Category: personal

TV Show Intro’s

They say smell is the closest sense to memory we have. To me I think my memories align with TV sitcom theme songs. I guess it was how I was raised as an only child but when certain shows from the 80’s come on I feel the need to get on the floor, face the screen less than a foot away, sit on my knees and drift into TV heaven where every episode had a moral lesson and every crisis lasted only 30 minutes. It is weird to think that Nell Carter’s voice can bring up memories of Fun Fruits.

These songs were really catchy too. I swear that if they came on the radio I would crank up the volume, singing every word without a care who was in the car. Even if I was carjacked the dude would have to shoot me before I changed Webster’s theme song.

Small Wonder wasn’t a huge show by any standard but to a third grader in the 80’s it was my world. God, I had such a crush on the girl who played the robot, V.I.C.K.I.. It’s kind of strange that I thought she was hot but in real life at school I truly thought girls were more or less bio-hazards. I guess they ranked about the same as Harriet. Oh goodness I hated her. I had fantasies that Vicki would punch the freckles right off her face. No such luck.

What would we do, baby? I never was too into Family Ties because, well, I never identified with the family. That song does bring up a little nausea, though. We were sitting in the family room watching Family Ties when I honked on my lap due to many many Samoa Girl Scout cookies consumed earlier in the day. To this day I can’t stand coconut, cookies with holes in the middle, the color purple, merit badges, or the Family Ties cowbell. Go figure?

One Day At A Time was on when I was still shitting myself and while I don’t have any real memories of this show I do remember my Mom playing this on the piano. Everyone confused her for Mackensie Phillips so she learned the theme song and sang it all the time. I guess she felt flattered by the comparison. Regardless I can taste Gerber peaches and smell the old ’71 Beetle when I hear this.

I still remember that this came on at 8 am on PBS. It’s not like I was down with reading or the fabulous book reporting the kids did or even the blind guy from StarTrek but this song means summertime. I have turned on this show many times in my bathing suit getting ready for a productive day of running through the sprinkler. Plus that synthesizer is just too cool. I still find myself imitating it even today. “beepee bop booo beeee pee bop pooo” I went a little too far, haven’t I?

Is there anyone in the world that doesn’t sing along with that? You can actually walk through the mall whistling “Charles In Charge’ and with in seconds some person with harmonize “….and our rights/nights.” Try it. I promise it will happen. If it doesn’t I will mail you a pink hat that says “Alamo” on it. I’m good for it.

This was mainly an after school show that involved me not studying Algebra and ultimately led me to a C. I never did thank Scott Baio for that. So, thanks Scott and after seeing your new show on VH1 I was right, you are a douchebag.

I loved this show when I was little. He was a pretty cute little kid and if George and Ma’am wanted to adopt a little bear cub that could talk this was as close to it as one could get. But I have a bone to pick with this show. My last name is Webster and most of the eighties and early nineties I was subjected to the same gay joke, “are you an adopted black midget?”. So, I owe the creators a thank you too. Thanks assholes.

Is there anything more one can say about ALF? Great show, good cast, funny puppet, and I was right at the appropriate age to really get into ALF. There was no shame in having Alf PJ’s or an Alf doll as a kid. In fact it was greeted with a tip of the hat and thumbs up among the peers. But recently I was watching an old episode and I had this uncomfortable sensation that I was in trouble. Then it hit me. Back when this show was popular I was a bit of a Hell raiser and about 8:10 on a Monday night, 1989, my teacher called to inform the folks that I was sent to the principals’ office for fighting. Can you believe a thirty year old guy’s heart jumps when the phone rings during Alf?

Nell Carter really wails, huh? I loved this show and I am not too proud to admit that if this was on a Karaoke list i would be all over it like Nell on a biscuit. OOOOOOH, I went there.

No real sensory driven memories about Gimme A Break but I just wanted to let everyone know I appreciated it. And I guess that will be all for now. I know there are a lot more like Growing Pains, Golden Girls, Empty Nest, C.H.I.P.S., Magnum PI, and….

Fuck me, I almost forgot Airwolf. This was the show I waited on all week. Even today when I am in a plane this song is on replay in my head. There is nothing cooler than this theme song and if anyone cares to argue you will be met with me plugging my ears, chanting”…I want to kill everyone, Satan is good, Satan is our pal..”

Ok, seriously. That is it.

17

You Staring At My Scooter?

When you say the word “scooter” I twitch. I can’t explain why but I do. It’s not that I look down on those who ride them, in fact I commend there little effort to limit emissions and our dependency on oil. I even admire the way they completely sacrifice the dignity as a fellow motorist. I have driven one but it was in another country, far from any friends who could ridicule me for driving above 35 mph with a horn that sounds like Fran Drescher climaxing. What I am really saying is that it is hard to take a vehicle seriously that can be chained to a tree when parked.

So I was in traffic this morning and to my right was a Hell’s Angle on a scooter, patiently waiting for the light to change. I sat there staring at him, a little impressed by his bravado to not only battle traffic on what really is just a heavy bicycle, but to expose himself to the frigid climate as well. What drives a guy to strap on a helmet, gloves and parka, mount a Yamaha with a guvnor and take off to work? He must feel like a guppy in a stream of migrating salmon.

(sorry for the picture quality) But upon closer inspection of this cyclist, I noticed something that led me to a summary of what drives this dude. He thinks he is the shit on his thunder bike. He looks in the mirror no less than 20 times, trying to decide what looks better; visor up or visor down. Every place he goes he carries his helmet wishing it was socially acceptable to just wear it all the time. And after a tough day at the office he cruises to the local bar, puts his “skid lid” on the bar, orders an O’Doul near-beer and scans the bar for chicks that may want a ride on his steel gelding. You know how I know this?

Because he is rocking Harley Davidson boots! That’s a enough for me to summarize this guy. You can tell a lot from a man’s shoes.

(I don’t have anything against scooter riders. I was stretching for material today)

14

Triscuit

There few things more disconcerting than eating your favorite snack and about 3/4’s of the way though figure out that something has been snacking with you. That happened to be my realization last night while I was elbow deep in a box of Triscuits. It’s no secret that my vice in life is reduced fat Triscuits much to the dismay of anyone watching TV with me or sharing an office. It’s not as harmful as smoking and not as fattening as beer but I have accidentally inhaled a shredded wheat fiber which caused me to choke while driving. From then on I only eat Triscuits from the safety of my armchair.

Back to my point. So I was mouing down the crackers when I found this!

It is a cracker with a perfect bite in it. Not what you want to find after consuming about 30 of them. So I sat there staring at the Triscuit, expressionless. Many things ran through my head as I held the cracker to the light. Then I placed it on the table and dumped out the remaining, scavenging for a clue to what could have possibly taken this bite and praying that a mouse didn’t fall on the table as well. After a minute or two I came up with these possibilities.

Not cool, man! I would die if I was sharing a snack with a mouse. But then I asked myself why would a mouse jump into a box of Triscuits and only take one bite of a cracker? I don’t think they stop at one. I certainly can not. Regardless, I doubt a mouse was the culprit because they generally chew their own doors open. Don’t they?

A confused termite, perhaps? I have seen a few termites around the area and wouldn’t you know it? These assholes bite and fly! I am more scarred of a termite than a bee. At least bees pollen-ate and make honey. Termites eat your home and then have the audacity to try and eat you. I am drifting again…back to the point. I am leaning against a termite. Even though Triscuits are as close to wood as a snack can get, it’s freezing outside and I just don’t believe one survived only to take up residence in my box of crackers.

Maybe a very young Seth Green. You’ll have to watch this clip from Tales From the Dark Side to see why that popped in my head. Seth turned out to be a normal looking guy but back in the day I remember him having one mega tooth. He could definitely open a few cans of Juicy Juice concentrate, I tell you. If it wasn’t for that whole time/space theory he may be a suspect into the matching one-tooth bite from my Triscuit. (it’s a good thing I am not a detective by trade)

So, I was left with only one possibility. I crossed my arms, leaned back in the chair and sighed. Why didn’t I think of this before? Looking at the pile of Triscuits I became aware that the culprit had been there the entire time, just staring at me from the kitchen window. They didn’t eat Triscuits, they just liked to mess with me and it worked. I think I may leave the sprinkler on over night. Then we will see who is laughing.

Stupid Gnomes.

6

Newton Can Freakin’ Hang

I don’t know why things like this happen to me but they do. Maybe they happen to everyone else and maybe I am more apt to share my follies on here but lately I feel like I was born under a bad sign. Most people know that I am a big believer in karma almost to the extreme that killing a spider is tough for me. In the back of my mind there maybe a chance that in the next life I will be a spider. I know that sounds crazy but so is my life. I’m a Catholic and we don’t even believe in reincarnation but I am taking no chances. Spiders repulse me so unless one is chewing on my ear I will probably just leave the room and make up the excuse that he will eat all the flies which I hate 1/10000’s of a percent less. But I digress. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I would have no luck at all.

So, I was at the grocery store yesterday picking up a few items for the week. I try not to eat out for every meal but as many know it is almost impossible so my list was short only including breakfast food, coffee, and a few Healthy Choice meals for odd nights. I also had a two liter of Sprite on the list because nothing will make a fresh out of the microwave, 900 degree on the outside, -32 degree on the in side, fettuccine alfredo chicken meal go down easier then to be complimented by lemon and lime. So while carrying six items in my arms, (because getting a cart means the temptation to buy 30 more items) I reached for the three liter Sprite perched on the top shelf when all Hell broke lose.

Maybe this was in God’s plan? Maybe the other five three liters where making a mad dash for an escape? Perhaps Newton was just an asshole? Regardless the reason, five three liters of Sprite seemed to leap from the gated barrier and crash to the floor, 6 feet below. But three of them didn’t bounce. Their hulls were breached and they took off in different directions like missiles. The other two bounced face level causing me to instinctively to drop my items in the hopes to catch the already armed sodas before they too would initiate the launch system. Of course I had eggs that were now scrambled.

This happened in about 2 and a half seconds. In that time most would drop an F-bomb or two. That would be appropriate for this circumstance. I, on the other hand, never have the right word to say. Instead I scream the only thing that pops in my head and it usually is a little more embarrassing than the event itself. Prime example: I slipped and fell in public. Instead of shouting something cool like “shit” or “damn it” I screamed “NOOOOOO!” As if I refused to accept the fact that my feet where parallel to my face.

So while the soda rockets where streaking down the isle, my groceries where in a pile on my new shoes and I was involuntarily drinking Sprite, I shouted the only thing that popped in my head. I yelled in a panicked voice, “GRANDMOTHER!” Grandmother? Who says that? I’ve had a day to digest this and my theory is that I was about to say “mother f*cker” but I was trying to be reserve and my data bank went straight to “grandmother”. That’s my theory.

Well, after the mist cleared there was an eerie quite. The others who had been in the soda and chip isle had bolted from the scene as if to say “not my mess”. I could feel the trickle of Sprite dripping from my chin, the last exhaust of CO2 leave the bottles as soda drained from the cracked tops and that unmistakable warming sensation of pure humiliation as blood rushed to my face. There were only a few options.

  1. Fake a seizure
  2. Get pissed off and mask the embarrassment through blame of someone else
  3. Just run
  4. Suck it up and wait for the poor kid to show up with a mop.

I waited. I collected the half drained soda bottles as the chatter from the neighboring isle began to resume. I could hear their conversations. I couldn’t tell if they were laughing but I did hear some mention of “grandmother”. I assume I am being talked about right now around at least four office water coolers.

Soon the mop and bucket arrived and the kid assured me he had it under control. I held my breath and did the walk of shame to the check out isle and explained the incident to the cashier and she told me it was alright. I left quickly and sat in my new car all sticky. Feeling mission unaccomplished, I went home and showered trying to laugh the past hour away. It wasn’t as funny as I had hoped but I am sure one day it will be. For now though, screw three liters, screw Publix and screw Sprite. I’m now a Fresca man.

11

Death Of A Snowman

 I think there is nothing sadder than a snowman in Georgia. Okay, there are things that are far sadder but really when it snows in Atlanta, people feel compelled to erect a homosapian in frozen precipitation as soon as possible. Even if it is full of dirt, pine needles and grass.

Yesterday I took a drive around the block and paid my respects to the final stage of life these snowmen where in since last Saturday’s snow storm. To be honest, I was surprised to see them last this long. I guess the thrill is gone for the kids who made them and you will see why. *warning* If you are sensitive to snow people you may not want to continue reading.

This guy doesn’t look too worse for ware but as you can see he is in a sea of brown Bermuda grass which is a certain sign this guy is circling the drain. I apologize for the blur but it was a drive by shot. I figure the poor bastard has another day and a half.

Oh God, what happened here? To the untrained eye it looks like someone dropped their scarf in a pile of snow but upon closer inspection we clearly see the guy is face-down and ass-up.  Maybe his base was to weak or maybe his will to live was too weak but what ever the reason, I think that scarf needs to go to the cleaners. Moving on….

Here we have a full torso snowman that is still recognizable. With one orange left in the eye socket and a carrot nose till in place it looks like he isn’t giving up the ghost without a fight.  But who is he fooling? Out of frame I saw two rabbits patiently waiting for his nose and if I know rabbits, their patience wains easy. This guy better give his soul to Jesus because his ass belongs to Roger.

Oh goodness. It looks as if this guy threw himself from a tree sometime in the night but if you look close you can make out bicycle tracks in the guts. I’m no detective but if I was, I would call it homicide. This guy didn’t have a chance. At least he escaped the inevitable unlike this poor family you are about to see. Weak stomachs may need to turn your head away from the keyboard.

ACK! I don’t even know what to say here! I have seen better cases of smallpox. It’s tough enough to see solo snowmen succumb to the drastic fluctuations the weather in Atlanta can have, but a whole family? I couldn’t stand to see the children suffer, so like any Christian I took nature into my own hands. I put the car in park, walked to the snow family in despair and put them out of misery with my bare hands and shoed feet. I apologize that God had brought them into this cruel world and soon they would be in peace. Yelling and striking with completely improvised karate moves there was nothing left but snow, pine needles and articles of clothing.

The children who brought this dying family into the world last Saturday could only stand and watch in horror. After I was finished I gathered the hats and scarves from the mound of dead snow people. My hands and feet still covered in snowy guts, I walked up to the kids and gave them back the clothing as something to remember them by. I said, “you are not God, but at least we can have satisfaction that they are free from their misery. They are free…..free.”

I returned to my car after I stomped off the remaining snow from my shoes. Even though there kid’s mother was screaming, “I’ve already called the police”, I know in my stomach what had to be done. As I drove away I stopped next to the kids, still holding the hats and scarves, still mouths agape and teary eyed. I said, “I hope you kids know that playing God comes with great responsibility.  Never forget that.”

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