- That Monday night’s NBC line up was still Alf at 8:00 followed by Amazing Stories.
- That I could still pick prizes out of the treasure chest in the dentist’s office.
- My Honda wasn’t referred to as a mini van last week. It’s an Element fuck-o.
- I could stop dropping my phone. It only has a few drops left in it.
- I could run like I did when I was 7 rather than this frothing, gasping run I do now.
- They would have changed the name asthma to something without the word “ass” in it. I had it when I was a kid and always felt a little embarrassed by that.
- That there was something other than golf we could do for meetings. I am all about bumped boats or flip cup.
- They would make a Jaws 5. One that makes up for 3 and 4.
- I was in a huge field with one of these.
That I lived in a state that had people who could spell salad correctly.
I could eat my weight in Thai food and be better for it. And smarter.- I was spending Father’s Day with my Dad.
- I had more time to read books.
- I didn’t tear up during the movie, UP. There is no way that a 31 year old male can live that down. My “allergy” didn’t fool anyone.
- Beer gave me the super power of flight.
That’s all.
Almost kept a puppy! I was driving to the hospital a few weeks ago and this little guy ran out in front of me. I stopped, got out, fully expecting him to run away, and tied to see if I could read his tag. Instead of timid little guy he jumped straight into my arms. Of course he didn’t have a tag so I was forced to knock on all the neighboring houses looking for the possible owners. No luck so I put him in the car and took off to attend a course that I was already ten minutes late for.
I came real close to buying the big box condo last Friday during a structure fire. Apparently, when I was on a single hose line a high voltage wire snapped from the heat of the fire and landed on the ground next to me causing a huge electrical arch that chard the ground around me, fried the hose and created a big blue light over top of me. I was oblivious to this until I heard screaming over my radio from the incident commander that I was on a live wire and to drop the hose. I did so and was stuck in one spot until the electric company could come out and turn off the electricity. Since then I have been a luck charm for the company and other stations. But I still have the creeps since everyone including the electrician kept repeating that there is no reason that I should have survived that. So technically, I shouldn’t be here writing you.
The fire departments have been consolidating and that means my hours have been cut pretty dramatically. So, I have been forced to dust off the ol’ resume’ and now I find myself back in corporate America until they finish the rezoning of the fire agencies. It’s cool I guess. I work as a consultant for a company that streamlines large businesses as far as their digital postage, copy, office supply and equipment. The first day on the job everyone called me Jim Halpurt. Great.
Last week it was 68 and beautiful. For the first time I was able to leave the confines of the shack that had been buried in snow to cruise the logging trails on a warm afternoon run. It was glorious! I had not felt this good in months and to see the snow gone and the lake completely free of ice made me want to…to…do everything! I wanted swim, no, run a marathon or ride bikes or play guitar by a campfire. Shit, there isn’t enough time. And there wasn’t. Today I got up and looked out my window to see this. Shit I did.
In defiance, I went running anyway. In shorts and a t-shirt none the less. I know it looks pretty but it’s almost May and I need this crap to go. Please mother nature. Take pity on this boy from the south east. He knows not what he’s done.
Holy shit this is a great movie! Sure the more sophisticated summer movie connoisseur would pick Caddy Shack if given the choice of Bill Murray movies but there is something about camp that gets me in the summer mood. It kind of sucks that I am too old even to be a counselor but it brings back so many great memories. Memories like late night practical jokes on other cabins, the nervous tension of being forced to spend a week bunking with kids you don’t know, the sadness of the last campfire, and how we all thought the counselors were so cool and the subject of camp rumors and gossip. I still remember thinking that a blow job was something done to an ear. I want that innocence back.
Rumor has it this kid was in mid-stream when this picture was taken. That’s a lie, but it kind of looks that way, huh? Anyway, I grew up in a neighborhood that didn’t have a community pool so we were forced to jump through the sprinklers or breakout what my Dad called the “yard killer”; the kiddie pool. I remember these plastic pools from K-Mart to be as much fun as they look above. Even for an only child who had an imagination that could keep him entertained for an eternity during Catholic mass, this pool, with floating pine needles and drowned yellow jackets, really sucked. Especially when you have a friend over and the suck is multiplied by two. Ugh! I can still smell the hose water and see the pool toys that were just fancy McDonald Happy Meal boxes in the shape of boats.
The next step up is being invited to the friend’s neighborhood pool. That’s an exciting summer day.
Wow…sharks and minos, underwater tea parties, chicken, handstands, cannonballs, jackknives, and of course my famous 1/3 flip off the diving board. That’s always good for a laugh. I also remember the packed lunch and how Hi-C, peanut butter sandwiches, Doritos and Sunkist Fun Fruits never tasted so good. I tried it the other day and it just isn’t the same without chlorine and uncontrollable shivering.
First off, it’s a place I generally drink beer and read. Those are the two things I didn’t do when I was a kid. Also I rarely go into the water because it is usually occupied by 12 year olds and that age group really pisses me off in recreational environments. It’s just a great time to catch up with a good book, drink a dozen beers and sweat them out while working on a one-sided tan because I hate laying on my stomach. I can never get comfortable. Are you suppose to stick your face between the chair straps?
Anything that comes in one of these is great. If it is served by this guy it will be a minor explosion of amazing.
Pasta salad is the must at all outdoor activities that includes food. If I am present at a picnic and the is no pasta salad expect me to remove the picnic blanket and use it as a cape as I run around and step on the rest of the food. Expect it.
Couple of dogs and a beer. It’s hard to imagine lips, assholes and yeast to be a summer must but it is. Especially at a weekday 1pm Cubbies game when you skip work to go. “Heyyy batta batta, sawingg batta!! He can’t hit he Can’t hit he can’t hit…”
Quarter sliced watermelon that is wrapped in Reynold’s Wrap. Don’t know why but this is summer to me. But every time I eat watermelon I get a dull pain in my tongue from a watermelon eating race gone bad back in 1985. I remember I bit my tongue and lost the race. As I sat there in failure, holding ice wrapped in a paper towel on my tongue, I was awarded a “nice try” gift. It was bubbles. Insult!
Do I really need to expand on this one? It’s part of the reason the Earth tilts on it’s axis, you know. But remember, if you see Megadeth this summer, leave the laser pointer at home. See below. I’m pretty sure the guy in the audience is no longer with us.
Created by a very funny guy over at Revelation XIII, the character Baron Mind, played and written by Mike Revenaugh and filmed/edited by
My whole life I have moved at least every few years but this house you see above has remained a constant when I was growing up. I was here as an infant, every Christmas was spent here, more Nerf boomerangs have been eaten by the roof and more light saber battles have been waged in this backyard than Lucas could ever imagine. It’s hard to believe that there are over 30 years of personal memories here.
To get in the house we will go around back to the covered porch. The only people who come through the front door are deliveries and company. You’re with me so we will go this way. See that cooler over there? It’s always full of beer. There is nothing better than sitting on the porch with the space heater blaring, drinking Yeungling and reading my Grandmothers Parade magazine. I’m not joking. Just looking at this picture I smell the stale cigarette smoke and electric heating coils. *sniffffff……ahhhhhhhh*
From the back porch we get to the kitchen. This is where my love for instant coffee was forged. But this picture is bitter sweet because as I look at the chairs my mind drifts to the days when I was forced to finish my cooked carrots, no matter how long it took. You see, my grandparents grew up during the depression and not finishing your food was as insulting as telling them the Pope is a bag of dicks. So I would sit there and endure a child’s equivalent to water boarding as I would choke down cooked carrots, dry heaving and tearing. I do, however, have a great memory of my Uncle Mark coming to my rescue and scarfing down my carrots when my Grandmother left the room, giving me a wink and a shush finger as he headed out for his night on the town. I love that guy.
Leaving the kitchen we come to the dining room. It’s funny, but this room elicits a little bit of anger from me and it comes from a silly pet peeve. I hate eating in a quiet place and listening to eating noises. This side of the family eats….well…like a G-damn horse. They never have the TV on so all yo hear is crunching, smacking and nose-whistling. I always show up to the table with two forks; one to eat with and one to stab into my leg out of anger.
The living room! This is where we gather to watch TV and I swear, the local news is on at least half the time. To this day, coming home to Grandma’s is not official until I hear the channel 6 theme song, 
My Grandfather passed away a few years ago. Every time I am alone in this house I tend to stare at the old pictures and remember him. He really was the product of the greatest generation. He served in the Navy in WW2, came home, started right to work at GE making rotatory rocket engines for ICBMs, got married and had kids. I constantly think about his work ethic. Every year he worked like a dog to provide for the family and only had the one week vacation at the shore to look forward to. He never complained though and he never quit to find greener pastures. He was tough, selfless and had a heart the size of Gibraltar. But cancer came and took him from us in 2003. God I do miss him.
We are now upstairs. You are looking at the only bathroom in the house. If you look closely at the frame on the right you will notice that it has a slight curve to it. When the weather changes the wood swells and this leads to the door sticking. I can not take a shower without locking the door so that means the door has to be flush with the frame. So, I spend 15 to 20 minutes in the bathroom and 30 minutes prying the door open. Two years ago I pulled the knob straight off.
We are going to skip the other two rooms up here and go right to Uncle Mark’s room. This is where I usually sleep when I visit. Notice the folded cot on the right? Yeah, sleeping in here is a challenge to say the least. I try to beat Uncle Mark to bed because if he falls asleep first, it’s like sleeping in the trombone section of an orchestra. There is nothing worse, besides eating sounds, than trying to fall asleep over super sonic snoring and four-note sleep farts. Try to find your happy place during that!
GAAAA! Don’t forget who sleeps in the next room.
Now we are in the basement and this is the best room in the house. My Uncle Mark has occupied the basement ever since I could form memories. This was the place where I spent most of my time and I know that was a little selfish because I should have spent more time hanging out with my elderly great aunts and eating their blue mints. But seriously though, how could a kid resist cable TV, a bag full of candy next to the recliner, a computer with Duke Nuke ‘Em, and every cool gadget known to man. I mean, I didn’t grow up with cable so HBO and old school Nickelodeon was something you had to take advantage of. I swear I saw the movie The Explores and the show 
The hat collection. This is actually willed to me. I’d like to say I can’t wait but that means somebody has to die. I’ll wait for the hat collect.
Here we are! The vacation fund and it’s full….of dimes…..and there is a lock on it. 
Uncle Mark’s ex-girlfriend was a graphic artist an she designed screen savers. This is one of them. I really hope this was the reason he dumped her because, WTF?!?!
I’ll post my failed pick tomorrow.
Linda Blair. I know what you are thinking but she has had a big influence on my life. This lady set a new standard for things that go bump in the night. I’ll never forget sleeping in a sleeping bag in the parents bedroom at age 12 because I was sure Reagan was hiding in my closet giving me that creepy grin. You know the 
Joe Strummer. It’s weird to realize your influences so much later in life. When Joe died of congested heart failure in 2002 I had been a Clash fan going on 12 years. I was saddened but like many other people I figured a rock star life was one that circles the drain anyway and it was only a matter of time. The other day when I was thinking about this post it really hit me that Joe set the standard for my musical taste and messages the artists bring to the table. Was he the greatest singer? Compared to many, no. Was he the greatest guitarist with the cleanest live performance? No way. But when you read the lyrics and see the raw artistic talent, it will make you involuntarily sit down. The Clash set te bar high for me and Joe’s death really affected me more than I thought.
Peter Benchley. I guess it would be easy to put the blame on Steven Spielberg but I am going right to the source. I saw the movie, Jaws when I was younger, and it’s true that after seeing that I was deathly afraid of the ocean, harbors, ponds, lakes, pools, bathtubs, toilets and anything else that held water, the life-force of great whites. But I feel that blaming Steve is like shooting the messenger. no, I think the mastermind of Jaws deserves a bit of the blame for my inability to tread water in a lake without visions of teeth and dorsal fins.
Casserole of Disaster 
