CelebriTuesdays: Ray Donovan is LIEV-ing on a Jet Plane!

 

ray donovan

 

I’m not saying meeting me had anything to do with it, but it might not be coincidence that Ray Donovan is moving production of the show to New York City after I met Liev Schreiber! People do say that meeting me can change lives – but I’m much too modest to take all the credit for this news.

 

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This wasn’t my usual pre-planned time or spot to stalk celeb watch, but I just looked over and Liev Schreiber got out of his car and walked my way. If you ask my friend Weeva, it was beshert or preordained (you know , like it was meant to be); If you ask my friend Annie-Smack-That-Fannie, it was because I’m a lucky SumBitch; either way, there he was.

 

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Since no one seemed to notice him, I walked over and said I was a big fan and asked if he wouldn’t mind taking a photo with me. He couldn’t have been nicer and he didn’t remind me like Taylor Hicks that I was short. He was extremely nice, snapped a few shots just in case they were blurry and then shook my hand afterwards and walked away.

 

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You know that I’ll take a picture with any celebrity and to be honest, I didn’t know some of the celebrities I’ve met. Lets be real, I don’t believe that anyone really knows any professional Golfers except for Tiger Woods so they shouldn’t count! I might not have known who they were or maybe I just took a picture with them because I’m a stalker and everyone else was taking them, but with Liev Schreiber it was awesome because I’m actually a really big fan! Separate from Ray Donovan, I’ve really liked everything he’s done (well maybe not Sphere which I still feel like he, Dustin Hoffman, & Sharon Stone owe me money back for seeing that trainwreck in a theatre) since his first movie when he was Chris in Mixed Nuts (1994). If you’re not familiar with the film, it’s a comedy about a suicide hotline on Christmas Eve. This movie cracks me up even though it got terrible reviews and did terrible in the theatres. I remember going to see it and just laughing hysterically like an idiot. It’s got one of the best casts assembled with Steve Martin, Madeline Khan, Jon Stewart and Adam Sandler so I don’t need to go any further. If you’re not convinced it’s worth a look – listen to Liev telling Conan about the film, dancing with Steve Martin, and sweat pants erections:

 

Liev Schreiber on Conan (click for video)

 

 

It took everything in me not to ask him to tell Naomi Watts to go and tell Nicole Kidman to Holla back at me since he’s the closest I’ve gotten to someone who knows her since I assaulted Tom Cruise –  but I was afraid that if I mentioned it – he’d do this to me:

 

 

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I’m sure with production in New York City, I’ll see him again and I’ll casually mention it then. At the very least my selfie face seems to be getting better, right? You better Be-Liev it!

 

 

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Isn’t this the weirdest picture? It’s certainly a head-scratcher…

 

My foot surgery was more like General Hustle than General Hospital!

It’s a little known fact that while laid up recuperating on my couch in Sleepy Hollow, I pretty much invented the “binge-watching” movement along with my friend Li (The Chinese food Delivery Guy made famous by my Tony no Here post. I needed surgery because I’d broken my left ankle while playing volleyball and I was extremely worked up because I’d never broken anything before unless you count the record I smashed binge-watching all nine seasons of Dynasty!

 

dynasty

Without a doubt, the best show ever made!

 

Keep I mind that this wasn’t binging TV shows like it’s so easy to do nowadays with a million things available on Netflix or Amazon or Hulu or on your phone; this was me having to get every season of the show piecemeal on EBAY. Then when I finally got them (in the mail, mind you, which took forever), I tore through them non-stop like a rabid dog with a bone. I was laid up and laid out but finally they were gonna slice me open and fix me like The Six Million Dollar Man. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and if my life was a movie you’d faintly hear Michael Bolton singing along with me on the couch “When I’m back on my feet again…”

 

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The day of the surgery, I was a bundle of crazy nerves and my normally neurotic self was on hyper-overload. I’d arrived armed with my wife and my sister for emotional comfort, two boxes of Imodium AD for gastric support, and a big black X drawn on my ankle for physical support and to make sure they didn’t cut open on the wrong foot. That may seem like an urban legend, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My surgical prep nurse, Nurse Ratched, took one look and needless to say, she was not amused with my sharpie skills and that was just the start of multiple things we wouldn’t see eye to eye on.

 

nurse ratched

 

It was an early morning surgery and I hadn’t eaten anything since midnight and was starving. My nervous stomach wasn’t playing nicely with all the butterflies and the painkillers I was on mixed with a splash of my ever-present Imodium AD. As the nurse was filling out the paperwork and asking me questions, she told me to remove my clothes. Obviously I thought this strange as it wasn’t a casting call for the Magic Mike sequel, just a random hospital examination room.

 

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“Um, that’s OK, just the ankle getting done, so not really gonna get naked but thank you for the offer.” I said.

She was not very interested in discussing it. “You need to be completely undressed for surgery.”

“No, actually I don’t. Once again, thanks for the offer, but I’m having surgery on my ankle – why would I need to be naked? You know where the ankles are right? I can see taking off my socks and maybe my pants, but why would I possibly need to take off my underwear? I’m not taking my underwear off! What’s going on here?” I’m not a calm person normally, but this was starting to set me off.

 

nurse meme 2

 

“Listen Sir, if you don’t take your underwear off, we’re going to cut them off of you!”

“Listen lady, if I wake up and you’ve cut my underwear off, I’m cutting yours off next!”

“This is not optional, it’s not sanitary and you need to remove your clothes!”

 

never nude 2

 

The peanut gallery, and by that I mean my wife and sister, were not being very supportive or having my back at this point and really just trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness. My wife was like, “just take your contacts out and lay back and relax – you’ll feel better and it’ll be over soon.” It was just like what the masseuse told me before she massaged me and then proceeded to flick my testicle on our Honeymoon. Advice you should never take: “Just take your clothes off and listen.”

 

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I was outnumbered and outgunned here, so I begrudgingly removed my clothes all the while picturing the conversation they’d be having about this up in the operating room over my listless body: “Why wouldn’t he take off his underwear? Is he a never-nude like Tobias? What’s with this big black X on his ankle? Poor little guy, he’s obviously a grower, not a shower.”

 

never nude

 

Either way, relaxed is not a word one would be using to describe me that day. As they came in to wheel me down the hallway to the butchers in the basement, I was contactless so everything was blurry which actually did make me feel better. They’d already administered the anesthesia, which also helped to make me groggy, and they told me to count down from 100 and off I’d go…My wife and sister were following the gurney down the hall telling me to relax when an orderly sidled up to the guy pushing me: “Hey Scott, are you heading downstairs? Will you drop this sample off at the lab on your way?” and he proceeded to gently place a bag on my stretcher. My wife and sister gasped and looked at each other in shock as I was squinting up a storm and trying to sit up and see if I was hallucinating with that clear plastic bag. “Is that shit? Is there shit in that bag? That looks like shit! Is that Sh…” and with that the anesthesia kicked in and I was knocked out! There was a bag of someone’s shit – someone’s shit – being transported on me like it was nothing! Literally, my nightmare came true and there wasn’t enough Imodium AD in the world to prevent that shit storm from getting me!

 

 

As I was coming to in the recovery room, my wife and sister got Nurse Ratched to tell her I was awake and I started babbling again as if someone had just pressed pause on me when the anesthesia kicked in: “There was shit on me! There was shit on me! I saw it – it was shit! There was shit on me!” My wife was saying I was crazy and trying to tell me that I must have been mistaken to reassure me and calm me down, but one look at my sister’s face told me it was definitely shit! The nurse thought I was having a reaction to the anesthesia and was concerned until my wife told her what my incoherent babbling was about. Needless to say, it was a shitty operation!

 

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Only me right? I mean, who does that happen to? I go in for what was supposed to be routine surgery and they turned me into a fecal drug mule! I can’t help but feel like this wouldn’t have happened on ERGrey’s Anatomy maybe – but definitely not on ER…Where’s Julianna Margulies when you need her?

 

greys anatomy

For a smart guy, I’m actually pretty dumb at times: PART TWO

dumb yoda meme

 

Most people look back at something lthey’ve written five years ago and think about how they’ve grown and matured, but I look back at this and think: I haven’t learned one damn thing! I’m still the same stupid ass I always was, if not worse because I’m now older and more set in my ways. The one thing I do know for sure is that I still always think people are kidding with me and it still gets me into trouble every time.

 

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One would think after the countless times that I’ve embarrassed myself that I’d have learned a lesson or two, but the only thing I’ve learned is that of the senses I have – common sense isn’t one of them.

 

 

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One day at work, my boss ambled in to our morning meeting looking scattered and disheveled as usual, so I didn’t think anything of it. He looked up and paused before he said “Sorry I’m late, we had to have my wife committed last night.” Take that in and think about what a normal response to that should be. Now think what my reaction was. Apparently, its bad form and not the correct response to start laughing hysterically when someone shares that kind of personal information, but I truly didn’t realize he was being serious. He wasn’t a jokester or anything like that, but everyone has their moment now and then. Everyone was staring at me as if I was the crazy one, when I said “Oh right, my wife is nuts, should I commit her too?” Come to find out – the wife really was all sorts of crazy and he really did have her committed the night before. Of course I felt terrible when I realized he wasn’t kidding, I’m not an animal…but he did have to tell me three more times because I really thought he was playing around on a Monday morning. I mean, who says personal things like that in front of a moron like me? Thank God he was used to being around crazy at home so he didn’t hold a grudge against me.

 

april fools day meme

 

I won’t even get into the time that I didn’t believe that my uncle had committed suicide because it was April First. I got the call and was like “April Fool’s Day? Sure it’s real. Ha ha, jokes on you.” Never once did it occur to me that no one in their right mind (even my crazy, crazy sister) would ever joke about something like that. In my defense, I was also really wasted so my sister had to repeat it to me more than ten times before I took her seriously. I’m not proud of that, but it was April first and I was wasted and I mean, come on, it was April Fool’s Day – I’m not counting that one. I will admit though, it wasn’t a shining moment for my highlight real…

 

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Worse than that, if you can believe it, was the time I was at work and we had a new assistant named Miriam who was on her second day of work. Her second day of work and there she was, doubled over in pain at her desk. I’m pretty sure we can stop here and safely say that any person in the world with absolutely any sense whatsoever would have immediately stopped and called an ambulance, but of course, not me. I thought for sure that she was messing around. No joke, I was a hundred percent convinced that she was screwing with me. In hindsight, who in their right mind would kid around about that on their second day of work, but at that moment in time, I could have sworn that she was kidding. Here she is doubled over kneeling on the floor next to her desk and I was standing there grilling her – trying to “catch her” in the joke. She’s groaning in pain and says “Tony, I need an ambulance…I’m not sure what’s wrong with…” and I cut her off and I was like “Oh right…you’re not doing well…what happened? Did you eat in the employee cafeteria?” and was laughing to myself. She nodded yes and then I thought for sure she was kidding. It was right around then that she had started to attract a crowd of other people around who thankfully had a lot more sense than me and called an ambulance.

 

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I was trying to tell her to stop playing around because if they call the ambulance, there’s no turning back and they won’t think it’s funny if she’s fooling around, but all I got were confused looks and icy stares…it wasn’t until the paramedics finally showed up and as they were loading her onto the stretcher, they asked her who she wanted to go in the ambulance with her, that I started to almost believe that she might not be kidding after all. She looked at them and then at me with fear and concern, and then she shot me the look that told me very loud and clear that there was absolutely no way she wanted me to go with her, and she chose Lauren instead. Obviously a smart move. I wasn’t officially offering to go, but if she would have requested me, how could I say no. Even I’m not that mean.

 

i am not a smart man

 

I’m not proud to say, that even after seeing her rolled out on that stretcher moaning in pain, that for some odd reason I still didn’t really, one hundred percent believe that she wasn’t kidding until Lauren called from the hospital a few hours later to say that Miriam was being prepped for surgery. Apparently, it was really serious and she needed to have her gall bladder removed because it had ruptured. Picture me with egg on my face as everyone was mad at me as if it were my fault and I was the one that ruptured that gall bladder. I did feel terrible when I heard that and then I felt even worse when her husband called me to apologize because she’d have to be out of work for a week or two and he wanted to tell me how sorry she was for this happening at work on day two. I could not apologize enough and reassure him that it was OK, but I’m sure he was thinking what an ass I was the whole time.

 

 

Injured man sees that he is being taken to the 'No Biggie Room', as opposed to the 'Emergency Room.

After that incident, we actually had to institute the use of a safe word at work which I will circle back and talk about another time. I would like to say that a lot of people that I worked with needed the safe word to know when something was serious, but I’m pretty sure it really was just for me…I bet a lot of people have this happen to them, but since I was in charge of the department, apparently, I should have been an example and come to find out – it’s frowned upon when the boss is an idiot and can’t recognize that someone in distress obviously needs medical attention. I’d like to say that I have learned my lesson, but I wouldn’t hang around me if you’re not feeling well. After all, I am the same idiot my wife had to tell ten times that she was in labor after her water broke, because I thought she was kidding around. In fairness to me, it was during a hurricane where we had no power and it was storming like mad outside, so I thought for sure that she was messing with me. Apparently, a lot of women don’t really play jokes when they’re in labor…Point taken.

 

how stupid you sound

 

Hopefully in five more years, I won’t be revisiting another debacle I caused because I didn’t believe someone, but odds are pretty set against me learning any lessons or gaining any insight into the inner workings of a normal mind. Be careful folks and if you’re friends with me, be extra careful as my stupidity knows no bounds…

 

you are not so smart

My life story

 

Guillermo and his Amazing Dreamcoat

sweating meme

As I was sweating my balls off in this ungodly heat today on Metro North, I started dreaming of winter and how refreshing the cold weather can be and it made me think about a former colleague, Guillermo, and his winter wardrobe.

If you’ve never seen a hustlin’ seventies pimp in real life before, head over to Accounting to take a gander and you won’t believe your eyes. If only Ben Affleck had consulted Guillermo for wardrobe ideas before they started shooting The Accountant, the movie probably would have done a lot better. He’s short, mid-fifties, wears big glasses and looks like Super Mario’s brother Luigi. I don’t want to be mean and say he was fat, but when the police eventually draw his chalk outline, it’s going to be a circle….Now add a huge fur coat on top of this and he looked like a cartoon character. Forget Joseph’s Technicolor Dream – he wore a fur coat and matching hat that made him look like the product of a hot three-way between Luigi, Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch, and an actual Grizzly Bear.

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Our Accounting Team

As the seasons turned and the winter breeze crept into the air, it’s normal for most people to gradually work longer sleeves and sweaters into their wardrobe, but not Guillermo: he went balls out straight to the fur! The best part was his matching hat which made him look like a Yeti covered in fur head to toe. You just couldn’t look at him with a straight face. At first, I thought that he might have accidentally worn his wife’s coat, but day in and day out, he rocked it like a Hurricane. My wife has informed me that normal and mature people don’t stare or make comments in situations like this, but I’ve never been mistaken for normal or mature.

Guillermo was a nice man, but I couldn’t get past the coat. I had to know where he got it and why he wore it and how the hell he wasn’t sweating like crazy in it. I have very lite self-control in situations normally, but this was putting me over the edge. He felt like people were making fun of him (Newsflash – we were!) and didn’t like to talk about the coat, but curiosity was getting the better of me and I just knew that had to try it on. I’m OCD and the thought of being inside that pelt skeeved me out big time, but I knew I needed to step up here and that it had to be done.

joe namath

Guillermo Namath

I was leaving the company to work at another company and I knew it would be my only chance, so I casually started talking about the coat and was leading up to me trying it on for a picture. He randomly told me the story of how a homeless man attacked him on the subway trying to steal it, yet he fought him off with all of his might causing the left arm to be ripped off the coat. It took his tailor three weeks and the skins from two raccoons and a squirrel to mend it, but apparently it was good as new. I was picturing his subway Fight Club in my mind as he was telling me, but all I could think of was the Wampa cave scene with Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back. Apparently, G isn’t Star Wars fan…

wampa

At first, he was playing hard to get and didn’t want to let me try it on. “Stop it, now give me that coat” I said which forced him to explain to me what his hesitation really was: apparently, not every man can wear fur because not everyone has that certain swagger needed to pull it off. AS IF! “G, are you asking me to wear this down Fifth Avenue? OK, now it’s on!” With that I put on the coat and we headed for the elevator!

kramer

Now this is swagger!

What I failed to realize, was just how heavy the coat was actually going to be. It was literally as if I had crawled up inside a bear’s ass and then walked around carrying the bear. It was also hotter than the sun inside that coat by the way. I felt like Han Solo when he cut the Taun Taun open for him and Luke to sleep inside and keep warm. I mean, I sweat excessively in just a t shirt and shorts, but I didn’t have that coat on for a full minute before I was soaked right through. I don’t know how the hell he wore that around and didn’t pass out! It gets cold in New York, but for Christ’s sake – global warming people…you don’t need fur! Forget about mistreatment of animals and that it’s wrong to wear fur or that it’s just mean; what’s mean is making a person sweat like that from a coat!

taun taun

G looked at me and said “how does it feel?” as if I were test driving a Ferrari and I’m not sure if it was my spirit animal literally engulfing me right there in the office, but I said “it makes me feel like this!” It was at that moment that I chose to jump on the conference table and pose like Burt Reynolds in Cosmo and show him who had swagger. While the ladies in my office thought it was hysterical, Guillermo felt I was crossing line and was now being disrespectful to the coat as if that point hadn’t been passed long before. With that, I told him we’d take it to the streets and we headed for the elevator so I could prove my swagger on the streets!

Conference Room Table

Swagger to spare!

The winter Holiday scene in the lobby of our building had a nice display featuring polar bears, snow, and penguins – the perfect winter scene scape for me in the fur! I proceeded to do what every sensible person does right about then and get into the displays and frolic with the wildlife until security sent us on our way.

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I did rock that coat and prove my swagger, but he was right – not every man can pull of a fur coat. I probably could and should have gotten one of my own just to spite him, but I’d have died from heat exhaustion like I do on Metro North each day I commute, so no fur for me. I did get a few strange looks, but being that it’s NYC, no one cares about this idiot strutting around inside a carcass. The moral of the story is be careful what you wish for or you’ll end up hot and sweaty on your knees with a bunch of penguins and not the good kind of hot and sweaty either!

I met my Guardian Angel in Penn Station!!!

me and curtis one

 

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a Spiritual Guru like Shri Shri Ravi Shankar or anything. I’m not looking to start an Imodium movement, but I just really believe that if you listen closely the universe will send you a message every now and then to make a dream come true. You just have to be open to it. I’m short, balding, and have been fat for most of my life so I’m not exactly what you’d immediately picture when you say someone is lucky but the universe sent me a sign and that kinda makes me pretty lucky indeed.

 

sri sri

 

 

 

I’m not quite sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but my sister is really crazy. There’s no sugar-coating it –crazy is crazy and she’s crazy! In the past, I‘ve shared some examples of her vigilante antics and differing mindset than pretty much all of the normal, functioning world. For instance, when she sees a drug deal going down, she instinctively hits the gas and grabs her bat! When I see something like that, I dive over the passenger seat into the back and hit the floor screaming like Shirley Maclaine in that hospital scene from Terms of Endearment! People are just different I guess.

 

 

For as long as I can remember, we’ve made fun of my sister because her actions made it seem like she was trying to start her own chapter of the Guardian Angels. She rocked that bat more than Negan on The Walking Dead, yet she was a good sport when we teased. Partly because she has a good sense of humor, partly because she seriously thought that her vigilante behavior was the appropriate response to the situations, and partly because, as I’ve said before but it bears repeating – she’s crazy!

 

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Right before her birthday in December, I actually found a hat store in San Francisco that sells the exact red beret Curtis Sliwa – THE GUARDIAN ANGEL HIMSELF – wears! As you can imagine I got express shipping and it was the absolute best birthday gift she’s ever received! Flash forward a month down the line and I’m randomly walking in Penn Station when it was all of a sudden like slow motion in a movie: clear as day through the massive crowd of people, I looked over and saw CURTIS SLIWA walking right past me. CURTIS!!! CURTIS!!! I started screaming and ran over to catch up.

 

guardian angels

 

He stopped and looked at me like I was a lunatic and this is a man used to dealing with lunatics. I screamed “OH MY GOD – I love you! You’re not going to believe it but my sister is a vigilante too!” Cue his look of utter confusion, bewilderment, and I’m sure mild annoyance. Cue my incessant rambling on. (If only the Imodium AD could help with the verbal Diarrhea too!) I’m not sure if he actually thought that I was making fun of him or was just really crazy with the way I was carrying on, but the words were just pouring out of me like chili through a baby! “No joke, my sister really is – she’s crazy – LOOK! This is the picture of her daughter that she literally just sent me yesterday!!!” With that I showed him a picture of my niece that she had texted me the day before WEARING THE EXACT SAME RED BERET HE HAD ON HIS HEAD!!! He smiled and then his face had a hint of confusion and he looked like he thought at first I was making fun of him or about to present him with a long lost love child, but then I could see the exact moment of clarity when it all gelled for him – he knew at that exact moment that I was full-on crazy. I’m sure a lot of lunatics come up to him on the street and talk, but how many stop to show of pictures of their two year old niece on patrol rocking the exact same red beret as him?

avery beret

 

“Curtis, my sister is really crazy and helps people getting jumped and tried to stop drug deals with the bat in her trunk – she doesn’t go anywhere without that bat!” It wasn’t clear and concise, but I felt like if I had a chance to explain he’d really get a kick out of it, but I couldn’t build a coherent sentence to save my life. “She’s really your biggest fan and I got her that beret for her birthday!!!” I wouldn’t say he was flattered with the intel I was delivering and it might have been my over excitement or the fact that I was unfolding my crazy family legacy to a stranger in Penn Station as if this was at all normal. Then it hit me so I had to ask: “Will you FaceTime with my sister? I can call her right now. She’ll die!” “No” he replied and I can’t say that I blame him although he could have taken a second to think it over. Can you imagine if she answered the face time wearing that beret? He would have plotzed! “Curtis, please take a picture with me – I’m serious, she’s going to freak out when she hears that I met you and when she sees this picture – she’s gonna die!” Cue the selfie and just like that he went on his way back to patrol and make us all just a little safer. I stood there smiling ear to ear, mumbling to myself like a mental patient about how awesome that just was.

 

girl with bat

 

Of course, not two seconds after he was out of sight, I call my sister screaming! I wanted to text her the picture but waited so that I could hear her reaction live – which was awesome! She was hysterical and couldn’t believe it – although she did say she would have killed me if he actually FaceTimed with her. When I told my wife, her response was surprisingly less subdued: “Get back to work before you get fired! What the hell are you doing in Penn Station?” “Honey, I’m making dreams come true is what I’m doing…” There I was, literally having an out of body experience and all she could ask is why I’m bothering strangers. That and she was curious as to how I even recognized him on the street, as if he’s just an average Joe. I was like “Honey, let’s break it down: even if you live a very sheltered life and happen to not know what he looks like – he literally wears a red beret and jacket that says Guardian Angels – Helen Keller could identify him in a lineup!” She wasn’t as excited for me as I felt a supportive spouse should be and she didn’t want to encourage any more of my nonsense so I did the only appropriate thing you can do in a situation like that: I called my sister back. Even though she’s a lunatic, she could at least appreciate the significance of the moment!

 

me and curtis two

 

When I tell people these things about my sister, there are usually two reactions to it: A) people think there’s really something wrong with her and then feel bad for laughing. She’s crazy, but it’s not like a diagnosed on the meds kind of crazy so it’s OK to laugh at her. The other reaction is that they think I’m exaggerating…UNTIL THEY MEET HER. Don’t make me go hidden camera on her or Facebook Live with her so you can see the cray cray at a safe distance. I’d like to say that she has calmed down and that through the wisdom of age, my sister has settled into a sense of normalcy, but that would be ignoring the aforementioned bat that we moved out of the way to load her groceries into the trunk last weekend! Just like the big wheels that keep on turnin’ – Proud Marlene keeps on burnin!

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As a side note to this, I can understand what you’re thinking after hearing about this: why is she keeping the bat all the way back in the trunk? In a street fight, who has time to pop the trunk, run to the back of the car, and then retrieve the bat? Rookie mistake if you ask Curtis. Just for practical purposes, she should keep it in the back seat or have my niece hold it in her car seat on the off chance there’s a drive by and she needs to jump in.

 

beyonce

Most people don’t realize this, but my sister was Lemonadin’ way before Bae!

 

 

So what is the lesson we learn here folks? Obviously, never get in the car with my sister unless you’re wearing Kevlar, but also – take your Imodium every day and Dream Big! This wasn’t me winning the Powerball Jackpot or my hair growing back kind of dream – but it was still pretty damn awesome!

Think you have bad luck? My brother got ran over TWICE by the same car!

 

 

unlucky meme

With St. Patrick’s Day last week, I was thinking about sharing some stories about my lucky shamrocks, but as I was writing, I couldn’t help but think of my brother. Forget about Luck of the Irish, if it weren’t for bad luck, my brother Joey wouldn’t have any at all. Here’s a perfect example to illustrate just how unlucky he is – picture it: Merit Gas Station: Long Island: September 2000.

die peacefully

My brother pulled into the gas station one man and left in tattered pieces. Nowadays, you can pay at the pump, but for anyone of the young’uns that might be reading this – back in 2000 it was down-right prehistoric: you won’t believe it, but we had to actually walk from your car to the attendant’s booth, prepay for your gas and then walk all the way back to your car to fill it up. Simple enough for most people, but not for my brother, not that day. Joey put the pump in the gas tank, headed over to prepay, paid for his gas, and headed back over to pump it. All normal and the same thing he had done hundreds and hundreds of times when – BOOM he’s suddenly a hood ornament!

 

hit with car

 

Out of nowhere, an old man rammed into Joey, knocking him to the ground, and proceeded to drive over him like he was gas station roadkill. Seriously, he was a Merritt Muskrat flattened like a pancake! Picture a possum on I95 wriggling under the front tires trying to break free before he’s crushed to bits – that was my brother there on the pavement. As he was screaming in agony and trying to figure out what the hell was going on, the old man realized that he hit something, stopped the car, and threw it in reverse. HE THREW THE EFFING CAR IN REVERSE AND THEN PROCEEDED TO HIT HIM AGAIN!  HE RAN HIM OVER TWICE! JOEY GOT HIT BY THE SAME CAR TWICE!!!

 

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My brother was in pain the first go around, but the shock of the car re-running him over set him over the edge. Screaming for help, the other customers could only watch in horror until that pimped out old Caddy finally came to a resting halt. One would think that people watching this unfold or the Police on the scene might rush over to my brother to assist and try and see if this real life crash test dummy was still alive, but they instead ran to the old man, who was clutching his chest. At this point he was outside the car on the ground next to Joey because after stopping the car, he got out, took one look at my brother, turned white as a ghost, shrugged his shoulders as if to say “Shit happens” and then his feet came out from underneath him and he hit the pavement.

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As the police and emergency personnel were tending to the old man, my brother was screaming “What the fuck? He ran me over twice and you’re helping him? Someone pump my gas or get my fucking money back from that attendant!” It fell on deaf ears though, as the police were trying to get the old man’s information. He directed them to his dashboard – he had flash cards with his name, address, and directions back to his house. Apparently, he had suffered a stroke almost four months to the day of the accident and wasn’t supposed to be driving. Of course, they felt the old man was in critical condition and immediately got him out of there in an ambulance and then asked my brother if he wanted an ambulance as well. Who stops to ask the person that got ran over twice if they’d like an ambulance? If ever there was a clear cut need for an ambulance, I’m pretty sure that was it.  

 

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It’s like every time he gets gas, that Elvis song “Steamroller Blues” plays in the background like his very own theme song: “I’m a steamroller baby, I’m ‘bout to roll all over you…” I’d like to say that my brother is now safely crossing on the green and not in between, but when we recently followed him to my sister’s house, he pulled over to get out and switch drivers right on the highway and his wife said “Why in the world would he get out of the car on a highway instead of pulling into a parking lot? Wasn’t getting run over twice enough?” Apparently, you can take the boy out of the gas station, but you can’t take the gas station out of the boy!

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This has nothing to do with my brother or him getting hit by the car TWICE, but there’s always room for Jimmy McMillan!

 

Apparently, the first sense you lose once you get struck by a car is your sense of humor – and it’s still on the fritz because almost 17 years later, he still doesn’t think it’s funny. In hindsight, he really did get seriously hurt: he had his shoulder operated on, broke two toes and messed up his knee pretty bad. I only make light of this happening because it didn’t happen to me and it’s been years since it happened so it’s OK to laugh about it now. Granted we laughed back then too, but that’s not the point. We live and we learn and since then he looks both ways twice before crossing just in case…

 

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Tony Baloney – Why you no fat no more?

 

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I’ve told you about how great it is to be a regular and how nice it is to have people remembering you, but sometimes that’s not the case at all.  

 

 

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There was a little bodega run by a Chinese family across from work that I used to hit up every morning on my way into the office. Being OCD and a creature of habit, I used get my healthy breakfast of two Diet Pepsi’s and an individually wrapped chocolate chip muffin every day before work. This was before I started running, before I was eating healthier, and way before I lost sixty pounds. Yes, that is a lot of weight and yes, I realize I was a fat ass…thanks for reminding me.

 

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As part of my morning routine, I’d get off the train, hit the convenience store and then head to work. Every day it would feel like forever waiting on that damn line in the store, but it was right across the street and you kinda get used to it after a while. When I say it was a long line, I mean like twenty people on the line long winding throughout the store. Picture a conga line doing the mannequin challenge.

 

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Fast forward to the new and improved, skinny me getting bottled water and a protein bar! As I was almost at the register for my turn to pay, I made the amateur mistake of turning my head to check out the candy display and see if I should tempt myself with some delectable Swedish Fish (the only seafood that I eat). Before I knew it, the cashier was screaming out “Next. Next. Next customer. Nex…WHOA!!! WHY YOU NO FAT NO MORE!!!!!!” A hush came over the store as everyone looked to see who she was talking about. Of course I turned away from the candy and momentarily though about dropping my water and protein bar to sprint out the front door, but she waved me over to her and shouted “COME ON!” I was terrified that she’d start screaming even louder or I would have let someone else go ahead of me while she continued on just as loud. “I can’t believe you no fat no more! What happened? You so different?” she exclaimed as loudly as she possibly could. I threw money at her to try and distract her and get her to shut up but it was to no avail. I tried my best to pretend like I didn’t hear her shouting and just smiled without looking back at the line of tittering patrons waiting their turn behind me wondering just how fat I actually was since I didn’t look all that good now…A normal person would never go back into a store after that, but did I mention that it was directly across the street? I don’t care if she started shouting “Run Fat Boy Run” while throwing Ring Dings at me – the OCD wasn’t letting me break my routine for anything…

 

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Flash forward a few months later to a very stressful, meeting-filled day, and I was in dire need of some comfort food. When life beats me down, food always makes it better so I headed over to the bodega. I know you’re thinking that’s not a healthy response to stress and that’s exactly how eating disorders start, but nobody likes a know it all! As I was searching the displays for something tasty to make everything all better, I decided that we were at defcon three and hit the deli counter for the only remedy: Bologna and cheese! It’s not something that I eat often, but it reminds me of when I was a little kid and always cheers me up. It also reminds me of a day when my sister Marlene ate almost two pounds of bologna forcing my poor little cousin to go to Sailing camp with nothing to eat for lunch. Just like Brooke Shields in the 80’s, she wasn’t one to let anything stand between her and her Boar’s Head. When questioned about her excessive Bologna intake, she defensively sneered “If you can’t feed me send me home!” Some people have happy Disney memories of their childhood, I have random Bologna fantasies: Tomato/Tomah-to.  

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If she knew that my sister could eat like she had two assholes, Mother Theresa might rethink this quote…

 

 

 

So, I head over to the Deli counter and asked for bologna and cheese on a roll with a tiny bit of mayonnaise. I like my sandwich to be dry and by that I mean so dry that you’ll actually start to cough. I really don’t like mayo, but a little drop here and there is OK. How is it that no one in the entire service industry is able to comprehend what the word “little” means when ordering food? I usually don’t even bother ordering mayo because people never listen and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment. Ask for a little ice and the cup is full; ask for a “little” dressing on your salad and you’ll be calling in the Coast Guard because the lettuce starts to look like little boats drowning in the ocean.

 

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My friend Max was with me and mocking me as I ordered. He isn’t what you’d normally consider funny, but proceeded to ask the counter attendants if they also thought it was as ridiculous as he did that my name was Tony and I was ordering bologna. All of a sudden three guys that don’t understand 95% of the language were hysterical laughing and saying it back to each other “Tony Baloney” while pointing at me. I find it so interesting that in the English language there are so many vital and beautiful words or phrases that one can learn, but the takeaway here was “Tony Baloney!” Now a normal person would have maintained some level of dignity and got the hell out of that bodega, but I really wanted that sandwich and they were right across the street…     

 

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In hindsight, maybe heading to the place where random cashiers shout about how fat I am isn’t the best place to make me feel better on a stressful day. No one said I was a quick learner, but I got the message now!

 

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The Fugitive

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My friend Michelle is really smart and we have a lot in common; we both worked for the same company, we both love the soundtrack to Begin Again, and we both think I’m one of the funniest people ever! I told you she was smart!!!

 

While that’s normally enough for to people to bond over, what really cinched it was when we discovered that we share something even bigger than that: we both have an embarrassing one-armed man story! This is not to make fun of anyone handicapped or make light of missing limbs, but what are the odds? (Actually, call me out on that challenge if you actually do have a one-armed man story – let me know and I’ll add it to this post!)

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This was a few years ago when I was working in event planning and before I learned how to act professional and appropriate in the workplace. OK, it was before I learned how to pretend that I’m a professional and pretend to act appropriate in the workplace. I was somewhat new to the job and in that awkward getting-to-know-you phase when I went to lunch with two of the ladies from the office. As we were talking about hobbies and things we like to do, I randomly went off on a tangent about gambling and casinos and my obsessive love for Baccarat. Patti nodded in agreement with my game of chance choice, but Karen looked at me and said “I only play the slot machines!” Why would you waste time and money on slots?” I countered “You never win on them. You can’t trust anything with one arm!” At this point they both looked at me weirdly – Patti with a weird look of shock, and Karen’s face always looked weird, but this was more of annoyance. Patti was shaking her head no back and forth for me to stop talking and tried to change the subject, but true to form, I can’t ever let anything go. “Why would you play those? You can’t trust the one armed man – remember? They only have one arm! Give me one example of something with one arm you can trust?” to which she was fully annoyed and said “My mother has one arm. I trust her!”

 

At this point any person with any sense in his head would shut the fleck up, but not me. Of course I still couldn’t let it go. “Oh right Karen, your mother has one arm…sure she does…and I’m really a Kennedy…Ha Ha…one arm –come on…” She was pissed now and said “Who would make that up? It’s not funny – my mother really has one arm!” “Right Karen, did your mother get bit by a shark? She only has one arm? You’re such a liar…”and with that she had enough and walked away. Patti was laughing hysterically because I was such an ass and wouldn’t take her signals and just shut up. Then she was swearing up and down that Karen’s mother really only has one arm. “Come on Patti, I don’t believe either one of you. Mess with the new guy right? Whose mother has one arm?”

 

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Karen then proceeded to call her mother and make her come in to the office to show me. Low and behold, she really did only have one arm! She was cool about it because I’m sure she probably gets it all the time but then she was like “who would joke about having one arm? What kind of a person does that?” And I was like “I would…but I’m an idiot…” Once again proving that people usually aren’t kidding around and I never believe anything. Open mouth, insert foot…Also, Karen actually farted in front of me my first day on the job and I ran into the bathroom to call my wife because I couldn’t control my immature laughter, so I should have known she wasn’t really a jokester…

 

Michelle worked in The Gap when she was in college and as a man came out of the dressing room trying on a nice green sweater, he was looking at himself in the hallway mirror to check himself out. She, being the cheery salesperson, walked over to assist. “Hi there, let’s see how that looks on you.” With a puzzled look on her face “Come on Sir, you’ve gotta put both arms through the sleeves so I can see how that fits” and with that she grabbed the sleeve dangling where his arm should have been. She shook it and then realized from the expression on his face, that he was missing the arm, but she wasn’t missing the look on his face. “Looks great” she said as she dropped the empty sleeve and proceeded to take her walk of shame into the storeroom. Good thing she wasn’t working on commission…

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Now in working together we both shared embarrassing stories and laughed at each other…Flash forward to us together at a trade show chatting away at a luncheon while the band Foreigner was playing for the crowd. I was paying attention to her and our conversation – not noticing anyone else at the table when the lead singer started introducing “I Wanna Know What Love Is.” He wanted everyone to get out of their seats, grab someone we love to sing along with and dance. At this point our table cleared with everyone heading to the dance floor leaving just me, Michelle, and the old man seated on my left. Just as the singer asked, I leaned in like I was going to hug Michelle and then quickly turned away to the man on my left and jokingly hugged him instead. I’m not sure who was more shocked: him to be hugged by a stranger singing the wrong words off key or me to find out mid-hug that he only had one arm! Another one-armed man and now I had just accosted him.

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He looked back at me like I was crazy and seemed somewhat relieved when I stopped singing along and then I tried to casually turn to Michelle and whisper. I’m not a good whisperer anyway and with the music so loud it was more like a half-shout stage whisper: “One arm! One arm.” She of course had no idea what I was talking about and I was trying to lip the words instead of saying them out loud “He…only…has…one…arm.” She got the message loud and clear. And so did he! By this time he had gathered his stuff and proceeded to walk across the ballroom towards the exit getting away from me as any sane person would. Then I saw it – he left his messenger bag on the floor next to his chair.

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I leapt up and sped into action like OJ in the White Bronco – I grabbed his bag and started running, leaving Michelle at the table alone. The crowd was massive, and heading towards the restrooms and exits, when I knew in my heart this might be my only change to ever try out my Tommy Lee Jones impression: “Stop that one-armed man! Stop him!” I shouted as I bobbed and weaved like Keanu in the Matrix. People were looking at me with a mix of wild annoyance and confusion, yet I finally caught him outside the doors on the convention floor. I was about two feet in back of him when I reached out and grabbed his arm (obviously, the full arm – not the dangling sleeve like Michelle) startling him and he whipped around. He had a definite look of annoyance while I was smiling like I should be his new hero. “Here’s your bag – you forgot your bag at the table! Didn’t you hear me calling you?” He just glared at me and didn’t say one word while he took his bag back from me. No thank you, no smile, just a weird glance and then he walked away and was gone into the crowd.

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I’m not saying that he owed me another hug or a thank you, but not even a smile? Burt Bacharach sang What the World Needs Now is Love Sweet Love but even he couldn’t have scored a smile that day…The message we take from this: You can’t trust a one-armed bandit!

Master Yoda – why does it Bern when I vote?

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They laughed at first because they didn’t understand or take him seriously, but Yoda proved to be a small force mightier than some of the toughest warriors. Such seems to be the case with Bernie Sanders, now doesn’t it? His powers have stormed the galaxy like a certain little green Jedi Master did a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…

 

 

lightsaber in my pocket it is not

 

 

Don’t get nervous people – this isn’t a political post or me trying to pick a side or buck the establishment – Immodium Abuser ain’t got time for dat! This is me saying that whether you’re “Feelin the Bern” more intense than your last yeast infection or you’re a non-bernliever: You can’t deny the obvious: Bernie’s a force to reckon with! He’s literally everywhere! It’s only a matter of time before he stops by for carpool karaoke with James Corden singing the Elton John classic: Bernie and the Jets!

 

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You don’t need fancy new glasses like these to see what’s really going on here…

 

 

People are all up in arms because of the Chewbacca Mom getting her own Star Wars action figure, but a) she’s awesome and I’m happy for her and b)she’s not the first one to get a figure made of her. I was with my kids in Toys R’ Us last weekend and stopped dead in my tracks on the Star Wars aisle because I seriously thought we accidentally stumbled into the Democratic Caucus! I looked over and saw Bernie Sanders staring right back at me from the shelf:

 

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It’s obviously not made to scale as Bernie’s eyes are brown, but if this little doll doesn’t make you Feel the Bern nothing will!

 

 

 

Now in all the things people talk about, how come no one is wondering why his title is Junior Senator from Vermont? He’s been around a long, long time and has ketchup older than 80% of his most ardent supporters, yet he’s still Junior? Strange, no?

 

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This isn’t me being mean because I’m not one to throw stones about people’s looks, this is me trying to understand how he’s struck such a chord that resonates with so deep with so many people. It’s unimaginable, but Han Solo was right on the money in The Force Awakens when he said: “The Jedi, The Force, The Bern: It’s all real”. Full disclosure: I showed a picture of the doll to a colleague at work and she thought it looked exactly like me. Don’t you think if that doll looked like me I’d be handing them out on the street or wearing it around my neck like I did with the Pope doll?

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Here’s me and Hann introducing AJ Ross of ABC News to The Pope Doll.

 

It’s a head scratcher kids…Let’s see how this plays out over the next few months and remember that famous quote: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do to promote the Immodium Abuser to all of your friends!!!”

Sister, please tell me about the Baby Jesus…

Pretty the Kitty sends her holiday wishes to everyone!

Pretty the Kitty sends her holiday wishes to everyone!

 

For the past week, I’ve been talking about my sister and it feels just a little bit wrong in a way. Not wrong because I wrote nutty things about a crazy person, but wrong because I held back and like Vanessa Williams: Went and saved the best for last. When talking about my itty-bitty, cray-cray sister and celebrating her Birthday Week, there is no more accurate portrayal of her in anything I’ve ever written than the famous Baby Jesus post! It would almost be irresponsible and selfish of me not to share it with you!

 

You think I'm Crazy...

 

Once again, she was causing bedlam in the bathroom and although this was one of the few times that no cats or walls were shit on, it also outlines her stint as a local vigilante worthy of the Master himself: Guardian Angel Curtis Sliwa! That’s not even to mention the time we were driving in the back of a parking lot one night and came upon a drug deal and she started holding the horn down, flashing her brights, and shouting out the window! I did what any real man does in that situation – I dove into the back seat and ducked for cover on the floor screaming like a little girl. Curtis, put her on patrol man, she’ll clean up the streets in no time.

 

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I was in Home Depot last week and saw a nativity set that I almost bought to revisit Kim for a reenactment, but didn’t because my sister is pretty sure she’d press charges this time. Either way click here for  The Famous Baby Jesus Story and hear a most amazing tale about me, my sister, and the absolute true meaning of Christmas!

 

The Famous Baby Jesus Story

 

 

SHE GOT DOWN TO THE NITTY GRITTY ALL OVER THAT POOR KITTY!!!

 

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Continuing with my December kickoff tribute to my sister’s Birthday, I wanted to wish her a year ahead full of many wishes coming true including never again evacuating her bowels on a cat! Yes, Happy Birthday Carlotta, my sister is the one that shit on a cat! Read the original The pretty kitty got all shitty before you go any further:

 

The Pretty Kitty Got All Shitty

 

I originally wrote this post about my sister shitting on a cat and thought it was really funny but I showed no regard for a certain special someone’s feelings and for that, I was wrong. I want to go back now and give her a chance to clear the air, so to speak, and after all this time to finally be able to tell her side of the story. This is a first for me, but without any edits or interference at all – I present you with a very special guest post written by none other than Pretty the Kitty. I try never to get into any he said/she said battles and I’m not taking sides, but a feline with a grudge after she was covered in sludge should not be ignored.
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(I transcribed the following as Pretty dictated to me. Come on, she’s a cat – did you really think she could type?)

 

It was a regular day and I was just chillaxing by my litter box when I heard a huge commotion in the next room. I had no idea why there was screaming and banging, but I jumped onto the toilet to have a better look when all of a sudden, I was abruptly thrown off my seat. Who does that? I jumped right back up determined to stand my ground when this crazy girl just started screaming and then shot off like a firework display worthy of July Fourth.

 

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It was as if a confetti cannon went off in the room – all of a sudden she was like the Black Eyed Peas with that BOOM! BOOM! POW!  I was just so terrified for my life with the sheer amount of explosions going on in there and the liquid shrapnel pelting every part of my body. It was relentless like Hurricane Katrina when the levees broke; it just wouldn’t stop. All I kept thinking was, “Why doesn’t she have to use the litter box too? That doesn’t seem very fair, now does it?” I’ll have you know that I’m a Vietnam “PET“eran but even I I haven’t seen incoming like that since the Viet Cong unloaded during the TET Offensive!

 

One minute I was just minding my business like I always do and in the next, I get screamed at, physically assaulted, and dumped on by a literal dump truck! And then she yelled “PRETTY NOOOOO” as if I were doing something wrong. Hey Girlie – you did me dirty – not the other way around! Whoa Nelly did she pound me though! 


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In all fairness, she did offer to clean me, but how could a shower make up for a chocolate prom scene reenactment from the movie Carrie? You think a cat like me wakes up and looks this fluffy and inviting by accident? I’ve been licking this left paw all afternoon to get that gentle curl you see here. And you know what else Bitch? How about a hot iron and some straight pins – You ever see a pussy look this good just using just a comb? I don’t think so!

 

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So there you have it folks, two different sides and two different versions, but one thing we can all agree on: That’s a cat that won’t get shit faced and just let it go! Also, I don’t see her wishing my sister a Happy Birthday anytime soon either, but here’s another one from me: Happy Birthday Cray Cray!!!”

 

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Hasn’t Baltimore been through enough?

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One of the best perks about working in Sales, is that I get to do fun things with clients and spend other people’s money to do it! A group of us used to take Washington DC clients to a Baltimore Orioles game as a great way to spend time with them and develop better relationships with our clients. OK, come on it’s the Orioles, no one ever really cared about the game – we just drank and had a fun time. Here’s a few highlights from our last trip.

 

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We would go with about ten to fifteen people from different areas and invite about a hundred clients so it was always a big crowd. The last time we went was an absolute disaster; the forecast was calling for a washout, the sky was black and it was a torrential downpour! Rain like that only exists in the movies so I should have known that shenanigans would be on the menu.

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We were taking Amtrak for convenience to avoid the airport and also so that we could enjoy the bar car on the way. As we were dodging the downpour on the platform waiting for the train, we saw the train heading down the tracks. I couldn’t wait for the train to arrive to get out of this heavy rain and also to get away from the woman standing next to me. She was on her phone chatting away louder than loud and complaining about the rain as if her holding that phone in her hand instead of an umbrella was the smart thing to do. As the train stopped and the doors opened, the girl in front of us marched up to get in the train still chatting away like a little yenta. As she was gabbing and not paying attention to anything but her conversation, low and behold she didn’t mind the gap and fell in between the train and the platform. It was a combination of the heavy rain, the conversation, but mostly it was the hooker boots she was rocking on the platform. I can see wearing those in a club or on the runway, but on Metro North in a rainstorm? It’s no wonder she fell.

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It was like it happened in slow motion in front of me. Boom: the doors open, boom: she’s stepping forward, boom: she’s in between the train and platform, boom: she’s still on the phone screaming “Oh my God, I fell in the tracks, I’m in the tracks.” At this point she landed with a heavy thud on her elbows and her legs were dangling down under the platform – yet she didn’t stop talking or put the phone down! The New Yorker in me did what any normal person would do in the face of commuter roadkill: I started hysterically laughing and lifted my bag and stepped over her to get a seat on the train as she was staring up at me screaming “What the fuck are you doing?” and then back into the phone “Can you believe this guy just stepped over me? I’m in the tracks.”

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At this point, the conductor had arrived to see what was going on and help her up and as I was walking to my seat I looked back and realized that my friends hadn’t moved and were staring in disbelief that I had just done that? As the conductor went above and beyond to help that nitwit on her phone, we got seats on the train. We couldn’t stop laughing at how she never missed a beat on her call when we look up and where is the only available seat on the train for her to sit: right across from us. I couldn’t stop laughing and staring because she was soaking wet head to toe and yet she still stayed on that phone for another hour after that giving me dirty looks the whole time.

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So we got to Baltimore and the weather wasn’t letting up. Out of a hundred people confirmed, only about nine brave souls showed up. We sat in our empty section since no one showed up and there was a long rain delay. When the game went on, we just drank to make the best of it. As my friend Karen and I were talking, she just freaked out and started screaming at the top of her lungs like a psycho. I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth “What the fuc…” before this rocket flew right in between the two of our heads and hit the seat in back of us. A pop fly that was inches away from clocking one of us in the noggin and neither of us were paying attention! The ball landed with a thunderous boom and the guy in back of us snatched it. We were freaking out as everyone laughed their asses off and then the guy wouldn’t give us the ball. I was like “dude, that almost hit us in the head!” and he was like “dude, if you were paying attention instead of gabbing, you would have gotten it.” Forget being on TV, if that hit us we would have been hospitalized or dead…

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After the game, we tried to make our way through the crowd and out of there. If you’ve ever been to a baseball game, you know that the crowds are crazy and mostly drunk and it takes forever to get out of the stadium. I was walking with Amy, a colleague I’d just met earlier that day, and my impatience took over. I’m not sure exactly what came over me, but I knew that this crowd just wasn’t doing it for me. I linked arms with her and leaned in close so we were face to face and asked “How fast can you go?” “What are you talking about?” she asked and looked very confused and not expecting me to start shouting at the top of my lungs: “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! SHE JUST SHIT HER PANTS!!!” and I started pulling her fast through the mass of people. It was as if the crowd parted like the Red Sea and I just kept shouting “SHE SHIT HER PANTS – GET OUT OF THE WAY” and people were moving like hotcakes to get away from us. She tried to pull her arm away and was pissed “What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy – stop pulling me” “You wanna stay here instead?” as we looked at people staring at us and then I started screaming again.

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Some drunk guy tried to help us and pointed as he shouted “Dude, there’s a bathroom right there, take her in there.” I screamed back “DUDE, SHE SHIT HER PANTS AND SHE’S COVERED – SHE NEEDS A SHOWER” which parted the people ever further away from us. When I tell you that we made it out of that stadium and back to our hotel faster than a speeding bullet, I’m not exaggerating. We had three drinks in the hotel bar by the time the rest of our group got back.

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As we were waiting for the others to meet up with us, she was obviously annoyed at me. I thought she was being a little bit ungrateful as I had just gotten us out of the crowd like a streak of lightning, but she was embarrassed. She tried sitting across the bar from me, but it was no use because there was no one else in there. Her phone rang and she started chatting away, and I leapt into action. I ran right over next to her phone and started screaming again “Amy, get your clothes on someone’s at the door!!!” and started hysterical laughing. She was pissed before that, yet this pushed her over. “Come on, It’s my mother. It would be funny if it was my husband, but it’s my mother for god’s sake.” I thought she’d think it was funny, but she absolutely didn’t and you know who thought it was even less funny than Amy? Her mother who started screaming “Where are you? I thought you were at a work event? Why are you undressed? Who is that? Where are you?” and Amy stormed off into the corner trying to explain “Mom, I’m not undressed…he’s an idiot…It is a work thing…”

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At this point the bartender was laughing at what I’d just done and I was in the middle of telling him about how we got out of the game so fast when our friends arrived and we were telling them. Amy was pissed at me and didn’t really want to move past this and be friends with me for some reason…She was mad that everyone was laughing at the antics instead of taking her side and a few drinks later she admitted that she thought it was funny too…but she would have thought it was funnier if I did it to Sue instead of her. Needless to say, it was a fun trip and we made the best of it despite the weather and if you’ve learned one lesson from this post it’s this: Don’t wear hooker boots in a rainstorm on a train platform – no good can come from it!

imagesVTTYAJUA

BARBEC – YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

I'll take it medium-rare!

Just released: The newest George Foreman Grill!

 

I know this is going to sound crazy, but what’s the deal with guys and their barbecues? I get it that it’s summer and people like to eat off the grill but come on…I’m all for food on the grill once in a while, but some people think summer means grilling every single day. Good lord people – moderation. I hate the summer heat as it is so the absolute last thing I wanna do when I’m that hot is to be near an open flame. Hello – that makes no sense at all.

 

 

squirrel

 

I’d like to pause and set the record straight here before we go any further: I don’t have unnatural fears and phobias that are made up. These things come from something that has happened to you; PTSD if you will for OCD peeps like me. For example, I check the oven to make sure it’s been turned off multiple times during the day. I don’t do this because I’m crazy and irrational, I do this because my wife has left the oven on so many times and I don’t want the house to explode. When I see her mom leave the burner on the stovetop turned on after she uses it – that confirms that good looks aren’t the only thing that run in that family…Another example, I don’t eat outside or with my hands because I’m not a squirrel…Practical reasons people, such as why I won’t get close to the barbecue anymore. This is the reason I won’t barbecue anymore.

 

 

bbq gun

 

 

It was a few weeks after my oldest son was born and my wife was holding him while I went onto the deck to throw some burgers on the grill. I turned on the propane and pressed the ignition switch but nothing happened. I could smell the gas so I knew that the propane tank was open, but there was no flame in the barbecue. I looked at her with a mixed expression of half annoyance and half just-plain-dumb as to what to do. She told me to light a match and the ignition would catch. My spidey senses should have been tingling at this point, but the new-baby euphoria/tiredness had me all out of whack. I went in to the kitchen to find the matches and light this mother up cause we were hungry.

 

 

match

 

 

Neither one of us smokes, so we never have matches. It took me about five minutes to find some matches that we had been given as a favor from a wedding and I finally went back out to get this party started.

 

 

Is this a barbecue or a foosball table?

Is this a barbecue or a foosball table?

 

 

When I got back to the grill, my wife was talking to me through the screen while holding our son and I lit the match to start the barbecue. As the match ignited, all of a sudden a huge fireball erupted and flew from the match, across the barbecue, up my crotch, up my shirt and then up the hedges and up the side of the house. Once I heard the WHOOSH of the fireball, I did what every brave, manly-man does and proceeded to scream like a little girl with a lost puppy and turned to my wife for assistance of any kind and what did she do? She slammed the sliding glass doors leading into the house. At this point I was facing the glass of the sliders shouting every curseword I know when I happened to hear the laughing crowd of people behind me. All of the people outside on their decks were hysterical at how I was screaming and carrying on over the fireball. Not one of them asked if I was OK, but in case they were wondering some leg hair got singed, my eyebrows got an unexpected trim, my nose hair was all but gone and my Imodium was certainly put to the test, but no serious burns. Unless you count the humiliating pain from their laughter as I tried to turn the propane off.

 

bbq fireball 2

 

When my wife finally unlocked the sliders, I went inside to get a beer, change my underwear, and to ask why she’d close the door when I was almost shish-kabobbed on the deck. I was one second away from throwing myself over the railing and into the hedges to stop, drop, and roll before she finally let me in. Full disclosure, my only experience in this area is what I’ve learned watching Chicago Fire, but normally people offer assistance in some form of another or they call 911; they usually don’t lock the burn victim outside. Her thinking was to protect the baby, but my thinking was that once the door was shut the locking part doesn’t offer any additional protection to the person not getting hit with a fireball…

 

 

chicago fire

 

 

To be continued next time as this has just reminded me of another fire-safety themed episode/cautionary tale of two different occasions when I slept through a fire! Actually, maybe it should be an investigation of my wife because who’s around this many fires when I’m ALWAYS inside directly in harm’s way while she’s awake and safely in the street waiting for the authorities? No one would blame her but she’s either very lucky, got a severe firemen fetish, or is actually an arsonist…hmmmm…

 

 

bbq fireball

I WAS ON THE SET OF STAR WARS EPISODE VII!!!

Star Wars Logo

 

Spoiler Alert: This post contains crucial plot points and unauthorized photos from Star Wars Episode VII set. I did promise JJ Abrams that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I can’t hold it in anymore – Sorry JJ.

JJABRAMS SET

Here’s a picture of me and a storm trooper:

Me and Stormtrooper

And here’s a shot of my son test driving a Rebel Tie Fighter:

My son in an x wing fighterxfighterMockup of the set

OK, OK…so maybe that’s not really a picture of my son in an actual Rebel Tie Fighter and I wasn’t on the Star Wars set per se…but it is me with a storm trooper – he just happens to be patrolling the Boardwalk of Ocean City, not the Forest of Endor!

Storm_Trooper_pooping

Now that I have your attention, I wanted to remind you that I’ll be running the NYC Marathon on Sunday November 2nd! Now you’re smiling and thinking “Wow, that’s great! Run Forrest Run!” But I’m not that selfish and this isn’t all just about me – Here’s where you come in: The only way I could get a spot was by fund-raising so this is my not-so-subtle pitch for assistance because I’m way off from my goal. If I don’t reach my fundraising goal by next week, I’ll have to pay for it myself and will, unfortunately, be forced to resort to selling one or more of my kids to do so…Do you want that on your conscience? Remember kids – it takes a village.

Attention

The way I see it, you have three options:

1: Go and donate now – you don’t have a dollar for a great cause? No amount is too small and every donation makes such an impact.

2: Like this and share it on your facebook/twitter/Instagram/tumbler/blender/coffeepot/hashtag/sunburn/earlobe – or on whatever social media outlets you’re using! Share it and spread the word Yenta!

3: You need a third option? Those two weren’t enough? Now you need a third option? Go back to option one and donate!

I’m running with Team for Kids and it’s actually a really great Organization that brings free running programs and wellness events to schools and neighborhoods. Their youth programs already serve more than 200,000 children in hundreds of underserved schools and community centers; the fundraising helps to increase the reach and impact on the kids who need it most.

team for kids

Running the Marathon last year was such a life-changing experience for me so to be able to do it again and give back in the process is amazing! All the money goes towards the kids and the programs they run, so you really are helping to make a huge difference! I was originally going to fundraise for a new toupee, but this isn’t about me guys – its for the kids and will do just as much good for the world than me with a new set of locks.

nyc marathon logo

For those that would like to come out and cheer on Race Day while I hammer through all 26.2 miles with a smile and enough Imodium AD pumping through my veins to stock a small country it’ll be quite a show! 🙂 For those that can’t make it, I’ll expect a ton of positive energy and prayers that I can stay upright on two feet for the duration of the race!

Here’s the link if you’re so inclined – please help if you’re able – every little bit will go a long way and a lot of little bits make a huge difference! Every dollar raised helps the kids, so any amount is appreciated!

http://www.runwithtfk.org/Profile/PublicPage/17718

Donate today – the deadline is less than a week away!

Thanks,

HELP!!! I’m sweating my Lupita Nyong’os off!!!

 

 

 

nyc marathon logo

http://runwithtfk.org/Profile/PublicPage/17718

 

I really hate this time of year, but the summer isn’t the only reason I’m sweating: I’m fundraising for the NYC Marathon in November and need your help with it. I know what you’re thinking – Oh great, he’s asking for money let me stop reading now, but wait…

 

 

Are you gonna tell these three cute little guys that you won't help their Daddy!

Are you gonna tell these three cute little guys that you won’t help their Daddy!

As some of you may recall, I ran the marathon last year and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Running has changed my life in so many ways and I’m in better shape than I’ve been in years. Just knowing that I can actually run 26.2 miles is actually pretty cool. Seeing and hearing and feeling the support and the cheers and for a very brief little period of time – all those people were out there for me. Cheering me on, supporting me, screaming my name; that’s an amazing feeling.

runner

So let’s close this mother down shall we? Am I going to set a speed record and head from here to the Olympics – No. Am I going to be celebrated on the cover of Sports Illustrated like Meb Keflezighi? Probably not… Am I going to help with a great cause and have a ton of fun along the way – YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! 

meb

 

If you need a subtle reason to donate, consider that the funds donated here will support Team for Kids, which is a team of volunteers who raise funds for critical services provided by New York Road Runners Youth Programs. These programs combat childhood obesity and empower youth development via running and character-building programs in low-income schools and community centers in New York City, throughout the country, and in Africa.

 

team for kids

If you need a not so subtle reason to donate: you be the one to tell this adorably handsome little guy that you’re not going to help his Daddy  😦 Go ahead, break his heart!

 

 

X

 

I’m not asking for something significant from you or looking to break your wallet open. I don’t want anyone to put themselves out, just give a little bit if you can. A lot of little bits add up to a great big bit of good. I was thinking that of the thousands of people that follow this blog, if 1 out of every 4 of you could donate $1.00 I’d reach my goal and that money could make a huge difference. A dollar? Did I mention it’s tax-deductible? Obviously please donate more if you’re able… 

 

 

 

money

 

Here’s the link if you’re so inclined – please help if you’re able – every little bit will help…I appreciate the support – whether financial, by lining the streets with the other millions of people who will all be out screaming my name and cheering me on or by sending positive thoughts that my clumbsy ass doesn’t trip and get trampled…

 

http://runwithtfk.org/Profile/PublicPage/17718

 

Please don’t think I‘m asking for something without giving you anything in return either: consider this my penny serenade. If the thought of my sore and sweat-soaked body bobbing up to the finish line in Central Park like your fat uncle doing the worm at a Bar Mitzvah doesn’t make you feel like you got your money’s worth, then here’s a little rant on a very important topic for you. I’m like a little baby monkey making you laugh until you throw coins – Dance Monkey Dance.

 

 

monkey 2

 

SCHUCK YOU OYSTERS! I NEED MY TOOTSIE LOVIN!

 

tootsie roll

 

Why is it that when they talk about foods that are aphrodisiacs – no one mentions tootsie rolls? People say oysters, but come on – nothing about slurping them is enticing and I don’t eat any seafood except for Swedish Fish anyway.

 

The only seafood I eat!

The only seafood I eat!

I wouldn’t dip one of my little bitty piggies in the ocean; nonetheless eat something that came out of it. And don’t say you clean the fish before you eat it either – it’s soaked through with the filth that’s floating in that water – you can’t wash that off! And don’t even bring up lobster either – It’s not a high end luxury meal. Who wants to go to dinner and have to have a workout to even open and get the meat out of the shell? If hookers don’t work that hard to get the meat – you shouldn’t have to either!

 

This doesn't seem safe...

This doesn’t seem safe…

I want my food cooked and served and on the plate nicely – ready to enter my mouth. I’m not gonna break a sweat and manhandle this beast just to grab a piece of meat and end up covered – Am I a savage? Am I an animal? No, I’m just a regular guy that wants to be able to eat my dinner without bits of said dinner flying all over the place. I’m all for wearing a bib in general to keep you clean, but keep the food on my plate and in my mouth at dinner folks.

 

lobster bib

 

Speaking of doing all the work at dinner, don’t even get me started on fondue either. I’m not fond of fondue and I really don’t understand how people like it. Why should I have to work and cook the food at a restaurant? You go to a restaurant for a fondue dinner – but you have to cook it yourself? Why would I want to cook it – aren’t we going out to a restaurant so I don’t have to cook? And how long does it take to wait for a small piece of chicken to cook anyway? I’m so afraid of the boch so I need to leave it in extra-long and then I’m waiting and waiting and waiting and just starving. What’s next – I have to pour the wine and wash the dishes too?

 

wine

 

Why am I even tipping a waitress when I did the god damn work? Tips in fondue places should be outlawed because they’re reserved for hard working people – not sloths that make you cook your own food. We’re in a restaurant not camping in the woods. And that hot oil, cheese and vat of chocolate is just asking for all sorts of trouble. No good can come from this! The smoke coming out of it, it spits and stains your clothes, the obvious stomach issues…Not for me man, not for me!!

 

HERE’S THE LINK AGAIN!!!

http://runwithtfk.org/Profile/PublicPage/17718