CelebriTuesdays: My fight with Floyd Mayweather!

Fight 1


I didn’t actually realize that there’d be a fight this weekend as I didn’t hear a peep about it anywhere. I’m so amazed that none of my 5,000 friends on Facebook even talked about it – especially because I seem to know such boxing experts.


boxing expert


OK, obviously I’m kidding around because I really am very lucky to be friends with such boxing aficionados. The non-stop barrage of memes and posts and then the begging for any way to get out of paying to watch the fight (so not ghetto at all) that I’d forgotten about when I had my tussle with Floyd Mayweather.



Store 1

Don’t mind me, just stalking here in the window. As you were…



Full disclosure, I never really had a tussle with Mayweather so much as I had to hustle which rhymes with tussle, which is a pretty close distinction in my book. After hearing about the Mayweather – McGregor fight relentlessly, my wife said “didn’t you see him on the street?” and I was like “No, where would I see him – Macy’s? as if we run in the same circles totally forgetting that in fact, we do. I was leaving work one day and stumbled upon a massive crowd while he was out jewelry shopping in NYC. As most people do, he was just trying to blend in nonchalantly like an everyday guy out shopping. No one might have even noticed him except for the crowd of paparazzi with cameras and his gigantic posse of security. I mean gigantic in the number of security members and size of said guards. It was like he had his very own Grizz and Dot Com – TIMES TEN.


grizz and dot com


I’m really not one to question anyone’s physical abilities – especially considering the fact that I’m about as tough as a third grade girl on crutches – but I thought he was a pretty tough dude and he was traveling with more security than certain government dignitaries.




I’m not the most alert person in the world, but seeing a crowd of about a hundred people staring into the window of a jewelry store gave me a hint that someone was around, but I couldn’t tell who it was. All I could see through the big crowd of people jockeying for position was those security guards and glimpses of his big sunglasses which were totally unnecessary for a January afternoon by the way. The lady next to me told me what was going on with a sneer, as if I should be able to readily identify anyone with no line of sight through a big crowd like that; another reason to wish I had that bionic eye like Colonel Steve Austin. The stalker in me went into stealth mode, and repeated the mantra my training instilled in me: What would Mr. T do?




what would mr t do

With Mr. T in my corner, I’m unstoppable! No fools will be pitied today!



As Floyd was leaving the store, I hit the pavement bobbing and weaving like him on Saturday night to get through the crowd. I ducked, I dodged, I zigged, zagged then ran to the corner – just like my training taught me. Side note: by “my training”, I mean repeat viewings of Mr. T’s iconic performance as Clubber Lang in Rocky III. As fast as I was, Mayweather rushed out quickly and he wasn’t stopping. No one, and I mean no one, was getting close enough to get a picture with him so I had to settle for my patented chase and snap. I got a few pics and actually was close enough to hear him chatting up the reporters, but he didn’t get a real interaction with me which we can all agree was a big loss for him that day!





So as we digest and regurgitate last weekend’s fight until all of my Facebook boxing experts move on to their next area of expertise – Texas flooding and destruction – let’s remember that if only I talked smack and possibly got closer to pop him in the chops right there on Fifth Avenue, I could have gotten my ass kicked last week in Vegas and scored a huge payday.


jesus cwithe




Earlier, I told you about my antics in a college production of Grease and now I’m back with another helping. After getting slimed by Crista like I was on Double Dare, I wasn’t sure it was safe (or sanitary) for me to ever have a part in Grease again. Despite that, I ended up stepping in to direct the official Fat Camp version of Grease with my friend Rhea after the original director hired had an emergency and couldn’t come to camp.

As we were discussing the play over many drinks at lunch, Rhea convinced a more intoxicated version of my regular self that I should be the Teen Angel. Figuring it would be a blast, I forgot for a second that I can’t sing and immediately agreed to it. Who doesn’t love a Beauty School Dropout and, really, does it matter if it sounds good?

After a few rehearsals, the show started coming together nicely but we felt like my entrance was a bit boring and should have a wow factor (or about as wow as you can get at Fat Camp)…We discussed it and were throwing out ideas about how to spice it up, when her face lit up and she said “Oh My God, the Teen Angel appears to Frencie to offer advice and look out for her, so how funny would it be if he was dressed like a Fairy Godmother in a big frilly dress? Sarcastically, I replied “Why don’t you just hang me from the ceiling like Peter Pan while you’re at it” and as soon as it was out loud, we both knew how funny it could be. I had said it more as a joke, but the more we discussed it, the cooler it sounded to lower me from the back balcony over the audience while I entered singing.

Imagine the looks I got as we went from one woman’s store to the next so I could try on dresses and find the “perfect” one. Tell me which part you think is more embarrassing: A) That I was guy in all these women’s stores trying on dresses or B) That when questioned about what we were doing, Rhea said “What’s so weird about it? It’s for Fat Camp” as if that answer provided any sort of clarity.

It’s always so hard to find the right fit…

Back at camp, we spoke to the maintenance guys and they thought it was hysterical and got to work on creating a swing for my entrance. My vision was of a chariot being lowered from the rafters by professional machinery; their vision was a piece of wood with a rope tied to it. Guess what we got? The latter vision. Obvious red flags should have went up – but I was sober very little that summer and you know how I commit to a role!

On the night of the show, I got into costume and went up in the balcony to wait for my sound cue. As I sat there hunched over, so that no one would see me or realize that I was up there, I couldn’t help but have second thoughts about this whole stupid idea and the scenario that was playing out. I had a bad feeling about my entrance and then became horribly aware of just how awful I looked. Sure, I was a guy in a woman’s dress and floppy wig, but it wasn’t even funny-ugly – it was just an ugly sight. I had frills everywhere and realized a little too late that maybe pink wasn’t my color after all. With my albino white skin and that light pink dress, I looked like a deformed porcelain doll…I was in good shape back then with a full head of hair mind you, but dressed as a woman, I looked like Lady Gaga without the ya ya’s. Who lets a guy with a flat chest wear a dress and forgets about the knockers?

I looked like Lady Gaga without the ya ya’s!

As we were coming up on my cue, the guys holding the ropes couldn’t even look at me without laughing. I was seated on the swing waiting for Frenchie to say “If only I had a guardian angel tell me what to do” and I then I would say “You got your wish sister!” and launch into Beauty School Dropout. That’s what’s was supposed to happen – but as I said “You got your wish sister!” everyone in the audience turned and looked up at me and the music started to play. The guys that were supposed to lower me on the swing over the lip of the balcony and then down to the ground pushed my backside instead of pushing the swing, causing me to fall out of it.

No one screamed louder than me because it almost scared the shit out of me as I was pushed off the swing and grabbed at the ropes to hold on. As I fell, one of the guys holding the rope grabbed my hand and I was dangling there like Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger. Needless to say, trying to sing the song through the screams (mostly mine) and hysterical laughter (everyone else’s) was to no avail. The music played on and at first, I still tried to keep singing the song as they were trying to pull me back up into the balcony.

As I was dangling there like a pendulum, I couldn’t help but think a) good thing I wore underwear and b) good thing the pair of underwear I chose wasn’t my festive American Flag G-string and then c) fucking let me go already!

I checked afterwards to make sure, but it’s not actually written in the stage directions on the script to scream “Asshole, let me go” at the crew members during the show but sometimes you have to improvise. I also never learned the old tuck and roll trick either because when I got my wish – and they released me – I dropped the rest of the way down and hit the ground like a rock to even louder laughter and clapping. I wasn’t really mad that not even one person in that audience tried to catch me or tried help me before, during, or even after the fall, and I also wasn’t mad at the piano player who didn’t think to stop playing the song at all during it either. I know what you’re thinking “It could have been worse” but that’s not the end of it.

I didn’t get hurt in the fall unless you count my pride – cause that bitch was a-hurtin’ fo Sure! I also didn’t get hurt by the dangling swing that I fell out of repeatedly smacking me in the face and noggin as I dangled there. All of that might not have been so bad or embarrassing if at the exact moment that I was shifted out of the swing and started to plummet, my dress hadn’t gotten caught on the balcony ledge and started to ceremoniously rip off me layer by layer. After they finally let me go and I fell to my descent, the remaining tattered material just gave way around me. Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark let me tell you something: you are not innovative – I was falling out of the rafters during a show years before you!!!

I did my best to try and keep some parcel of my dignity intact as I did what I could with the performance but imagine how difficult it was to try to get up off the ground and make your way to the stage in boxers and a few strands of taffeta around your neck and chest. God only knows when and where I lost the wig, but I was a mess. I held my head up high, tried to keep from laughing and sing the rest of the song and exited stage right.

After bearing witness to one of the best spectacles she said she has ever seen, my sister Marlene came backstage with her arms overflowing with the multiple pieces of material she had recovered from the wall, floor, and along my trail through the auditorium. With tears in her eyes and trying to hold in her laughter, she said (handing me the pile of material) “I think you forgot this out there…Words cannot even describe…Was it supposed to happen like that?…I thought you might have really gotten hurt there for a second there but…” and then we just burst out laughing. We didn’t even wait until the end of the show, we literally left right then and went to the bar. Not the best tactic if you’re the director of said show, but I had enough and needed alcohol immediately.

I must have been out of my mind to think that it would work in the first place – me and coordination go together like asparagus and a golden shower…Even though it didn’t go as smoothly as I had planned – I was more like Frank the Tank than Frankie Avalon – it was really funny and everyone loved it. You know the old saying: It may not be Broadway, but even at Fat Camp – the show must go on!

I was more like Frank the Tank than Frankie Avalon!


The Legend of Dom and Tonna

If you are one of the very lucky ones and happen to be friends with me – you’ve definitely heard me talk about a friend of mine and his wife. If not – you’re in for quite a treat because they are both absolutely nuts. I firmly believe that crazy attracts crazy and even after being married for almost a hundred years, these two are still a perfect fit for each other. The networks are missing a HUGE opportunity by not following these two around with cameras. Forget the Real Housewives – these two are ready for their close-up and it’s all natural, 100% crazy!  

I'd definitely Tivo a show about those two...

I shall call them Dom and Tonna for the purposes of this entry and having known each other for years, even I don’t know where to begin when talking about them. Do you start with her walking right into a glass sliding door in her house? Do you describe what they look like? Does any of it matter? Tonna is short, Italian, and is always cold. Dom is not. He is much taller and wider than her and is one of the absolute funniest bastards that I know. When I say funny, I mean HYSTERICAL like last week when he had his boss’s car towed anonymously because it was parked in a handicap spot. The boss is anything but handicapped and flipped out to say the least, but who has the balls to do that to their boss?

I call this part one because if I were to tell you all of the different stories about this dynamic duo this would be the longest post in creation, so I’ll start with my favorite Tonna story ever. And I mean ever! She was driving her car one fine day when out of nowhere, a deer ran out into the road scaring the dickens out of her. She slammed on her brakes and rammed that poor deer, propelling it onto the hood.  It shot up like a rocket with all the speed and agility of my aunt’s fat farm campers after they completely lubed up their sweaty selves with gallons of baby oil and dove down the weight room hill. I mean fast!

After the impact of the car made it airborne, that poor deer was spinning out of control and yelping as it rode up the hood. In an instant, Bambi arrived at the windshield still spinning like a pinwheel when the deer’s front hoof spun directly into the driver’s side open window and connected with Tonna’s nose. It popped her right in the chops! it got her right in the kisser like this video, I tell you! Then as quickly as it shot up, it slid off the hood and ran off into the woods. That’s the exact reason I’ll never drive with my window open or pick a fight with a deer! Forget Mark Wahlberg in The Fighter, that deer was ready to take on Sylvester Stallone as Rocky Bambi-oa!

"And in this corner Rocky Bambi-oa!"

Dom and I worked together at the time, but he worked the weekend shift and had off every Monday. Tuesday morning came and the whole team assembled for our morning meeting and our boss asked Dom about the weekend. That particular boss, Larry,  was the extreme opposite of Dom or myself; he was very low key, very professional, and did not like fooling around in the workplace. (Needless to say he hated me). You would expect a man that was so orange from cheap self-tanning lotion to, at the very least, laugh at a good joke or sarcastic comment, but with Larry that wasn’t the case at all. In two years that we worked together, I never saw Larry crack a smile once until the day that I told him that I was leaving to go to another company.  

As Dom was recapping the weekend, he started to explain how he was running around like a wild man. In his dead-pan delivery, he proceeded to explain just how bad he got chub-rub on Saturday night when Larry interrupted him and mistakenly asked what Chub Rub was. Dead Silence took over the room as the twelve other people in the room and I were trying not to look at either one of them or, God forbid, laugh.  My head was about to burst from tying to hold it in and my eyes were tearing as Dom said “You know, when you’re running around all night sweating and your thighs rub together so much that the skin wears away and gets irritated from the chafing? That’s Chub Rub!” I almost peed my pants and burst out laughing but it didn’t stop Dom. “My underwear were so soaked through with sweat that when I peeled them off at home and threw them towards the hamper – they stuck to the wall. They actually stuck to the wall!”

Does this even need a caption?

Larry’s face looked like he just had bad Chinese as he picked his jaw up off the floor; he tried to tell Dom how inappropriate that was when he interjected “Imagine how I feel – they’re still stuck on the wall…” I had to leave the room or risk being fired because I couldn’t control myself any longer and I sprinted out like it was burning. No one else could get away with that kind of stuff with Larry and it was one of the funniest things I ever bore witness to.

Much more to follow about these two later – like when Tonna was screaming at the Dali Lama, her famous Bomb Squad incident, when Dom shut down his favorite restaurant in town, or the time he spit his drink right into a client’s face at dinner….