It’s not easy being a Jew:

I’m not Jewish.  I’m really not anything.  But I am seriously dating a Jew and I have many Jewish friends.  And I must say, my hat is off to you folks and what you are forced to endure every time the Catholics celebrate one of their pagan holidays.    What an incredible pain in the ass it is to accomplish anything for you and I should say “us” now, on such holiday’s, of which you don’t even get to celebrate.   I’ve never really “celebrated” Easter anyway so I went into yesterday, thinking “this will just be a nice normal Sunday”.  Below is a timeline of how myself and my girlfriend’s day went yesterday. 

Saturday April 23^rd, 3:00 PM:

As I do almost every Saturday, I dropped my dirty laundry off at the local Laundromat to be picked up later that day. 

Saturday April 23^rd, 7:00 PM:

We meet up with some of my girlfriend’s crew to celebrate one of her friend’s birthdays.  I planned on being there for maybe a couple of hours, having a nice dinner, and going home after retrieving my laundry from the Laundromat.   Instead, the party turned out to be a blast, and I drank two Martini’s and two Bombay and Sprite’s.  On the way home we forgot to pick up my laundry but I did remember to pick up a chicken sandwich meal and a peanut buster parfait from Dairy Queen.  We then, went home, watched Ghostbusters and passed out.  Never for a minute, did I think about my laundry situation.

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 9:00 AM:

I rouse from a long, dreamless slumber in my usual pajama pants and tee shirt.  I roll out of bed and immediately notice that my usual stack of clean clothes is absent from my floor and closet.  At that point, I remember what I had done and that it is Easter and there is a good chance that the Laundromat will be closed and I will be unable to pickup my laundry.  Now over the years, I have become a virtual Gold Glover in regards to making my “second unit” clothing items work for a day or two or three.  But the day before, I made a conscience effort to pack as much shit into my laundry basket as I could to be cleaned.  This included my starting rotation of clothing items as well as a good percentage of my bullpen and third unit items.  I was left with nothing but the stuff that I would have a hard time getting Good Will to accept. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 11:00 AM:

My girlfriend and I decided to go out for lunch and eventually hit the driving range as it was a gorgeous day outside.  So I marched into my bedroom and put on my stoned washed Levi Jeans and a graphic, muscle tee-shirt with a huge football helmet on the front of it.  I looked like a man who wasn’t sure if he was going to a tryout for the 1985 Philadelphia Eagles or to a Motley Crew Concert.  I didn’t even remember that I owned this particular pair of jeans.   I can’t imagine why I would have ever purchased them or when they were ever “in style”,   they had more holes in them then the US Healthcare System, and were tight enough in the crotch area to be widely considered, socially unacceptable.  Especially since all of my underwear was at the shackled Laundromat.  I was forced to pair them up with the always popular muscle, graphic tee made famous by ripped UFC cage fighters, not so much overweight 30 year old men in the midst of a mean hangover. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 11:30 AM:

We decided to go for lunch at my friends bar in Lincoln Rhode Island.   Surely Dave would have his bar open on Easter.  After a 30 minute drive we came to an empty parking lot in front of his bar and found a note from Dave on the door stating that the bar would not be open for two hours and when it was, there would be a “limited” menu.  So we didn’t feel like waiting two hours for whatever sort of limited menu Dave had to offer.   This really put a strain on my ego.  Now I would be forced to go to some other public place to eat looking like Joe Dirt’s fatter brother. 

We continued deeper into Rhode Island, all the while choosing different places we would like to eat.  One by one, they dropped off the list like flies.  Johnny Rockets – Closed, Chipotle – Closed, Pisano’s Pizzeria – Closed, Panera Bread – Closed.  The only thing that was open was the always delicious Boston Market.  So I ended up sitting in a Boston Market, in Cranston Rhode Island, eating Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and Macaroni and Cheese for lunch, looking like some kind of Cinderella Super Fan who had been hit by a car.  

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 12:15 PM:

We leave Boston Market and get back into my truck and head to the driving range.  Surely, the management of the driving range would not allow the facility to be closed on such a beautiful spring day.   Well they were closed.  My frustration had been mounting all day.  On the way out of the parking lot, I yelled, and I quote, “Fuck my Life!” , prior to realizing that my window was down and that there was a carload of old ladies directly next to me.  They were none to pleased.

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 12:30 PM:

After a solid hour and a half of driving around being repeatedly disappointed we decided to go throw the football in the park.  Luckily the park was open and we had a great time playing catch.  Unfortunately my fun was short lived because I stepped in dog shit and then stepped into a pile of wood chips, which stuck to the dog shit and coated the bottom of my shoe.  So I found myself walking home, in my holy, stoned washed Levi’s, my graphic muscle tee and my shoe covered in dog shit. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 4:30 PM:

At this point, I had a chance to unwind and for some reason was stricken by an extreme hankering for Honey Bunches of Oates.  Anyone who knows me knows that this particular cereal is a mainstay in my pantry.   But I had run out the previous week.  Surely the grocery store would be open, it wasn’t.  We pulled into the grocery store parking lot at the same time as what must have been another Jewish couple.  My girlfriend got out and verified that the store was indeed not open.  When I saw this, I slammed my fist into the steering wheel and yelled some sort of expletive.  At nearly the exact same time, the other Jewish couple also realized that the store was not open and in their frustration yelled “Fuck” at the top of their lungs, which reverberated through the parking lot like a gun shot.  I found this situation comforting.  It let us know that we weren’t alone in our dissapointment.  There were probably hundreds of others, just like us, struggling to enjoy their Sunday. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 5:00 PM:

I’m still wearing my graphic muscle tee shirt in which I look like a 5^th grader who swallowed a penguin.  I still have my 80’s rocker, nut hugging jeans on, of which my reproductive system will never be the same and now I had my backup skateboarder tennis shoes on because my Cole Han’s are now at home covered in dog shit and wood chips.  And I am walking into a CVS Pharmacy to buy Honey Bunches of Oates.  Luckily they were running a sale on cereal and I made it out of there with 3 boxes, milk and a quart of ice cream. 

We went home and enjoyed our cereal and ice cream and watched Pretty in Pink.  And that was my Easter.  Thanks a lot Catholics.

Ever Notice:

Did you ever notice that aliens never seem to abduct anyone smart?   Every time I hear a testimonial about how someone was abducted by aliens, it is always from some sweaty, cracked out hick in a Disney tank top.  When was the last time you heard of a physicist or some kind of engineer or anyone who has graduated from High School being abducted by aliens?   Is it just a coincidence or do you think the aliens have some sort of an affinity for unintelligent, strung out, white people?   Come to think of it, I have never heard of a black person being abducted by aliens either.  So it looks like we’ve got a bunch of racist, white trash loving aliens on our hands,…. terrifying.   Obviously I don’t think any of it is true, but if it is, and the aliens are judging the entirety of the human race based off of these people, we are all doomed.

Did you ever notice how American’s don’t really ever figure anything out or fix anything anymore?  At present, we have bridges falling into rivers, road conditions that rival that of Bangladesh, diseases that have been killing people for decades,  an economy based on lousy service, gas prices at an all time high, a populous that cares more about sports and preventing smoking in bars then education for their kids,  a completely divided government, two and a half wars, birds falling from the sky, oil spills, fish dying, bankrupt cities, bankrupt states and a Federal Government that would be bankrupt if they ever stopped printing money for themselves, a world full of people who hate us and global warming.  But what are we focused on now, marketing, cell phones and making boner pills.  

Did you ever notice how everyone seems to become stupider as soon as they get behind the wheel of a car?   I don’t know why it happens, but people seem to become more and more inept on our roads on a daily basis.  It is not tough to see the evidence. It is as though everyone gets into their car in the morning and then proceeds to hit themselves in the head with a hammer before they pull out of their driveway.  In 2010 alone, I have personally witnessed the following roadside incidents;

·         A woman rammed into the side of a bridge and ripped off her own side view mirror and then just kept driving like nothing happened.

·          A guy who backed into a tree, in his own front yard, in the middle of summer.  And he must have done this at a high rate of speed because his car was basically destroyed.

·         A man who got hit by a car outside of my Laundromat who scrambled to his feet after the crash and grabbed his drugs off the ground and then just ran away. 

·         A man who slammed his kids head into the trunk of his car on accident.

·         A tractor trailer completely engulfed in flames in the middle of a residential neighborhood.

·         Finally I saw, a tow truck attempt to pull a car out of a ditch and effectively yanked his own tow truck into the ditch on top of the car he was trying to tow, destroying the car completely. 

These are events that I have personally witnessed or witnessed the immediate aftermath of, over the past one year of time.  People are terrible at driving cars these days, absolutely, positively terrible. 

Did you ever notice how terrible we are at handling traffic accidents?   In my opinion, if there is a traffic accident that potentially effects hundreds or thousands of people from getting to where they are trying to go, then priority one should be to move the wrecked crap out of everyone’s way.   Unfortunately, more often than not, the authorities spend an hour blocking off lanes, setting up flares, interviewing people, basically just dicking around trying to CSI the incident.  As though it is difficult to figure out which moron managed to slam into the other one with his car on a highway.  Meanwhile, the other several thousand of us taxpaying citizens, have to sit in our cars, burning through our precious gasoline waiting to be allowed to move on with our lives.

 If I had my way, there would be a huge bulldozer, every 10 miles or so, along every highway.  And if you are talented enough to get into a car wreck on a highway, you have about 15 minutes to overcome your injuries and get your car off the road and out of everyone else’s way.  If not, the bulldozer will move you and your car, and anything else in front of it into the ditch.  The cops can then sort it out later.  The bulldozer could also be useful for road kill removal as well as snow removal in winter; it’s a win win situation.

Did you ever notice how 90’s Alternative Rock has quietly become the most resilient genre of music, ever?  They say Rock and Roll will never die.  But more specifically, 90’s Alternative Rock seems to be more resilient then a cockroach in a nuke storm.  I am convinced that I am going to be listening to songs like “No Rain” by Blind Melon and “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” by The Spin Doctors until the day I die. 

What sort of royalties are Jane’s Addiction still collecting after all these years from their smash hits like; “Jane Said” and “Been Caught Stealing”?   I can’t go a month of my life without hearing both of those songs.  You can’t even get yourself away from this music, it will seek you out, wherever you are, and you will have to sit and listen to Perry Ferrell’s bitchy, womanly, pee-wee Herman voice, screeching out of your speakers. 

Why this genre?  You don’t hear 70’s disco music being played with anywhere near this sort of frequency, you can’t even find 80’s hair metal on the radio anymore except a few select songs.   The late 90’s, early 2000’s “Nu-Metal” movement is all but forgotten, grunge has been relegated to radio filler for all of the 90’s alternative rock wrapped around it.  I find it amazing that I can’t tell you the last time I heard the Beatles on the radio but I can tell you exactly the last time I heard The Counting Crows. 

Booze:

I have had a lot of fun on the drink.  I have also had some horrible experiences.  I think that this is true for just about anyone who has ever tried alcohol.   I don’t drink much anymore.  But when I do, I push the envelope.  Having a couple of social drinks just seems like a complete waste of time to me.   I don’t like alcohol that much, so I guess I just assume, that if I am drinking, I minus well get as much in as I can.  Here are a few interesting scenarios that have occurred in my life, that could only have happened with the help of mass amounts of booze. 

The Halloween incident:   A few Halloween’s ago, I dressed up as batman.  A slightly plump, 5’9 Batman, with glasses, but I wore it well.  I then went to the bar with several of my friends.  The night was going great; I had been drinking my favorite cocktail, (Bombay Sapphire and tonic) vigorously for several hours.  It was a laugh a minute kind of evening, everyone was all smiles.  Then it happened, some other short, fat man, entered the bar wearing a Superman costume.   Immediately, I felt as though it was my responsibility to put an end to the Superman vs. Batman rivalry.  

I remember leaning into my group of friends and yelling “This shit ends tonight”!!   I must have said this with some level of seriousness as my friends immediately looked concerned about what was going to happen next.   But it was too late.  I lowered my batman mask and proceeded to tackle the man in the Superman suit.   I don’t think Superman had been drinking nearly as much as I had, as he didn’t really fight back.  I think he was so shocked about what was happening that he couldn’t figure out what to do.  

The bar immediately erupted into cheers as people began cheering for whichever super hero they liked better.  The fun was short lived as we both were dragged out of the bar by the bouncers and physically thrown onto the sidewalk.   Who knew, Superman and Batman could be so easily disposed of by a couple of bouncers. 

The Fence Story:  This is a story I will not be able to tell my grandchildren without laughing my ass off.  Me and my good buddy Dan went out to some bars in the Warehouse District Neighborhood of Cleveland Ohio.  At the time, he lived on the West Bank of the Flats in Cleveland.   This is kind of a hike from the Warehouse District.  We closed down a popular hotspot known as the Blind Pig.   Both of us were absolutely cocked. 

Now, at this point, what we should have done was take a cab back to his place on the West Bank.   But Dan wanted to walk and save the 15 dollars.  Had he known what was about to happen, he would have paid triple. 

We get about a quarter of the way back to his place and I, for some insane reason, announce that “I know a shortcut”.  For the life of me I cannot remember where I got this idea as I had never made this particular walk before.  I had never made any sort of a walk like this anywhere.  Certainly not in this state of mind.  But Dan went along with it without much of an argument. 

After a couple minute stumble through an enormous parking lot, we came to a fence.  This fence was 12 feet high with barbed wire on top of it. On the other side, it was woods, which we couldn’t see through, because it was about 2 in the morning.  I convinced Dan, that if we could just climb over this fence, we would be at his apartment in no time.   In years since, I have often looked at this area on Google Maps and always laugh, because this fence is absolutely nowhere near where Dan’s apartment was. 

So I climb the fence first, hammered and laughing as I reach the top.  I tried to straddle the barbed wire but my pants got caught and it tore a gash in my pant leg clear down from my inseam to my knee.  I then fell over the top of the fence, down 12 feet onto the dirtiest, litter covered, wooded hill, imaginable.  Dan was next.  And in a near impossible turn of events, Dan also got his pants caught on the top of the fence and fell down the hill.  So there we were the two of us, with matching slits in our pants, drunk, filthy, bleeding and tired.  But we were over the fence, nothing could stop us now.

At this point, we walked down the hill and through the patch of woods, the entire time thinking we would emerge on the other side and be right at Dan’s apartment complex.  To our dismay, the wooded area ended at the edge of an 80 foot, man-made, drop off into another parking lot.  There was no way down, no ladder, no stairs, and nowhere else to go but back the way we came…..  back over the fence.

At this point, we are blaming each other for this predicament, but in hindsight, it was mostly my fault.  Again, I went first over the fence.   I couldn’t concentrate as Dan was laughing his ass off and I was too.  My other leg got caught on the barbed wire and ripped an identical gash into my other pant leg.  In aggravation, I attempted to just leap down to the parking lot.  Unfortunately a guard rail got in the way of my balls and I crotched myself on it.  To this day, nothing has ever been more painful.   I remember laying on the ground, bloody, my pants destroyed, covered in dirt and filth, having just crotched myself on a guard rail, holding back tears of pain while Dan nearly choked to death laughing.  Dan’s laughter was short lived as he had gotten the idea that he could somehow avoid climbing back over the fence and squeeze under it instead.  Unfortunately Dan was unable to hold the fence up high enough and it snapped back onto his forehead, immediately creating a bloody gash in the middle of his head. 

At long last, we were both on the other side, back to where we started.  We went to the nearest bar to try to clean ourselves up and the bouncer looked at us like we had three heads.  I told him that we got hit by a bus and needed to use his bathroom.  And he believed us.  At that point, we were so dirty and bloody and tattered that someone actually believed that we had been hit by a bus!  After a quick cleanup in the restroom, we walked the rest of the way back to Dan’s and passed out.

Late for work:  One evening after work, myself and some of my colleagues went out for “a few beers” at the bar across the street from my job.   About a dozen beers later, at around 2:30 in the morning, I was in no condition to drive home.   I managed to stumble back across the street to my car which was parked right in front of the door of my job.  I got into the passenger seat, propped it all the way back, and passed out.  After all I had to be back in work in about 6 hours at 9 am. 

I woke up at around 11:30 in the morning, in the passenger seat of my own car, covered in sweat, with the sun beating down on me, still parked right in front of my office.  At some point throughout the night, I had taken my shirt off and was passed out, bare chest, in plain view of all of my coworkers as they arrived into work.  Worse off, I had to wander into work, 2 and half hours late, unable to make any sort of excuses for myself.  After all, how could I lie to my boss when he was able to see me passed out in my car, half naked at 11:30 in the morning on a Tuesday? 

Lube Stop Jacket Guy:   I used to spend a lot of time at what can be referred to as “Redneck bars”.  One thing I have learned since is that rednecks are not to be messed with.  Like most things in my life I learned this lesson the hard way. 

Me and about 3 of my friends found ourselves in some disgusting backwoods dive one evening and for whatever reason were already fairly drunk when we arrived.  About an hour and about 5 shots later I notice a man sitting by himself at the corner of the bar, wearing a bright yellow Pennzoil Lube Stop jacket.   The drunken idiot part of my brain informed me to immediately get up and give this man shit about it.  So I walked over behind him and began singling the Lube Stop….  Penz….Oil jingle into his ear.  This man was not having any part of this because without a moment’s hesitation he turned around and punched me in the face.  To this day, I have never been hit so hard.  I’ve been in serious car crashes that weren’t nearly as debilitating as this strike.   I remember making some sort of a sound that resembled that of a goose getting run over by a golf cart.  I then flew back against the wall behind me and lost consciousness for about eight seconds. 

When I came to, the man in the Lube Stop Jacket had proceeded to also punch my best friend in the face and was already working on another friend of mine. 

When it was all said and done, this man had basically kicked all four of our asses.  I guess it was just not a good day to make fun of that guy. 

Interestingly enough, we all got thrown out of the bar and he got to stay. 

Gyros anyone?  Myself and the aforementioned Dan were again shitfaced somewhere in Cleveland.  Around 1 in the morning, we decided to take a taxi back to a bar closer to his place.  Prior to entering the taxi, we went to a late night gyro stand and purchased a couple of Gyros to eat on the way. 

These particular gyros were not good.   We both took a couple of bites and were done with them.  Now, what we should have done was pitch them out the window or hold onto them until we found a garbage can.  But instead we shoved them into the taxi driver’s backseat pockets, those things where you generally put magazines, not messy food items. 

We arrived at our bar and got out and paid the driver.  He immediately noticed that we no longer had our gyros or any of the garbage that went along with them.  He then, very quickly figured out what we had done.  Dan and I stood there and laughed for a minute, thinking he would just be mad then go away.  Instead the cab driver pulled out a knife and proceeded to chase us about two blocks through the flats. 

Finally we lost him and had to come to grips with the fact that there is a taxi driver, somewhere out there, with a knife, who meant to kill us.  We went to a strip club. 

Sadly, this but a mere snapshot of the drunken tales that I could mention here.  More to come.