Category: personal

Let’s Go To The Beach

I am not dead! Sorry it has been so long. Work and life has been a real pain as of late but that is neither here nor there. What does “here nor there” mean anyway? I say that all the time but until I wrote it I just never thought about it. “To shake a stick at” is another one. I have never shaken a stick at anything in my life, much less many things.

What were we talking about? Oh yeah, so life has been a bag of dicks but that’s not your problem. I am going to share a feel good memory about the beach because I miss it and I want to take a virtual trip. You are invited so don’t forget the beer, sunscreen, blanket and alkeselzer tablets for the seagulls. Just kidding.

So here we are at the beach house in Sea Isle City, NJ. I have to admit that right when we arrive the clock will be ticking for the trek down the street to the shore. But I know that we will have to do the lame job of unpacking the car, putting away all the food, making the beds, and opening all the windows to air out the vacant home. But little do you know that I have already cracked open the first of twenty Budlights that will be consumed before the end of the day. I am sorry but it is already half way done and I can’t stop the cold flow of alcoholic vacation goodness.

Finally it is beach time! We will be in our respected suits, yours much cooler than mine I am sure. But it’s fine because you can walk far ahead of me. I will take the a chair, the cooler, the radio and you can grab the other chair , blankets and bag full of the extra items like books, magazines, lotion and my emergency swim trunks. It’s a long story but one time I lost mine in the waves. The beach house never seemed so far away. I’ll take the heavy stuff because I am already on beer number four and that’s about the time when the term heavy means nothing.

The walk to the shore is less than a block but it’s a tough one when you refuse to wear flip flops. I have a thing about having sand rub in between the flip part of the flop. So that means my virgin feet will be scorched from not only the black topped road but also the loose sand at the beginning of the trail over the dunes. You will be behind me watching my high steps that would embarrass even Rick Moranos. But soon all the pain in the feet will fade as we peer over the top of the dune and the breeze from the ocean hits the face and the crashing waves muffle all the sounds of pedestrian traffic. We made it.

Finding the perfect spot to set up camp is always a challenge, especially when the feet are hovering around 400 degrees Celsius and possibly full of shells. It’s important not to be down wind of cigar smokers, away from possible football game outbreaks, at least 50 yards from any kid and not around old people who don’t like beer drinking and the tendency for impulsive dance. On top of all that, I am the type who will be there until the tide comes in so we will have to find a lunar gravity friendly zone. It takes a minute but when the perfect spot is found, all will be right with the world.

Off comes the shirt and on comes the suntan lotion! Most people will use a generous amount of SPF 70 for their first exposure to the summer sun but not me. I don’t believe that putting on a liquid shirt everyday of vacation will give you the true sense of the beach. I like having a little sunburn to let me know the next day as I take 15 minutes just to put one leg in the shower, that I have gone 100 percent in my relaxation. Just call me melanoma head.

Well, the blankets are laid out, the chairs are unfolded, the cooler is set, we are lathered with SPF and sun attractor, and the radio is on. Now for the pivotal moment when I introduce you to my mixed tape that has been with me on many beach vacations. This tape signifies that summer is here, we are on vacation and at the beach. If I ever lost it I may go camping in the woods for the rest of my life and never see another ocean again. Here is a sample of it. It’s a must for the beach and you have to listen.

The Monroe’s “What Do All The People Know”. My god I love this song. It will cause me to dance so if there is any shred of dignity that you may have, you may want to take that time to hunt down the Lemon Ice cart.

“Tenderness” from General Public is such a feel good song. Don’t know why this symbolizes summer but it does.

I wish this wasn’t the theme song for Look Who’s Talking because I love this song and I hate Kristy Alley. I can’t put my finger on it but I believe the synthesizers in this song is a symbol of 1985 at the beach. Or Pete Townshed’s huge nose. It must be murder when that guy has a head cold.

So the tunes are set and now it’s time to soak in the rays. This will last for approximately thirty minutes before I am compelled to run into the surf as if I was on fire. I won’t get out until either I have ingested too much saltwater or I need another beer. But I am guilty of not paying attention as I swim around the surf and before you know it the tide has pulled me 100 yards down the coast. This is a little confusing when trying to find the beach blanket. Last time I had to actually go out on the street to figure out what avenue number I drifted to. I may need you to keep an eye out for me. I’ll be the grown man with one arm floaty so it’ll make it easier for you.

There is one thing about salt air, it induces quite a hunger. I think a couple hours of beach fun will work up an appetite for turkey sandwiches, chips and Hi-C Echto Cooler. There has to be a break in the copious amount of Bud Light. The only problem I have with eating at the beach is that no matter how hard I try, I will always get the crunching of sand grains with whatever I am chewing. I will almost always touch something sandy and put my hand in the potato chip bag. It’s just a fact. I will also have sand on my beer can rim. Blech!

After we eat our sandwiches like they were our first meal in weeks it’s nap time. I can dig taking a nap on the beach. There is something that is so soothing and lulling about the ocean waves. But never far from my mind is a seagull shitting on my face. You may think this is an irrational fear but I saw it happen to my uncle. Yeah it was funny as hell but it could have been anyone of us. From then on I sleep with a hat on.

So the restless sleep is finished and it’s time to crack another beer. I think by that time it should be at least beer number 11. That sounds about right. Do you know what else it is time for? Velcro catch! I know this is sissy catch but with the wild pitches I have been known to throw, it is far better to hit an old lady in the head with a tennis ball than a real baseball. I’m kind of like a high strung dog. You will have to decide when this game is up. I can throw pretend pop ups all day.

I think by now it will be time for one final rinse in the ocean to clean all the sand from the suit’s waist line and pack it up. There is still dinner to go to and a boardwalk to walk. It will be a good possiblity that I will shake the blankets and towels up wind causing another trip to go rinse off. But that is a lesson that is easily forgotten over a whole year. By now the first sign of sunburn starts to show. I always check by pressing my hands to my stomach to see the print. Yep. I’ll be sunburned.

The greatest thing about the beach house is the outside showers. I love showering outside. Actually being naked outside is a good thing. This is the only time I can get away with it, legally. I’m sure the familiar sting on the thighs from the sun exposure will be apparent but that can be combated by two more beers, a shot of Patron and a little aloe. I know I committed to the sunburn but shit, I’m not trying to kill myself.

We will have to pace ourselves for first night because there is still a few more to go. I think after a great dinner, buying shot glasses and airbrushed shirts on the boardwalk we will go back and crank up the stereo. Then sit on the front deck with a few beers and meet the neighbors by playing Billy Idol way too loud. It has always been an ice breaker for me. Hopefully this time it will not include a police introduction as well.

So that’s our virtual beach trip. I say we do this for real. How ‘boucha?

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Well, It Could Be Worse

I am starting to dread Wednesday meetings and it’s not because they are drab or boring. They are but there is a dedicated hour that I have to show my account predictions and compare them to last week’s using only Microsoft Project. That means there are no fancy hand gestures or Wookie defense talk that can save me from the blank expressions after I clearly tell them in numbers whether I had a good week or a bad one. So today I sat there, wrestling with the projector, thinking that there are far worse places to be. Believe it or not, the meeting went over well, even though I showed the room I am a retard with a rubix cube when it comes to a certain account. It’s all about perspective, my friends. Let’s take a look at some examples.

One could always be in here. I try to make it a goal to only be in a port o potty in emergency senerios but when I am, this is never too far from my mind.

Great Whites are by far my favorite animal in the animal kingdom. It’s ironic, but they are the last thing I want to see at the beach. I think the comedian Kevin James summed it up best when he said, “I have the same reaction in the ocean when something touches me foot, whether it’s seaweed or a great white shark.”

I don’t know what would be worse here, wearing a Speedo in public, having a Euro-mullet or getting a face full of ass.

I took a course in Crew Resource Management for pilots and a good portion of it was listening to the black box recordings of the final moments before a crash. I guess it was to analyze the decision making and crew management but I walked away very disturbed. All I thought about were the passengers and how out of touch they were of the dire situation that was unfolding in the cockpit. It’s kind of like my love/hate of the great white. I love flying but I’m nervous as a passenger.

Shot by a monkey. It could happen! They have thumbs you know. I’m just kidding. I do think getting attacked by a primate would really ruin your day. I watched a program on Animal Planet and they had a guy with half a face testify to how bad it sucks to be attacked by a monkey. He also lost his testicles. That solidified it. I can never trust a monkey again.

I’m glad this little guy learned not to chew on pens at an early age. I had to learn it in college during Public Speaking 101.

I have no idea how people get themselves in positions like this but it’s a given that I would rather be in a meeting than having this X-Ray taken.

So you see? It’s all about perspective in life and that alone will power me through a two hour meeting. Tonight I will go to an equally dull dinner so I am thinking I would much rather do that than cut off my lower lip with a rusty pair of scissors. Wow, now I can’t wait to go!

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Practical Joke Day!

I think I need to be a little more productive at work. It’s not that I am bored or lazy, it’s just that the days seem to drag on a bit longer than I remember. So today I couldn’t help myself and regressed to a 16 year teenager. I pulled a practical joke on a co-worker and I must say, I am pretty proud of myself. It wasn’t a Jim Halpurt “calculator in Jello” maneuver but it was on the same level.

To defend myself the person on the receiving end deserved it. He’s a good guy but one, he plays competitive handball. That’s disturbing. And two, he asked me if I ever have a serious side. Well pal, here is your answer.

Here is how it went down:

  • Conducted inner office reconnaissance from 8-10am
  • Observed that the subject left his cubicle to the printer station at least 5 times in an hour.
  • When he was at the printer station I pulled up a YouTube clip and paused it
  • Turned his processor backwards toward the wall and turned his speakers all the way up.
  • Before unplugging the mouse I pressed play and turned off his monitor.
  • Crawled on my hands and knees all the way to my office without anyone noticing
  • Watched all the gofers pop their heads from the top of the cubicles
  • Saw said person come unglued
  • Then went back to work worried that I took it too far.

Here is the video. Imagine it’s in a quiet office and this is way loud.

I shouldn’t be in corporate America.

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Sad Songs Say So Much

I guess Iam in a little bit of a melancholy mood this evening. It’s been a long day and I find myself, again, in a hotel room far from anything familiar. Really, the funny thing about long periods of solitude without much human interaction is the chance of reflection. So I thought I would listen to some songs on YouTube and reminisce because of course, nothing is closer linked to my memory than songs and soundtracks. But I have to warn you, these are sad songs.

I can really take or leave Bruce Springsteen and it’s not because of his music. Personally I think he is a pompous jerk especially after a 60 Minutes interview where he basically told the reporter he is smarter than the average American and is the voice of the majority. But I digress. His song “My Hometown” is a song that gives me the chills just hearing the intro keyboard. I consider myself to be very patriotic but not in the sense that I feel we need to force the American way on every third world nation. I hear this song and think about kids at bus stops, Dad leaving for work with the hard hat in one hand and lunch in the other. I think about Mom pulling the late shift at the grocery to make a little extra for the family and Friday night football games. This is a reflection of America.

This is going to be a tough one. I’m not the biggest country music fan in the world but Willie Nelson is an exception. He has this bravado about him that I consider more rock than anything else. Perhaps it’s because he sticks it to “the man” by not paying taxes and openly smokes weed. Regardless, after my Grandfather passed, Willie and I became a little closer.

My Grandfather passed away very suddenly from a heart attack and a day later I found myself in Bakersfield, California with the rest of the immediatefamily. Through out that day we did the un pleasantry’s of funeral arrangements and eulogy writing. My poor Grandmother was still bewildered but her selfless spirit never showed pain as she consoled my Father, Aunts and Uncles. As the day became night everyone left to their respective hotels and I was left to sleep in the guest room with only my Grandmother in the house.

The house was busy with every person in driving distance stopping through to pay their condolences. At any given time there was no less than thirty people in a relatively small ranch home so when the last person left the silence was deafening. She and I sat on the couch and watched old British comedies on PBS as the time slipped passed 1 am. Looking at the clock she suggested I retire to bed and she would too after her wine. It was difficult for me to find the appropriate words, but she read my face and insisted she was fine. She would be in bed shortly.

As I layed down in bed I stared at the ceiling and tried to remember my Grandfather in a light that would be positive for the wake. He was a very abrasive person. I can think of more than one instance when he would say “I sure do love you, Goddamn it”. A colleague of his at UC Berkley once said that my Grandfather had to be the bride at every wedding and corpse at every funeral. At least that was partly accurate. Regardless, I did find the good times but that was interrupted by the sound of music from the study down the hall. It was the unmistakable sound of Willie Nelson’s classical guitar. So I got out of bed to see what was happening and found my Grandmother sitting next to the record player with a lap full of letters and pictures. She looked up, half expecting me to be there.

“I guess I wasn’t ready to look at his empty pillow.”

You know, there are a handful of moments in your life that really take your breath away. That was one of mine. I sat next to her as she shared old love letters during World War II when she was stationed in San Fransisco (she was an officer in the Navy) and he was in the Pacific. She also showed me pictures of the family from the 50’s to the late 70’s including a glorious one of my Dad with sideburns and bellbottoms. Everytime the song would end she would ask me to replay it and we would go back to remembering my Grandfather, Bill. This lasted for two bottles of wine and a sunrise.

She died a year later. I never told anyone in the family about our time together. I’ve always looked at my Grandmother as the source that smoothed out the rough wake my Grandfather made. But the time we spent together gave me the chance to know her as elegant, graceful, and strong woman with the dignity that is impossible to come by today. I do miss her and love her so.

When I found this song, “Stardust” by Willie Nelson on YouTube I made it through about ten seconds. I guess even two years later it is too soon for me to hear it. I do ask that you give it a try. It was one of B. Webster’s favorites.

“Into The White” by Cat Stevens (Yusuf) is hands down one of my favorite songs. I think the word beautiful was meant for creations like this. No matter how many times I listen, it never gets old. I even butcher it on guitar and sing but that’s only for my ears. Enjoy this one. I have for as long as I can remember.

Who doesn’t love Jim Croce? Hm? Hm? That’s what I thought. The song “Operator” will always remind me of the time I went cross country skiing with Dad and my Uncle, Brett. I was way too young to cross country ski so I ended up being the whiner of the trip. To top things off I got carsick on the way out of the park too. I actually don’t know why this song brings up that memory. Strange.

Well, that’s as depressing as I want to get. But just to balance things out I will leave you with a joke.

“What do you see when the Pillsbury Doe Boy moons you?”

“Donuts”

Good night everybody!

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100!

Today marks the 100th post on Veggie Macabre. It’s not that big of a deal but I have been known to throw parties for triple coupon day at Target. So today will be no different in the fact that I will walk around the office with a false sense of accomplishment. People will ask me how I am and I will say, “pretty fucking great, pissface” and high five them. During the Monday morning mandatory meeting (MMMM…) I will make a motion that every Friday will be “Hawaiian shirt day” or at least “short sleeve button down with tie day”. After work I will go to the running track and try and race every jogger I see and at the end I’ll dump water on my head and repeat, “I just never stopped believing…i never stopped.” Later in the evening I will go to the bar, alone, and order one bourbon, one scotch and one beer and start a discussion that George Thorougood looks goofy in comparison to how he sounds. Big teeth. And before I go to bed, I will read over the past eleven months on Veggie Macabre and reflect how life has changed, both for the good as well as the bad and be thankful for all I have.

So for this 100th post I think I’ll keep to the same theme of no theme. He are some pictures I took on my camera phone from the past couple of weeks. I know a few are of poor quality but then again, it’s a camera phone. So here you are, a look into my world.

I have passed this guy a few times on the commute to work. It’s no doubt he’s a little special but hey, he can ride a bike. Notice the ballistic sand/snow goggles, the Styrofoam helmet and the fingerless gloves? God bless him, he makes my day. Especially when I see him going up a hill. Old boy really works that bike.

For F’ sake, Pizza World finally went under. It’s a sad day when mom and pop restaurants like this get gobbled up by corporate crapheads. There are never enough places like Pizza World, Sandwich Planet or Rocket Burger. I guess it’s the space theme I really enjoy. R.I.P. Pizza World.

This is a real house. No shit, it’s a real house and two elderly people live there. The rumor is back in the 60’s, when this town had a population under 500, the guy promised his wife she would one day live in a castle. He made good on his word and he built this. I don’t think she was expecting a putt-putt castle, though. It even has a mote and gnomes that guard the entrance. It’s funny but most people are awaiting the day the owners open the doors for an open house, much like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

At least there is one guy that isn’t European still holding on to the Zoo Pants. I caught this at the grocery store and it took me at least five pictures to get this one. He was on a mission to buy vitamins I suppose. Regardless, most of the store was aware of my picture taking and I immediately had to fake a phone call. You know you have too.

People who decorate the rear widow of their car with stuffed animals give me the heebs. I don’t know why people feel this is a good idea. I bet you the person driving this car is sporting an airbrushed t-shirt from their 1998 vacation to Panama City, Florida. Ooooo, I’m a shit.

Played some golf with clients last week and it turns out I really need more practice. Ever since I hit a dudes house a few years ago that erupted into a violent altercation, I have been anti-golf. But, you have to go where the money is and it turned out to be pretty lucrative, Even though most of my shots looked like this.

Every so often I go out to trendy night spots. This one was my favorite. It’s small, quaint, artsy and the people don’t get puke drunk and fall into you, causing beer to get on a new sports jacket. Not that has happened. I find myself repulsed by bars that require bouncers. Another bonus, the TV’s have Dr. Seuss cartoons on all the time. Weird.

I didn’t know having to take a piss was a privilage, privalage, pri-vo-lege, privilege. (whew) I haven’t lost that right since the Army. This was taken at a fortune 500 company building in Atlanta of all places. It’s a clear example of someone who has some leadership power and no idea how to handle it. Of course I wrote “O’Doyle Rules” on the wall.

So, in keeping with my random theme of Veggie Macabre, that is what is on my phone. The quality is never the best but I love having the ability to capture a moment in time to share or force on people. The 100th post isn’t that huge of a mile mark but I think I have at least 100 more. So cheers, tomorrow is 101.

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