Category: 1

Life Lessons

It is amazing to me that in an instant the very way we view life can change forever. It can happen at the oddest time and from people we would never expect. A few months ago my Uncle Mark (left) and his best pal Jim (right) took their annual vacation to see me from Philadelphia. Now I love these guys but I will be honest when I say that I was looking forward to their visit much like my semi-annual visit to the dentist. They definitly march to their own beat and by the time they left to go home I was grateful to them for allowing me to be in the parade.

Growing up Uncle Mark was definitely the “cool” uncle. He lived in the basement of my grand parents house that was a 12 year old kids paradise full of BB guns, cable TV, candy, a police scanner and a computer. This was heaven sent when the only thing to do upstairs was watch CSPAN, PBS money drives and God forbid read. He also taught me how to punch, never hit a girl, what poison ivy looked like, every line up the Flyers had since ’77, the need to study hard, carrots equal good eyesight, milk makes you tall, spinach equals muscles, don’t smoke (he still smokes 2 packs a day), girls hate guys that are smelly, and some day the Russians will invade so be prepared. See? All good things and I have retained it all even 20 + years later.

Well, Uncle Mark still lives in the grand parents basement and now when I go up there, I find myself giving him lessons and advice. He has never settled down with anyone and that is with reason. Ninety percent of the advice I give is about women. It’s not that I know that much, it’s that he doesn’t. Here’s an example.

Last Christmas I was visiting in Philadelphia and after dinner he took me to his Friday night hang out. It was a dance club for seniors and between Jim and Mark it was more like a potential chance to meet some strange. I went to the bar to get us a couple of beers and as I was walking back I noticed that Mark had no intentions of approaching any women. Actually if you didn’t know him, he kind of looked like a stalker. Well, I decided to help him out and a noticed a younger lady sitting by herself and I asked if she would like to come hang out with us. After bribing her with a seven and seven she came and I introduced her to my “rich and single” uncle. Things went pretty well and they were hitting it off right up to point when his cell phone rang. I swear to God this is what Mark said next.

“We have to go. That was my mother and I told her we would be home before midnight. Do you camp? I like to camp so maybe we can go camping?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him she might not call. Actually I did they opposite. I said he was smooth and she would definitely sleep with him but next time, leave the whole “Mom called” thing to yourself and for Christ sakes stop calling her mother.

Jim is a cool guy. He is the typical blue collar Philadelphia Eagles fan that will kill you in a bar if you say anything derogatory about McNabb. He too is 50, single, living at home still. (These guys have a lot in common.) The one thing about Jim is his child like amazement for the most ordinary things. A few years ago on another holiday trip up north, all three of us took a trip up to Allen Town to spend the day at a Bass Pro outlet. I like Bass Pro so I went along. Little did I know we would take a six hour detour and tour the UTZ Pretzel packing factory because we passed it on the highway. If I knew earlier that day I would be wearing a hairnet and safety goggles I would have stayed home.

So now you know them. They have hearts the size of Kansas but socially they do their own thing. Well before I knew it the week had come for them to visit. I actually had been so busy I forgot until the night before but if anyone could entertain themselves they could.

After they arrived we caught up for a few minutes, ate dinner and watched a little baseball. Upon inquiring what plans they have for the week, Jim and Mark made it apparently clear that they needed to first find a Walmart and stat. Apparently on they made the decision when packing to leave the underwear at home to make room for other things. I have never heard of anyone making a cognitive decision to leave the underwear at home. That’s the first thing I pack. Well, I took them to Walmart and you haven’t lived until you see two fifty year olds argue over brief or boxer. Another thing that I didn’t know but every Walmart these guys are at they collect as many plastic bags as possible. After check out they stood out side and compared who had the most bags much like kids comparing Halloween candy. I think this was an omen for the day that followed.

So it was Saturday and their first full day of vacation. I took the day off to show them around before they left to spend the rest of their time in the Everglade. I figured we would go to waterfront, charter a boat, fish off the pier, or take a ride down to South Beach. When I asked what they had in mind Jim piped up and said he saw an add for a Flea Market that’s open and we should check it out but first they needed to stop at another Walmart that was having a grand opening in Stewart an hour north. Ok then. Off to the Flea Market.

Jim rented a pretty nice sports car and we took that to find this crazy mystery place called a flea market. I must admit that Jim is a pretty aggressive driver. I take that back, he’s more crazy than aggressive. After 30 seconds in the back seat I decided that seat belts were pretty pointless when you hit a Crown Vic going 90. If I’m going to die then I’m coming through the front seat and taking one of them with me. I think this guy had a safer ride than I did.

So after we broke the sound barrier three times, honked the horn 400 times, flicked off random elderly couple 250 times and ran 30 red lights we pulled into the South Florida Flea Market. It’s amazing how fast you can get around town when you totally disregard the law. The market was what I thought it was; half shopping, half circus. But no matter, I was there because Uncle Mark and Jim had their hearts set on it. And then I found out what they were there for. They needed gym bags, socks, a new watch with an alarm, pecans and the ultimate sausage sandwich. Wait…what? Sausage sandwich? I have never hung around anyone who has gone on a quest for a sausage sandwich. There’s always a first.

Just browsing around the different kiosks I felt almost overloaded with the amount of ninja swords, personal designed hats, airbrushed T-shirts and homemade jewelry. Jim and Mark were pigs in shit, though. I was there for the people watching but I found myself just watching them. Mark got his socks and watch while Jim haggled with an Indian guy for a couple of Nikie gym bags with an upside down swoosh. Onto lunch!

Holy shit they found sausage sandwiches! I couldn’t believe it. They must be flea market pro’s because they didn’t even question whether or not sausage sandwiches were available. I declined to eat one and it’s not that I’m a snob when it comes to eating food at a flee market. It’s just that I had food poisoning once, which is why I will never drink chocolate milk from a gas station again. I think getting food poisoning from a sausage sandwich may indeed kill me. I just watched in utter amazement as Jim dropped most of it on his shirt and Uncle Mark chewed with his mouth opening while flirting with the raffle ticket chick. From then on I stayed twenty paces behind them pretending to be on the phone.

We came, we saw, we concurred the South Florida Flea market. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. Actually just watching these two guys made the whole trip worth while. I’ll never think about sausage without linking it to the smell of pony rides and pleather. Now onto the new Walmart and it’s grand opening! This one I did skip and stayed in the car. I can’t tell the difference between one Walmart and another.

They went in and came out relatively quickly. But not without a inordinate amount Walmart bags of course. While they were in a kind lady gave them the idea that we should go to up to Fort Pierce to look at the manatees that hang out in the marina. Sounded fine to me. I have only seen a few since living in Florida so why not?

After we pulled out of the Walmart parking lot Mark turned down the radio and hushed us because it was just about 3:00 and he had to test his new alarm wrist watch. We listened intently and at at the stroke of three an audible vioce chimed, “The time is three PM and you’re an asshole.” Holy shit it was a novelty gag watch and the look on Uncle Marks face was to die for. I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. You know the laugh. The laugh that makes your mouth muscles ache. I must say that Uncle Mark didn’t find it too funny and that made it all the more hilarious.

Well, we got to Ft. Pierce in less than 20 minutes which is pretty amazing because it was over 60 miles away. And sure enough the lady was right and there were sea cows a float’n. I’ve never seen two 50 year olds go shit house mad over floating fat mammals. I can still hear Uncle Mark yelling, “Look at his snozzle, look at his snozzle!” I can only assume that a snozzle in the mouth of the manatee. It was pretty priceless.

After that picture opportunity we hopped back in the death machine and took A1A, which is the beach side highway back down to West Palm. On the way we passed a nuclear power plant and for what ever reason they had to pull over and get an outside look. Knowing the history of these guys what do you think happened next?

  • They looked at it from a safe distance and we drove away?
  • They heeded my warnings and just kept going?

  • They walked up to the front gate and decided to take a few pictures?

Of course they took a picture. And not even 30 seconds later two cops pulled up and gave us what we had coming. I think they figured out the harmlessness of the situation but made it a point to make me feel like an idiot and I didn’t even leave the car. Now I was ready to go home.

So the day came to an end. I was never so glad to be sitting on my bed staring at the TV. Even if it was off. I had to share the days events with someone so I called a dear friend of mine and we were rolling with laughter just by the readers digest version of it all. Then I got the outside perspective of what I missed. Uncle Mark and Jim are not sad characters at all. Actually they have what most strive for their whole life. They are truly happy. It doesn’t matter that sausage sandwiches decorate their shirt or the fact that they are oblivious to wearing brown socks with white Stride Rites. In their world Walmarts are Mecca and finding a flea market can make or break a Saturday.

After I got off the phone I walked downstairs and ordered us a few pizzas . At dinner I looked at the atrocious table manners they had with a sense of awe. I had a whole new appreciation for who these guys were. They held the secret to personal happiness. It wasn’t obliviousness or lack of intellect but rather their complete view point on life. Happiness comes in the small things. All I need to do to realize that was take the stick out of my ass and see them for what they are worth and there is no price on that. I needed to learn more from them but soon their trip was over and I find myself missing the strange adventures. I can’t wait to see them for Christmas and maybe the zest for life will inspire me to throw caution to the wind and seek out sausage sandwiches from a random vendor. I think about that every time I find Walmart bags around the house. Thanks guys.

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Halloween Party

Every year I look forward to Halloween and I really don’t know why. I get geared up way too early, burn out around mid October and on the actual day all I really want to do is start the Christmas season. But this year I planned to combat the poorly timed holiday spirit by actually having something to do on Halloween day. This year we threw a party.

So the night before Halloween I finally carved this years pumpkin. Every year I do the same face. It’s more like a retro design but I like it. It reminds me of the back of Charlie Browns head when that bitch Lucy and her even bitchier friend fool him into modeling for their jack-o-lantern. Next year will be same and there is comfort in that. Martha Stewart can F’ing hang.

Here I am. I didn’t intend to be Jason this year. Actually I really wanted to be Angus Young but because I am me, I waited until Halloween afternoon to find all 20 accessories necessary to pull off the rocking outfit. So, I used a flight suit from my prior military career and dropped $6.99 on a hockey mask at exactly 4:30 that afternoon. That’s a plus for the costume but it’s tough to drink 10 beers through a hockey mask. I almost cut a hole in the mouth region but there is a thin line between beer drinking genius and a weird S&M mistaken identity.

Well the decorations were up, the costumes were on and the food was out. Now all we needed were the people to show up and complete the circuit. I will admit that last night I had a few awkward moments very reminiscent of junior high and high school. The party began at 7pm and soon it was 7:30 and we sat on the couch staring out the window while X-Entertainment’s Halloween Jukebox blared Alice Cooper. Just Jason Voorhees and a cowgirl staring pathetically staring out the window. That’s a site from the street.

Then there was a knock! It was the guests and everyone hit a home run on the costumes. Now I was four beers ahead so my friendliness was amplified because everyone received a hug from the slasher of Friday the13th. That was a high point of the night but like all hosts experience, parties have peaks and valleys. Enter the babies.

Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. I think they are cute in small doses and on TV but after a while I’m done. I’m sure that will change if I ever have one of my own but I don’t and I relish in the freedom to leave the scene and change the channel. But they were there and I felt it was necessary to put away the hockey mask and explain all night that I am not a top Gun pilot, damn it.

Ninety five percent of the guests were Tara’s work friends. She is a news anchor so everyone in the news world was at the apartment. So right when the babies and new parents arrived so did my friend Johnathan. He was a priest with a Raggedy Andy doll pinned to his crotch. I thought it was spot on. Spot on, man.

There was definitely a lull taking place about half way through the party. None of the people at the news station were really making an effort to talk with my friends and I was busy making sure no one was cutting through the bedrooms because the babies were sleeping and making sure that people tried the dip. Then one of the quests showed up with Guitar Hero for the Playstation and it was a home run. I don’t go ape shit over video games but that one was pretty cool and it was sort of a bridge that made people mingle. I even rocked Dio’s “Holy Diver” and damn near kicked the TV over with excitement.

This is the point when the festivities are now driven by the alcohol consumption. My friends felt a little neglected and jumped ship before midnight. That sucked for me because the news people talk about one thing and that is work. They also throw people who aren’t present under the bus and that is a real sore spot with me. I’m sure i do it too but i definitely don’t do it in public. That’s really the death rattle of the party when everyone is in the kitchen talking shop and me and the one girl who works in Atlanta watch Nightmare On Elm Street 3. I’m sure she didn’t like it but it was that or do that awkward, stand in the corner and fake laugh thing. It was even weird for me to go to the fridge to get my 16th beer. I felt like the car that disturbed the street hockey game. I could have sworn I heard “game on” when I walked back to the couch.

All parties, good or bad, come to an end and this one did too. I said my good byes and I was pretty proud I didn’t make an ass out of myself. I didn’t fall off the roof or throw up in my hockey mask so I was a head of the game. Right up to the point when the new parents were walking out the door with their sleeping baby. Then I tried to make a funny and it went over like a fart in church. “Thanks for coming and thanks for bringing the little guy. I must admit that I was a little disappointed we couldn’t eat him……ahem….right?” At least they faked a laugh.

You didn’t think I could let Halloween go without me making a little slip did you?

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British Metal and Punk: The Story Of My Life

I have to confess that I have a few weaknesses in life. I eat Reduced Fat Triscuts everyday and there is no telling when I will get tired of them. It’s more of an addiction really. The chance of me watching an episode of Benson without the deafening crunch every other minute may result in a moment of clearity when I relieze that the show isn’t funny after all. I also can’t function right without coffee. Like most working people, this is a neccessary part of the day and without it, there is a real possibility of a pink slip. But I think my obsession with British Metal and Punk is the least known among my peers. Currently I am working as an instructor for 737 flight systems and you can imagine the Dudley Do-Rights I work with. So here are a few songs, the stories of my life that pop in my head when they are played and count the number of times I say “awesome” and “kick ass” because it may be alot.

Judas Priest. I don’t care what people think about this band they ‘kick ass” and everytime Rob Halford hits that screaming note people should remove all eyeware because they may shatter causing eye problems. Between the speed of K.K. Downing’s guitar and lyrics that can coerse idiot teens to blow their heads off, this band is on my top ten.

I really got into Priest when I was stationed in Bosnia. There was long periods of extreme boredom and to keep our spirits up we took part in multi-country competions which includes many mile rucksack marches and military exercise drills. One particular one was called the Dancon race that was hosted by the Danish army. This race was a 30 mile ruck race that scaled two mountains on the hottest and dryest day of the year. I will tell you that I was rocking Judas Priest’s, Green Manilishi when I noticed Jesus himself walking right next to me. I have to admit he was taller than I expected someone to be from 25 A.D. Whether it was a halucination or not we had a great talk about pizza, socks and why in All In The Family did Archy Bunker’s wife run and never walk. I can’t listen to Green Manilishi without the need to go to church.

The Clash. I think everyone has a Clash favorite and a story to go with it. They started a new chapter in not just punk but in music as a whole. I think music critics were about as speechless as The Clash’s dentists were. One thing is for sure, rock/ punk/ blues/ reagge/ R&B/ polka/ chant/ gossple/ and country were turned on their ear when The Clash came on the scene.

My best pal in high school was Simon Hollier. Even though we went to different schools, we hung out everyday after school and drove around in his Dodge Shadow singing to any classic rock song that was on Z93 or 96 Rock. One particular day we were driving through a nieghborhood and came to an intersection, screaming The Clash’s “Tommy Gun” from the top of our lungs when a car full of nare do wells pulled behind us and honked. With out thinking (which is typical of Simon) Simon gave the middle finger and it was about that time I noticed they were the guys from the local Exon garage and above all there were five of them. Well, we took off and they of course chased us. One thing about Simon is that his flight skills are pretty bad and he hit a curb and blew out his front right tire. We coasted into a Methodist church parking lot and before I knew it I was being pulled out the window by the neck. I’m pretty sure these guys were the typical mechanic high school drop outs and we were most likely going to die. After a few well placed socks to my face irony took control and out of the church a class of black belts came to our rescue and beat the snot out of the mechanics and it was a merciless beating too. I like to think it was divine intervetion. Having a Methodist karate teacher demand the beaten mechanics to apologize to us and repeat the line, “We are losers and we stink” was priceless. I still can’t listen to “Tommy Gun” without my neck hurting.

Iron Maiden. Even the most musically declined person can recognize Iron Maiden for what it is and that is British metal at its’ zenith. Their arena performances are the greatest in the world and anyone who has been to a show will leave both deaf and speechless. I know and I still have a ring in my left ear after 15 years.

I was on the wrong end of a disciplin hearing in high school when I thought it would be a good idea to share the album “666 Number Of The Beast” with Mr. Patino’s English class. We began each class with a favorite song of the day and everyone had their turn. I went to a Catholic high school so my choice was definitly a conflict of interest. The speech about the origions of the number 666 at the beginning of the song was enough to get me excused from the class and two days of detension. But there was method to my madness because I skipped my English homework the night before and this gamble paid off. From that day on my class mates saw me in a whole new rebelious light. Either that or they thought I was a Satanist.

Motorhead. There are few rockers I would rather have a pint with than Lemmy. He embodies metal in in every form. From his ability to never drink whiskey from a glass but rather straight from the bottle to that weird mole thing on his face, he rocks harder than any other. In interviews he maybe a little hard to understand but when he is on stage you know exactly what he says; tell your parents to stick it, nail hot chicks, drink an inordanant amount of booze and eat the rich. “Awesome and kick ass.”

I wish I had a good story about Motorhead but I don’t. I just couldn’t leave a British metal/punk post without including Lemmy. I would be afraid he may hunt me down in my sleep.

Well, I have shared what few know about me. Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to find out about my leather pants or my Camaro. There will be more added later but i have to get back to work. I wish this was work.

*Not proofread so it has a number of errors I am sure.*

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From The Horses Mouth

 The other day I was talking to a friend and we ended our conversation on the weirdest topic. I was explaining my fear of horses because when I was young my mom took me to a petting zoo and the farmer was missing a thumb. He used his deformity as a lesson to warn all the kids not to be rough on the animals because his thumb had been bitten off by a horse. The very thought of getting a finger bit off by an animal with square teeth terrified me. But that’s when my friend said the farmer’s story was a lie and there was no way the incisors of a horse could bite off a finger. That is when I upped the antie and claimed a horse definitly could and I bet I could bite off a human finger. Maybe not with my front teeth but definitly my back ones. Well, we had to agree to disagree but I will still feed a horse an apple from a stick.

                                                                                 

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Annual Halloween Theme Sitcoms No More

 When did the Halloween season become a money loser for prime time TV? I remember when the top shows would advertise for the last week of October like it was sweeps month. Now I know some shows like The Office have had their one Halloween themed episode but that was it. There is no annual anticipation anymore. Here is a look back at my favorite sitcoms that we could always count on for their effort to out-do the previous year. And no, The Simpsons; Tree House Of Horror isn’t on the list, that’s in November.

  This is one of my favorites growing up. I really can’t figure out why because the dry English humor must have been way over head as an eight year old. What ever the reason was I have fond memories of watching the Halloween episode while my dad cut out cardboard armor for my knight Halloween costume because like usual, I made him buy me a $30 accesory (the helmet) and had no plan for the rest. I love you Mr. Belvedere, you fat old English bastard! Lets have a look.

 

Now I have to admit that when Silver Spoons came out I was still pissing the bed but I remember the Halloween episode with such clarity I can even remember what was for dinner that night. Granted it was episode number 49 and Rick Schrouder was in middle school, it was still a while ago. The one thing about Silver spoons is the theme song will stick in your head until you die.

 True story: I was in Halmark a couple of years ago huffing Yankee candles and humming the theme song to Silver Spoons when out of the blue another guy began to hum it with me. Before i knew it we broke out in song, much to the embarrassment of our significant others at the time. “Together, we’re going to find away…You and IIIIIIII, Togetherrr…”  And we even ended on the air guitar. Then we nodded at each other and made our way back to our girlfriends. Who ever that dude was, bless you.

   Lets take a gander at the Halloween episode of Silver Soons with the awesome intro voice!

 

   Oh boy, the Facts Of Life. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and and then you have….a show that got me beat up in elementary school for admitting to having seen. I will say that I have watched it now it is 20 years later and safely away from Bobby Simmons. For some strange reason I had a crush on Joe and looking back I can’t figure out why? I guess I have a thing for Italian chicks. I think this year I am going to be Natalie for Halloween.

  Now we go to the more recent but definitely dated shows. Roseanne is the one show I have never really gotten into until it has become a 3am hit on Nick@Nite. More over I never really was aware that the show had an annual Halloween episode that always tries to out do the last Halloween episode. And for that, I love you Roseanne. I never imagined myself saying that, but it is true. Sorry to step on your toes Tom, but i love you Roseanne. God I really do need help, don’t I?

 

   Finally for today’s post we end with my favorite pick for the best Halloween episodes and that is the great mid-west classic Home Improvement. I think I was at the age to really get into the Home Improvement era. It was after Alf but right before America’s Funniest Videos so I was really tuned into the idiotic humor that Tim Allen always managed to pull off. The Halloween episodes were classic in every sense, primarily because of the creative gist the show was founded on. I mean, who can afford to throw a Halloween party like the Taylors? The YouTube selections were really bad but if you squint hard enough you can make out my favorite episode when the annoying kid gets his after being a prick. I love that show.

  Well, for all those who read this keep Halloween close to your heart. It’s an American tradition and even if today’s sitcoms forget about it doesn’t mean we have to. We always have the oldies that I wish ABC, NBC and CBS would, at least for the last week of October, air instead of the crap that is out today. I do mean crap. I watched Greys Anatomy a couple of months ago and gave the TV the bird no less than 300 times.

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