ENGLISH 101

WORKING THE FAILBLOG THIS MORNING REMINDED ME OF A REAL PAIN IN THE ASS OF A TEACHER I DEALT WITH AT COMMUNITY COLLEGE. I AM SURE SHE WAS A NICE WOMAN BUT IN HER TEACHING STYLE AND WAY SHE WENT ABOUT HERSELF, WE CLASHED HEADS.

I OF COURSE WAS AN IDIOTIC KID (NOTICE I DIDN'T SAY I ATTENDED STANFORD UNIVERSITY) AND I KNEW 'SUPER' HIGH SCHOOL WASN'T MY FAVORITE PLACE TO BE. I MEAN WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT ENGLISH AND CREATIVE WRITING ANYHOW?

2 STORIES ABOUT HER CLASS. WE WERE A BUNCH OF MISFITS THAT KNEW THIS WASN'T OUR CAREER NOR WANTED ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS KIND OF BS. WE DID WHAT WE HAD TO DO TO FINISH THE CLASS WITH A 'C' OR BETTER AND WE ALL DID.

FIRST ONE WAS AN ASSIGNMENT BY HER TO DO A PRESENTATION IN CLASS ABOUT HER FRIEND'S BOOK. YOU TAKE A CHAPTER AND ACT IT OUT. IT WAS TOTALLY GHEY. BUT IN HER DEFENSE IT WAS A SLICK OPERATION. HER FRIEND WRITES A BOOK, POSSIBLY MEAGER SALES, SO SHE DECIDES TO KEEP HER FRIEND IN BUSINESS BY MAKING US BUY HER BOOK.

I REFUSED.

I BORROWED ONE OF THE GUYS' BOOKS AND COPIED THE FIRST CHAPTER ON THE PHOTOCOPIER AT THE SOUTH OFFICE BUILDING (TAX DOLLARS FINALLY WORKING FOR ME).  I THEN FOUND A 3 RING BINDER AND TOOK IT TO CLASS. I MADE SURE I WAS IN A GROUP OF GUYS THAT FELT THE SAME WAY I DID ABOUT THE PROJECT (IT WAS BS) AND MADE SURE WE DID THE FIRST CHAPTER. WHY BOTHER GOING THROUGH THE ENTIRE BOOK THROUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND THE UNBELIEVABLE COLORS OF WHATEVER IN BIG SKY COUNTRY.

IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR PRESENTATION SHE STOPPED US AND WITH AN UPTURNED NOSE SHE SAID "EXCUSE ME GUYS, ITS PRONOUNCED RON-DAY-VOO..."

AND I RETORTED "WELL, PEOPLE FROM BIG SKY COUNTRY ARE SO DUMB THAT THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WANTED TO SAY BUT SINCE THEY WERE STUPID, THEY JUST PRONOUNCED IT PHOENETICALLY AS RON-DEZ-VOOEZ."

NATURALLY, THAT'S WHERE SHE WAS FROM. WE MAY HAVE GOTTEN A C, AND WE DIDN'T NEED THE REST OF THE BOOK. WIN FOR ME.

SECOND ONE WAS BACK WHEN WE HAD TO TELL THE SAME STORY HAVING SOMETHING TO DO WITH OUR MAJOR TO THREE AUDIENCES. IT MADE YOU REALIZE HOW YOU'D SPEAK TO A GROUP OF PROFESSIONALS IN YOUR FIELD, COLLEGE STUDENTS, OR YOUR PARENTS FOR EXAMPLE... AND THE DIFFERENCES OF WRITING STYLES BETWEEN THEM.

I HAD DONE 2 OF THEM, AND REALIZED ABOUT AN HOUR BEFORE CLASS WHILE SHOOTING POOL THAT WE NEEDED THREE RENDITIONS. I PANICKED AND DECIDED TO WRITE IT TO THE AUDIENCE OF KINDERGARTEN KIDS. AND SINCE IT HAD TO BE THREE PAGES LONG, I WROTE IT ON THREE LINES TO A LETTER AS A KINDERGARTEN KID WOULD AND USED SHORT SENTENCES AND LARGE CAPITAL LETTERS. IT WAS ABOUT 4 "PARAGRAPHS" LONG, AND EXPLAINED FAIRLY WELL TO KIDS WHAT PLANKTON WAS. I WAS GOING TO SUPER HIGH SCHOOL TO BE A MARINE BIOLOGIST.

WHAT A WASTE OF TIME.

III

PS... SHE CALLED ME INTO HER OFFICE AFTER THE SEMESTER ENDED AND ASKED WHY I WAS HOW I WAS. I TOLD HER TO GET RESPECT YOU HAVE TO GIVE IT AND I WAS FEELING DISRESPECTED BY HER IN EVERY CLASS I ATTENDED. SHE ASKED WHY I DIDN'T JUST DROP THE CLASS, AND I TOLD HER I KNEW I COULD GET THRU IT. SHE MADE ME WRITE HER A LETTER OF APOLOGY WHICH I DID IN MY SLEEP, AND I GOT A C. 

I JUST CHECKED AND SAW I HAVE 500+ VIEWS ON 39 OR SO STUPID NOTES TO KEEP ME GOING IN THIS LIFE. THERE'S LITERALLY NOTHING FOR ME OUT THERE, AND REALLY, THERE'S NO REASON TO LIVE ANYMORE. BUT I BET I HAVE HAD MORE VIEWS THAN HER FRIEND HAD SOLD BOOKS BEFORE SHE MADE ALL OF HER CLASSES BUY IT.

BITCH.

IT'S A BIRD... ITS A PLANE... NO, IT'S...

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­THE CAPED STAR OF DAVID

*LANGUAGE ALERT*

this one’s rated PG. and i dunno if the paragraph spacing is right, so deal with it. when you see "III" thats the end.

I’ve never written about this particular happening, but it is true as the grass is green.

It happened years ago when I was plastered drunk, yet dare I say it blacked out, but in fact no. I was close, but I remember doing it so I guess it was before those last stages of vodka entered my liver for the blood-alcohol version of ethnic cleansing.

And it hit on why one guy I know hated me for years until this life lesson came running back to shoot me in the face… I tend to find things out the hard way. And since this happened that guy and I still aren’t BEST friends, rather, "good-to-see-you" cordial acquaintances, but I have a better understanding of him now that it is in the forefront thanks to my own hypocritical actions…

One day I was drunk (really?) and it happened to be December 24th. My buddy Mike was having a xmas eve party with friends so my friend Doug, his then girlfriend Kelly, and I went out to celebrate xmas eve with mike and Jennifer, his wife. It was great. Their townhouse was decorated beautifully and it turns out they had a spread of food and a few more bottles of alcoholic goodness so I was ready to rock.

[An aside to digress about: One thing. Mike is, dare I say it, atmospherically challenged. Great dude, but if you’re a hair shorter than me, you get the short treatment. And he’s beyond successful. He has it made in the shade, has a beautiful wife, a sweet toddler, and a house some of us would die for. No picket fence due to their maintenance. Yet I’ve known him since we were high school age, so it’s been now around 20 years. He’s heard it all and once in a while a new short joke is tossed in the air too high so he can’t see it and sometimes it sticks, most though do not. He needs a ladder to get some of them down. Its just something we do. And since I am socially awkward, for whatever reason I do it more when we’re around other people. I dunno why. I’m weird I guess… - Can you digress your own digression? - He’s never told me to cut it out, probably because he has enough ammo on me to finish a war, yet when we do our thing other people think they can get in on it. And believe it or not it offends ME when people say short jokes about him, because they don’t know everything about the guy. They just say these things cause they see me doing it, and that’s the life lesson. And don’t get me wrong. If I said I loved the guy to death it would be an understatement. He’s been there for me through all aspects of my life and one couldn’t ask for a better friend. End of digression and on with the show…]

We were sitting around conversing and I was introduced to one of mike’s friends and her boyfriend. They seemed like cool people and due to my inebriation, or due to the fact that I was breathing and nervous to be around people (social anxiety is a problem) I threw a few jabs of one liners at mike and he countered with a few right crosses of his own. The norm, if you will.

But this girl’s boyfriend decided to get in on it.

Now, I am a seasoned veteran of jabs and insults from family to friends to enemies… giving, taking… I’ve heard or said it all. but this guy was a rookie’s rookie, in fact someone we’d never met, was drinking and eating the food and libations to be had, and in fact was insulting the party thrower… all of these a “no no” in social exchanges in our world.

So I decided to have a smoke with mike. He seemed to be overtly perturbed and in fact had a hit or two off my cig to calm down. We went out on the back deck and mike confided in me that he wanted to be done with this guy. Throw him out. He wanted to make him leave cause he felt like this guy was infringing on his party, and the fact that they never met made it worse. But he didn’t want to hurt his friendship with the girl.

But you don’t just walk in and break balls over the (guy you don’t know) party host’s broken bread.

I told mike not to worry, i didn’t know either of them so if I can insult them enough to leave it wouldn’t matter to his friendship to the girl, to the insulter, and since I was drunk there were no walls or limits to what I would say. Long and short of it, I had mike’s back, and this dragon was about to eat fire.

So I sat down. I had a sip of beer, liquor, whatever. I grabbed a clothespin and hung out my fourth sheet to the wind…. and I started in on this guy. Didn’t matter what he looked like or what he practiced, at the end of everything I said I called him “superjew”. Don’t know how or why it came out, but in my drunken thought, not racially motivated at all, (I’m no Mel Gibson), everything included “superjew”.

“hey hottie, wattya doin with this superjew?”

“hey Doug, hand superjew a beer.”

Light, but noticeable insults. And the insults went on and got a little worse…

“Merry xmas… Did the Romans kill jesus or was it superjew’s ancestors?”

About a half hour into it the rest of the partygoers were getting obviously uncomfortable… yet mike knew what I was doing in our corner of the party and understood it was getting ugly but let it happen.

“Superjew needs a ride home, maybe its time honey to do so ehh?”

And so they said “hmmm, well, maybe it IS time to go.” And they did.

The millisecond that screen door closed mike and I busted out laughing, high fived, and let the rest of the party in on the fun. It was one of those things that we can still laugh about today.

But as they left I sortof remember going outside to wave them off. And the guy looked at me and said “dude, I’m not even Jewish” and I retorted “well, when you come into a man’s house eating his food and converse with his friends, insulting him is not the way to have a good time. I’ve known him for years, you’ve known him for minutes. Now that you were on the receiving end of it you know how it feels… So remember that for the rest of your life… Superjew.”

A few months later it hit me. The life lesson boomeranged back into my face:

A friend of my cousin’s we call “B” comes around once in a while and he happens to be atmospherically challenged as well. B’s friends hit him as I would mike, and in fact, so would I. Not knowing him for 20 years, not having the friendship they had with him, etc etc… It turns out I was “superjewing” him.

I threw a jab or two in B’s direction one day on the patio, and he got out of his chair and said “listen asshole if you don’t stop it with me I’m going to kick your ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

-seriously? Dude are you serious???????

“y’all better hold me back!!!”

And they did.

He wasn’t kidding.

I started inwardly crying. I knew I hurt B to the point of no return and he couldn’t take it anymore. And that hurt me more than he’ll ever know. For him it was the last straw. For me, a life lesson that apparently I was better at teaching than understanding...

When I saw him next, I deeply apologized to him and explained to him that an incident happened not too long ago that made me realize where he was coming from. I was just some drunken jerk he knew and despised. Yet he was a friend - to me - and I thought I was having a good time with. But since we didn’t know each other too well, it wasn’t funny to him. I didn’t have the history he had with his own friends and so his friends could do or say that all they want, they’ve spent years building that friendship and they know they have each others’ backs in the long run. He allowed the apology to happen and I think eventually when he realized I knew what I did to hurt him and changed my actions and words, eventually he accepted it. He’s a great dude, and hilarious. I just wish I had the relationship he has with his friends, but I don’t. And that’s ok.

Since then when we come across each other, which is few and far between nowadays, he puts his hand out for a handshake, which I appreciate, again, more than he’ll ever know. I dare not insult him because that would tarnish the minute friendship we have now anyway. But he understands I “get it” and in fact when someone else makes fun of his height I defend him to the hilt. “You don’t know the guy man, chill out with the insults.”

I have yet to see superjew again, nor do I know if I have ever seen his then girlfriend again. But I thank him for the lesson he taught me to be a better man to people I am just acquaintances with and try to (how do you spell it?) r-e-s-p-e-c-t them a little more. To a socially inept person who only knows comedy and tries to make people laugh at their own faults, not feel bad about them… That’s a hard thing to do.

Plus with the current of sobriety running through my veins, there’s no excuse.

Damn it!

III

NAPPA CABBAGE

THIS WAS/IS CHAPTER 5 IN MY BOOK.

i dunno if i will ever finish the book or even write one at all... most lazy celebs just print out their blog or tweets and bind it and call it a book. and as much as i am no celebrity, i am lazy as hell. so its a thought in the right direction...

plus the nappa connection i had at the market Mr Lee just got bought out, so unfortunately those prices and his fun personality is gone now.

here goes...

CH 5… nappa cabbage

Few things on nappa cabbage. First if you never had nappa cabbage you aren’t in for a treat. But your live-in plants and animals better run for zee hills. Second if you have then you know what I mean… bring on the gas.

Its not all bad though. I happen to have stumbled upon it in my local market. The Asian man behind the counter tried to get me to buy kimchi for the longest time, but Mr. Lee at farmers market in Harrisburg always seems happy to see me. If you were studying him you’d know I am coming ‘cause you can see his face light up when he sees me. I like to sneak up on him and have him turn around in surprise. He knows I’m in for at least sixteen dollars a stop every time, and that’s a week’s worth of nappa cabbage and other various veggies every week or so.

He perks up with a smile “how you?”

-good you?

“mehhhhhhhhhhhh” (sounding very Jon Stewart-ish with a bit of Mr. Miyagi flair)

That’s it. That’s all I get out of him. He’s a nice older Asian man though. If you don’t get a basket then he doesn’t know you are there to seriously produce shop. I think he makes it by from every few people that may just buy a single grape. Me? I’m there to rape the stock of nappa cabbage and get a few essentials. Cukes, toms, pots, onions, and the occasional head of romaine, my staple before seeing nappa.

The guy has a son maybe or another younger version of him behind the counter too. Looks to be in his late 20s or early thirties. He always asks me what or how I prepare the cabbage… I just cut it and eat it raw. He said there’s different ways to prepare it. So that’s why he always asks me, yet if his girl (wife, sister, I dunno) is there they always say something in their eastern language and laugh. Like “Look at this imbecile eating this raw. If he only knew. Aaaahahahaha… ” Yet if he knew what I knew he’d sell it at a higher price cause at market I am getting it for over half the price at the local Wal-mart.

You wonder why you are reading this and that will come, it has nothing to do with the nappa cabbage. Well, ok, something to do with it.

What is nappa cabbage you ask? Well, I don’t really know. I tell people it’s the cross between a head of cabbage and a head of romaine lettuce. It tastes like a light cabbage and if you take it apart leaf by leaf you could use the leaves as a wrap around different meats or whatever. Ask Mr. Lee’s younger counterpart. Or they use it in the making of kimchi.

Kimchi is nappa cabbage in a bell jar with hot sauces and such possibly fermented or whatever. I don’t know how they make it. But if you like spicy hot food, kimchi is your friend. If you just did it for the taste, well, be forewarned. After trying it it took more than a few fork fulls and many hours, err, days to finish the small bell jar full. But its big to the Asian countries or so I am told. I don’t know what the word “kimchi” means. For all I know it could mean “imbecile”, cause you have to be one to try it without knowing what it is.   

After trying nappa cabbage though you may get hooked on it. So if you do try what I do. I like to have the top half in one sitting then the bottom half in another. With a healthy dosing of dressing, some sliced onions, and a jar of grocery style green olives. But be careful. Bottom of the barrel olives can end up having more than the pimento in them so if you are eating it chomp lightly. (sometimes there’s a seed in them, which proves painful to sensitive teeth).

Because you have to add a healthy dosing of dressing I have gone from the normal gazebo room dressing to the balsamic vinaigrette gazebo room, to finally the lite version of the original. {My grandma used to make this dressing that if she could bottle it she’d be the next [insert old person with awesome product here], yet if you stood next to her, used the same ingredients, used the same style of tossing the salad, etc etc, yours would taste like shit and hers would be the winner. I swear it was the blood sweat and tears she put into every meal. Her salad tops all in the best of everything. Put it this way… when, at thanksgiving, you could eat turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie, throw in some angel food cake and cranberries for good measure, after you’ve unbuttoned your pants to allow more room, and then have a second helping of everything, then go pass out, I’d show up with a plate and a fork and mound up all the salad to top it off. To hell with dessert. Salad, especially hers, was my favorite.}

Thinking of that salad just makes me wipe off the keyboard now from drooling and daydreaming… where was i? oh yeah… counting your money for buying this atrocity.

Gazebo room, the reason you are reading this chapter is onefold. But I’ll give you two. Folding halves things so here goes… One. The first gazebo room is the closest thing to grams dressing yet she used something like oil vinegar and spices, but it was her own concoction. Two. Read the food label recently on your salad dressings? The one I have is for gazebo room lite. (sp) First I see amount per serving… calories, 40. not bad. I like this stuff so it shouldn’t be so bad. A few squeezes on my salad and I’m good to go. 30 of those calories are from fat though so hey, you’re eating salad. How bad could a few fat calories be? And where do they find the next 10 calories. Or is that supposed to be added together so it’s a total of 70 calories per serving??? I have no idea, but again that’s not the point. There’s 4 grams of fat, then below it it says saturated fat .5g. below that once again it says trans fat 0g. so is it 4.5 grams of fat or what else is the 3.5 g of regular not saturated or trans fat doing? Its no wonder we have no idea how to read these labels. It just shows us numbers that most of us don’t read. {Ask a smoker if he ever cared what warnings on packs said. As Mr. Hicks suggested something to the effect of “I just get the ones that say ‘may cause breast cancer and problems in the pregnancy’… I’m a man! Aaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha” knowing he died of lung cancer, that bit isn’t one of my favorites.} Pack into your serving size 90 mg of sodium and you think you have a nice healthy snack right?

Look again.

Under the big words of nutrition facts guess what? The serving size is a tablespoon. Yup. That entire paragraph above couldn’t fit in a tablespoon. Ever have a tablespoon of cough medicine? Me neither. Take a swig.

A f*cking tablespoon.

How am I supposed to enjoy a half a head of nappa cabbage with a tablespoon of dressing on it??? You know what you say when you see a person measuring out a tablespoon of dressing on it? “There’s an imbecile! I bet he likes kimchi!”

Moral? Next time you are at the store, try some nappa cabbage, and 32 servings of gazebo room lite, err, one bottle. You’ll thank me later, but your family may hate me for it.  

TV SUCKS

this one's an old old one, in fact its a commentary that may not have made the rounds yet. going through my documents here at work allowed me to find some old gems. i know its old though because i commented about nascar in it, so it was back before big orange made his second cup win. nowadays i am like that prodigy BRAINMAN dude. you can say a number and i can tell you the name of the driver of that number. sad, but true and a newly appreciated fan. enjoy:

TV SUCKS.

When you come down to it there’s nothing on TV anymore. Since the dawn of on-demand, I think channels are just throwing out stuff for you to think is more interesting than some reality TV show. Are all TV shows now reality based or reality driven? Ever since Cosby and Seinfeld went off the air, producers can’t make a good sitcom to save their lives. I remember when the news was reality enough!

The Real World showed people that you could film just about anything that someone else is doing and they could make a buck off of it.

And last night a friend of mine called and said on-demand on the history channel there is a show called “The History of Bricks”. Are you kidding me? I’d rather watch the History of Air than that show. He later concluded with “ooooh, ‘The History of Paint’ is on demand!” We laughed about it but truthfully TV is pathetic.

The most exciting thing on TV now is of course sports. Football, baseball, the US open, even golf… I don’t even follow sports but if you were to ask me who was in the Chase for the Nextel Cup (nothing but advertising going around in circles, only split up by commercials themselves), or even which team had actually done well enough to make it to the World Series this year I would have a somewhat educated answer from not watching any other programming.

If you say the names Chris Ferguson, Doyle Brunson, or Annie Duke, most people may not know who you mean. And its sad that I know who they are, know what they look like, and know how many World Series of Poker bracelets they each have…

I’m no sports junkie by any means, but when NOTHING else is on, I tend to find something that is halfway interesting, or something to fall asleep to until a good show comes on. The way things are going you could call me Rip Van Winkle, although in 2030 I bet there will still be nothing else on TV, because the current programmers will still be alive.

TV SUCKS.

sometimes its the little things...

can you hear the slide trombones? that crazy music you associate with new orleans or whatever they do on bourbon street... i feel charged, energized and ready for this... literally just hunched over my laptop freezing... lemme turn off my fan...

it feels good when you genuinely help someone. its better when you have someone to tell it to.

so "helloooooooo blogosphere..."

i got a call today and instead of being a dick i decided to give this guy a "hey they really do care" experience from revenue. one guy today had a good experience with his government and i was his contact. i feel good about it so here goes...

he called and i try and say my department as fast as possible because, well, i already know this call isn't for me. they usually last for about 30 seconds while i pass this guy along to the next schmuck who should have dealt with him in the first place. and the way i answer it is as if you are sitting on the side of the road while a car is speeding towards you and what you hear is the engine from far away, then becoming right in front of you, then have the roar of the engine trail off as the car goes by...

"mmmmMMMMMM-NEERLLLllllllllllll......." ... hear it?

"mmmmmmmudda-fuls" - aka "motor fuels"... call me, go for it. you'll hear me say mudda-fuls so fast you have to say WHAT?

i hear this:

"huh? whas this? who?"

and i say it again but slower yet still with a racecar engine passing in front of me cadence...

"mmmmmmmMMMMOTOR FUEllllllllllsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss..............................."

"oh alriiit keewl... now listen here buddy i know you aint the dude i need to talk to but i need some help."
(here we go again)...
-don't we all sir? what can't i help you with? (a standard i've used for years and only one person in my lifetime of saying it has called me out on it. he wasn't the one.)
"i need to know how much a toll is on the walt whitman bridge coming from delaware and into phili..."
-um, you need penndot or...?
"nah the walt whitman bridge... i got a truck and i know the toll used to be 35 bucks but i am not sure if it went up. i am sending a driver thru there and i need to know so i can send him with the right amount of money. and all you people are interconnected so i figure if you can't help me someone there will, yet nobody knows shit it seems... what can ya do me for?"

{this sparks my interest... i like to do things for people that noone can seem to figure out... its like a mensa puzzle that seems impossible but from a tenth of a degree of different perspective, one can see the light of the end game... knowing the genius levels of people i work with, i decide right then and there if it takes all day i'd figure it out for him, especially cause noone here could do it nor has knowledge of who to call for it... can ya hear the mission impossible theme? i can't. currently for whatever reason i have the people's court running through my head. duh-nit-nit... }

-it seems you've dealt with my coworkers before... well, let's see here. you need a toll amount for a 5 axle truck to make it past the walt whitman bridge from delaware to pa... hmmmm have you tried looking it up online?
"i ain't no good with the puter literacy thing man (giggles) i just need this info..."
-well sir, google's your friend. no need to be intimidated, just ask it what you want and it'll show up there. hold tight...

so i typed in "toll from de to pa on walt whitman bridge with a 5 axle truck"

first link...

"so you ever hear of this?"
-nah, i deal with trucks that haul fuel in PA only... rolling bombs if you will.
"yeah i like to steer clear of them"
-hmmm DRPA is the site... (literally here for the blog readers:
http://www.drpa.org/commtrav/bridge_fares.html)
"crosses over the delaware river, so DRPA would be right... you see anything for walt whitman bridge?"
-37.50
"that fast huh? how do i know you aren't just sayin that?"
-because i don't really need to help you. this has nothing to do with my job, you just issued a challenge and i completed it.
"you got a number?"
-2, one with an extension....
"woah i wasn't expecting this...do they know about you where you work?"
-nope, i'm the weird quiet guy that everybody has at their job... i just don't deal with the riffraff of the workplace. i come in, do my thing, and leave. no talk no gossip, just work.
"i gotcha buddy, i oughta come there and buy you a beer."
-as much as i'd love that, you're 3 years and 11 days too late.
"i didn't say i could have one with ya buddy... been since 93 for me. keep it up, it aint for nobody else but yourself. and you seem like a good dude so that its worth it. some of these guys are straight pigslop, but you went above and beyond today and i wanna say thanks. keep on keepin on brotha..."
-you're welcome... habbagoodn' sir...
"huh?"
-'have-a-good-one' sir...

if he only knew the hell i go through with my head every day... but this one instance i had a rush of fun run through my body and it only lasts for 5-10 seconds, but it feels good. i didnt mind customer service at other places because one in 100,000 calls would be the one that kept you going, it was finding that diamond that made the rest of the rough calls worth it.

once i saved a woman 300 bucks of errant calls on her cell made by her daughter to the same number noless but she seemed busy and it was all on the same day and she was making cookies for her mother's funeral. i figured att had enough money, i'll "save" this one. and i am sure not just that she was a happy caller, but she spent that 300 many times over to att for what i did. and guess what? from asking her a little about what she was doing and telling her how much i love cookies at the time, less than a week later i got a shoebox at the house, and it was full of oatmeal cookies with a thank you note in it. my mother wasn't exactly excited, but i knew what was up... she got some weight lifted from her shoulders for that horrible day of hers, and i got an unexpected gift of thanks... i didn't ask for it, but there they were.

today i felt like it was time to pay it forward, so i did. and he was happy. and that made me happy, if even for a few seconds.

sometimes in life its the little things that make the big things seem easier to handle and in alot of ways its the little things that help you through the big ones.

III

66

utter silence.

deafening silence.

spend a minute with yourself and nothing else. what do you end up hearing?

for me i have my air purifier running, my ears ringing, and dishwasher doing a job i loved doing at wendy's, but that was 20 yrs ago. apparently i got old.

saturdays are for the nationwide races and the gervais series on science channel called an idiot abroad.

last weekend karl pilkington was on route 66 and just roadtripping the entire road. he made stops here and there as we all would. and ricky and steve have a few hijinks which makes the series what it is. but karl is an odd fellow. well, the series is called an idiot abroad after all... he has a funny way of looking at things, unlike most, yet what he has to say generally makes sense in the grand scheme of things. it makes you realize karl is no idiot.

but as he drove on route 66 he made a fun observation about the who's "pinball wizard" song. he said in his english drawl... "well, he's just standing there hitting buttons. he's deaf dumb and blind. he has no idea what he is doing... he is just standing there and hitting buttons and he's amazing yes, but still he's just standing there in the dark silence of life hitting buttons..."

its amazing where a minute of silence or a few miles on route 66 will allow your mind to wander.


but try it now. put the blog down for a minute. close your eyes. just sit there in silence and see what happens.


didja do it? where'd your mind take you? mine kinda went where it always goes. i think about dying. i think about how great life will be when its all over. to be just finished with everything you ever did and not have to worry about anything in the long run. to just say goodnight and all the weight of everything lifts off your shoulders and your heart just stops. the last lub you'll ever feel, the last dub you'll ever hear. and there's peace.


you know how you say to people "boy, the undertaker and makeup person did a great job on the body and they just looked at peace." well, in my mind when you go, that's all thats left. no work, no chores no gas prices no president bullshit, just peace.


its kinda how you feel when you take a nice hit of unseasonably good marijuana. to feel comfortably numb. i'm sure the boys in floyd were talking about other drugs, but to me marijuana is the ultimate in comfortably numbness. opiates don't do it for me and i think my mind is not good for the whole psychadelic experience, peyote, etc. but a good toke? forgettit. its in those moments, albeit few and far between, that i don't think about dying.


i can't wait for it. its now been a few blog entries about dying, maybe the next one will be more about the same old shit to keep you entertained and wanting more. i can do that too, but not hurting anyone nor yourself anymore is such a thrill to me that i can't wait to die. if they brought back a suicide machine such as dr kevorkian (really? can ya spell it worse than that?) had made crudely representing what they use in prisons across the country, i'd save as long as it took to get one and the second it arrived in the mail it'd be over for me.


in full dead silence, i'd clean my supple wrist with alcohol (can't get an infection minutes before falling asleep this way), pierce the vein with the needle and tape it down, and administer the device per instructions that kevorkian would have included in the package.


once you hit that button, whether you're deaf dumb or blind, the rush of finality would come over you and it would just slowly go through the tubes and inside your body... flowing through the veins to the heart then through to your lungs, back to the heart and up in to the brain where you'd just about pass out. and in that last second of passing out, all will be right with the world. it would have to be.


and then you're done.. at peace. and all i could hope for is a good makeup artist. although with this face, i'd request not just a closed casket, but cremation. i'd like to be cremated because that's the ultimate goodnight to your vessel you own. i don't wanna come back as myself ever again. this life is hard and i hate it. once cremated i wanna be thrown down a sewer grate. passed through the waterway system, caught in a filter, and end up in the landfill where i could be forgotten about forever.


its the ultimate tilt to such a powerful game of life that a reset wouldn't ever do.

THE RUMBLER

sitting here watching the DVR... sheng wang was on comedy central and his rendition of waving at an automated paper towel machine reminded me of a few things... one... the new air dryers at aroogas they have now are like jet engines blowing air onto your hands at mach 3, saying goodbye to any water and scabs you may have from, say, playing with your pussy... mine bites.

another thing he talked about was number two-ing in a toilet with no water in it... his punchline was "sorry, i was dropping off the kids at the skatepark."

as i do with most comics i think about why that is funny in my own life... what i thought about and never wrote/told you about was the day of a poker tournament i went to with my friend mike on the west shore. it was held at a seriously smokey establishment, (doubled up on allergy meds) so fake-gambling to wipe away your play chip dreams is welcomed in this dreary, blue hued environment. i haven't gone back there since... for two reasons. one the smoke... and two...

it was the day of the pivotal world cup match with the vuvuzelas blaring and the USA were playing Ghana to move on to the next round. now the US population in full could care less about futbol unless their team is in it, check your local professional soccer club fans' attendance and you'll probably find its the same three guys every game. but this is the world cup. landon donovan looked to be the hero of the team and move them forward, but in fact Ghana pulled out the win 2-1.

we were dealt a few hands and i dunno if it was the smoke or the anticipation of the aforementioned game, but in just about a half hour i was out. so i had to wait for my friend mike to finish his game so we could leave.

now the subject becomes apparent...

my stomach is not the strongest in the world. nexium rules my diet and daily life, and i have had a few endoscopies to check myself out from time to time. (THANKS insurance company policies for going to school for 20 years to become a gastrointestinal surgeon so you could know better than my DOCTOR to prescribe medication for me.)

i sat in a taller seat at the back bar and while keeping my eye on poker, i watched the futbol game. then it happened. the rumbler. sounding like the cross between a drumroll and the horn starting the kentucky derby, my abdomen decided NOW was the time to check out the establishment's rest areas.

i like the idea of a rest room. i take more rests than i am active. but there was no resting to be had in the restroom this afternoon. my belly swished and gurgled with each step walking towards the restroom and when i walked in i wished i had been in a highway gas station restroom. i mean this place was designed nicely with woodwork and such, but i thought the moss on the ground could use a mow.

in a new/old restroom with your ass holding tight for dear life (think jeff daniels in 'dumb and dumber', you know the scene...) you have to scan the room and make sure you're not only in a men's room (urinal, check!) but also who may be occupying the room with you. luckily i was alone, sort of. the mossy floor were like friends to me knowing i was in a SITUATION they directed me via the already trampled path to the single stall.

i can't tell you what i ate the night before but the last time this bathroom was inspected, the media knew monica's name before bill clinton did. i crack the door and realize the only bathroom in this time of utter need had been backed up and toilet papered in to the point that hey, why not pile on right? at this point it all fits in one shovel scoop right?

not to get gory on the matter, but if the bowl of the toilet was say, a mcdonald's sundae, i added the caramel and nuts to the top of the mountain of chocolate ice cream with the TP as a cherry on top.

i thanked the moss for its help, washed my hands (with the BAR of soap, as if that did anything at all) and walked out nonchalantly like nothing happened... i knew the second mike's last chip went in to the pot i was hoping for him to lose... then to leave faster i'd carry him out in his chair if i had to as if he was the groom at a jewish wedding...  it was that serious.

the problem with that is this... mike's not a bad poker player.

so his game went on and on and on and on and on and on and finally i noticed one of the poker players went in to use the bathroom. i can keep a poker face when i am playing the game, but out of it i am like a four year old who just heard someone fart.. .i can't help myself. inside i am 12 anyway, so to hold a straight face when this guy came out of there was possibly the hardest, most hilarious thing i had to do in my life.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" he screamed... "THE TOILET IS BACKED UP AND SOMEONE TOOK A DEUCE ON TOP OF THE BACKUP AND IT'S SO BAD I HAD TO THROW UP IN THE SINK!"

oh crap. literally... now everyone knows there's a problem with the bathroom that needed inspected since the 1990s... mike had better start losing fast...

did you ever laugh so hard that you couldn't stop yet not move your face and act normal? ITS IMPOSSIBLE. i dare you to try it while someone is tickling you to laugh your ass off yet not move a muscle. no smiling... NO SMILING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

out loud i said loud enough for others to hear me... "damn, who would do that??? that's disgusting man... mike, wrap it up, we oughtta go if there's people who would do that here..."  that either said to everyone else 'whoever smelt it dealt it' or 'that guy couldn't have done it.' i was hoping for the latter.

back to futbol, punching myself in the face so as not to smile in the least, yet working now on holding on to my coccyx from meeting my now fallen ass on the ground from silently laughing, the hope continued. a few crappy kicks later, the match came to a close and disappointed as i was, i was still in that darned blue hued room...

mike had made it to the final 3, one of his best finishes ever, and he finally said "all-in" with a king-ten of diamonds... luckily he missed his flush so i gathered my ass and coccyx and we were out of there... it wasn't 'till i was on trindle road, far away from the ears of the other patrons of the bar, till i told mike of my poor manners... "that was YOU???"

but i haven't openly laughed my ass off so hard since...

III

...AND I LIKE TO DO DRAWRINGS...

when i was a kid we had a toy called "simon". it was a small round plastic game with lights and buttons you pressed in a memory type of game. the computer inside the unit would figure out a pattern and one by one it would build a large undulating consecutive pattern that you would have to repeat as simon gave you another square to hit... its ridiculous to figure out how to explain it here, but on my ipod it is available as a free game.

well

i downloaded it and found out on the ipod that yes, its the same game and is just as hard... and yet they found a way to make it harder, due to the addition of 2 new colors... now six buttons instead of four.

yes its addicting and to master it you have to have every brain cell synced to the game. so if you have a few missing over the course of your life, you may find this to be as difficult as the original... yet much more portable to play.

III

i need smaller feet...

or a bigger mouth...

i made a woman cry today.

cry.

hard.

i didn't mean it the way she took it. i was saving a seat for someone who could have used it more than i could, and this woman wanted to sit with me as well. but there was only four chairs. the first two were taken as she was sitting there, so i was to sit next to her leaving one chair and i thought differently... the last two were meant for two who needed the seating arrangement more than i did. a mother and her child.

the woman kept saying to me "come sit here" and i waited in the corner for things to settle and i told her to hang on as the people were figuring out where to sit. she was as cheerful as one could want her to be. she's sweet as sugar on a sour day, and i eventually told her to knock it off and go get some food at the buffet. and her cheer turned to scorn as she cried and told me "all i ever try to do is be nice to you" and she ran out, telling me to help her companion get a ride home.

so i ran after her. i wanted to explain myself to her, telling her i loved her and there was a reason i didn't want to sit there, but she got in her car and sped off.

i shot her an email of apology due to her not being home after the buffet, but now all i want to do is crawl into a six foot hole so that she is no longer bothered with me anymore.

i need smaller feet.
III

REINCARNATION... A DEATH WISH

the only other thing on this earth that thinks about dying as much as i do would probably be a funeral home director or coroner. yes its their job, but its also something that few people actually look forward to. the most disappointed i have ever been in my life is at the doctor's office when he said it WASN'T cancer. i don't have a gun nor do i have the balls to fall to my fate from the harvey taylor bridge... i write DNR on all of my forms whenever i go under at the hospital just in case they give me an extra CC of the michael jackson miracle drug to fall asleep with. yet, here i am... so for the most part i have to ride this thing called life out as sinfully slow as it seems to be taking.
i have it figured out that if i were to commit suicide i'd probably do it with a shotgun in the bathroom. basically if you wanna swallow lead you wanna go out in style. and why not give your blood a little trip to the tile wall so when it falls to the ground smeared over the tile it just gives a beautiful representation of what you were (even jackson pollack couldn't recreate what would be on the walls...)... and if you leave the bathtub stopper out of the drain the mess isn't so bad for that poor bastard who has to clean up after you. a lotta bleach and a spray nozzle makes for an easy cleanup after a gruesome scene.

"dammit drew you always miss the white matter!"

yet what's next? i was trying to sleep over the weekend and i thought about where my karma would end up... what happens to your karma when its over?

i think that if we are the ultimate on this earth then whatever you did to damage it is what you become after its all over. so if you shit on the earth without care or abandon, you become whatever you damaged to show you how you impacted it...

tree loggers become saplings next in line
crabbers become crab
slaughterhouses become dung beetles... not even the cows, but the things that dispose of its waste.

if you ever ask people what they'd like to come back as later after this trip is done they'll say some apex predator like a great white shark or a lion or a hawk or eagle. nobody says a blade of grass. nobody says moss that grow on the tree trunks... or a dead tree grub or pond scum... a termite. but if you think of it for a few seconds, as many things on this earth that dies and is born on a daily basis, every bacteria your lysol kills has to come back as something else... and not that 1% of bacteria that the lysol doesn't kill either...

so if this is your destiny and in fact you won't go to some place in the clouds with harps and gold and 72 virgins (whom need a ton of experience to be any good, mind you... i know from a very few experiences that i am no good at it either) don't you think you'd think twice when treating the earth so badly?

from my own thought and what i have seen on the tele, i'd say that ed begley, jr. may just be the only person with a well-known name whom has nothing to worry about.

III

ps... what will i probably come back as? what i am now, but the literal form: an asshole douche.

but to be literal, that "shark or eagle" type of thought... i'd like to come back as a cannabis plant. its the only thing in this world that makes me stop thinking about dying if even for a few hours and allows me to enjoy life and all its wonders. educate yourself, legalize, and inhale.

"Everything in life is a little bit more manageable with a little "f*ck it" in your system..." -- paraphrased concept of katt williams.

YOU KNOW WHAT 7:22 MEANS?

SO I'M PUTTING ICE IN MY GLASS JUST NOW AND GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS?
NO REALLY I BET THE TITLE MEANS NOTHING TO YOU AND ALL YOU WANT TO KNOW IS WHAT TIME I WAS PUTTING ICE INTO MY GLASS... LEMME TELL YA... ITS A WINNING HAND.

NOW ITS 7:27P AND THE MOMENT HAS PASSED BUT I HAVE TO REWIND MY DAY A BIT FOR YA ALLLLL THE WAY BACK TO 12:00:01AM TODAY, 2/7/12. AND YET JUST NOW IT HIT ME THAT 7:27 IS AN EVEN BETTER HAND, BUT I KEEP MY POKER FACE SO YOU CAN'T READ MY, CAN'T READ MY...

I AM ASLEEP JUST FINE LAST NIGHT WITH THE RIGHT COMBO OF MUSCLE RELAXERS, LUNESTA, AND BENADRYL...  MY ALARM GOES OFF AT MIDNIGHT. IT BEEPS ONCE BUT BOTHERS ME ENOUGH TO AT LEAST GET UP AND DRAIN MY BLADDER. I QUICKLY FELL BACK ASLEEP.

WHEN I WOKE UP THIS MORNING FROM A MEOW ABOUT 2 MINUTES BEFORE THE 5:55 ALARM GOES OFF (HOW DOES HE KNOW?) I CHECKED MY IPOD. IT WAS A REMINDER TO CHECK MY CALENDAR AND IT WAS THEN THAT I REALIZED TODAY WAS FEBRUARY 7TH, THE 5TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY UNCLE JOE MURPHY'S DEATH. A ROUGH ONE TO THINK ABOUT, AS WE ALL LOVED JOE. AND HE WAS TAKEN FROM US A LITTLE TOO SOON. DIABETES HAS CLAIMED HIM AND PATRICE O'NEAL LATE LAST YEAR, SO MY THOUGHTS OF LOW BLOOD SUGAR PISSES ME OFF.

I SHOT AN EMAIL OF REMBRANCE TO RERE, KIWI, AND SEAN AND THEY RESPONDED WITH GREAT THANKS AND SWEETNESS. I RECALLED THAT 2-7 ISN'T THE FUNNEST HAND IN POKER, IN FACT ITS THE WORST, BUT SOMETIMES EVEN THE 2-7 IS GOOD ENOUGH TO BEAT ACES...

WHEN I RETURNED HOME FROM WORK, I TURNED ON THE TV. FLIPPIN THRU THE GUIDE, I SAW E:60 WAS ON ESPN. LIKING RACHEL NICHOLS, I HIT THE RECORD BUTTON NOT KNOWING WHAT WAS ON AT ALL, AND IN FACT IT WAS A BEST OF EPISODE SO I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT... I WENT OUT TO GRAB SOME PEPSI TO FULFILL A RITE AID COUPON DEAL AND ENDED UP GETTING THEM FOR FREE. I GOT HOME AND HIT PLAY... I GET SOME ICE IN MY GLASS, IT'S 7:22.

I HIT PLAY.

THEY ARE SHOWING HIGHLIGHTS OF DAN MARINO AND MONTANA, FLASHES OF 3 FINGERS WITH SUPER BOWL RINGS ON THE FINGERS. KYLE BRADY, TONY DORSETT, RICKY WATTERS... GREGG MACE IS ANNOUNCING... JON RITCHIE, JIM KELLY, KERRY COLLINS, BIG BEN... TICKETS TO HERSHEY FLASH ON THE SCREEN...

THATS RIGHT

ITS THE PROFILE OF THE BIG 33 FROM E:60... WHY IS THIS SIGNIFICANT ON A DAY LIKE TODAY WHEN ALL WE REMEMBER IS LOSING A DAD, UNCLE, BROTHER, AND FRIEND? ESPN MUST HAVE KNOWN OUR FAMILY WAS IN A FUNK.

JOE AND RERE'S DAUGHTER, MAGDALENA, WAS PART OF THEIR BUDDY PROGRAM WHEN THIS ORIGINALLY AIRED AND THEY NOT JUST SHOWED HER ON THE BACKGROUND, THEY SHOWED HER FACE AND FOCUSED ON HER SITTING ACROSS FROM THE OHIO QB... MILK MUSTACHE AND PIG TAILS AND THAT BEAUTIFUL SMILE THAT IS ALL HER OWN. "LINA" AS WE CALL HER, WAS IN HER GLORY IF EVEN FOR A SPLIT SECOND, BUT IT WAS AS IF ESPN WANTED ME TO REMEMBER JOE WITH HAPPY THOUGHTS RATHER THAN MISSING HIM.


HERE, TAKE A GANDER... SHE'S AT 3:32: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTw-ELqlQc8

WHY IS 7:22 AND 7:27 SIGNIFICANT?

BECAUSE WHEN GETTING THAT ON THE FLOP OF A TEXAS HOLD'EM HAND OF POKER TURNS A ROUGH HAND OF 2-7 INTO AN AWESOME HAND OF A FULL HOUSE, BEATING A PAIR OF BULLETS (ACES) ANY DAY OF THE WEEK.

I LOVE YA JOE AND WILL MISS YOU UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, HOPEFULLY AT THE TAIL END OF MY LIFETIME. AND AT THAT TIME I HOPE I AM HOLDING A BAD HAND, 'CAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT THE FLOP WILL BRING.

III

PS... QUICK EDIT AT 9:45PM... AS IF THINGS COULDN'T BE A REMINDER BEYOND MY IPOD ALARM, JEOPARDY TODAY (I LET THE DVR BUILD SO I DONT HAVE TO WATCH COMMERCIALS...) ASKS THIS FOR ITS FINAL:

CAT: MEDICAL DISCOVERIES
ANSWER: NICOLAS PAULESCU ISOLATED A SUBSTANCE HE CALLED PANCREIN, NOW KNOWN AS THIS... (HINT... ITS USED BY DIABETICS)

I KID YOU NOT.

THE CINEMA

I DON'T GO TO THE MOVIES MUCH. I HATE PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY ONES I DON'T KNOW. I FIND PEOPLE TO BE REPUGNANT, SMELLY AND CREEPY. DON'T BELIEVE ME? CHECK THE NEWS.

SO HERE AND THERE I WATCH A MOVIE AT HOME AND THIS PAST WEEKEND I SAW A PAIR OF GREAT MOVIES AND I GUESS I STARTED WITH THE WRONG ONE BECAUSE I CAN'T SEEM TO FORGET THE SECOND. SO I GUESS HERE'S MY MOVIE REVIEW OF THE LAST 2 MOVIES I HAVE SEEN...

MONEYBALL... HEARD IT WAS GOOD AND IF JONAH HILL, WHOM IS A GENERALLY SUPERBAD ACTOR, NOW HAS A NOMINATION OF AN OSCAR ITS WORTH SEEING HIS PERFORMANCE WHILST NOT WEARING A RICHARD PRYOR T-SHIRT. BRAD PITT IS WELL, HE'S BRAD PITT. HE'S ACCOMPLISHED, WELL EXPERIENCED, AND THE LADIES THINK HE'S EASY ON THE EYES. HE PLAYS A GUY NAMED BILLY BEANE AND IS I GUESS ONE OF THE SCOUTS FOR A POOR BASEBALL TEAM. POOR MEANING THEY ONLY HAVE SO MUCH MONEY TO PUT INTO THE POOL TO PAY THE PLAYERS THEY CAN GET... ITS A FEEL GOOD MOVIE BUT THE STANDOUT WAS BEANE'S DAUGHTER'S SONG. I FORGET IT RIGHT NOW BUT I COULD TELL IT WAS NOT UNLIKE RUMOR WILLIS' PERFORMANCE ON THE STERN SHOW... RUMOR'S SONG WAS ENTITLED "NOTICE ME" AND THE REFRAIN PLEADED WITH HER PARENTS TO NOTICE HER. HER PARENTS  = BRUCE WILLIS AND THE NEWLY RECOGNIZED DRUG ADDICT DEMI MOORE.

THE MOVIE FOLLOWS BEANE'S NEED TO CONSTRUCT A RAGTAG TEAM UNDER THE SALARY CAP AND JONAH HILL'S CHARACTER IS THE GURU BEHIND PICKING THE PLAYERS OUT. SOME KIND OF MATHEMATICAL EQUATION BY AN AUTHOR BILL SOMEONE... TURNS OUT TO WORK OUT WELL AND LONG STORY SHORT WITHOUT GIVING AWAY THE MOVIE, ITS A GOOD MOVIE. I RECOMMEND IT AND HEY, IF YER A DUDE BY YOURSELF, BRING A TISSUE IF YOU GET EMOTIONAL AT GOOD MOVIES. PERSONALLY I AM KNOWN TO BE LIKE MY MOTHER AND CRY AT COKE COMMERCIALS, SO THE HAPPY TEARS CAME AND WENT... ... ...

NEXT CAME A MOVIE CALLED THE MESSENGER. YEPPERS... WE WENT FROM A FEEL GOOD HAPPY LIGHT MOVIE TO A ROUGH SAD AND SERIOUSLY DEEP HORRID DRAMA. IT FOLLOWS 2 SOLDIERS WHOSE TASK IT IS TO TELL THE FAMILIES OF WAR CASUALTIES ON THE BATTLEFIELD. IF YOUR SON OR DAUGHTER DIED IN THE WAR, YOU GOT A KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR BY ONE OF THESE TYPE OF GUYS AND MAN, DID THIS MOVIE HIT A DIFFERENT SPOT THAN MONEYBALL. WOODY HARRELSON PLAYS THE VETERAN OF DOING THIS TYPE OF WORK SHOWING THE ROPES TO THE YOUNGER SOLDIER WHO IS A FEW MONTHS AWAY FROM GETTING OUT.  EVERY TIME YOU HEAR THAT BEEPER GO OFF IN THE MOVIE WHICH SIGNALS HIS NEED TO BE READY FOR THE NEXT FAMILY, YOU KNOW YOU MAY AS WELL FORGET ABOUT FEELING HAPPY FOR THE NEXT 10 MINUTES. BUT AGAIN WITHOUT GIVING AWAY THE MOVIE BECAUSE IT TAKES AN INTERESTING STORYLINE, ITS TRULY A HEAAAVY MOVIE.

IT MAKES ME THINK ABOUT PEOPLE I KNOW IN MY FAMILY THAT WERE IN THE MILITARY AND HOW IT WOULD BE TO TRY AND REACT KINDLY TO THESE SOLDIERS WITH A DIFFICULT JOB ANYWAY... ONE OF THE SCENES OF THE MOVIE WAS FAIRLY POWERFUL I WILL HAVE TO MEMORABLY TELL YOU ABOUT NOW. THE MOVIE IS FROM 2009 SO I DON'T THINK I AM GIVING ANYTHING AWAY... STEVE BUSCHEMI PLAYS A FATHER WHO LOST HIS SON IN THE WAR AND HE TREATS THE TWO SOLDIERS PRETTY BADLY, DOWN TO SCREAMING AND SPITTING THE TWO MEN IN THE FACE UPON HEARING THE NEWS. LATER IN THE MOVIE HE RETURNS TO THE SOLDIERS' HOMES TO APOLOGIZE FOR HIS ACTIONS AND ASKS FOR FORGIVENESS. THE YOUNGER SOLDIER LOOKS HIM IN THE EYE AND SAYS "SIR, THERE'S NOTHING TO FORGIVE..." ACKNOWLEDGING WITH AN OUTSTRETCHED HAND THAT NOONE KNOWS HOW THEY'D REACT TO HEARING THEY JUST LOST THEIR SON OR DAUGHTER.

ALL IN ALL GREAT FLICKS, I RECOMMEND BOTH, JUST WATCH THE MESSENGER FIRST. BEST TO FEEL SHITTY FOR 2 HOURS THEN FEEL GOOD WITH MONEYBALL FOR 2 MORE... THE OTHER WAY AROUND MAY MAKE YOU CRY IN YOUR BED TALKING YOURSELF OUT OF DIRE PERSONAL INJURY FOR AN HOUR BEFORE FALLING ASLEEP. 

NOT THAT I KNOW ANYONE THAT WOULD DO THAT.

III

35 IS A CITAG

THIS IS NOT PRETTY NOR FOR THE FAINT OF HEART… YOU’VE BEEN FOREWARNED….

IS IT “FAINT” OF HEART OR “FATE” OF HEART… ITS GOTTA BE FAINT OF HEART, BUT THAT STILL DOESN’T LOOK RIGHT. . . ANYWAY, HAVE A BUCKET NEARBY IF YOU ARE ABOUT TO HAVE AN “INVOLUNTARY PROTEIN SPILL” … (CARLIN REFERRED TO THIS EUPHAMISM FOR VOMITTING…)

IF YOU HAVE TEXTED ANYTHING WITH PREDICTIVE TEXT IN THE LAST 10 YEARS (THE NON-BLACKBERRY FOLK UNDERSTAND THIS) YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BY CITAG… BASICALLY IT’S A BIOTCH.

FIRST OFF YOU YOUNGER FOLK SHOULD UNDERSTAND… 35 INCLUDES WORDS LIKE “METAMUCIL”, “TUCKS”, “LIDOCAINE”, AND “DROP YOUR PANTS”.

THERE’S A REASON PEOPLE DIED IN ANCIENT TIMES AT 34. BECAUSE AT 35 IT ALL GOES DOWNHILL. ONE THING YOU WILL FIND OUT IS WHEN YOU GET TO THE DOC WHO TELLS YOU TO DROP YOUR SHORTS, THEY HAVE HYDRAULIC EXAMINING TABLES, AND ONLY ONE END IS HYDRAULIC.  YOU KNEEL DOWN AND BEND OVER, JEANS AND ALL AT THE CREASE IN YOUR KNEES, AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT YOU BECOME LIGHTHEADED FROM BEING UPSIDE DOWN. THEN YOU FIND OUT UNBEKNOWNST TO YOURSELF PREVIOUS, THAT THERE’S A SIDESHOW GOING ON BEHIND YOU. NOT JUST THE DOC BUT ALSO HELPERS ARE THERE SO THAT THE MOST HUMILIATING POSITION YOU COULD FIND YOURSELF IN ARE BEING OBSERVED BY 4 EYES, NOT JUST 2. (I’M JUST HAPPY THAT DAUPHIN COUNTY PRISON DIDN’T HAVE ONE OF THESE TABLES ON Q-BLOCK…) AND “WITH A NAME LIKE SMUCKERS”, THE ONE WITH THAT EXTRA SET OF EYES PEERING THROUGH YOU LATER ASKS WHO IN THE FAMILY YOU ARE RELATED TO… I SIMPLY WANNA ANSWER “COULDN’T YA TELL FROM THE BRAND ON MY ARSE? DID THE PIMPLES LINE UP? COULD YA CONNECT THE DOTS?”

AFTER WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH WITH THAT SAME DOC USING HIS FINGER TO NOT JUST VERIFY I AM A MAN (HAVE A PROSTATE… CHECK!) BUT USES THE SAME FINGER TO CHECK MY TONSILS, FROM THE REAR. AND WHAT IS IT WITH EVERY DOC I HAVE SEEN FOR MY UNBELIEVABLE CONSTIPATION PROBLEMS, THAT THEY ALL HAVE FINGERS THE THICKNESS OF TELEPHONE POLES? I THINK IF ANTHONY MICHAEL HALL GOT FAT, HE’D BE AN AUTOMATICALLY QUALIFIED ASSDOC. (IN 16 CANDLES YOU SEE HOW LONG HIS FINGERS ARE ON THE BUS RIDE HOME FROM SCHOOL WITH MOLLY RINGWALD)

FOR SOME TIME I EVEN WORE DIAPERS TO MAKE SURE THE SUPPOSITORIES DIDN’T LEAK THROUGH THE BOXERS AND MAKE ITS WAY ONTO THE COUCH CUSHIONS OR WORK CHAIR… BUT I CAN VERIFY THEY ARE NO FUN TO WEAR IN ADULTHOOD. ALTHOUGH I NEVER USED THEM FOR THE RIGHT PURPOSE IT MAY BE LIBERATING TO USE A DIAPER ON A LONG DRIVE SOMEWHERE, LIKE CROSS COUNTRY DRIVING. AND IMAGINE THE TIME SAVED!

OH, AND MAKE SURE YOU BUY SOME NEW PACKS OF UNDERWEAR… THE ONES YOU HAVE NOW ARE ALREADY RUINED AT 35… YOU MAY AS WELL LOOK FOR THE CHEAPOS, ‘CAUSE THEY'RE ABOUT TO JUST GET RUINED… THE INEVITABILITY IS STAGGERING... MAYBE WASH THOSE SEPARATELY AT THE LAUNDROMAT WITH SOME DEGREASER AND LAVA SOAP. DON’T BOTHER TO RUIN YOUR OWN WASH MACHINE…

I WISH THINGS IN LIFE WERE DIFFERENT. IN THIS CASE I WISH I LIVED IN ANCIENT TIMES, SO I WOULDN’T HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS… IF 34 WAS EASY STREET, 35 IS BAGHDAD CIRCA 2005. NOW I KNOW WHY OLD MEN HAVE PAINED LOOKS ON THEIR FACES ALL THE TIME… IT’S NOT A LOOK. THE MEDICATION JUST RAN OUT.

III

THANKS MRS. WILLIAMS...

It seemed like a normal week given I had an extra day off post-holiday and lo and behold I received a phone call. I had no answer for the guy, my supervisor was out for 2 weeks, and all I got to find my answer was to talk to Brian.

Brian Williams, no not the famous one, but rather the infamous one was nowhere to be found. This man is a hero in my department, and it’s amazing the amount of knowledge, wisdom, and networking this man has. He seems to have a line of people going through the revolving door that is his office throughout the day.  Every day.  And NEVER have I seen him get upset when I step in that door.

See, when I started working for my department I realized early in the game that there was no training. None. They said there was training to be had but in fact there wasn’t and I dunno about you but I am worthless without some kind of direction. I studied science in college and the only thing I can take away from college is my overall knowledge of basic community college science and math skills and a killer bank shot. I actually learned more about social interaction in the billiard room than any classroom could teach me, yet I’m still the quiet, socially awkward one. Like Sheldon Cooper, but without the brains.

When I expressed my disgust with the prospect to no training, Mr. Williams stepped up. I remember it to this day, he looked into my eyes and said “I don’t care what kind of day you’re having, I don’t care the circumstance. If you need help with anything, my door is always open.”

Basically he was saying: Feel free to ask anything from the dumbest questions to the smartest ones, because when you don’t know the answer, no question is stupid. And as I wiped my nonexistent tear from my eye from the emotion of not knowing my job all that well (which I still don’t 8 years later) I knew that no matter what happened to me on the job, he’d be there to assist my idiotic queries.

This gave me an insight to the type of person Brian was. And if you know anything deep about a person, their upbringing is the probable cause behind their personality. If they seem rough and grumbly, maybe they had parents whom didn’t care all that much. Maybe it was so bad their sibling committed suicide and they have trouble coping with it making you the butt of their existence… (High school was rough for me but again, John A. among others, its ok. If it helped your psyche then cool, mine was damaged anyway). Or maybe they have a strain of depression in their family and mostly had great parents post-divorce but in adulthood it snapped this one into the quiet frustrated guy you see writing this now.

And it was that helplessness I had for a few seconds when I had that phone call during the post-holiday week at work. Brian wasn’t in to help me. I told the gentleman on the phone to call back later in the week due to Brian’s absence. Then I checked my email.

Subject: flowers…

Brian hadn’t made it to work due to his mother’s passing. Speaking of helplessness… I still can’t imagine.

The other day Brian forgot about something and its rare but also it crossed my mind to forgive him for the botched remembrance.

Yet the more I think about it Brian is so attentive and understanding because that’s the way he was brought up. By this mother whom I never met yet couldn’t do my job without her instillation in him of patience, kindness, and understanding…  and I am no model employee. I complain at every instance, I moan at every thought when it doesn’t go my way, I cry when I can’t get an understanding of what I need to do my job, and I can’t understand why the department hasn’t met the 19^th century of technology. But that’s government grunt work for ya. And when you’re in the business of making money, AKA revenue, spending it on small conveniences for later down the road is not an option.

Even though I can’t fathom it just yet for myself, losing a parent… it’s the only inevitability to living…

Thanks Mrs. Williams. You done good.

III

PREGNANT...? I SUPP, ERR, ADIPOSE?

i woke up this morning at 10:30am after falling out at 3am...

so i decided to wake up and play with my cat, watch tv, and update my computer for a few hours waiting for 12:30 to come around. i decided to do the jumbo familia dinner this month cause i hadn't been in a while and had a few coupon deals for my dad that he said he used.

who showed up? well, it was me, rere, lina, sean and dani, ella, mikey and jess, sarah and patty mac daddy, aydan mac sonny, and aunt mare... when i saw lina she asked me where gibby was and i told her he wasn't here, that he was in NJ readying himself for his 60th birthday on the 10th... sad, cause i miss him, but cool cause she asked about him.... (side note: jean anne kuzma benson is the 10th also)

it was really nice and quaint meeting of family. we sat in the back dining area where it seems they don't use that often but considering the parking they had today (NIL) it was necessary.

huh? didja notice that? the dinner was attended by the mac and murph contingency with a single flake of TVB involved. yet those who didn't attend were not missed, but mainly talked about (haha just kiddin, ALL were missed.)

see that you still didn't notice it... MIKEY IS IN TOWN!!! BYAAAAAAH!! (jess too!) he looks great and well, he'll always be mikey. we discussed a few good men in uniforms who left the restaurant and he informed me how anal the military was about your dress. how your zipper had to be lined up with your pocket and such... insanity indeed but that's why they are in the military and i am not. (i figured out i have had some of the same clothes since the early 90s. my one pair of jeans i bought specifically for Giant 'cause they were dark blue.)

for the most part the poop was shot, we all had plenty of food and most of the world was right in the back room of the jumbo.

yet the reason for this blah entry is all about my cousin lina. she's the coolest cat in the nutsy bunch, and at 12 years old she runs her own life, thank you. she's got down's syndrome, and is amazingly independent. if she wants ice cream she can get it herself dangit. well, she was out for plate 2 of dinner food when the following situation popped up...

at the buffet there was a woman who, depending on who you are, could look pregnant. (as an avid listener of comedy i may add that brian regan pointed out that you should never ever ever ever ever ever never ask a woman the following question: when's that baby due?) since lina didn't hear that particular comedy cd, she hadn't known that you don't ask, assumptions or not, no matter what... DON'T ASK! so she went ahead and did. the woman could see it was lina asking her, so she was cool and just said "i'm not pregnant honey, i'm just big."

well my appetite went from running high to unbelievably zero due to the sad hilarity i just witnessed. she didn't know any better and obviously didn't mean any harm, and the woman took it so dearly that it really didn't matter.

yet then there was the problem of me. i couldn't keep a straight face. i'm 35 going on a lesser-aged  maturity level than lina at this point... i had to leave the situation. i had a few wings on my plate and decided that was enough for the buffet run that time. i sat down and told the story and it was sad again, but in front of the family they understood my side of things. i couldn't eat due to laughter and it was just a funny situation.

we finished up and headed out of another successful lunch n' dinner at the jumbo, and all were full and fighting back their sphincters to hold in the food as usual, all knowing in 15 minutes we'd all be starving again, (whats with chinese food that it does that?) but nonetheless i recommend when the schedule is out, head to the jumbo for the family dinner. its a great time and you never know what will happen.

MORE OF THE BEST OF THE WORST OF TIMES...

REUNION RECAP 2010 INCLUDED A TRIBUTE TO MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDMA WHO HAD PASSED AWAY DURING THAT EMOTIONAL WEEKEND...

"AFTER MIDNIGHT..."

ABOUT THIS ONE MY AUNT CARMELA SAID "WHEN I READ YOUR WORK IT'S NOT YOU THAT I AM READING... IT'S AS IF I AM READING YOUR GRANDFATHER'S WORK..." <= THAT IS THE GREATEST COMPLIMENT I'VE EVER RECEIVED. MY GRANDFATHER WAS AN ACCOMPLISHED WRITER, SPEAKER, AND RADIO HOST. HIS WORKS ARE SO IMPORTANT TO THE STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA, THAT HIS RECORDINGS OF HIS RADIO SHOW "THIS IS PENNSYLVANIA" ARE ACTUALLY BEING KEPT AND RESTORED AT THE PA STATE ARCHIVES... STERN MAY BE THE KING OF ALL MEDIA, BUT NOT KING OF HISTORY OF PA. GRAMPA WAS KNOWN AS "MR. PA" AND MY AUNT CARM SAID I SOUNDED JUST LIKE HIM... IT STILL MAKES ME SMILE...

ENJOY IF YOU'D LIKE...



Summer in the even years is always a fun time for all of us, unless you are on the reunion committee… most think last year of “is it the reunion year??? NO… AWWWW SHUCKS we gotta wait another year!” but this weekend was the big one. And what a weekend it was.

THE VJ MEMORIAL GOLF GAME

Early Friday morning I woke up and decided to go to work. I don’t have much time saved so to take a whole day of vacation is good but if ya have a bunch of paperwork to do with a new car, the “license and registration please” envelope could use copies, city parking passes, etc etc etc… little things… so I decided to go to work for 2 hours and get all my “homework” done. And shockingly, it turned out perfect. I took 2 hours of time I would normally spend making drool pictures on the floor at my desk, and by the time I was ready to go, it was done.

Went home, picked up Gibby & the Schmidts (great band name) and headed to Deer Valley. The golf course is really nice, the same place we play at every reunion (lately)… they are really great people and the course is a fun one to run around on the carts on. Oddly a few were missing from the golfing party (aka the JOYS) but Charlie, Tony and Ricardo filled that void quite well. Although since the beginning of coming there, they never filled in the sand traps with sand. So it was a beach free day for all of us!

We started around 11 and after 18 drives off the teebox, I finally got the ball to move off the first tee. We continued and Gib as usual was clutch in the short game. My buddies Marc and Johnny k were hitting drives that were undeniably PGA worthy and well, if you had been playing since you were 5 (John) or buy fitted golf clubs (Marc) ya better be able to perform. They were no pros by any means, but they were better than me. and saying that is like saying Sammy Clemens is a better writer than trevonbach… BUUUUUT I was having fun killing worms and earth dwellers with my drives and chips. At one point it was mentioned that cleaning balls were a good idea for aerodynamics of the balls but I mentioned that “aero” meant “air”, and my ball wasn’t seeing much air so the cleanliness of my ball really didn’t matter. Gib had a GREAT tee shot, only to hit a tree and land 20 yards in front of us. But that’s how our long game was going. Gib came through though with chips and making just about every putt you could think of. If not in the hole, closer than john, marc, or I could put it.

After the grueling 18 were completed, we all sat around the table outside the clubhouse swapping stories and reminiscing about the day. The final talley of scores came in and turned out we came in second. Mikey and sean’s team, who hit off the girls’ tees, won and Mikey will retain the paper towel holder (as it was in my apt… check it out Mikey its perfect size)… I sat back quietly due to my searing pain from exercising, as my usual regimen for exercising is equal to 3 letters: N, I and L… so I knew full well it was the greatest I’d feel (physically) all weekend.

KARAOKE AT ELKS CLUB

After a well needed shower and half a nap, gib and I went to the Elk’s Club, a fine establishment for some family bonding and spirits were there to be had. Since I have hayfever, I decided that I wasn’t gonna sing, except for one song, and they didn’t have it. . . . “BARBIE GIRL”… it’s a stupid song by a group called AQUA and it is sung nervously by me, and literally performedby the king of karaoke, Jamal. Speaking of aqua, the Elk’s Club had some mighty fine tasting aqua that myself and uncle pat comitz enjoyed from a beer pitcher.

I saw a beautiful brunette walk in and start walking around the place nervously as if she went there by accident. I thought “awesome… maybe if I show off my skills in front of her on the pool table, she’d notice me.” then like clockwork, the double~mint twin popped in. YUP. The Italians had made it, and beyond being purdy, they were cousins. FIGURES! [Its like the time I saw another beautiful brunette coming thru the doors of the courtyard off i-83… she swaggered over to me and sat right beside me. wiping the drool from my chin I thought “what’s wrong with her? Why is she sitting here?” she said “HI PETER!” Yeah, this beautiful model of a woman… she knew me? oh my what a prize! It was the second coming of Brooke Shields when she was hot and relevant! I asked “how do I know you” and she said “I’m Jean-Anne Benson, Suzy’s daughter!” FIGURES! I hate Scott :) lucky! SOB ç that’s crying, not S.O.B… I don’t even know his mother so to say that is, well, hmmm I digress…]

Free pool. What? One of my many sporting events that I actually know about and enjoying playing was there, and FREE. To heck with aerodynamics, this game had nothing to do with balls in the air, but more like balls in pockets. So guess who hung by the table all day? Not me… TONY and CARLO! I couldn’t win in singles, and in doubles, they couldn’t be beat. Carlo was playing “make it take it” pool but tony had mentioned it was the first and only time they had ever shot pool together. So I let them have their fun playin grandma pool… “hit it hard n pray to god” pool… Dirty pool. Uncalled pocket pool. 5 year old pool. I could go on and on, but I was just happy cause I was playing my game today finally, yet frustrated because I couldn’t be worse at it at this point… I guess I should be like Michael Jordan, err Alan Iverson “I’m the franchise player, and we talking ‘bout practice?!?!?!!!”. EEEEEEEEEYup!

Night went on and spirits flowed. Songs were sung by all and the surprise of the night was… (drumroll please…………)  give manu some R-E-S-P-E-C-T! areefa had nothing on her this night. This shy bookreader has a voice on her better than the diva herself! She was pitch-perfect and her backup singer conveniently turned off his microphone knowing full well she’d upstage him. Sean may have obscure writing skills but his voice had nothing on this piece of artist! Manu literally rocked the house with her rendition of the powerful song.

Tim did his usual best work in front of the crowd, uniquely using a second mic as his own backup to the ol “bohemian rhapsody”. How fitting in a family of so many bohemians, that they have a rhapsody (queen rocks, and thanks wayne and garth for bringing this music to the mainstream) and a whiskey fueled timmy belted out the song as if he had done it before…

And these people joined us who never seem to come by that we notice… lasssshhhhhhhhhh-gosh? Huh? I thought it was osh-gosh-b’gosh… nope, the laskosh crew showed up in full force and sang the theme to deadliest catch! “where the faces are so cold, I drive all night to get back home…” its the cowboy song… oh yeah, “WANTEEEEEEEED dead or alive”… looks like the boys from jersey thought to make an appearance in song at least.

The night wore on, I had 2 pitchers of the usual (H20) and fun was had by all. Pete Jr grabbed the mike and asked for alls attention. It took some time cause most thought some idiot left his interior light on in his new car (license GFE-6728… not mentioning any names though but it was a blue accord with freshly copied “license and registration” paperwork… hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm)

The room quieted down and it was announced at about 11:22pm that at 11:07pm Friday night, we were at the wrong party. It was grampa’s birthday and grampa got the best gift of all. The doorbell finally rang and the girl next door was finally on his doorstep. He hugged rita and carried her over the threshold of their heavenly abode. They walked over to hang out with aunt patty and aunt mary Theresa, and the cotton candy haired fellow, uncle ange. They had a birthday party in grampa’s honor and hung out with uncle leon and aunt gladys, chilled with aunt connie and uncle vinnie, and even uncle joe brought some baileys along with some of gramp’s favorite, 7n7s.

Those of us at the elk’s club here on earth had a different feeling though. our loss was so great that it slowed down the party and if you’re me, you go into silent leave-me-alone mode. The quiet weird guy is back. I don’t have a woman to hug n cry with, I don’t have the option to have a fireside chat with the bottom of the bottle anymore… Its like a state of shock even though I knew this day would come. Its easy to say something while she’s still here, like “that’s what old people do” or “it won’t be long now” but when she heads off to the other party, it kinda sucks for those of us who are still here rotating thru the universe that she gave us life to live and be a part of...

I walked and sulked. I hugged and sulked. I had nothing to say cause I am so weird around people that I just kinda hung in the shadows. At one point I was sitting at a table looking at my shoes. Kara asked me to come sit at the “COOL TABLE” with her, kris, jmac, nate, and kirstin but I informed her no, I was sitting at the cool table. It was me, and a bunch of chairs.

The party wound down and I was close to just going straight home. As a clinically depressed fellow, you just don’t know what to do in these situations. Ya just go with the flow… but in my decisions and thoughts, I knew now the living needed me to be there, and the dead needed my final respects. So as much as I didn’t want to but was obligated to, I followed JMac to the manor and found myself at the head of the bed, where my peaceful, gaped-mouthed beautiful grandma lied. There were chairs set up there, but I felt more appropriate kneeling. As the man in black said locked up in folsom prison… “I hang my head and cry”… it was pretty odd being there, and I kept expecting her to breathe in and shake it off, but it never happened. After a minute of my own infinite respect payment, I felt a hand on my back and dad was there to console me.

I eventually got up and went back to silent mode again. so I did something I never did before. I thought about work and doing this. I said to myself “I can’t wait to go to work on Monday!!!!!!!!” you guys don’t understand how this helps me and makes me feel good to send out goofy stuff and make people smile. Its like listening to blues and feeling cleansed after a great soul shakeup.

So I, the weird silent guy, took a tour of the apt as she left it. Looked at the decorations around the place. Saw the interlocked wooden people that used to be on the angel bookshelf at 2200… I saw pics of all of the cousins, all of her kids, young paintings of gram n gramps… jewelry in and out of jewelry boxes, bathroom accessories, and different well-hung pictures of beautiful settings and family trees… the Zarbo birthdays calendar on the side of the toilet in the bathroom (it had my birthday wrong I may add J its 10/29/76…)

A few of the things I took cell pics of. . . one of which was stuffed on the side of the mirror in the hallway leading to the hallway of the manor. a big-headed baby with blonde hair and blue eyes. Then an older one of that same big-headed baby with his overalls on that said proudly… “Pete’s #1 Son!” Yup, that was me as a baby. There was a picture hanging on the wall with the saying “I just can’t ignore the girl next door” written below a sketch of their houses… and finally there was a quote that hung stuffed in the frame of a picture that read “the human race has only one real effective weapon… that is laughter!” – Mark Twain. The fun thing about that particular quote is that daisies are growing out of it as if it were part of the painting...

Before I left the karaoke party though, uncle chris gave me a good piece of advice…”this didn’t happen till tomorrow night at midnight”, and to paraphrase, so enjoy the reunion and take care of gram once the fun is done. Even though I handle things differently than most, for the most part I couldn’t get Clapton out of my head… “chingachingachingachinga CHING CHING DA LING... After midnight, we gonna let it all hang dooooooown!!!!!!!”

Still at the manor at 2am or so, we thought it was a good idea to leave and prep for the fun-infested ZFR 2010… and so we did.

ZFR 2010

When you wake up after a tragedy in the family it just isn’t the same kind of wake up as before. Its more of a “take a deep breath, exhale, and get yer toys ready, today will be fun, but somber…” [CHING CHING DA LING…. “After midnight...”]

I picked up tim and gib and we headed out 22 to 39. nice thing: I had GPS… not so nice thing: I looked up WEST hanover park on google. It couldn’t find anything so I called dad for directions. When we got there it was found out it was EAST hanover park. Forget directions, I can’t even get the name right… BUT we made it.

I parked and gib ran off to the pavilion because he was starving. It was said to me that he grabbed a cheeseburger, added fixins and turned around to eat and a man was there. Gib said “oh hello, who are you related to?” and the man replied “I am the head of this family…” that’s when gib realized he didn’t recognize anyone. He offered to give back the burger, but they were nice and said take it. Turns out his stomach was stronger than his eyes… he got food from another picnic! OOPS! our reunion pavilion was under a seemingly LARGE gazebo-shaped pavilion, and it was located in a never-before seen place behind the tennis courts. An obvious mistake, but a sweet screwup! Haha he said they mentioned that if we had any ribs a payback would be nice but alas they didn’t ask for chicken and orzo salad so GIB WINS!!!!!!!!! Woohoo!

This large octagonal pavilion very quickly began getting smaller and smaller the more people arrived. And the usual suspects were grillin, others brought food from shrimp to salads to ramen noodle something good to pineapple upside down cake. Plenty of food for the hungover nutzis…

Yet in this gazebo, the food line was basically a circle. And a circle that didn’t move at all. everyone kinda stood there waiting for someone to move but noone did. So ya picked and chose what was close to you and ate while in said circle.

Somehow I had no problem picking and choosing what I wanted and WOLFED down 4 plates. What was I some national guardsman? Like it or not, I had better exercise today, or I was flat gaining 40 pounds from what went down my piehole.

Zarbo Olympics started off with Softball, barely digesting the food, we all got teams picked between timmy and nate. Jill started off for us on nate’s team. [on a side note, not that she looked any better or worse when we met her, but Jiminy Christmas! I thought there was a divorce and remarry in progress when Jill got out of the car with the kids. I hadn’t recognized her. And what was this beautiful young lady doing with my uncle chris? Is she available? Oh crap its just Jill…. Boo for me!]

At some point nate’s team was down 6-0 until we got our bats working… it was an epic game complete with broken ankles for the first base runners (FYI FOR THE FUTURE… SLATE ROCK DOESN’T MAKE GOOD BASES), to bee stings for certain masciullis named tony, to a home run by mikey into the tennis court (a first for the ZFR since we’ve been there at EAST hanover park), to plenty of errors from nate’s team captain, and even one or 2 for tim’s team captain. It was tied up in the 8th inning (extra innings in softball) when tim got up and cracked the ball for the final RBI to win 11-10. noone complained about the score, it was a tre-cool game, and fun was had by all.

As I was walking to the car I noticed a tall soldier looking man with a girl he hadn’t introduced me to. One of those “too hot for the hottub” girls… or “to hot to even notice me” kind of girls. Typical of this man, I told this soldier fellow to stop so I may be introduced. Wow. I think I had to wipe drool from my chin once again, yet realized this woman wasn’t related! Woohoo! Yet she is from missu, so she may as well be a mirage… Maybe I should go out for basic training. I certainly could eat apparently!

At this point the recap from my perspective gets sidetracked. I had a personal sweatgland problem in a particular area of me-self so I went home took a fast shower and changed so I was more compfy, plus gave me an opportunity to drive the car again J
When I got back the basketball game had ended and chuck said he had lost… its so sad to hear an 800 year old man pout when he loses at basketball, but also fun when you have to think of all the talk he usually spits when prepping for a basketball game at the reunion. I figure its cause Beth Herchelroath wasn’t on his team, or even there at all.

We headed inside and I saw people playing bingo, all the new banners from the new “Families” made over the last 2 years, origami, silent auctions going on, things offered as a family yard sale, and the list goes on. The smell of meatballs and noodles filled the room and after 4 plates of lunch I wasn’t exactly hungry so I waited the allotted 30 minutes for the line for dinner to be made and end so I could get the leftovers. As I waited Eddie and Lita and Schuyler pulled in. WOW were they late. Yet Lita had just gotten back from Thailand with Schuyler and its from the other side of the world so to say they were jet lagged would be an understatement. Their nights were our days so it takes some time to readjust (like I have a clue. As we found out in max’s tunes, tre doesn’t fly)

Then I got in line and met yet another beautiful woman named Amy. What is this my lucky day? Amy asked who I was and how I fit in to the family. I told her I was pete’s son pete’s son pete. So everyone calls me tre. I asked the same and she said she was from Montana (maybe…. I explained I didn’t even know where that was but still a slight bonus for me… YES!!!!!!!!!) and she was related to the laskosh’s (crap!)… I was battin 1000 this weekend… ungh…

On a side note… is every woman in our family a model?
And a ps to the side note… you might be a redneck if you go to a family reunion lookin for a wife… … I had some sunburn on my neck too…

So we ate n ate (I had 2 plates of dinner), listened to the mac play “the cabin” among other favorites, had a family jam band play with da cofe on harmonica, Patrick played his banjo with one of the lashkosh rock n roll boys, and even the children put on a talent show. Its been a few years since the talent show was a part of the reunion but this year they found time for it. How refreshing! We had a dance recital to singers (sal sang an entire song and langan sang his wo-wo-wo song (bon jovi) and lina sang the tweet tweet song she always sang with gramma when she stopped by.)

Kiwi did the ultimate though. kiwi passed the torch to a young lashkosh relative and the young man now owns “talk me out to the ballgame”…

No no I didn’t forget max. max was part of everything. He stood on stage diligently playing along with the bands. He was a young mini-me to many of the guitar players, and it was a great sight to see. Remember max… you’re part of the 4g band, just ya have to wait for nick to grow older and learn the bass.

On a side note #2… I held my godson and ran around with him and he didn’t cry. Hate to say it but the highlight of the weekend for me. babies always cry with me, but I guess something was different this weekend… NICK RULES BABY!!!!!!!!! moving on…

Once all was done it was time to clean up. You know how that goes… organized CHAOS!

We left and went to JM+E’s for the after-reunion reunion and enjoyed telling stories, singing, drinkin, and all around good fun.

All in all a fine weekend indeed, and since she wasn’t there physically, I let gram watch the festivities thru my eyes, and lemme tell ya, she loved it! She’ll always be with me in thought, spirit, and heart. I’ll miss ya, but thanks for this life, and this loving family. Without them……I am nothing.

LOVE,
III

I HEARD MY GRAMMA CRY, I HEARD HER PRAY THE NIGHT MY GRANDPA DIED...

HORRIBLE TITLE, BUT ITS A NUTSY THING...

MY GRANDPA DIED AT THE HOSPITAL AND THE TIMELINE THE WEEKEND OF HIS FUNERAL INCLUDED A CELEBRATION OF MY COUSIN HANNAH'S GRADUATION... MY OBSERVATIONAL EMAIL FOLLOWS... GRAMS INCLUDES A REUNION RECAP SO I WILL ADD THAT LATER IN ITS ENTIRETY... SOME SAY ITS AN EASY WAY TO BUILD A BLOG, BUT I BEG TO DIFFER. I STILL HAD TO COMMIT THIS TO PAPER... AND AS THE SUBJECT MATTER SUGGESTS, IT WAS A LABOUR OF LOVE...

ENJOY:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” – Dickens (I think)

How true was that in terms of the weekend…? Although when I received the email from Kara on Wednesday it turned the surreal into real life. Gib called me from work Wednesday afternoon and said he’d be in to see pops in the hospital, and I told him he could stay in my place. He arrived late and decided it was best to let pops have his rest, that he would see him Thursday.

Thursday, 5:30 am…

“Pete? It’s Dad. Grampa died 5 minutes ago.”

Those words will be etched in my mind forever. And how was I going to tell Gib that his father died? How frightening?!

He woke me up saying “Its 9:30! You’re late for work!”

- “No its ok. I called off today, being up till 2:30a…  But I have bad news. I don’t know how to tell you this *swallow* but grampa died this morning at 5:25 am.”

He looked deflated, but walked out of my bedroom and went into the living room. I turned over once more and somehow fell back asleep to be awake later on in the day.

Later we went to Gram’s for the wonderful occasion of making funeral arrangements and hang with the fellow mourners. Although with all the different conversations in the room, there was an old Jewish man named Allen who lightened the mood, let alone the room. He is a truly intriguing man that at every turn seems to be a bit like me. Just likes to see smiles on people’s faces, using any type of humor that will help accomplish his task. He seemed to have a goofy story for every occasion and somehow grabbed everyone’s attention by saying “QUIET! Allen is speaking!” in his (un)orthodox drawl. I don’t think ANYONE has ever silenced a room like that before, even with a ketchup bottle in your hand!

Later, Gib and I retired to my apartment and reflected on grampa’s life a little, then went to bed.

Sunday was a party like no other. It was like a reunion of sorts. Everyone was in town for the funeral, but that wasn’t priority this day! Hannah “banana fannah bo banna” Carmela turned a new leaf this year. Congrats to the grad! We all congregated to the Montrose Mansion and celebrated her achievement. There was catered food, vino, punch, a main course you could write home about, and cake fit for a queen… how fitting.

I found myself at a table with Tim “I wish it was 1990 so I had a chance with Hannah’s friends” Hill, Gib, and, of course Allen. For some reason I couldn’t resist listening to his stories and corny punch lines, and he gave me, ME, a lesson on self-deprecating humor. He was kinda intrigued by me though cause I was quiet, my mind of course was elsewhere. A tragedy had just occurred and I couldn’t turn my brain off of it.  Dad had eventually explained to Allen that I am a different breed of fellow, I speak my mind on paper (electronically) and like to just take things in wherever I am at and report an all the misgivings later. I wasn’t engaging much with Allen but whenever I passed him or saw him on future days on this weekend I was sure to say hello to him. He helped brighten our day of sorrow Thursday and anyone who can make you laugh or at the least smile on a day like that at least requires acknowledgement of existence.

Later that night the first cousins (mostly) of drinking age slithered off to JM & E’s house for some late night reminiscing of the late pops, telling funny stories, being philosophical, thinking about how we could be like him in life, so as to be appreciated as much in death.

But as things go and as people stopped by bringing food and ordering pizzas, the party got looser and looser and after a few went home there was a few of us left who now have code words to remind us of that crazy end of an evening.

I never really spent this much time with my cousin Kiwi before, not this late at least. This kid has a future in comedy, the arts, something of that nature. We laughed and laughed singing songs of our generation, mostly rap so I of course just listened, and even were talented enough to seamlessly merge a song without knowing it, till music guru Jmac realized the mistake. We riffed on comedy routines, told jokes, and just had a ball. But apparently the equation of this humor by Kiwi is “make tired + family n friends = hilarity!” after a couple of hours of his sit down stand-up routine it was time to leave.

Monday was back to the grind for me. I put in time though for Thursday and Friday, and Tuesday, the day of the funeral itself. Monday was the viewing day, and when I stepped down to the bar with my best bud of 13 years, Mike, for a pre-viewing edge-taker-offer, it was about 5:20p, and there was already a line forming outside the funeral home. This was part of the testament to this radio personality. We headed down to neumeyer’s (unless this is it I will never spell that funeral home correctly) and stood in line for a split second, standing behind a towering Rick Wagner. I called dad real quick and said what can you do? He instructed me that family (and friend) could run in the side door so I grabbed tony, em, cathy, dom, tina, walt, and made a bee line to the side door.

First person I see? “Hello Allen!”

-“How ahh you?” hand extended, with an ever-present smile.

I walked in and realized we had just jumped a 2.5 hour waiting line to see gramps for the last time. I kinda felt bad but at the same time he was MY grampa, not a friend or coworker, but GRAMPA! So that anxious thought quit the second I thought of the bad feeling. He looked great, even better at peace than actually alive. He wasn’t in any pain, didn’t have to think of some quick comeback for a line you said to him, nothing. Just at peace.

The viewing went as smoothly as planned. But it was going strong the entire scheduled time. The governor make a quick respect payment, I even saw the former Secretary of Revenue Gregory Fajt. He was my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s…..boss. He was “the godfather” of revenue. But a pleasure of a man to work under. But the best meeting I had ever hoped to have had was a childhood friend from the boat. Susan Stewart. I saw her while walking my mom to her car. She is truly a great person and one of those people who don’t age. Her husband, Stu, had passed away about a year ago she said, and he was like a second father to me. Just a great guy and fun to be around. But sue looked terrific and we had a nice fireside chat with her, all the while more and more people were showing up to see gramps.

We were there for 3 hours and it seemed the line never diminished. And it hadn’t. After taking many outside breaks, Mike and I had decided we had had enough, and headed home.  After starting early, Gib finally made it home at a quarter of 11.

Tuesday didn’t start off well. First I had the wrong instructions so I was in a rush. Since never being a pall bearer before I didn’t know the pall bearing meant heavy lifting. Well, not like this. I have never in my life carried such an important thing like my grandfather in a casket along with my other cousins. And that wasn’t the point. This thing weighed in at 3,000 tons. That’s 6 MILLION POUNDS. There were 8 of us (including “the Hulk”AKA young Philip) so we were each carrying 750,000 pounds. Needless to say my elbow separated more times than Bob Horst has broken my hand in a handshake.

I have never carried something so heavy in my life.

We got to the church and parked in the alley. No parking lots or nothing, it was the alley. We were all in formation so it worked out fine. We grabbed gramps, got him in the church, and proceeded with a wonderful mass. Joe stood up and the family sang, Kristin read well, Banana sang beautifully, and even the priest’s homily was poignant and his attempt on gramp’s voice was funny. Paul later reported the flag would be flying at half mast in honor of the fallen wordsmith, Eddie read one of gramp’s passages that this year, 20 years ago, any time, could be used as a way to think differently about yourselves and others. Dad got up there and gave a eulogy that Mike complimented best. He said “My wife said to me after your eulogy that she had never met gramps, but she felt like she didn’t just meet him, but she knew him.” And it was true. A fine eulogy indeed.

Later we went to Cantone’s restaurant, a favorite watering hole of gramps, and the owner was a great friend. The food was fantastic, drinks flowing and everyone had an all around fine time. Although when I walked in, I heard a great line: “Oh no… finish fast! They’re here. Its gonna get loud!” Well, yeah… it did.

I think if gramps was alive, and younger, he would have had a blast. But you know what? He WAS there. He’s in all of us now more so than before and as long as we all carry him around with us in our hearts, his legacy will never die.

III