It was called Cylected Products after the owner, Cyl. Anyway, I was a warehouse worker for a summer. Really, a laid back job. The boss was one of the friends of Paul Mitchell and John Paul Dejoria and that's why she got to be their distributor in a small, insignificant area. It really wasn't run very well. Such a shame, she would take us to lunch and not really work us very hard. My sister would have to take her home from the hospital after plastic surgery.

I met John Paul Dejoria. Most people think he is Paul Mitchell, but the real Paul Mitchell died. They sprinkled his ashes on a awapuhi farm, so when you wash your hair with a Paul Mitchell product containing awapuhi, you are literally washing your hair with Paul Mitchell.

My Fifth Job

I worked in the cafeteria at the University Inn, a dorm for the University of Oregon.



Such an easy job to do in my first year of college. I would wake up and go downstairs and work at 6:30 in the morning. I cooked a lot of eggs and everyone said that my eggs were perfect. When they ordered over easy, they got over easy without the runny white mess.

My first customer on my first day was a volleyball athlete. She came down looking tired and cranky and asked for scrambled eggs. I put some on a plate and she looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world. She said, "IN A BOWL" again like I was so dumb for putting it on a plate. So, I put them in a bowl. Other people also wanted their eggs in a bowl. You know what? That's how I like them too. God, I was such an idiot.

When the students would come down to eat they had to have their card run through a machine to determine if they are eligible to eat. One time, a football player wanted to eat a second lunch and tried to get through again. When the person running the cards said that he couldn't, the football player punched him in the eye.

How funny. My story includes two athletes that were jerks. It's not a scientific study mind you, but I see a correlation.

My Forth Job

Memorial Medical Center
This was the perfect job to work during the school year. It catered to students to come in after school and work for a few hours. All you had to do was pull and put back medical charts. How easy is that? It also had minimal exposure to other people. Ah, my dream job if it paid well.

We found one chart that had "Private...For the Doctor's eyes only" written in big, black letters all over it. The other file clerks and I knew an invitation when we saw it. We looked inside. We found a picture of a stillborn baby that had one eye with two pupils.

My Third Job

I also got this job after my sister started working there as a cashier. Not much happened here. I worked there during the school year as a Customer Assisstant Representative or CAR. It involved straightening the shelves and helping anyone with price checks or item locations. The craziest day to work was Christmas Eve. This was, by far, the busiest shopping day that I had ever seen. I had worked the day after Thanksgiving and it was nothing in comparison. When I went outside to get the carts after the store closed at 6:00, people would drive up incredibly mad that the store had closed. How could we close so early on Christmas Eve? It was as if the rest of the world should cater to their needs and screw the people working at Fred Meyer.

Pomeranian Dream

I had a dream where I lived in a foresty area. I was in the backyard with some friends looking out over the trees when I saw a fuzzy blur of a pomeranian being chased by a bear.

My dilemma was not whether or not to save the pomeranian from the bear making a bite-size snack of him. I was more worried about my friends belittling me for saving a pomeranian.

CNN Headline News

My problems with CNN Headline News are many. I'm not even going to go into how they focus on the latest white woman being kidnapped or the trendiest court drama. It usually is McNews. I have no problem with that. I watch it sometimes just to see if anything big is going on that I should know about before work.

No, my problem is with their format. Sports? They have a section on sports? What the? Aren't there a couple of sports stations already? Then here in Las Vegas, they show the "Local Edition" on weekdays. If I want local news, I'll watch the local station. On top of that, CNN teases a story coming up on the national channel and then it switches over to the Local Edition which, as of late, has been a simple interview format of recent Nevada Legislature activities. Wanna be bored? Follow local Nevada law. I know that I should be interested, but I'm just not.

So, there's 8 minutes of Local Edition, 5 minutes of Sports. That's 13 minutes out of their 30 minute format. On top of that, I was just watching and they repeated stories that they had at the top after 15 minutes. Man, who tunes in at 15 minutes to get the top of the news. What a joke.

And now, they are also having "Showbiz Tonight" and the "Nancy Grace" Courtroom show. Arrrgh. This is even too "Mc" for me. Where can I get my McNews in a hurry? Damn you CNN!

Images from Sisters Chicken

My Second Job

Now 16 and legal, I got a job at Sisters Chicken the summer after Peter Piper Pizza. The chicken chain owned by Wendy's until it was sold. It was quite good from what I understand. Of course, I don't like chicken.

They had a sexist policy, cute girls worked in the front and ugly boys worked in the back. I hated it. The worst part was when you were working the fryer. You would bread and fry the chicken in these large fryers. You would get constantly burned from the oil splattering up. When you went home, you smelled like oil. I preferred working the biscuit station.

I don't remember the hats being so stupid, but who knows.

The manager and asst. manager were using and perhaps dealing drugs in the backroom. They would always come out of the back room with a renewed interest in their job. At one point, I was filling a bucket with water. Roger, the manager, came over, waited for a second and said "Jesus, why does it take so long for this bucket to fill up with water". He then found a hose and a sprayer. He used those to aid the filling of the bucket. Needless to say, it took two seconds. During that two seconds, he managed to yell "come on, come on!" at the water.

Doing the dishes was horribly unsafe. The managers had a habit of throwing knives across the kitchen to land in the sink. It didn't really matter if you were there.

To clean the place, we would scrub everything down and end up with a couple inches of water on the floor to scrub up the oil and flour mess. The place was always sparkling when we were done.

My first job

I was 15 and wanted to work for the summer. My sister worked at Peter Piper Pizza and although it was illegal for me to do so. I applied there as well. I started out as a dishwasher/busser. I did my job well, or so I thought. I did everything that I was suppose to. One day, my sister came to me and said that she was embarrassed at my performance. I said that, I did everything that I was told to do and that I did a good job at it. She then told me that when I had extra time to come and help in the kitchen and other areas. This actually started my personal work ethic (Thanks Sis). Never stop working...always keep looking for something to do to help out co-workers. I had no problem with that. I wasn't lazy, I just didn't know that I could do that. Anyway, it turned out to be a lot of fun. One manager we called "Mom" and another manager was called "Uncle Sauce". The customers started to think it was a family business.

I also ended up making pizzas and running the oven. I was terrible at running the oven. My pizzas always came out looking like footballs. I also, occasionally had to put on the mascot uniform. What was it? A friendly bear, I think. What a horrible job that is. Kids look into your real eyes through the black mesh and they know what is going on. It is also really hot. I was told that if I got too hot to go into the walk in cooler to prevent passing out. It's that hot. I feel sorry for the mascots at Disney.

I gave my two weeks notice and ended up walking out on my last day. There was a new manager who sent everyone home except me. We happened to be really busy and I knew that closing would take forever and I had enough of the new guy. Nobody liked him, which at 15, makes it easier to be mean. I wrote I note that said "I quit" and left in the back and left. I later found out that he didn't find the note for a long time and thought I had been kidnapped.

Hummus

I love hummus, but I don't like the dried hummus mixes that you can buy in the store. I also don't like the pre-made hummus that you can buy in the store. I like my hummus nice and thin and they prefer the thick hummus with strange flavors. So, I decided to make my own hummus. Lo and behold, there are a ton of recipes for hummus and they are all different. I'm really a freak about recipes in that I can't deviate from them one iota. That makes me a horrible, meticulous cook. I ended up creating my own hummus recipe and dare I say, it's a keeper. Here it is as follows: (I'm actually posting this so I don't lose it. Although, it is pretty easy to remember)

1 can (15 oz) garbanzo beans (put the "juice" aside for later)
1/2 tsp. Cumin
2 Tbs. Lemon Juice
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup tahini
Olive Oil

Put everything beside juice and olive oil in a food processor. Mix it up. Add "juice" to get desired consistency (nice and thin). Put in a dish and drizzle olive oil over it. Yummmmmmmmmm.

Why did I do this?

I got another e-mail address for the novelty of it. I will not be using it though. The new address is:

Xix@abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefghijk.com

I guess it's good if you want to annoy your friends. Here's some of the persuasion they use to have you sign up:

How could I not sign up?

My Fascist Eating Experience

So, Greg's parents were very kind in taking me to the Tournament of Kings at the Excaliber Hotel and Casino in beautiful Las Vegas.

This was a belated birthday gift and I really did appreciate it. The tickets are $55 each and that includes dinner. Let's talk about the food first. Actually, let's talk about Greg's mother first. I call her the dairy queen. Before leaving, she made sure to put a ziploc full of butter in her purse as well as a ziploc full of ketchup. She heard that butter was not provided and being that she occasionally eats just plain butter, well that is just not acceptable. Who thinks of things like this before going out to dinner? This isn't the first time she's done it either.

So, dinner consisted of a small serving of tomato soup...oops I mean Dragon's Blood soup served in a little plastic bowl that you drink out of. Next comes a cornish game hen, cold broccoli, a slightly stale dinner roll, and three large freezer burnt potato wedges. All of this you eat with you hands. The cornish game hen was actually not bad and I don't like cornish game hen.

The beginning of the show consisted of Merlin and a small man showing the audience the proper way to cheer. I hate audience participation, let alone participation the requires pre-determined cheering. We were required to yell "Hazaa!" and raise our hands. We were required to pound the table with our hen-greased palms. We were required to raise our drinks, say "Hear, hear", take a sip and then say "ahhh". We were also required to cheer whenever our section was mentioned. We were sitted in "Hungary". Each section was given a king. Everyone cheered when their king was presented. When France was presented, the rest of the crowd (not in France) booed. I personally don't like Parisians, but the people that I met from Lyons were quite nice. I think the France-hating thing is old. A lot of people don't even know why they are suppose to hate France. Next come the wenches, obviously all former cheerleaders. They would stand in front of you and "encourage" everyone to cheer the correct cheers. It was like having your own private Nazi watch over you. If you didn't cheer, you were singled out and given a stern look. Then the kings had a tournament that included jousting. Interesting to note that the King of Russia was a cheater. He would hit people when they were down and pull dirty tricks. The winner was the King of France, to my personal satisfaction.

The kings whenever they rode or walked by their section would try to get their section to cheer. Our king, the King of Hungary, would just smile and shout "Hungary". I noticed that the King of Austria would look at his subjects and simply glare at them and wave his hand upwardly to get them shout louder. We had a good king even though he performed horribly in the tournament.

Then there was the King of Dragon, who wasn't in the Tournament. He could shoot fire from his hands and therefore was my favorite. He of course ended up being killed. We were reminded by our Nazi Cheerleaders to "boo" him at the appropriate times. Secretly, I was cheering for him though.

Then there were acrobats, a coronation, and some indoor fireworks to round the deal off.

Pet Peeve du Jour

So my pet peeve du jour is when people overreact to seeing someone kicked in the family jewels. There's always the guy (or sometimes even gal) that does the "Ooooh!" exclamation too loud when seeing a kid kick his brother in the balls on "America's Funniest Videos". (No, I don't watch it. I don't think it is on anymore). The "Oooooh!" is followed by an intake of breath through a partially opened mouth. I'm not sure what the onomatopoeic spelling of that would be, but I figure it would be something like "Ssssllllll". Sure it hurts, but the same guy or gal doesn't go "Ooooohhhh! Ssssslllll!" when someone gets shot, stabbed or an ice cream headache. Now that hurts!

Growing up, I wanted to work in an ice cream shop to watch people randomly get ice cream headaches. I would then be able to think to myself, "You get what you deserve, you ice cream whore." Of course, I get them too, so maybe I would just say "Sssssllll".