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THURSDAY
MARCH 30, 2006 |
AN
OPEN LETTER TO THE WOMAN THAT SENDS ME BULKMAIL:
Let me start by saying I am truly flattered
by your persistence. I continue to be astounded by the
steps you are willing to take in order to get my attention.
Many would have given in long ago, or decided it was
foolish to pursue a relationship so one-sided. But not
you.
You have left me no choice but to break things off.
Frankly, you’ve changed. I remember the day you
floated into my life. A stranger… known to me
only as hotbaby696969. There you were, just sitting
on my desk, not saying a word. I admit I was curious…
Before I knew it, something clicked. I’ve been
paying for it ever since. You and I both know, I never
signed up for this.
I don’t mind sharing some things with you, but
it’s getting out of hand. Last week I took some
alone time and I went to the NY Knicks web site. The
next day, there you were, screaming, “Come in
here to win a pair of Knicks tickets!!” (Well,
that was pretty cool, actually…) but you’re
starting to freak me out. It’s like you’re
watching every move I make! (Speaking of which, I don’t
know how you got a hold of my credit report, or why
you want me to look at it so badly, but please stop
asking me every ten minutes. It’s weird.)
All right, I promised myself I wasn’t going to
get worked up. Listen, I don’t want any more letters
from you. More and more, the things you say confuse
me. How can you act so seductive one minute and ask
me to refinance my mortgage the next? And then turn
around and tell me there are thousands of sexy singles
in my area dying to meet me? Some days I just can’t
read you. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know
who you are.
I got your Eighty-seven messages yesterday. Thanks a
lot. How dare you keep telling me I need to add three
inches to anything! And the fact that you expect me
to safely and effectively enhance my breasts at the
same time is just plain sick. What’s wrong with
you?
For me this has to be goodbye. I can’t deny that
we’ve shared some intimate moments. But, looking
back on it now… I never felt like you were truly
there. There have been many, many times when it was
like I was totally alone. So it’s best if I just
say goodbye. It won’t be easy for me, because
just like the real Spam… I know you aren’t
good for me, but my God… I love you so much
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THURSDAY
MARCH 23, 2006 |
Eye
Poking
You go through times in your life when you sort of take
a minute to look around you… take stock in how
far you’ve come in life. Last weekend I woke up
on the foldout couch in my mom’s basement and
I thought to myself, “Man… you’re
doin’ awwwriiiight.”
Well, okay, at first I thought, “Oh my God! Did
I get fired?” But when I remembered I was there
for a reason, and that I don’t receive my mail
there (anymore), that’s when the happy thoughts
came. And it didn’t take long, because one of
the reasons for my being there was throwing Apple Jacks
at me from the top of the stairs. The other one had
his finger planted in my eye. Yes, my nephews were in
town. Game on.
Now… these sunrise hi-jinks were in direct violation
of the brand new ‘Nine O’clock Rule’
I had instituted the night before. Both boys had been
told, in no uncertain terms, that Uncle Mark was not
to be disturbed until nine o’clock. Until that
magic hour, there would be no “Fantastic Four”.
There would be no Jimmy “Superfly” Snooka.
(Yeah, I know. Old School. Somebody’s gotta’
teach those boys some culture.) And if I was forced
into either role before that time… Well then they’d
be sorry, because then I wouldn’t do it for the
rest of the day. Period. …Yeah, they didn’t
buy it for a second. They know an empty threat when
they hear one.
After a few blurry minutes my sister-in-law heard the
commotion in the basement and called them back upstairs.
Now… both boys are very sweet and other than the
occasional fib, they tell the truth for the most part.
So, this was the conversation I heard from the top of
the stairs as I rolled over in my now crunchy bed.
“WHAT WERE YOU DOING DOWN
THERE?”
“…poking uncle mark in the eye.”
“WHY WERE YOU DOING THAT?”
“…so he’d get up and play with us”
“ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO WAKE
UP UNCLE MARK?”
“…he was already awake”
Touché. I now understood the reasoning behind
the flying Apple Jacks. They had used air power to soften
the target before going in. But it was the next exchange
that did me in.
Their mom said,
“WHY WOULD YOU BOTHER HIM
WHEN YOU WERE TOLD NOT TO?”
And Justin, who just turned four replied,
“…because we just love him sooo much.”
Awwww, Man! Poke my eye. Steal my blankets. Throw cereal
at my head. You got me. They probably pull that cutesy
stuff with their Mom all the time, but it still gets
me everytime. So I opened my one good eye and I yelled,
“Awwwwwwright!! It’s clobberin’ time!!!!”
And it was on. By nine o’clock we’d already
gone six rounds and we were half way through a Power
Rangers DVD.
So, much like any other rules I’ve tried to lay
down over the last couple of years, the Nine O’clock
Rule went out the window. Because while, although it’d
be nice if they did, four year olds don’t come
with a built in snooze button. And the secret’s
out that beneath the tough exterior… Jimmy “Superfly”
Snooka’s nothing but a big softy.
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THURSDAY
MARCH 9, 2006 |
Turn
your Head and Cough
I rarely go to the doctor’s. I mean if something’s
wrong, sure. But it’s not my favorite place to
be. A while ago, however, I realized it had been several
years since I had a physical and maybe I should get
“checked up”, just so I know everything
is as it should be. Turns out its not that easy. I don’t
know about your doctor, but mine’s practice seems
to be booming, ‘cause the lady on the phone was
like, “Okay, he can see you for a checkup in…
March. This was in October. I told her to pencil me
in. Well, this week I got the little reminder call.
(And it’s a good thing they do that, ‘cause
I was like, “What? Why do I have to go to the
doctor’s? Oh yeah… I don’t wanna’
go anymore. That was just kind of a whim, anyhow.”)
But I kept the appointment, cause I knew I wouldn’t
get another one until Christmas.
So I get there and they hand me this mountain of paperwork
to fill out. I was trying to concentrate but this little
kid in the corner was crying because the train he found
in the toy box was broken. I know it’s broken
cause twenty-five years ago I was in there with the
Chicken Pox, and I broke it.
After a few minutes a lady threw open the door and called
my name. “Huh… that was quick!” I
thought to myself. Oh no. My number wasn’t really
up yet. They were just moving me to solitary confinement.
The same lady sticks a thermometer in my mouth and says,
“Any problems you’d like the doctor to know
about?” And I’m like, “Mnop reery.
No compraynps.” Then she velcroed the blood pressure
strap on my arm… and she’s squeezing the
ball… and BOOOM! My fingers exploded! Well, okay
they didn’t, but they felt like they might. And
maybe it would have been better if they did. I might
have received a little attention. Instead she handed
me a dress and said, “Strip down to your underwear,
put this on, the doctor will be in shortly.” And
she was gone. Like an hour later she comes back in and
says, “Oops. We forgot to get your height and
weight. Would you come with me please?” And I’m
like, “Come with you?! But… I… I already
put the dress on!” We go down the hall, around
the corner, and we’re standing right next to the
front desk. I’m the only one in a flowery little
backless number. And it’s not tasteful. Things
are showing. All kinds of people are going by and I’m
up on the scale pedestal, like I was being auctioned
off. The lady who put me in this compromising position
is working the scale and she’s sliding the little
metal weight all the way to the end and she gives it
a little tap-tappy… then another one… and
then goes, “hmmm…” slides the little
one all the way back to the left and reaches for the
big fifty pound one, “Whupppuvv”. And I
know I’m not tied up in the back. And I’m
like, “can I get some drugs? Whatever. Give me
something for the pain”
No dice. So they stuck me back in my little room and
after I read the last 5 issues of “new mother”,
front to back” the doctor came in and he checked
me out everything’s fine. And it’s a good
thing, ‘cause I won’t be in for another
visit anytime soon and when I do come back… I’m
bringing my own dress.
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THURSDAY
MARCH 2, 2006 |
The
Circle Of Life or Deer Pee & Cigarettes
Some of you may remember a story I told a while ago
about my first experience with fishing as a child…
consisting mainly of short lived friendship with a worm
named Dewey, now deceased. Well, over my vacation last
month I witnessed something that makes Dewey’s
descention into a watery grave seem like child’s
play. I woke up early one morning and went hunting with
my brother. This is nothing new; I’ve joined my
dad, brother and uncles countless times in the woods.
Except this time… he got one. Oh did he ever.
Now might be a good time to explain that I have no problem,
ethically or otherwise, with hunting. I’ve been
around it my whole life, and I would probably do it
myself if I wasn’t such a big baby about killing
stuff.
The day started out much like every other trip we’ve
made into the woods. See, my brother takes hunting very
seriously… which is the only way one should take
playing with firearms, I guess… but he gets really
into it. He has told me many times that one of the most
important thing you can do to ensure success on your
hunt is to cover up your scent. He washes his hunting
clothes in ‘fragrance free’ detergent and
takes lots of other steps in the hopes that he can go
in the woods and our furry friends will be caught unawares.
So anyway, I woke up first on the morning of this great
adventure. I was sitting around, having a cup of coffee
and I decided to step outside and have a smoke. And
when I was done I came inside and I heard my brother
walking around upstairs. And I was like, “Oh,
no! He’s going to kill me if he comes down here
and I smell like a cigarette”. He can get a little
moody about hunting and if he got mad at me right off
the bat, it was going to make for a long day. So I ran
in the bathroom to wash my hands, and I see the air
freshener. It was called “Mountain Stream”
so… y’know, there you go. And I gave myself
just a quick little (pssshhht). It was awful. I did
not smell like a mountain... not even a Smoky mountain.
It just mixed with the smoke to make this strange new
concoction. So I went back outside and I’m running
around the back yard, flapping my arms to air out a
little bit, when I see my brother looking out the window.
I was wearing camouflage, so in theory he should not
have been able to see me unless I made noise…
his look of concern told me otherwise. So I made my
way up to the house and went inside and I said, “Mornin,
Dude” and I went straight for the coffee pot and
I could hear him behind me going, “sniff? Sniff?”
And I’m like, “uh oh… here we go…”
and sure enough he says,
“Dude!! Are you wearing cologne?”
“What?!?! Nooo… what? … Cologne? …
I’m not an idiot…it’s the air freshener
from the bathroom, I… sprayed it on… my
…self.”
After further investigation, I was informed that the
only thing I could do to right the situation was cover
myself with this deer pee he kept in the basement. I
declined. So it was decided we might not be sitting
together in the woods on this trip. Which was fine with
me, not only am I not dying to see something get shot,
but because to be honest with you, the last few trips
into the woods with him hadn’t been a walk in
the park, anyhow.
We decided to give it few minutes, and if he found me
overly aromatic, we’d make a change. Fair enough.
We walk in a little ways, we’re sitting next to
each other on a log and I’ve been sitting completely
still for like half an hour, not making a sound. I reach
start to move my arm sloooowly toward my itching nose…
and he’s like “dude! I can’t sit with
you if you can’t sit still.” Meanwhile he’s
tying his boots and fixing his hat and everything else.
Whatever you say, Davey Crockett.
So we agree to meet up in a couple hours and he goes
off to find his happy silent place.
Perfect. I felt like school just let out. I had the
greatest morning. Hiking around. Whistlin’...
Singin' songs... It was beautiful.
So eventually I find the path where we’re supposed
to meet up and I’m hangin out and my brother comes
slinking down the trail, and it’s good to see
him. We’re eating the granola bars he brought
saying it’s time to head out when he says, “Ohmygod...
Don’t move.” And I immediately turn my head
to see this beautiful deer like 20 feet away, right
in the middle of the trail. Just standing there, looking
at us! It was so cool and for a second, I forgot why
we were there and I thought, “Heeey c’mere,
buddy… you want a little granola bar?” And
BOOM!!!! …ohmygod!! It all happened so fast. And
I walked up and looked at this beautiful animal that,
up until he ran into us was probably having a nice day
in the forest. And to be honest with you, it bummed
me out a little bit. I don’t know why it affected
me the way it did. It surprised me. Like I said, it’s
not the first time I’d been around it… I’d
just never seen it first hand.
See, my brother, like my father before him, likes to
say important things on occasions such as this. They
like to speak in grand terms to capture the significance
of the whole outdoor experience, and once in awhile
they come up with something good. My dad once described
the emotions I was now feeling at the untimely demise
of this beautiful animal by saying the following…
he said, “anyone who doesn’t feel a sort
of an accompanying sadness at the passing of an animal
probably shouldn’t be hunting in the first place.”
And I think that’s true and I was thinking about
that when my brother noticed I was in deep thought,
and I guess he thought he’d better say something
profound, himself. He put his hand on my shoulder and
he says, “Just think of it as the circle of life,
bro… circle of life.” So I look at him and
he says, “at least now we know Blake and Judy
will have fresh venison this winter if we need it.”
He was completely serious. I swear to god. ‘Fresh
venison, if we need it.’ just in case, what? We’re
in the middle of some catastrophe and there’s
a run on chicken fingers and yogurt in a tube? “Where’s
my gun? These boys’ll never make it till spring
on fruit roll-ups alone” …circle of life.
So I learned a valuable lesson that day. Or at least
reinforced something I already knew. If other people
want to hunt, more power to them. For me, it’s
pretty much ‘live and let live’. Same as
it was when I was five years old. So farewell to you
my furry friend. My brother claims you didn’t
feel a thing. And if that really was the case…
well, you were fared a lot better than my old buddy
Dewey. He got put on a hook and thrown in a lake! …And
then somebody ate him! So Godspeed, Mr. Deer…
and if you happen to run into ol’ Dewey on the
other side, you tell that worm I hope we’re still
friends, and not to take it personally… ‘You
just gotta think of it as the circle of life, Dew…
the circle of life’.
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