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.)