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New Job and New Website

Finally, I'm busting out of Iowa and back out into the world!  Follow along with me as I move to France to teach at the University of Poitiers...



Easter Bunny Love

A lovely Easter present from my mother--a hollow chocolate bunny!  



Crazy cat lady

Nora "My other car is a BMW" Soesbe

Dexter "Actually dude, I'm from Colorado" Soesbe

"Where my money at ho?!  Is Ike Soesbe gonna have to choke a bitch?"

Is it even possible to not adore me?


An honest day's work

So, if you can believe it, this past week was the first I've worked since arriving home in December.  I can't believe I managed to go this long...but a combination of savings and tax return money certainly helped.  :-)  Of course, not many people would call what I do "work", but it's good enough for me.

For starters, I roll out of bed at 8:30.  Stay in my pj's all day if I feel like it.  And sit on the couch, cozied up with my cats the whole time.  (Ike says hi!)  How do I get away with calling this work?  Well, I spend a total of about 4 hours on the phone with various French people, vaguely teaching them, but mostly just having interesting conversations.  As jobs go, it's pretty damn good.

I spend my days talking about people's travels, delicious wine, and tasty French food.  (I'm not really supposed to speak French with them, but how can one avoid it when discussing "blanquette de veau"?)  Of course, once you've debated the merits of red versus white wine, you do have to actually teach them something.  So, I'll pick a lesson for them to do out of the hundreds pre-crafted by my company.  A cinch.

Well, usually.  My last lesson on Thursday turned out to be a bit of a sticky wicket.  It was my first lesson with this man, so we spent the first 20 out of 30 minutes chit-chatting about various cool topics, i.e. travel, wine, and cheese (there are at least 3 cheesemakers in his family, and his uncle is in the Guinness Book of World Records for creating the world's larget fondue, of all things).  Eventually, I realized that with only 10 minutes left, it was about time to sneak in some actual teaching.  So, I suggest that we start a lesson on reading (as in, what genres do you like to read? etc...)  He counters with, "Well, I'd like to do the lesson on Infinitives and Gerunds if it's OK."  "Oh sure!" I say.   

So, I quickly opened the lesson, and I swear, even as the teacher, I had no idea what it was trying to explain.  Skimming over the teacher section as fast as possible, I was still at a total loss.  Like most native speakers, I have an innate grasp of English grammar that doesn't really lend itself to giving extemporaneous lectures on Infintives versus Gerunds.  It mostly just runs to explanations like, "Well, because that way just sounds right."  And teacher training doesn't really include grammar lessons, unfortunately.  (I have had teachers who told us that EFL students [depending on level, of course] will likely know grammar rules better than their teacher.)  

Luckily for me, there were only about 7 minutes left at this point, so I just had him read the instructions outloud (which didn't even make sense, in my opinion) and do the first exercise.  If he had pressed me for true clarification, I could not have given it to him, I am sad to say.  Of course, I researched the issue on the internet as soon as I got him off the phone, and I still can't really tell you a solid rule on when to use an infinitive and when to use a gerund.  I can tell you that a gerund is a verb that ends in -ing and acts like a noun, and an infinitive is a verb with "to" in front of it, and it can act like either a noun, adjective, or adverb.

Example of gerund:  My cat's favorite activity is sleeping.
Example of infinitive:  He lacked the strength to resist.

I know English teachers read this, so any advice would be appreciated!

Other than this one guy who just really wanted to get his money's worth, I haven't had any problems.  I've already had 3 people who've re-booked with me, which is a great sign.  I guess we'll just have to see how it progresses!


I always suspected...

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Today, I actually got off my ass and did some work on what has become a Sisyphean quest for my family's Italian citizenship.  (I'll assume most people reading this have a basic knowledge of the backstory.  If you don't, suffice to say that my family qualifies for dual citizenship with Italy, which I [and others in my family] are desperate to get so that we can live and work in Europe with greater ease.  I've been working on it for about 3 years now, and we're finally coming down to the end.) 

My mother's school is on spring break, so we decided (ok, she decided for me) that this would be the week to really kick some ass.  I have, admittedly, flung it to the winds this past year out of sheer frustration with the process.  The main issue is that, according to the Italian Consulate in Chicago, all the names/dates/places on all the documents must match.  No misspellings.  No discrepencies.  


Since some of our documents pre-date WWI, there are discrepencies aplenty.  One can quite clearly picture the courthouse official mumbling, "What the hell did this wop just say?" and then writing down whatever name he thought sounded closest.  On my great-grandparent's marriage certificate alone, there are 6 mistakes.  And even though I can provide the Vital Records office with BOTH of their birth certificates from Italy (thank you Peter), the bitches there won't change anything because my great-grandparents are dead.  No shit.

And then there's my grandma.

I love her to bits, but the woman has never signed her name the same way twice.  Her birth certificate lists her as "Gabriella Regina Bollnak".  She is called Gail, and has been most of her life.  Thus, when my mom and uncle were born, she signed her name as Gail.  On my aunt's birth certificate, however, she casually signed her name as Gabriella Regina Boljvak (apparently the authentic spelling of her father's name).  "You know, I'm feeling particularly Bohemian today...I think I'll sign my name in way that appears on no other document ANYWHERE."   Even her marriage certificate lists her maiden name as "Ballnak".  My uncle's birth certificate has her middle name as "Recina". 

My grandfather is known to the world as Flory, but he tells people his real Italian name is Fiorino.  I have no doubt that his parents intended that to be so, but his birth certificate has him as "Forino".  (Damn wops...trying to put down names we can't understand.)  Incidentally, he ended up as Flory because the nuns at his elementary school thought it would be better for him.  Imagine that going over in a school today!

My aunt, on all official documents, is listed as Catherine.  Her birth certificate stubbornly insists that it's Katherine.  She apparently changed her signature on a whim when she was in high school, and judging by the surprise when we got her birth certificate, no one even remembered that it had once been a "K". 

And while we can apply deductive reasoning to all of these documents and see quite clearly that these people are all who they say they are, Gail doesn't look anything like Gabriella, and Flory doesn't much look like Forino.  Since it's Italian people, unfamiliar with American names, who are going to be evaluating the documents, the differences might screw us.  And there's no help to be had from the recorder's office, who have point-blank refused to make most of the changes. 

Hence my frustration with the whole f**king process.

Today we did make some progress, though.  Apostilles for everyone!  And the lady in the Secretary of State's office was super nice and efficient.  Wish I could say the same for the bitch at the Vital Records office.  We're trying to get the "Boljvak" off my aunt's birth certificate, and change her name to a "C", but it's proving to be harder than we thought. 

I would expect nothing less...


Big Changes

Hello there!

Right off the bat, you're probably noticing that the look and title of my journal have changed since last you visited here.  Yes, it's true; you're not just getting senile.  I changed things on here because the purpose of my journal has (temporarily) changed.  

Some of you might already know, but for those who don't...

When last we spoke, I wrote about how I had been sick with pancreatitis right after I got home, and that this would mean delaying my trip to Turkey by a couple months.  As the time passed, and I thought everything through, I made the decision to stay here through the end of the summer.  Why stay that long?  Well, as fate would have it, my cousin Peter is getting married to his lovely Liz at the beginning of August.  To miss their wedding would be un-utterably stupid.

And since traveling during high season is madness, I will be staying here until at least early September.  An exciting bonus to all of this is that I will be able to have a garden for the first time in a few years.  Well...one that I get to both start and finish, much to my mother's relief.  (Yes, I'm staying with her for the forseeable future.)

Is Turkey still in the cards?  I don't know for sure.  I'm hoping that my lazy ass will kick into gear and finish collecting the paperwork for our Italian citizenship.  If that goes through, I'll be heading to Italy on the next thing smokin'.  If it doesn't go through, or is taking an inordinately long time, then I'll either go to Turkey or maybe even back to Korea.  I know...that sounds like madness, but I would only go for 6 months and strictly for money.  

For the moment, I've secured a job with an education company in Paris called Telelangue.  I'll work from here, teaching English over the phone to French business people.  I know...sounds a little crazy, and it will probably prove to be.  But hey, all the more for me to write about on here!

Now, let's do a little catch-up on what's been happening since last we spoke.  I believe I left off with Christmas...

After Christmas, we celebrated my Uncle Pete's Birthday.  Not only is he getting older, but also obviously crazier.

After my uncle's birthday, my brother, Stephan, headed back to California.  Since plane tickets were outrageously expensive, he opted to travel here and back on the Amtrak train.  My mom and I saw him off at the Osceola station, a place that is absolutely stuck in time...1925 is just waiting for you there at the Osceola train depot.  I'm not complaining--this is truly a great thing for those of us not lucky enough to have been around for the actual 1925.  


Stephan, hiding from the over-zealous station attendant trying to keep hoodlums off the tracks.

The arrival of Stephan's train back to Cali.  Pretty swell.  :-)  

Soon after Stephan's departure came New Year's, which was remarkable in that I tried sushi for the very first time!  A bit of tuna such-and-such, plus an eel what-not.  It wasn't bad...but it wasn't knockin' my socks off, either.  I know several people (Derek, Ryan, Christa, etc...) who are absolutely bonkers over sushi, and I'm trying to understand why.  Both Peter and I agree that sushi is kind of like "Meh...whatever."  It just doesn't taste like much of anything.... Any wisdom on this topic is most welcome, as I am eager to understand the appeal of it all.

Following New Year's was the Governor's Inaugural Ball, to which my mother wrangled invitations via some sort of shady connection to the Governor himself.  :-)   I was particularly keen to attend, as I had heard that the food served would be Iowa State Fair-type food, i.e. funnel cakes and corn dogs.  Since I hadn't had my annual State Fair corn dog in two years, I was admittedly desperate to lay my hands on one--at any cost.  As it turned out, the cost was $2 for a corn dog HALF the size of a normal one, and $3 for a tiny, wretched funnel cake that I spit out after one bite.  $6 for a watered down gin and tonic!  And then I only got to dance one measly dance because my friend Derek claimed that after all his years in jazz band, he only knew how to play big band songs, not dance to them.  Tragic.  Eventually, we cleared off and headed to our usual hangout, Tanner's Pub, where we were, without question, the swankiest looking people in the joint. 

Derek and I at the Ball.  Looked great in his tux, despite powdered sugar from the funnel cake fiasco.

I think I clean up pretty nicely, if I do say so myself.

Not too long after the Ball, I was invited to re-join my father's team for Trivia Night.  This is a school fundraising event held in his small town (Nevada).  It's such a quaint idea, and so much fun; I was an active participant before I left for Korea, so I was happy to be back on the team.  And, as luck would have it, our team won first place!!  (Not to brag on us or anything, but my dad's team has never finished lower than third place, and that's out of about 30 teams. Not too shabby!)  Our last round really nailed it for us, as we scored a perfect 100.  And, since we had pre-chosen it as a "doubler" round, our final score for the round was 200.   

My dad and Jeff, modestly displaying our "200" score. 

Alas, after all these great things, something bad was bound to happen.  Unfortunately, it came in the form of severe illness in our cat, Ike.  I have two cats (Nora and Dexter), and my brother had Ike before he dropped him off on my mother's doorstep.  So, Ike is technically my nephew cat, but I love him as one of my own...as does everyone who ever meets him, because he is just the coolest cat in the history of all cats.  That it was him getting sick, instead of some cat somewhere that bites people and only comes out of its hiding place to distainfully eat its food and then stink up the place, just wasn't fair.  

I won't go into all the details of his illness, but suffice to say that the vet (who is the coolest vet in the history of all vets) was *amazed* that Ike lived to tell the tale.  The treatments were not inexpensive (we could have stayed for a month in a Tuscan villa on the funds), but it was worth every single penny.  Ike is much better today. (Please keep your fingers crossed for his continued health!)  

Ike, mid-illness, when incontinence was all the rage.  The improvised suspenders were my idea.  :-)

Ike, at his frisky best.

Eventually, the Korean Lunar New Year rolled around, so Derek and I headed out to join the festivities here in town.  "Festivities" might be a misleading word, as it suggests rollicking fun and possible carnival rides, neither of which were on offer.  However, there was much good food to eat, and history lessons to learn.  A cool board game, too.  The name?  No freakin' clue, although I did try to remember!

One of the youngsters taking his turn.

And just when life couldn't get any more exciting, it started to snow.  Lots of snow on top of lots of ice, to be specific.  It looked pretty, but life was certainly more difficult for awhile.

I believe we're all caught up!  Now, let me leave you with a few random pics that I've snapped around town.

This is a little restaurant near my house, called George the Chili King.  It's been around since the 1950s, and is a bit of an icon.  The area in the photograph is where you can park your car, turn on your lights, and the "car hop" (waitress) will come out to take your order so that you can eat in your car.  (A tray is hooked onto your rolled-down window.)  You've probably seen a similar setup in various movies set in the 1950s.  I don't think that they do that every day here...maybe it's only on Friday nights now.  Or perhaps it's only on Fridays in the summer that the car hop chicks wear roller skates.  Something like that!  At any rate, it's a classic place.

Notice the instructions on this sign for "Tray Pick-Up".

And lastly, a picture of one of the true treats here at home:

Gooey French Onion soup from Fleming's Steakhouse.  Yummmm!!  Nowhere to be found in Korea, sadly.  

OK, that's all for now, I suppose.  I have no real idea what I'll be writing about on here...just the daily goings-on, I imagine.  Stories of crazy French people, pics of the developing garden, etc...  For the non-Americans reading this, it might almost be as exotic as reading about Istanbul.  "A day in the life of middle America..."  LOL  Ok, maybe not.  :-)  

Take care!

Merry Christmas and all that rot

Hello all! Sorry I've been a bit absent lately... With the holiday season in full swing, time sort of flew by. Then, of course, there were those 4 days I spent in the hospital last week with pancreatitis--that pretty much took it out of me.

Yes, I was in the hospital with the same "stomach problem" that I've been dealing with since last January (the one that caused me to have the scope test in Korea, plus all the other garbage). At any rate, I'm certainly glad that I was on my native soil for this attack, because it was an absolute whopper. Usually I can just muscle through it; after all, they only last 3-5 days. As long as I don't eat much and take occasional pain killers, I suffer, but not to an absolutely unbearable degree.

This time, I made my mom take me to the emergency room on the first night, it was that horrible. And I'm so glad I went right away, because they tested my blood and saw increased levels of blah-blah-blah pancreatic whatever, so they knew it was my pancreas and not my stomach. By the next day, those levels were back to normal, so nothing would have shown up if I had waited to come in.

Anyway, the consequence of my being sick again is that the doctor has advised that I not go anywhere for at least two months. (If I have another attack, I'll have to have my gallbladder out as a preventative measure--not possible to remove the pancreas, of course.) This is shitty because it means delaying my move to Turkey. The non-shitty thing is that the school that hired me has said I can take them up on their job offer whenever I'm healthy enough to come over. Very nice, and unexpected, frankly. So, hopefully that will remain true and all will work out in the end!

As for my personal Christmas season...well, it was frantic, but sweet. I truly appreciated being able to be home for Christmas, since I had originally planned on teaching all day and eating kimchi for dinner. In fact, I had a lovely home-coming present from my Grandma:


The holidays really started for me with my family hosting our Annual Soesbe Sing-Along the Sunday before Christmas. We've been doing it for something close to 20 years (that seems crazy, but it started before I was in junior high, I think). We have a potluck dinner for about 20-25 relatives and friends, then yours truly plays the organ while everyone else sings Christmas carols. Isn't it almost unbearably quaint?

Well, this year I tried to start a revolution by refusing to play the organ. I wanted to sit with my face to the party for once, and get to sing along with everyone (I can't sing and play at the same time, sadly). Unfortunately, my attempts to overthrow The Man were thwarted. My grandmother was quite insistent that I play, and it's exceedingly bad form to tell one's grandma to piss off--at least in front of company. ;-) So, I played anyway. Maybe next year...

           Family friend Pep and my darling Grandma.                       A few folks hanging out at our Sing-Along.

Is there anything more festive at Christmas than twinkling lights on everyone's house?  I tried to snap some pics around town, but very few actually turned out.  Here are a couple of the best:

                       House near my Grandma's                                         Crazy decorated house near mine

I want to write more about Christmas, but I'm just too damned exhausted right now.  It's almost 2am here, and I'm working on less sleep than normal.  I'll write more soon---promise!  

I hope you each had an awesome Christmas and are now planning a killer New Year's!  Take care!


Bit of an "Oops Moment"

So, as I mentioned in my last post, last night I was going to take my brother and others out for Korean BBQ. It's a little ironic how excited I was, considering I just fled Korea like I was on the lamb. Still, I do love me some galbi, not to mention kimchi chigae, both of which were available at the restaurant I picked. Needless to say, I was really looking forward to sharing that part of my Korean experience with some of my loved ones.

When taken in that light, the way the evening unfolded was especially tragic.

The day got off to a rocky start, so I should have known the gods were against me. My Uncle Max and Aunt Sets picked me up around 2 so that I could get out of the house for once and pay a visit to this super-cool travel bookstore. My brother had discussed the location of the bookstore with Max, so I assumed that my brain could just check out on the whole process. Right before we left, I had a brief moment of, "Hmmm...maybe I should write the address down..." which I quickly ignored in our haste to leave. Mistake.

We drove to the intersection that Stephan had told Max was nearest to the bookstore. It was the correct intersection, but we weren't sure which way to go to find the bookstore since it wasn't just right there. Well, we went in every direction but the right one, unfortunately. So, for the time being, we decided to just carry on to the travel agent's office that Max and Sets needed to visit for their upcoming trip to China.

This travel agent has an office on one of the busiest streets I've seen since I got here. Needless to say, no parking. Plus it was pissing down rain, which does nothing to improve one's mood even when not desperately searching for a parking spot in heavy traffic. Eventually, Uncle Max vetoed the whole idea and decided that we'd have another search for the travel bookshop.

Once we were back in the right area, we parked near the intersection and went to look in a phone book at a nearby motel. Lo and behold, we had just not driven up the street far enough. OK, problem solved, so we skipped off to the bookstore. It was pretty neat, although not as big as I had imagined. I got a couple books on Turkey, foregoing a cool book I had seen on their website ("Vroom with a View" a story of driving a '61 Vespa through Italy--how cool!) in the spirit of financial moderation.

After spending close to an hour there, it was time to either feed the meter or find another place to kill time until our 7pm dinner reservation. The crappy weather, and my never-ending headcold, prompted me to suggest that I'd like an Irish Coffee. Unbeknowst to me, Irish Coffee was actually invented in San Francisco. So, fast as sin, we were on our way to try the original at The Buena Vista.

Located near Fisherman's Wharf, this place was too too adorable. Quite cozy and inviting, I must say. Through the windows, we could see tables of businessmen and women enjoying a post-work drink, the ring of camraderie in the air. Not to mention the twinkling white Christmas lights doing their bit to set the scene. 

Aunt Sets

The Irish Coffee turned out to be a whole lot of Irish and not much Coffee, which was just fine by me. But, even though we had ordered potato skins to kill some time and a bit of our appetites, we couldn't sit there forever. So, back into the van for the drive over to the restaurant, an hour ahead of time. Figured we'd get some drinks and just hang out in the restaurant until our reservation time came up. Ha.

We were driving down the street, looking for the sign for Brother's Korean BBQ... Finally, we spotted it, and--lucky us--there was a parking spot right in front. We got out of the car, practically singing at our good fortune, only to find that the place was locked up tight and black as midnight. Chain on the front door. But no note indicating why they would have taken my reservation that morning, only to be shut down that night. Did the health inspector get them in the interim? Was there a death in the family? Peering through the windows didn't help, because everything looked alright inside, not torn up or anything. Menu in the window, hours sign posted up. Baffling. And goddamn fucking horrible. I was SO mad, I cannot even tell you. I wanted to throw a brick through the window, with a note saying "Thanks for nothing." Grrrr...

But, we still had to wait for Stephan and Julie to get there so that we could decide what to do next. (Max and Sets didn't have a cell phone, and pay phones are non-existant here, so we no choice but to wait.) Sets had noticed an Irish pub just before we came to the restaurant, so we headed back there. Wow, what a nice place. Totally mellow, great imports on tap, Irish music playing in the background, old wooden furniture. It was a place I would definitely visit with my friends on a regular basis. 

Uncle Max and Aunt Sets at the Irish bar

Eventually it was 7, so we returned to the vacant restaurant to wait for Stephan and Julie, but they never came. We waited like 15 minutes and then decided to eat at the Vietnamese place right next door, where we could see them walk by. But they never came. I was getting seriously worried by the time we were done at 8.

Driving down the street after dinner, Sets spotted a Korean BBQ place across the road, and we decided to check it out in case they had gone there by mistake. Nope. I thought I had seen a sign for Korean BBQ too, so we turned around and checked that one out. Goddamnit. There it was. Not two blocks from where we had been waiting was the NEW Brother's Korean Restaurant. Oh, I wanted to set the place on FIRE, let me tell you. And, of course, there were poor Stephan and Julie, who, like us, had been waiting all night, worrying about where the hell we were. Unlike us, though, they didn't eat anything, which made me feel double bad. What a fuck up from start to finish. I would like to say, however, that it would not hurt for the Brother's people to put a note on their old door to direct people to the new restaurant. How could one guess that there would be another one just down the block???

Today has been much less of a fuck up. I actually got some errands accomplished, and Stephan and I enjoyed some Vietnamese food *together*. We did cut it close on the time, though, so I'm sitting here typing this in the library of his college while he's in class. Not so bad. It reminds me of my own time at university. :-) At least *I'm* not the one with all the papers due (or past-due, as my own college experience went). That's at least one good point about being almost 30!!

Bay Area goings-on

The jet lag has its grip on me, so I might as well take advantage of being awake at the crack of dawn and write a bit here.

So far, I've been having a great time in San Francisco, hanging out with my brother, Stephan, and his girlfriend, Julie.

I suppose the one, not-so-great thing about being here is the hill by their house. It's fucking ridiculous. When I spoke with Stephan about staying with him, he told me that we would take the BART from the airport to his house, and that the BART station was at the bottom of the hill he lives on, a hill which is pretty steep.

Do you know what a switch-back is? If you've ever driven in the mountains, you know that you cannot just drive straight up a fucking mountain; you have to zig-zag back and forth across the mountain because it's so steep. Well, Stephan did mention that he sometimes has to switch-back up the hill to his house, so I was mildly prepared. I was not prepared, however, for the series of hills that one must climb in order to get to the final, switch-back hill!

It was a nightmare walking up those hills with all my luggage. Stephan pulled the big suitcases, and I carried my heavy-ass backpack and computer case. Jesus. He's in great shape; I am not, despite all my walking in Seoul. Still, I did better than I thought I would, and I know this is because I am fresh from a stair-ridden, walk-everywhere city.

The switch-back hill was insane, worse than the steep hill by where I lived at SEV. Falling over backward is a serious consideration. As soon as I can, I'm going to post a picture of it. Good grief.

Anyway, on my first night here, I decided to take advantage of being in America for once, and ordered pizza, subs, and wings for everyone right off the internet. Sweet. And for only $30, it seemed like a miracle.

Last night, we went to this amazing grocery store. It's strictly vegetarian, and it was so cool. If you've ever been in a health food store, or hip grocery store, you know that bulk food sections can be limited to things like a few dried beans, some rice, and dried fruits. Well, this place was bursting with the most incredible selection of bulk goods I have ever seen. Jars of dried roots, herbs (I bought some mugwort--thought to increase dreams of your past lives if put in a sache near where you sleep), teas, not to mention a never-ending selection of beans, rices, and mixes (like the hummus mix I bought). Just truly fantastic. This isn't including the other areas of the huge store, which has a specialty cheese section, where the cheesemonger helped me select a lovely goat cheese gouda. Or the produce section, with piles of the freshest California goodness. As I have said before, California truly is the land of milk and honey... It's stores like this that make me wish I lived here.

After the vegetarian grocery store, we decided a little juxtaposition was in order. So, we ate dinner at a burger joint said to be the best ever, the In-n-Out. Holy crap, this place was good. I was dying for a real cheeseburger after being away so long, and I was not disappointed. Stephan even snapped a few pics of the experience on Julie's cell phone:

Look at this monster!

Almost there...

Let the carnage begin!

Yikes, that was a damn good cheeseburger. Better than Seoul's Kraze Burger, to be sure. After sucking down our burgers and fries, it was a quick stop over to the Krispy Kreme for one of their fresh, hot doughnuts that essentially melt in your mouth, and then home again. What a lovely evening out.

Tonight promises to be just as fun. We're going to a Korean BBQ place with my Uncle Max and Aunt Sets. It's supposed to offer delicious and bountiful food, so we'll see how it compares to galbi in Seoul.

Since I got here, my brother has been fucking around with my digital video camera (which got practically no use in Seoul, outside of recording the last SEV barbeque party). He's been doing a series of "Blair Witch"-esque tapings whenever he gets a moment alone. They're too too funny. I'm going to post a couple here.

The Steve Witch Project, part 1

The Steve Witch Project, part 2