Category: Holiday

New Year Review with Pics!

  Can you believe it is 2008? Where did the time go and how do we get it back? Well actually fuck that, I don’t want it back. This new year has to be time for growing and meaning. It has to be less self indulgent and more towards leading a life of purpose. I don’t want to be hit by a truck and have my life flash before my eyes only to see majority of bars shots, computer screens and Everybody Loves Raymond episodes. As you could probably guess from my previous posts, 2008 will be the year I say farewell to my 20’s and hello to my 30’s. I’m on a path of uncertainty as far as my career is going and who knows what will be even a month from now. But as unsettling as that may be I am excited as well. My best friend Joe is getting married to a wonderful girl and he announced I would be his best man. See? Only a few days into 2008 and already it is riddled with meaning. I found this out on New Years Eve in Atlantic City. Here is the story.

Every Christmas that I can remember we go to Philadelphia to visit my Mom’s side of the family. Partly because my Grandmother hosts the annual family reunion where every cousin, great aunts and uncles come to mingle, drink high-balls, eat until semi consciousness, and have the same conversations as the year before. I swear I am asked about the Atlanta Falcons no less than 500 times and when Mike Vick was indited on Dog fighting charges the first thing I thought was how many questions I will get in December. But I threw them a curve and concocted a theory we was set up by Donavan McNabb and he was the fall guy to the real culprits; the Philadelphia Eagles. Take that.

Here is proof that my Grandmother still thinks I am the number one grandkid. Except for that giant crack in the picture I still have a spot on the dresser. I think one of my cousins tried to bump me from my spot but MomMom wasn’t hearing it. I’m still standing in my striped shirt and faggy pose.

Even at 29 this doll in the guest bedroom haunts my dreams. It has one black eye for Christ Sakes! This nightmare stands almost 3 feet and I’m pretty sure has it out for me in some fashion. Many years ago my father moved that doll from the guest bedroom to the foot of my cot in Uncle Marks room. Approximately three am I woke up to the outline of a midget in a dress staring at me as I slept. When I realized it was the freaky doll I had a definite episode. It scared me so bad I swear I had a penal inversion. To this day my dad still feels a little bad about it but it all good. My junk worked it’s way back to the normal position.

And for the last stop of the Grandfolk’s house we end in the basement. This is where I spent the majority of my visits because Uncle Mark has more cool shit than any other hoarder could. If anything has the tag “As Seen On TV” it was down in the basement. A kid could go bananas in this place and through the eighties and early nineties I pretty much did. But this year Uncle Mark had the place torn up as he was getting rid of most everything. I couldn’t understand how he toss all that history when Ebay was obviously a much more lucrative alternative. Of course he had never heard of such a thing. It’s my Uncle Mark. Nothing comes as a shock to me when it comes from a guy who pronounces Karaoke, Karookee and also pronounces the “t” in fillet. I love that dude and now he is the proud seller of everything strange.

Well, before I knew it the visit was done, gifts were given, hugs were exchanged and now it was off to the rental car place  to get a shitty white Grand Am that smelled like dead hooker from the trunk and proceed south east to Atlantic City. My best pal Joe was there with his lady Andrea and we were going to bring in 2008 the way it was intended to be brought in. So, I got to the Wyndem with surprising ease because I will be honest, when I’m in a new city my sense of direction sucks. I orientate my self by the sun and the ocean. So that guarantees that I will be at least a half a day late. Regardless, I got there and met up with Joe and his new love.

That is Joe and Andrea. They live in the D.C. area and both are in the medical profession. I know Joe is madly in love with this girl because Andrea told me when she returned from a business trip Joe had cleaned her litter box and brushed the cat and Joe hates cats with a passion.  When I had my cat Snooter he refused to come over because everytime he did, Snooter would chase him around the apartment only wanting to be pet. I know that sounds silly but I know this dude better than anyone and I can tell that is a testament of true love.

This is us at the beginning of the the first night with me (left), Joe (middle) and Jeff (right). Jeff runs a Dojo and can kill a man over 1,000 different ways so it is wise to stay on his good side. Actually Jeff is a stand up dude and I am really glad I have him as a friend. Besides, he got us this kick ass suite and VIP passes at the Borgota. Just kidding, he’s a great guy period.

As you can tell this is much later in the evening. You may have noticed the white pullover is off and that is with good reason. See, this past December hasn’t been the greatest and I didn’t want to compound issues by getting hammered so my tolerance was much less than I had anticipated. After many drinks at dinner, Joe had the idea to take shots and the worst thing happened. Ever heard of a boomerang shot? I had one. It went down and under no power of my own it came right back up. This has never happened before so I did the only this I could and that was put my pullover over my face. Even in a drunken state the mind can still work. The Tommy Bahama shirt saved me from a one way kick out of the club and luckily for me I was wearing my KISS shirt rather than my “Powered By Pancakes” IHOP shirt. God does love me after all.

Here we are, The Bash Brothers. Joe asked me to be his best man so you can see the pride on my face here. He is as close to a brother to me as one can get and I’m not going to let this guy down. We haven’t always seen eye to eye and at times we bicker but at the end of the day, if he needed a heart transplant I would be on the top of the list as a donor. He’s a good shit.

Joe and I have our own style of dancing and some music just doesn’t mix well. Luckily for Andrea there was a gay guy cutting the rug and those too cleared at least a 20 foot radius. The only thing two white guys could do was sit in awe wondering what would go out first, our back or our knee. Here are other pictures…..

Jeff. What a dog! Right after this picture was taken I left to go to the restroom leaving Jeff to mack alone. When I came back I accidentally washed off the stamp on my hand and the line was probably a mile long. I stranded my wingman but it was OK. He got a long fine, I’m sure.

Still can’t figure this one out. Is that the moral support chair? Do girls really sit next to each other like that?  And for guys that looks danger close to the stream. Besides, one would have to face the other. If you don’t get pee shy from that than nothing will.

The end of 2007 and now we go home. Getting up a few hours later, driving to Philadelphia, catching a flight home was painful but I must say it was completely worthwhile. Next year will be different I am sure . Who knows where I will be or what I will be doing. Perhaps it will be spectacular or maybe not but I can guarantee it will be with purpose. Life is all what you make of it and if you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you could miss it. (That was cheesy I know but come on, it’s Ferris.)

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Mele Kalikimaka-kaka

 

  Well,  another Christmas has come and gone and I have never been happier to see it go. I hated everything about it this year. And much like people who are allergic to cats, if you don’t want to be around it, it wants to be around you. I have never had so many joyful people sharing their spirit and festiveness than I have had this December. Every turn was a question about presents I am giving or plans I have on the eve of Christmas. I tried not to be a Scrooge and spoil other peoples holiday spirit so I kept my disdain to myself but now that it is the 27th I can officially say, stick your tree up your ass and cough up the star because this month was painful.

  Now don’t get me wrong. My woes are my own doing and I own up to the fact that a change in course of life this close to Christmas generally leads to a bah humbug here or there but this month was just ridicules. I will sum it up like this. Imagine your dog eating all the silver tinsel strips off the tree and leaving a platinum shit in your slipper. That’s the Christmas season of 2007. A platinum shit in my slipper.

   Whew! Glad to get that off the chest and now I can post more. I just couldn’t do it this month. Ever time I tried, the heart wasn’t in it. So now I am in Philadelphia at the Grandparents house so I have to share this. If you remember my Uncle Mark story this one will top it. God I love that guy. Well, time to start snapping pictures and writing. This one will breach the 3000 word mark. I have a lot to share.

(Lacey, this isn’t directed at you.)

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Me And Murf

 

My whole life I have tried to make the right decisions only to find that there was a much better decision I could have made staring me right in the face the whole time. I’m not saying that every one I made was the wrong one but usually there was an easier way if only I took the time to think and not shoot from the hip. There are certain people in life that can take a 50/50 chance and almost every time get it wrong. I am one of those people and I have come to accept that. When there is a fork in the road, gut feelings are not to be trusted because Murphy and I are so close he allows me to call him Murf. Let me give you an example.

This afternoon I went to the basement to hunt down the elusive Christmas tree ornament box that weighs between 45 and 500 lbs  based on how high on the shelf it is. This year it was located on the tip top of the back self in the darkest corner of the basement. My mission was to retrieve it, lug it upstairs with minimal damage to the eggshell white walls and Ethan Allen furniture obstacle course between the basement and living room tree. Assessing the height, weight and angle the Rubbermade box I needed a stable platform to reach it. Looking directly at a step ladder I immediately decided that was no good and the half crushed cardboard box was just perfect to stand on because it was closer to the Christmas box.

I crawled up on the box and dispersed my weight evenly on both sides. Laughing to myself for being so clever Murphy heard me and came calling. Just as I pulled the tonnage of ornaments to the point of no return the box below gave way and we all came crashing to the cement floor. And then I woke up after dreaming about jell-o salad and a backyard Luau. No shit, I knocked myself out cold! I have only involuntarily fallen asleep a few times and that involved a needle, the smell of rubbing alcohol and blood. So now I don’t want to fall asleep because I may slip into a comma. Is that right? Concussions lead to comas? I think that’s right so it looks like a long night of VH1 Classic Rockfest.

I need to find comfort in my dilemma so I turn to the Wold Wide Web. I know my blog mates are smarter than I am so I can’t turn to them. Thanks YouTube. Again.

Did you see the ceramic Elvis at the end?

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Radio Sh*t

                                                                    

I’m going to start this day with a reflection on RadioShack. I hate RadioShack with a hatered that is rarely witnessed by many who know me. If someone was to udder words like crap, shit, stink pile, poo, junk, dump, pewtrid, funk or sounds like blap, ploop, or shlllapsspspsp, the first image in my head would be the RadioShack sign. Why I feel this way is primarely because of a Christmas present I recieved in 1985. It was a silver Ferarri remote controlled car and it was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. You can tell by weight and size of a wrapped gift that it has to be cool. Rectangular packages leave out the possibility of clothes or books so it was kept for last to unwrap and to a seven year old it was not a disapointment
I could hardly wait to pull that thing from the box, put in the 6 D baterries and tear up the driveway with the Italian dream machine. But little did I know it was bought from the one store that sells only electronic dog shit. When the car was prepped and charged and I was dressed for the inclimate, damp day outside, it was time to test drive.
  I remember approximatly ten full minutes of remote control fun and then it came to rest, rolling out of control against the garage door. With a mechanical inclination of a seven year old I feverishly banged the remote. There had to be a simple answer to why the car is not responding! So with mouth agape, arms limp and a slouching stride I walked to the disabled car and examined the undercarriage. I can’t remember what I was looking for but I had a gut feeling it was bad. I needed to take to Mr. Fix-it. You know…Dad.
  With careful inspection my father was too perplexed with why the car decided to shit the bed so soon. He expected it to last at least a week. He turned to the one avenue I would never and that is the instruction sheet. This led to my worst fears and that was the long list of what the car could not drive on and if you own it then the joke was on you. Turns out the car could not operate on pavement, lanolium, carpet, grass, dirt or anything else besides a wooden track. Dad looked at me with sympathy and we decided to bring it back to RadioShit on the most dreaded boxing day to see if there was a way to return the car. This is the beginning of my hatered towards RadioShack. But I was cool for now. I had other toys to break.
  So we got up early and took off to Perimeter mall. My memory is fuzzy because I probably blocked out most of that day but I’m sure it was a mad house. With the car back in the original box my Dad and I walked into the RadioShack store to stand in line behind other equally pissed off customers. He thought this was a great platform for me, as a seven year old, to gain some real adult expirience and ask for a Ferarri exchange by myself. Now that I think about it he probably was banking on a cuteness factor to make the exchange less painful. Either way, cuteness or life lesson, it backfired and the bitch clerk took one look at me and decided to make me an example.
 

Now to this day I am positive that all RadioShack emloyees ar given a training handbook full of Nazi propaganda. They take great joy in selling little kids shit for Christmas presents, have them go through the pains of the present breaking and forcing them to come back to the store to recieve an ass chewing. Why I believe this? It only makes sense to me because it happened to me. The snot, chick employee assessed the situation before her and in a loud voice said, “Let me guess, you didn’t read the instuctions and now you want a new one?”


  I remember my ears turning hot and humiliation set in. With a scornful look she snatched the box out of my arms and went to the “employee only” section. I looked for my Dad but he was standing by the cassette players lost in geek world. Before Icould go to him for protection the “employee only” door kicked open and the female Gerbles waddeled her way to the counter. She wasn’t done with her power talk. Not by a long shot.
  “I am going to let you exchange this but I had better not see you back here whining about how it is broken.” I hope she felt good having a power trip on a seven year old. Maybe it was the fact she had to work on the holidays or I was customer number 3,000 with an exchange but I feel she saw me as an outlet for her shitty RadioShack customer service skill.
  Walking out the store my Dad peeled away from HiFi extacy and saw that mission was accomplished. I was still in shock from having my ass handed to me. We made it to about the parking lot before I broke down in tears. I was a protected kid growing up. My folks never yelled at me and my elementary school was something from Nickelodeon so getting chewed out by a stranger really shook me up. It must have because I am writing about it 22 years later. Dad didn’t really think that much about it. We got into the car and went to Ihop for “feel better pancakes.”
  By the time we got home the feelings of shame and embarasment subsided and the excitement of a new remote Ferarri took center stage. But when I took the box from the bag the bitch from the store had salt for me wounds. Istead of a shiny ass kicking ass kicker sports car I got a remote controled pickup truck. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
  I have not been to a RadioShack since. I refuse to shop there and I even tell others to boycott the company. My visceral hatered towards RadioShack will never be squelched and everytime a new store opens a puppy dies. So up yours RadioShack. Up yours.

11

Black Friday: 20 Things

  I took a little break from the blogging world this past Holiday weekend. For one reason I wanted to detatch myself from the computer long enough to speak to my family without using cyber lingo. The other is I voluteered for Atlanta’s Open Hand and on Wednesday and Thanksgiving morning I helped prepare meals for people who have been strickened with a terminal illness and are spending the last months in private away from the hospital. I quess I’m a bleeding heart because I couldn’t find anything to write about after that expirience. But it did change me a little and now I think my Saturday mornings will be spent doing the same. I’ll write about it in the next blog.

  I really want to talk about last Friday morning and how I braved the “Black Friday” shopping madness. For years I laughed at the poor souls who subject themselves to long lines, parking frustrations and rude people only to save a little money in exchange for their sanity. Well, the joke was on me and I was forced to spend a few hours in shopping Hell and the entire time I made a mental list of what I would rather do or be strickened with than be there. Here it is in no particular order.

  1. Only able to knock on doors with my face
  2. Get in a spitball war with Rosie O’Donald
  3. Drink a cup of laxetives and get interviewed on the Larry King Live show
  4. Pass out in public and get sexually ravaged by a toy poodle
  5. Legally have my name changed to Pumpy
  6. Take a back road mountain drive in a 67′ beetle, no AC and drink luke warm milk as a passenger.
  7. Forced to only dress in Hip Hop apparel.
  8. Eat 5 microwavable sausages, look on the back of the box and find out it is a proud sponser on the 1996 Olympics.
  9. Have to “shot gun” all canned drinks.
  10. Can only brush teeth with small rodents. (The good ones, ie. hamsters or gerbils)
  11. Have the same name as someone on the terrorist watch list.
  12. Have a quantum leap only to find out that I am the hot dog eating champion on race day.
  13. Find out Santa isn’t real.
  14. Take political advice from anyone in Hollywood
  15. Get into a serious conversation with someone who has a bad stuttering problem and try not to crack a smile.
  16. Actually work retail on Black Friday.
  17. Only watch the Hallmark channel, Lifetime and Women’s Entertainment forever.
  18. Spend a weekend trapped in a walk-in closet with Steve-O from Jackass.
  19. Streak at an Iranian soccer game
  20. Eat cereal out of the box and half way through feel something furry.

  Now I am serious about that list. From now on I will only shop online and if you do too, please use X-Entertainment’s Amazon link so Matt can afford his annual Advent calender. If you are unfamiliar take some time to read it starting in 2002. It is quite possibly the funniest and most creative thing I have ever read and it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

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