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.





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.






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

The “No Means Nose” Hair Movement!

Cameron, thank you for letting me know that you agree with me on the nose hair issue – I know that there is a quiet majority building out there that thinks it’s as disgusting as I do and that it’s about time we stood up and banded together. To that end, forget the Tea Party – I’m starting the “No Means Nose” Hair Movement and I might actually approach Jimmy McMillan, the “Rent is Too Damn High” guy, to be the face of our movement because if there is one man we should all be listening to about facial hair – it’s him! I don’t think he’s crazy at all – I wish I could get away with wearing gloves 24/7 and never touch anything with my bare hands. He’s the aftershock of a BP Sized Rogaine Spill, but I took one look at him, with that spectacular goatee sculpted like two giant fuzzy white testicles and those black OJ Simpson ready to do some damage gloves on his hands and it made me realize that him and I could be really good friends. I’m serious, he’s a little crazy so we might not become Besties, but we’re definitely gonna hang out!  And you’ll notice that there is an immense amount of hair all over his face – but none coming out of his nose! Way to go Jimmy!

The very next time I see a person that has a nose hair “Boa” swinging in the wind – I‘m going to stop what I’m doing and start chanting: “Hell no, don’t let it grow!” Forget the economy or unemployment – this is the issue the politicians should be covering! I’m going to start a revolution and run for local office on the nose hair platform alone.

Truth be told about my toiletries – the cosmetic companies are more important to me than doctors. Forget getting better; the people that make you look better are the important ones. No oath needed – just make me look good and cover this up as much as possible. The toiletries listed in the post are only the products that I use daily. I didn’t include the products that I use intermittently such as facial masks, scrubs, toners and don’t even get me started about the products I use when I shave.  I start with a Body Shop for Men Maca Root Shave Oil to restore my skin’s natural moisture barrier. Then I take my birch shaving brush (you didn’t think I was gonna put that cream on my fingers did you?) and slather on the Neutrogena Men Sensitive Skin Shave Cream. The wooden brush keeps my hands clean and enhances the foamy lather. Then I shave and get a good rubdown of the Neutrogena Sensitive Skin After Shave Balm. At this point, I get out my cotton pads (Cotton balls just fall apart and leave a cotton residue on my skin – and then I finish it off with Tendskin to prevent skin irritation. That product is actually for women’s ingrown hairs that they get when shaving their cooch, but it works better than anything else I’ve tried. Before you even ask, no, I am not embarrassed to admit that!   

Imagine how hard it is for me to travel? Besides the ton of clothes I bring, I like options – I have to bring all these toiletries (even if it’s just overnight) or I just will not be able to sleep. If I forget even one thing, I’ll be worked up all night. I forgot my blinders one night and I was tossing and turning the whole night – I am a creature of habit and I need my things. If I didn’t have my toiletries, I would look like a creature of the night, not a creature of habit.

We just moved and when unloading the boxes and trying to find where everything should go – we had more boxes for the bathroom than we did for any other room. I have a tendency to buy a few at a time when I get my toiletries. I like to line the products up in the cabinets in a row all facing front so I can see the four or five replacements behind the currently used on – sort of like a row of Storm Troopers on the Death Star; they’re all there for the sole purpose of fighting for and protecting my skin at all costs.  One might be thinking (and my wife will swear to it) that I am on the path to being featured on Hoarders, but one would be wrong. I buy some of these products online because you just cannot get them in certain stores and I am always afraid I will run out. I can concede that if I was living in a studio apartment or didn’t have enough space to put this stuff, that I might be going overboard a little, but who is getting hurt? Are the shelves in the bathroom closets complaining about me behind my back again? Did the hand towel rat me out to the pot holder when they were tumbling in the dryer and now everyone in the house knows about me? Who cares – I say let me have my toiletries and worry about your own nose hair! And Elect Jimmy McMillan! Forget Snookie or Yo Gabba Gabba – the hottest Halloween costume of the year is just a fuzzy white Afro Mullet away!

Eye believe that you really need a mint Sir!!!

I want to send a message out there to everyone who is a hard-working service provider day in and day out – Hygiene is not optional so please BRUSH YOUR FUCKING TEETH PEOPLE!

I went to get an eye exam in order to renew my license this afternoon and I expected to possibly wait a little while if there were other people ahead of me. What I didn’t expect was to get nauseous and vomit in the parking lot. I am not one to complain or be dramatic (OK, who am I kidding – Of course I am!) but come on. 

As I was walking into the exam room, the doctor greeted me and he was seriously ancient. If he was less than 80 years old I am a monkey’s uncle. I’m not usually one to discriminate against a person because of age, but seriously when you’re hunched over and shimmying across an eight by eight room using baby steps and it takes you three minutes to get to the credenza – it might be time to hang up that lab coat.

(Don’t even get me started about that ancient old man who ran over my brother Angelo twice in the gas station parking lot! Yes, you read that correctly, I said he ran him over twice! He hit him then drove right over his body and then upon realizing that he hit something, he put the car in reverse and then proceeded to back over Angelo. The driver had suffered a stroke a few months before but never stopped driving. He actually had his name and address written down on a piece of paper in his glove compartment because he couldn’t remember who he was. It has been years since that happened, and my brother is finally just starting to think that it is as funny as we do. Who gets hit twice by the same car? He really got hurt, but that’s not the point. Seriously – twice?)

Apparently, when you’re licensed as an eye doctor in Connecticut, you’re appointed to the position for life sort of like a Supreme Court Justice. That doctor was panting and breathing so heavily like Darth Vader and I immediately started getting concerned in case something happened to him while I was in that chair. Truth be told, I wasn’t especially concerned for his well-being, I was just terrified that I wouldn’t be able to get my eye exam done today if something happened to him. Selfish maybe, but I needed that eye exam done today.

I sat in that chair as he got closer and closer to my face until he was all up in my grill and then it hit me like a brick. Apparently, that doctor had a shit sandwich for lunch because his breath was absolutely disgusting. I have a weak stomach and am not good in situations like this. I had taken my contact lenses out for the exam, but as he edged in closer to talk to me, I almost died. That musty breath was just the appetizer because even with my contacts out and everything blurry, I could see a small topiary shrub growing out of each one of his nostrils. Thank God my contacts were out, because those hedges needed to be clipped and I couldn’t even see them that clearly. He has the bushiest nose hair that I have ever seen in my life. Picture broccoli sprouts strategically places inside each nostril branch side hanging out. He actually had more hair in each nostril than all of the hair that I have on my head and my back combined. How does he not have family members forcing clippers on that nose hair? For that matter, where is the Board of Health? There must be some code against that. As he turned to get his light off the table, I couldn’t help but notice that he was also wearing white earmuffs which I thought was really strange since its August. Then I realized that they weren’t earmuffs at all, it was his ear hair. That fuzzy white ear scarf started in the center of his ear and then wrapped around running all the way up and around the lobe on a trail to nowhere. He was a nice old man, but it almost looked like he was a cave man with prehistoric grooming rituals. Needless to say that when he pushed his face right up close to mine and said “Is it clear now” – I almost died. That was the absolute worst thing that has ever been that close to my face. I would rather have a sweaty camper from my aunt’s Fat Camp place his ass gingerly on my forehead after eating nachos and bean dip than be that close to that dentist’s face again.  

As I tried to rush my way out of there, he just kept getting closer and closer and asking if it was getting clearer. I now know what a hostage situation is like and exactly what it feels like to be tortured. I thought for sure Ashton Kutcher was gonna jump out and punk me, but I wasn’t that lucky.  I kept trying to hold my breath, but I’m not Shelly Winters in The Poseidon Adventure and I just couldn’t hold my breath for longer than fifteen seconds.

After it was finally over, I headed out to the reception area to find a set of glasses, but then thought better of it. They were trying to find me a pair of glasses and offering up what frames they thought would look nice on my face, but I wasn’t having any more of it. I told them that I changed my mind about getting glasses and bolted for the door.

I thanked him and rushed out the door so fast that they had to call me back in because I left without getting my credit card back from her after paying for the exam. I was dry heaving in the parking lot and looking for something to drink but the piss warm Diet Pepsi only made me spit up a little. I lightly vomited and felt much better, but couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. It was like I had been gang raped by gorillas. It was almost like he burned that stench onto me and no amount of gum or binaca could make it better. Needless to say I skipped lunch after that! 

A little back-story about the leadings up to today’s ordeal and why I didn’t have the time to go somewhere else: My Driver’s License is about to expire and since I wear contact lenses, I needed to get an eye exam or they wouldn’t renew it. I have a New York State Driver’s license even though I have lived and worked in Connecticut for the past five years. I refuse to switch it because the Connecticut DMV won’t let me use the picture from the New York Driver’s License – where I look amazing!  That photo was taken over ten years ago when I was still in college – when I had a full head of hair and two chins fewer than my current state, so it is a great shot. It’s a really good picture and I intend on using that for my AARP membership card many years from now. For some sadistic reason, Connecticut wants to scare people and put what my current-day self looks like on a license so I refuse to allow them. I actually look like I have swallowed the person in the picture on my current license, but I don’t care. I have been a victim of driver’s license photo hit-and-runs before, so I am holding on to this one for as long as I can. When I first got my license all those years ago, no one told me that pimpstache’s weren’t “in” anymore. My hair was rumpled from being under my hat and paired with that pimpstache creeping above my lip it could have easily been mistaken for a mug shot. I think back to that pimpstache and wonder not only why my friends didn’t tell me that it looked ridiculous but also, more importantly, “Why the hell were all those girls having sex with me?” Back then, I was the poster boy for the old phrase “it’s what’s on the inside that counts” because my face was working overtime against anything my personality was putting out there!

I actually got into it with a representative from Bank of America about my license recently because our car loan is through them and they were questioning why my wife had a Connecticut License, why our residence and my work are in Connecticut, but my license was in New York. I thought long and hard before answering her and then proceeded to make up a convoluted story about my wife and I having problems and that was forced to stay at my Mother-in-law’s house and that’s why I have my license registered there. I actually vote with an absentee ballot too so everything works out fine for me. My wife of course thinks that I’m a complete Ass for telling a random stranger that I’m having marital problems instead of admitting that I’m an idiot, I’m shallow, and that I’m trying desperately to hold onto the past – but I say as long as I get to keep that photo who cares!  

So here we are. I’ve sent the paperwork in to renew my NY License and even though I was violently abused to get it – it definitely is worth it. I stand by that picture and will go through great lengths to keep it! People, the point and the takeaway of this is “Consider Oral Hygiene to be a requirement, not just a hobby!”