Monday, February 28, 2011

The Natives Are Restless

It all started with Egypt and the overthrow of the government after the citizens got so tired of being oppressed.

Now we have Libya sort of wising up and threatening to overthrow Gadhafi and the oppressive regime there. Gadhafi had an interview today where he said that things were actually peaceful in his country.

If it weren't for the Charlie Sheen interviews he would have won the award for dumbest statements made all day.

But the biggest problems concerning Americans should be the unrest caused by crazy budgets established in Wisconsin and a bunch of other states, including New York. Unions are being threatened. Schools are being threatened. Gas prices are through the roof.

And Two and a Half Men is going off the air.

I give up on trying to find any sort of answers. I am sort of just sitting back watching it all unfold as the world seems to be spinning in a rather strange manner.

Is there a way out of it? Should America help Libya? Does Egypt need money? Do we have enough money to finish the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan?

Do we have any money left whatsoever? Who the hell knows? Why don't we print more?

Somehow it all has to be Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky's fault, right?

I do wonder about the tight budgets throughout the states. People don't want higher taxes, right? Yet every time there are budget cuts there are voices heard screaming throughout. Perhaps because they are cutting things that shouldn't be cut, and leaving things alone that must be salaries and benefits for those making the rules.

Like I said, I just don't know anymore. I was raised on Gilligan's Island though and I recognize unrest when I see it.

I can almost hear the professor explaining it all to Gilligan and the Skipper:

"The natives are restless."

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Winner! Winner! Free Steak Dinner!

After a long year of taunting one another back and forth the bet between Sam and his Uncle Chuck was finally settled when the Packers beat the Steelers for the Super one single earn a free dinner, with one a nice restaurant.

It's about way more than the dinner.

First off, I am so grateful to Chuck for taking on such a task. Through twenty some years I made the exact same sort of bet with Jeff. Those who read Oh Brother! will realize that there was a lot at stake...dinner and bragging rights. Chuck was graceful enough to keep the tradition going with Sam...who is one of the all-time greatest trash talkers at the ripe old age of ten.

Since the bet was settled Sam has tormented Chuck with nightly phone calls reminding him of the final game. There are a lot of belly laughs as they go back and forth. Feeling like he may have had enough, Chuck decided to settle up last night.

Now Sam is not the biggest kid in the world. He is not really known to eat to pain as Jeff and I were sure to do in an effort to get every last nickel out of the guy paying.

But the kid really went at it hard. He ate a half a loaf of bread. He ordered chicken wings for an appetizer. Then the prime rib, with a baked potato, and a salad. To finish it off, a piece of cheesecake. He also had two iced teas and a Shirley Temple.

I, of course, had the biggest steak on the menu...and helped with the blooming onion.

Sam taunted his uncle with every bite. He raised his fork with a piece of prime rib, that his Aunt Corinne had to cut for him, and said, "I won this bite." Then he grabbed another, smiled at Chuck and said, "You lost this bite."

It loses some of its sting when you have to ask someone else to cut up your meat for you, but let me tell you, not much!

I know that his other Uncle was keeping an eye on the scene and laughing his ass off as my son taunted Chuck.

As we returned home, Sam talked non-stop about how much fun he had. He recapped the entire dinner for Kathy, explaining who was seated where and adding up every nickel that Chuck spent.

And it is here that I'm supposed to say that it was all about the good time and that minutes of fun with family means more than the dollars spent to make a memory.

But I can't.

Chuck lost.

Winner! Winner! I got a free steak dinner!

Saturday, February 26, 2011

More Than You Can Handle

Don't you just want to bash in the faces of those who, in the time of crisis, tell you things like, "God doesn't give you anymore than what you can handle?"

I was thinking about that today as I did something that I told myself I would refrain from doing: reading and watching really sad things.

There is just so much heartbreak that someone mentioning that God has your back when you feel like you are a step away from collapse, can lead to murderous thoughts.

But I suppose that there is comfort in believing in the fact that you can rise above all that you face. It is certain that if you think obsessively of difficulties that you will be defeated, so there has to be that faith.

Faith hurls obstacles aside and crushes fear. Faith makes life dynamic, vital and joyful. The answer to all struggles is certainly faith. Whole-hearted, all-out, enthusiastic faith.

As I wrote that sentence I kind of shied away from it, knowing that it is not a Bible-thumping, God-fearing type of chest-pumping that I want to do here.

But faith is sometimes borne of a deep frustration knowing that it is virtually impossible to whip this world alone. Keep trying that. It's sort of like lining up and running into your garage door.

But if your truly of the belief that you can not be beaten down by anything that this world can offer, there is certainly a bit of comfort, right?

The obit that I glanced at this morning recapped the loss of a 29-year old mother. There wasn't any mention of how or why her photo was in that section of the paper, but the love was present on the page in the mere listing of those who needed to speak of her vibrancy of life, and her love for her family.

The words sort of crushed me. I thought of her children. Her husband. Her Mom and Dad. Her brothers and sisters. Her freaking dog.

And I thought of some goofy bastard standing at the wake, saying: 'God doesn't give you more than you can handle' to a grieving member of that love circle.

I cringed when I considered it. In fact, it made me want to throw up a little.

But you know, it's true.

Some days it certainly doesn't feel that way, but it circles back around to belief and faith.

It has to.

Otherwise what is the freaking point?

So, what started out as a stab at being inspirational, circled around to a consideration of merely surviving the catastrophe of life.

Is there a huge difference in how you paint it anyway?

Can faith and belief really move mountains of pain?




You just gotta' let it.


Friday, February 25, 2011

Getting Attention

So Lindsay Lohan has looked good in her last two appearances, huh? Unfortunately they were both court appearances, but you can't knock the outfits. I took a good look at the article but I doubt the judge was impressed.

Then again, maybe he was. It seems like the judges do a little bit of a grandstand when there are high-profile celebrities involved. Where else would the judge promise jail time during the arraignment? Isn't that supposed to be a little proceeding where no one says anything?

Everyone wants their ten minutes in the sun.

Also, it seems like my rehab buddy, Charlie Sheen isn't doing real well handling his anger issues. News across the press today says that the show is over and will not be back. It seems as if Charlie went nuts on the creators of the show. That's what happens when you take away the crack, the booze and the hookers.

And they expected sunshine?

Of course, the show will go off prime time but will live on for years in syndication and no one will even really care. Everyone made millions and billions on it. No hard feelings. Charlie will turn up somewhere else, or turn up dead, and the ball will still keep spinning.

It starts out when we are kids. There is a long-striving need to garner attention for all we do and for a job well done. In the end, none of it really matters anyway, you know?

Hot things fade...fads drop off...celebrities are made and discarded. Why bother?

Two and a Half Men, when you get right down to it, is an amusing little skit. There is no lasting impact on any one's life. That's why when you are watching a repeat of it, you sort of forget you already saw it.

In one ear and out the other.

That's what the self-absorbed need to appreciate.

People are enjoying the sideshow that is Lindsay and Charlie. It seems that all of the attention they are getting is attention that no one really wants. They truly are comedians.

Everyone is laughing at them.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Mmmmmmm Meat

Went to the hockey game last night and since it was work related I got to sit in one of the suites where they bring food in. I had sampled a bit of dinner before the game, but what the hell, a man has to eat, right? Besides rehab is allowing me to partake in more food since I don't have to worry about booze.

So I was eating a few chicken wings when this woman explained to me that she doesn't eat any meat.

I had a bunch of stray thoughts, none appropriate, flash across my brain, but I asked her how she found it satisfying to eat a meal. I love pasta, and eat nearly all vegetables, but no meat?

Can't do it.

In fact, I was so inspired by the discussion today I stopped by Elk Provision to stock up on some meat, and I was thrilled to pay the bill, knowing that the freezer will be full, and that I can have steak for dinner...tonight, tomorrow and the next six days if I want it.

"We were running low," I said to Ed, a man who I know only because our family has been buying meat there for years and years.

"A Fazzolari without a chance to eat himself to oblivion is a sad Fazzolari," he said.

"My kids have expensive tastes," I said. "They are eating me out of house and home."

Ed laughed. "I had the exact conversation with your father about thirty years ago. 30pork chops for one dinner," he said. "I still tell people about that."

And Ed wasn't making it up. My mother would cook 30 pork chops when we were all at home. That's roughly four apiece. And there were very rarely any leftovers.

So, I returned home and wrapped the meat for the freezer. I was thinking of that silly girl who doesn't eat 'anything with a face' as she told me.

I also thought of the money spent at Elk through the years.

And then I thought about the steak the kids are going to devour tonight. When all else fails...there still is meat.

Lovely, wonderful, meat.

Gotta' go. Time to grill the steaks.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


As we all know by now I am not too handy when it comes to fixing things, so it is certainly strange that I make my living in the construction industry. It was even more strange when I was a construction laborer as I worked my way through college. I had no idea what or how we were building anything.

I made my living as a grunt, lifting things others didn't want to lift and carrying heavy weight around the site. I was good at it too. Couldn't do that anymore if I wanted to.

Yet I remember a day long ago when I was working with a carpenter as he was nailing something to something.

"Put some pressure on the wall," he said.

"Okay, wall," I replied. "You are unemployed and you have three hungry kids who want to go to college."

The guy laughed his ass off.

I thought of that today as I tried to get my work done. Things have been unbelievably busy over the last few weeks, and it seems it is all I can do to get to the weekend so I can rest a little.

In other words, like many others, I sometimes feel the same sort of pressure that I applied to that wall.

We have a leak in our bathroom and I don't know where it is coming from. I finished my shower the other morning and went down to the kitchen where water continued to drip on my head. Broken pipe? Floor about to cave in?

I have no idea. (See above).

Then last night the dishwasher stopped running and three lights on the same circuit went out. The breaker didn't trip. We smelled burning electric. Bad outlet? Can the whole place go up in smoke?

I have no idea. (See above).

So, there seems to be a little pressure.

Matt's wish is to go to a big, private school. Today they told us we should expect that we will pay a lot of money so that his little dream comes true.

Cliff meet wall.

Wall meet Cliff.

At least I'm not unemployed.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Playing Stooge Again

So, my brother was out with a buddy of his last night and as I worked, he sat on his phone and ass-dialed me, allowing me to listen into his conversation a few times.

The vibrating phone soon got on my nerves, so I began ignoring the calls. Safely tucked into my hotel room bed, I was thankful that the calls had finally stopped.

I watched a bit of the basketball game and then picked up my phone again to see that I had missed yet another call from Jim. Thinking he had mistakenly dialed me again, I didn't call him back. Moments later, the phone came alive again with Jim's picture popping up.

"What!" I yelled.

"Cliff, this is Mike, Jim's friend. Thank God you answered."

"What's going on?" I asked.

My heart was in my throat already.

"Your brother got into a fight. He was arrested and I have credit problems. I can't help him make bail."

"Oh God, no!" I said. I was now at full attention, tossing the covers aside, thinking of how we could solve the problem and cursing Jim under my breath.

"He was sticking up for another guy and things got out of hand," Mike said. "He really didn't do anything wrong, but what can we do?"

"What can I do?" I asked. My voice was way too loud.

"They said they'd take a credit card to pay the bail."

"How much is it?" I asked.

I really didn't want to put any amount on a credit card. Especially for bail. Why couldn't he, just once, walk away? Why was he fighting at 42 years of age? What would Kathy say if I wired money to get him out of trouble?

"$2,500," Mike said. "Can you do it?"

I hesitated. I thought about calling my other brother, or my mother, or the chief of police, or Kathy...anyone but me.

"Why am I paying for his mistake?" I asked.

Mike laughed. Then I heard Jim laugh. Together they laughed their asses off.

"You see," Jim said. "I ain't worth twenty-five hundred to him!"

"You bastards!" I yelled.

My heart sunk back to its usual spot. Why would he do that to me, just for fun, to drive me crazy?

"You would've given Mike the credit card number," Jim said. "Wouldn't you?"

"Of course," I said. "I wasn't happy about it though."

The sound of Jim's laughter didn't fade for a long time as I tried to settle down and get to sleep.


What a freaking stooge.

Monday, February 21, 2011

What Were You Doing When You Were 20?

I watched the Daytona 500 yesterday. Well, actually I watched laps 84 to 90 and then 196 to 200. Sam, who loves sports, and talking sports with his Uncle Chuck, made this call to Chuck during laps 84 to 90.

Sam: Hey, Uncle Chuck, I'm watching NASCAR and I only have one question for you. How in the hell do you watch this crap?

Chuck didn't call him back. I yelled at Sam for saying hell, but he made me laugh when he asked me how bored I was.

Yet the end was worth it as a 20-year old kid won it. Four years after passing his driver's test. One year before he is allowed to legally drink.

What had you done before the age of 20?

I can't even remember it real well, but I know I hadn't accomplished much. Finished a few beer bongs, certainly. Much more than that? Nah.

I decided to turn it on my kids. I went at Matt who will be turning 18 in a few months.

"That kid just made millions winning the Dayton a 500," I said. "And you can't even empty the dishwasher without asking for help."

Matt stepped right into the trap.

"He won a car race! Big deal! I can drive a car."

"Yeah, into the back of a school bus going three miles an hour," I said.

But it was something to see. I loved the interview with the kids mother. She explained that Trevor had been working towards it 'his whole life'.

Really? All 20 years? Wow!

You gotta' figure he wasn't driving the first, oh ten or twelve years, right?

Remarkable, really. I know that the whole race car thing is all sort of Ricky Bobby, but getting it done is quite an achievement.

Here's hoping that the kid is able to keep his head as the fame sweeps him under in the next couple of weeks.

And what is with NASCAR anyway? It was the first race of the season and now no one will watch. Shouldn't they put the best race at the end?

Just saying.

That's why in the hell no one watches that crap.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Teaching Sportsmanship

So, over the course of the past three days I went to a couple of basketball games. Matt was playing in a game for playoff seating and he got a lot of time on the court, and played pretty well, hitting a couple of long shots and battling every second he was on the court. His team lost.

Sam's team won big on Saturday and Sam also contributed, lofting a number of shots, and performing as a true Fuzzy, shooting whenever he was close to the ball or the hoop. Despite the lack of proficiency by the players on both teams, Sam's game was so much more enjoyable to watch.

First off, Sam has a coach that preaches sportsmanship above all else. Standing on the sidelines the coach yelled out words of encouragement, kept all of the players involved, clapped for the other team, and laughed heartily when his own guy flopped to the floor and came up all smiles.

Before the game, his own kid was pretending he was a cameraman filming the action and said, "I'm one of the idiot cameramen."

The father scolded his son for using the word, 'idiot' and then explained that there was no room for such talk.

Matt's team is another story. There has been so much back-biting all year long. Parents who want their kids to play, bad language, arguing with the refs, technical fouls, people jeering from the stands. It's as if these high school kids are playing for the NBA Title.

And I have no use for it.

Just like Sam's game, the high school game should be used as a tool for teaching. There wasn't a kid on the court, for either team, who will play anything more than rec ball in a Saturday night league. It isn't do or die. Money isn't made on the heads of these kids.

Whenever there is jeering from the crowd or someone pissing or moaning about this or that, I think of my own time playing ball in high school. I have nothing but wonderful memories of friendships, laughs, and long shots taken and knocked down, or errant shots buzzing at lightning speed at the back of the backboard.

I don't remember losing. I don't remember being bitter about playing time, or bad refs, or stupid coaches.

Near the end of Sam's game one of the kids was making fun of the other team because the score was so out of hand.

"Hey," the good coach said. "Just because we are playing well doesn't mean we disrespect our opponents."

In the two games, it was the only time I really clapped.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

At Least She Got Her Hair Done

They say that as a society we are getting a lot bigger. Not only height-wise, but width-wise as well. I don't know the woman pictured above. My eyes were drawn to the photo, however, for a couple of reasons.

First off, did she get an ass lift? Certainly looks as if that were the case.

Secondly, I am always on the lookout for such photos because I play in a fantasy baseball league and my buddies are constantly super-imposing my head on all kinds of shots...I am usually looking for payback, running something like "Hank Gets a New Haircut."

Being that the season hasn't started yet, I decided to run the shot here. Nearly named the blog "Hank Gets A New Haircut" I'm thinking of you, buddy!

Yet the photo shows a disturbing trend, doesn't it? There are so many people struggling to get this weight thing under control. Visit your local amusement park this ain't pretty.

And why is it? Lack of good-eating habits? Little or no exercise? Big-boned? Glandular problems?

I eat a lot. I mean until I really fill up at most dinners. I don't believe I can ever get so big that people start snapping my photos for their fantasy baseball fodder. Maybe a couple of hairless ones, but probably not for being real big.

But as far as diet goes I do a few real good things. I never drink pop. I don't eat Doritos or chips or cake. If I eat at a fast food place twice a year it is only because I can't possibly get something anywhere else. Hell, the other night I had broiled haddock and spinach and it was the best meal I had all week.

I don't mean to anger anyone with the photo I put in place at the top of this blog. There are much bigger concerns than people who are bigger than they used to be.

I hope the woman in the photo is able to stay healthy and is happy and doesn't care that her photo is floated around the 'Net.

I also hope she tipped the hair stylist.

That's a real nice 'do.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Hospital Waiting Rooms

So, sitting in a hospital waiting room as my father-in-law, a really entertaining and very good man has heart surgery. Knowing that there are prayers to be said, and saying them in spurts as I listen to my wife and sister-in-laws talk, and talk, and talk, and talk...more and more talk.

And having a few laughs as I sit back and wait for my moment to heckle. One wise-ass comment after another.

Because that is why I am here.

I'm certainly not here to listen to their banter about their hair and what color their toenails are. I swear to God there was a spine-tingling conversation about pedicures that had me dizzy by the time it reached a conclusion that sounded a lot like the beginning of the discussion.

Come on, guys, how much time have you spent considering the length, and/or color of your toenails? For me, if they don't cut a hole in my sock, I honestly don't think about them.

And hair? I must admit that ship has sailed, but the discussion on how I want what I have left to look like consists of the moment when I sit in the chair at the shop and tell the girl, 'cut it off, you can't screw it up.'

So, this morning I am reminded of the fundamental differences between men and women, and it is absolutely mind-boggling that we can even get along a little bit. While the toenail conversation was in full force I was thinking of the Yankee pitching staff, my inability to chip a golf ball, what I was going to eat over the weekend, my upcoming fantasy baseball season, and how much I missed being at work.

And don't even get me started on the cheerleaders who tried hard to ruin the basketball game that Matt was playing in last night. Whoever developed the concept of cheerleaders should have thought of the 'no singing or talking' rule that I was contemplating as I watched them.

And they wonder why we need the heart operations first!

To my father-in-law...heal fast...I need someone to talk about the important things at the next family gathering...and be thankful that you were under as I looked at all of your daughters toenails.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Peal An Egg

So that damn computer whipped a couple of brainy dorks at a game of Jeopardy and the whole world is up in arms.

There are plenty of things that computer can't do. Like drink a case of beer. Eat a pound of pasta. Peal an egg.

Watson supposedly hammered the competition. I didn't watch for it. I don't ever watch that show, actually. Isn't it on opposite Judge Judy? Regardless, I was sort of rooting for the computer anyway. We don't need any new stars and if one of the nerds would have beat the computer we would have been force fed another star.

Speaking of stars. I see that Lance Armstrong is retiring again. Are the people that run the doping investigations getting too close? Is it time to try and bag the other Olson twin. I thought of running a photo of old Lance with the blog title of 'douche' but considered that tasteless.

That's why I mentioned it anyway.

And that is what you will never get from a computer. Real, truthful, opinion-based information that may or may not be true.

Feed the life story into Watson and he will spit back all sorts of accolades about courage and dignity and bike-riding titles. There is no way of feeling, or believing, or caring or loving...or in my case with Lance...non-loving.

So, don't have a cow about the computer kicking our ass. Men have to program the computer, right? I never thought I was smarter than a computer anyway.

But at least I can peal an egg.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Lucky They Don't Follow My Foursome

I see Cheetah Woods got in trouble for spitting on the green the other day. He was fined a lot of money and there have been a number of stories written about the horrible act.

Now I'm no fan of Cheetah, but give me a break...spitting? With the golf foursomes that I've been in through the years, spitting was the least of our offenses. There really may not be a bodily fluid that didn't show up. Beer, tobacco spit, hell even a little urine all made appearances on our greens. Not to mention the unfixed ball marks and the huge divots we made with clubs that were thrown in frustration.

Cheetah apologized profusely, took the nickels out of his pocket to pay the thousands of dollars fine, and will live to see another day. It thrills me to know that he and I have won the same amount of tourneys over the last 18 months or so.

Another story that is starting to get to me is the one about the people who didn't get into the Super Bowl because the NFL screwed up the tickets.

Now I'm no fan of the NFL and their money-hungry approach to everything, but they are really going to take a bath on this one. Some of those fans are demanding $10,000and tickets to the next four Super Bowls as a way of being paid back for having their plans ruined.

Certainly it is a huge problem for those that made the trip and then had to watch it on television, like the rest of us slobs,and I'm sure there was a lot of anger involved, but its no excuse to quit your job now, sue the NFL, and cash checks against the fact that you may never have to work again because you showed up in Dallas and your seat wasn't available.

Besides, there is a bright didn't have to look at the Black-Eyed Peas pretending to be real entertainers.

And how about the poor bastard who was in the 'Never Missed a Super Bowl' club? They made a commercial and a degree of fame was achieved by the members. No sooner did the commercial come out that one of them got sick, missed the Super Bowl, and then up and died.

Talk about jinxing yourself.

All the talk about golf has me chomping at the bit to get rid of this freaking snow and get back out there with the Grape Apes to hit a few balls, damage a couple of greens, drink a few and laugh a lot.

Unfortunately, that is at least 60 days away, right?

It's enough to make me want to spit.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Sobriety Is Boring

I did the old LOL last night when I was watching Family Guy and Peter, after being shown what his life was like with too much alcohol, as well as what he would have been like completely sober, said:

"When I'm drunk I'm a jerk but when I'm sober I'm a douche."

Then I read an article from my rehab buddy Charlie Sheen who explained that being sober is boring, and though it's sad...I sort of get both quotes from the above-mentioned cartoon characters.

Pitchers and catchers reported yesterday. The Yankees had five catchers and three pitchers report.

The winds were howling at 55 mph here yesterday. It's always dark. Everyone is falling down on the ice. My kids believe in the 'it'll melt' idea of snow shoveling and Valentine's Day is behind us.

There's a chance it can get boring.

And I am not anti-drinker enough to pretend that a shot of Jameson's wouldn't warm me, but as sad as it seems to be, Charlie is not going to stay sober for long.

I was joking about going into rehab with Charlie, but I haven't had a drink since he got busted. Sort of an inside joke that has propelled me through a few drink less weekends. Hell, not even a beer watching the stupor bowl!

And it isn't anything I've even really thought about because the beer in my fridge may have had a birthday in there. I just don't grab one for something to do.

But Peter is certainly right. Too long in the sober tank and I have douche-like tendencies. I'm always right. I look for something to clean. I drive the wife and kids nuts. I watch some bad TV. I walk around the house saying, 'So, what's going on?'

Everyone sort of looks at me. I'm sure that for Charlie, life seems like it is going real, real slow right now.

Yet who needs the chaos, right? I'm sure that those who really suffer through the destruction of abuse, feel some sort of solace in everything slowing down enough for them to enjoy the things that matter. Right?

Ah, hell, probably not.

Wonder if Charlie will fall off the wagon before the real baseball season starts.

If he goes, I sort of have to go with him.

We made a deal.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Valentine's Day

Impossible for me...since 1987 to go through Valentine's Day without thinking of Bruce's take on it. Off the Tunnel of Love Album.

Valentine's Day

Driving a big lazy car, rushing up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin over my heart
It's pounding, baby, like it's going to bust right on through
And it ain't gonna' stop until I'm alone again with you.

A friend of mine became a father last night
when we spoke, in his voice, I could hear the light
of the skies and the rivers, the timberwolf in the pines
and that great jukebox out on route 39
They say he travels fastest, he who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl, mister, tonight I miss my home.

Is it the sound of the leaves left blown by the wayside
that's got me out here on this spooky old highway tonight
Is it the cry of the river with the moonlight shining through
that ain't what scares me baby,
what scares me is losing you.

They say if you die in your dreams you really die in your bed
But honey last night I dreamed my eyes rolled straight back in my head
And God's light came shining on through
I woke up in the darkness, scared and breathing and born anew

It wasn't the cold river bottom I felt rushing over me
It wasn't the bitterness of a dream that didn't come true
It wasn't the wind in the gray fields I felt rushing through my arms

No, no, baby, it was you.

So hold me close, honey, say you're forever mine

And tell me you'll be my lonely valentine.

I gotta' stop listening to E Street Radio so much, but after watching the crap at the Grammy's, I wonder why there are no great songwriter's left!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

The Long Goodbye

One of the toughest things about getting older is the fact that I have perfected the inability to get a good night's sleep. Up by five this morning, but I had my mind on getting into a decent frame of mind for the day and the upcoming busy week.

I read a little before getting out of bed. Got the sauce on. Took Melky for her ride. Read the paper from cover to cover and chugged a cup of coffee. I'm not one of the people that can spend an hour sipping coffee. Too much to do.

Headed to church, alone. That's one of the prices that must be paid when you are up early...lots of alone time. In church they spoke of choices. Making the right choice and minimizing the chaos. Good thought.

On the way to the YMCA I listened to Bruce on E-Street Radio. I stopped at Tim Horton's for another small coffee and the girl gave me change for a twenty when I had given her a ten. I had a choice to make. I gave her the money back.

A Bruce song caught my ear:

My soul went walking but I stayed here.
Feels like I been working for a thousand years.
Chipping away at this chain of my own lies.
Climbing a wall a hundred thousand miles high.

My knee has been bothering me since July. The doctors are aggravating the piss out of me. I went walking with my soul. Three miles. A little less than a jog. The knee held up.

The I-pod gave me my wedding song: If I Should Fall Behind.

It was a slow version of the song and Nils sang the line that propelled me around the track.

Now everyone dreams of love lasting and true
But you and I know what this world can do.
So let's make our steps clear so the other may see
And I'll wait for you.
Should I fall behind.
Wait for me.

The 'Wait for Me' was sung so softly. The verse is brilliant anyway. Thank God my wife waited while my soul went walking. Many others, with their own agendas talk of love but have no idea what it is.

I was so calm. Hot tub and steam room. My mother-in-law says its usually out-of-shape, bald guys in the hot tub when she goes.

Good thing she wasn't there this morning. She would've said the same thing.

Been a few crazy weeks. People admiring the book when it was a natural thing to do. Pain still slipping in and out of the mind and the knee. Soul is walking. Feel a little like I'm walking beside it now. The family has waited up.

So I headed to the last verse of the song that started the thoughts.

The moon is high and here I am.
Sitting here with this hammer in hand.
One more drink oughta ease the pain;
Staring at that last link in the chain.
Well let's raise our glass and let this hammer fly.
Hey yeah this is the long goodbye.

Just about time for a nap.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Good Wife

I keep thinking about that congressman, Chris Lee, and the fact that he posed on the Internet as he tried to publicly cheat on his wife.

I'm also caught up, a bit, in thinking about his wife and how he thinks he's going to wiggle out of such a thing. The news reports this morning say that his wife is standing by him, and that they are together in Florida...out of the Buffalo cold...trying to work things out.

Perhaps that's the answer. Maybe I can get a trip to Florida out of the Buffalo cold to talk about the state of my marriage after I appear topless on a website.

But I don't imagine that the man is having much of a vacation.

And I know that if he and his wife switched places with Kathy and me, it would always come back to one fundamental question:

"You took your shirt off?" Kathy might ask. "What in the hell were you trying to bait with such a pose?"

And I won't have much of an answer for her.

Seriously, how do you talk your way out of being busted in such a manner. What can the possible list of excuses consist of?

1). Someone hacked my account, drugged me, took my shirt off, and held me up to pose for the photo?

2). No, no, no, honey, I thought she was you?

3). I was doing an experiment for work? I wanted to see how all of the other stupid Republicans got in trouble!

4). I was going to bring her home so we could both do her?

5). God gave me the courage to take off my shirt and try to pick up chicks.

That's about all I can come up with for this stupid bastard. The people who left comments on the New York Post article actually placed blame with the wife. One wrote that it was her fault because she didn't take care of her husband's needs in the bedroom.

I hope he doesn't try and play this card. How after such a pose can you make yourself a martyr? A huge part of me is hoping that she doesn't take him back and say they will go through therapy to make it together.

I really don't want to hear anything about him anymore because every time I think of him, I hear my wife's voice whispering that one single question in my ear.

"If you were trying to impress the ladies, why in the hell would you take off your shirt off?"

Friday, February 11, 2011

Have a Glass of Wine With Me

A couple of months ago 60 Minutes did a piece about a group of people who are able to recall every day of their lives, remembering what they ate, what they were wearing, and how they felt...on any given day...of their life!

Can you imagine having such an ability?

Marilu Henner the hot red head from Taxi was in the group and I heard an interview with her on Howard shortly after the 60 Minutes. Her recall was fascinating.

Now I'm not saying I have such an ability, but I definitely am able to recall conversations and days, and since I write every freaking thing down, I am able to keep track of some pretty mundane crap.

For one reason or another a lot of the memories float back with no effort at all and this morning, at 4:15, I thought about a day when I was a senior in college and I sat up with my father even though I had to get up early the next morning for a return trip to my "studies" at Gannon in Erie.

"Have a glass of wine with me," my father said.

In those days Dad was making Dago Red in our basement. The wine was ready and he wanted to share a little with someone.

We sat at the kitchen table and talked sports, school, and the dynamics of the family. There was just a lot of talking, some laughter, and the Dago Red. I remember Dad telling me that I should never really trust a man who refused to share a drink with you. I remember that I was wearing a Don Mattingly t-shirt with the number 23 on the back. I still have a Mattingly shirt. (Not the same one - couldn't fit in that one!).

So we shared a few. And given the potency of the didn't take much...and given the fact that wine always messes me up, I was slurring my words when I went to bed.

The next morning, I felt, and must have looked like hell. My mother, having no idea that Dad was feeding me wine asked me why I looked so poor. I told her I thought I was getting the flu.

When I brushed my teeth that morning I felt drunk all over again.

I remember my Dad laughing when I told him my head hurt. He never skipped a beat.

After a nap, I headed back to school. I distinctly remember the long drive to Erie and the bottles of water I sipped in an effort to get back a bit of sense.

Twenty-five years later...the entire night popped back in my head.

For no reason at all.

But I'm glad it did.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Something Stupid

You know, its weird. You'd think every person would be able to get up out of bed each day and be able to pull it off.

Just don't do something stupid today.

Seems simple enough, right?

Like if you're pregnant, you won't drop a baby in a toilet and just try to leave the restroom without figuring out something.

Like if you are a New York State Congressman with a wife and a kid, you won't place a shirtless ad on Craigslist in an attempt to hook up with a new woman.

Like if you are a Queens baseball coach of young adults, you won't try to molest them.

Like if you are a Hollywood movie star you won't walk out of a store with a $2,500 necklace that you didn't pay for.

Like if you're a professional quarterback you don't corner a 18 year old girl, or drown a couple of the family pets.

Like if you own and operate a Muslim television station you won't lop off your wife's melon because she yells at you.

These people obviously didn't corner the market on stupidity. There will be millions of stupid, thoughtless acts pulled off by millions of stupid people again today.

I've done plenty of stupid things in the past...certainly none as vile as some of the above things on my list, but the photo of that congressman left me shaking my head.

What the hell was he thinking?

When did he think it was a good idea to troll for women with his photo and his real name? Did he think the Internet was anonymous? Did he believe that no one would recognize him?

And he should be whipped for the simple fact that he took his shirt off and stood in front of a camera.

That gives stupid a bad name.

So, here I sit...determined not to do anything stupid the rest of the day.

Think of the possibilities if we all adopted such a philosophy.

It's easy. Join me. Nothing stupid the rest of the day!

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

More Readers Touching Base

Hi Cliff,

I just read the write up of your book in both the Hamburg Sun and Buffalo News online and would love to know where to get a copy of your book. I too grew up in North Collins and knew both Jeff and your sister Carrie in high school. Jeff's senior year was my freshman year and from beginning to end, he teased me mercilessly but always in that way that he had that you knew he was just trying to make me laugh.

When yearbooks came out later that year, I (very shyly) asked him to sign mine. Expecting something smart and slightly sarcastic when he gave me my book back, instead he explained that he was only trying to entertain me and make me laugh the whole year round and that he wished nothing but the best for my future. If that had been written by ANYONE else, I would have just said, "yeah, right!" But coming from Jeff, I believed him and knew that he was sincere. I never forgot that. When I heard about what happened, I looked again at what he wrote and even though I hadn't seen him since Carrie and I worked at the video store in the basement of Avery's supermarket together, it still hurt to think that he'd no longer be here with us. He was a great friend. Even to a little nothing of a freshman girl.


Hi Cliff,

I meant to email you a few weeks ago when I finished reading Oh, Brother! Like
I told you while reading it, it was a tough book for me to get through ...
knowing how it was going to end ... and constantly putting myself in your shoes.
I am very close to my sister ...

Your book had me in tears and laughter consistently--two emotions that make a
book GREAT!

Although I didn't know Jeff, I feel like had I ever met the guy, we would have
been best friends. His personality shined through throughout the book and his
humor was right up my alley!

I know it must have been tough to write about this ... but even tougher was
living through the experience and living with his loss now. I can't tell you
how sorry I am that you have to do that. The relationship you had with him was
unique, for sure, and I know you know how truly blessed you were to have him for
the time you did.

I also appreciated your honesty throughout the book. Getting angry and
"yelling" at God are things we all do if our times of "not fair" experiences.
Getting frustrated with the doctors, etc. ... we need to see that all and I'm
glad you included it.

This should definitely be read by everyone as a reality check. None of us know
when the world as we know it will change. It happens that fast sometimes and no
matter how hard we try to prevent it, sometimes it doesn't work out the way we
want it to. As I'm sure you remember by my latest article, I kiss my husband
and girls goodbye everyday and make sure they hear me say "I love you" before I
leave them. We just never know. So sad ... but so true.

Thanks for letting me read along, Cliff. You are always inspiring and I am one
of your biggest fans.


You don't know me. Nor did I know your brother . I just read the article in the Buffalo News about your brother Jeff and his sudden loss. I want to thank you for sharing Jeff's story with the world. My family, like yours, was rocked by the ravages of a brain bleed when my Aunt and second Mom, suffered an aneurysm in May 1996. Brain bleeds are a mystery since little is known about them and they can fester for years. How suddenly they can happen is so shocking it's almost impossible to understand what, why how when it happens. I wanted to let you know that the story really hit home and I hope that your book sheds light on your experience, on the impact of a brain bleed or aneurysm and, of course, your brothers life and his impact on the world. Like our Phyllis they were taken too soon. My thoughts and prayers to your family.

The experience of writing and sharing Jeff's life continues to be overwhelming and rewarding and reminds me, day after day after day after continue to try and bring a sort of grace and happiness back into life.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Oh Brother! Buffalo News Article

The feeling this morning was one of dismay with an eye on trying to continue to pass the message of Jeff's life along to a world of people who really need to know him.

I knew the article would be out this morning. Over the last few weeks I talked all things Jeff with the News reporter, Charity Vogel, and with a great assist from my buddy Pops, we were able to give Charity a nice overview. The book was also read quickly, by the reporter, and she captured the ideas nicely.

But my heart hurt this morning.

I didn't want to read about it.

I wished it never had to be written.

That's the pain of trying to promote this book.

Yet I am not trying to understand life. I am working to enjoy it.

Join me, won't you?

To order a signed copy of the book: send your address to

Please send Charity a note of thanks for carrying the story forward.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Thurman Is Spinning In His Grave

Man, oh man. Why does A-Rod have to be caught doing such things? Can't he just hide out until it's his turn to bat?

Yesterday at the Super Bowl the camera caught A-Rod being fed popcorn by Cameron Diaz as he watched the game. In and of itself it isn't so bad, but A-Rod just never catches a break. He looked like someone who was less than manly in the pose.

Thurman Munson would've never let that go.

Now I'm not saying that what he did was wrong. It certainly was an intimate moment with his movie star girlfriend - who is no Kathy Fazzolari, by the way - but it just doesn't look right.

I have a buddy who once kissed his girlfriend's hand as me an a couple of his other buddies looked on. We have never let him forget that moment of weakness and I'm sure he just laughed out loud when reading this. Guys just don't forgive other guys when there is a public display of affection.

Perhaps the rest of the Yankees don't care, but there was A-Rod...big, bad, homerun hitting A-Rod being fed freaking popcorn on national television.

Like my buddy, he will never live it down. I can see Jeter and Swisher lining up to take potshots at him as he steps into the batter's box in a couple of weeks.

At least they better.

A-Rod is really fortunate he never was on the same team as Thurman. I swear, they wouldn't have lasted two days together.

And Thurman would've won the fight in about thirty seconds.

I Got A Feeling

I suppose I could start out by saying I picked the Super Bowl winner before the season started.

Or that Pittsburgh represented themselves wonderfully again in the big game, and that the game was wildly entertaining throughout. Who really believed that Green Bay would hold them off?

I didn't think it was going to happen.

I could talk about Christina singing the National Anthem like Leslie Nielson in Naked Gun:

"And the rockets were there. There were bombs everywhere."

But it all has to start with the halftime show.

For the first time in a few years, my kids were fired up. Bruce and the Who didn't do it for them.

"How old are they?" they kept asking.

So I sat quietly and waited to be entertained...until it was over.

That group of whatever you call them, certainly not musicians, were horrific. Lyrically, talent-wise, as performers.

When the main song has such awe-inspiring, thought-provoking lyrics such as: I got a feeling that tonights going to be a good night. Tonights going to be a good, good night."

What can you expect? And to be honest, it is their deepest lyric.

And where does all the anger come from? Between them shouting about the love being gone and that Eminem dude, everyone has a scowl on their face. Pointing at me as if I stole their spirit.

The kids loved it. From what I'm reading, not many others did.

I tried to be fair. I did. When Usher came out I heard that he was a great singer. All I heard him sing were the words, "Oh My Gosh."

Ten times.

Must have taken forever to get those lyrics down.

By the time the guy was doing the days of the week for me...I ain't writing them, we all learn them in pre-k...I had had enough.

"They suck!" I announced by way of verdict. "Talentless!"

Sam, who was stoked about everything, all day long...and was the reason why I skipped any offers for parties...sang to me.

"I got a feeling that tonight's going to be a good night."

"A good, good night," I finished.

Man, I'm getting old and crotchety.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Super Bowl Memories

On the night before the Super Bowl between the Bears and the Patriots I was at a frat party making so much noise about how the Bears would win by forty points that a guy stood up and shouted me down.

"I'll bet you a hundred bucks they don't beat them by forty."

Being a brash, drunk college student I took the bet. Waking up the next morning my roommates were all over me, asking me where in the world I would possibly get $100 to pay off the bet.

The Bears won 45-3.

On the night when the Bills made the Super Bowl for the first time, I remember the shiver that went up and down my spine when the team was announced and ran onto the field in Tampa.

For the next two weeks after that game, I couldn't think straight. Giants 20 Bills 19...they should have won. 20 years later and it still bugs me.

Don't even ask me about the next three losses.

I remember the 49ers coming down the field trailing the Bengals with less than 2 minutes in the game. I was living alone in West Haven, Ct. I didn't care who won, but as the 49ers got the ball, I knew one thing for sure, they were going to win. Montana was too good.

Vinateri's field goal to give the Pats a win over Carolina changed the score in my favor and my brother and I split three grand from a gas station pool.

That might have been my favorite Super Bowl.

Just a couple of years prior, with the money on the line as Oakland played Tampa and the score in my favor, Rich Gannon threw an interception for Oakland. If the idiot from Tampa, with the game already safely in hand, would've gone down, I would have made that three grand. He ran it back for 6....last play of the freaking game...and I lost.

If I see Rich Gannon today I might punch him.

What else?

The Steelers wins all bunch together for me. Same with the Pats and 49ers. I find it interesting that people cry about teams having no chance in baseball because there is no salary cap, but we continue to see the same teams over and over in football. Could that cap be a little softer than we think?

Look it up...more new champs in baseball over the last 25 years.

So, I will watch the game today...knowing that if it is going to be truly memorable that my pool numbers have to come in.

Lord knows the Bills won't be ready to contend again until I'm well into my 60's.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

May I Opine?

Sarah Palin is not Ronald Reagan. Can someone please tell her that? Also, Ronald Reagan was not a cartoon character. He did not speak of my values. Remember when he slept through his second term? Remember when he lied about the Arms Deal or claimed he didn't know? Remember when his Reaganomics crippled the country for twenty freaking years?

Just saying...

I tried Pittsburgh. I really did. I love that city. I kind of like the Steelers and the way they conduct their business. But I can't do it. Having read the police report and after listening to Ben talk all week. I am a Packer-Backer this weekend. Six is enough anyway, but I get that rubbing it in the other people's faces mentality. I'm a Yankee fan!

Pack 27 Steelers 24.

I have already had enough of February. Snow, cold, American Idol, football over, a month and a half away from baseball, Egypt, more snow, blizzards, kids sick, sore knee, 28 short freaking days.

Horrible month. And it will be followed by another shit month. Not a fan of March either...other than Carrie and Jim's birthdays.

Come on, April.

Speaking of April to the tax man today.

I wish I had a clue. Every year I go in with a knot in my stomach thinking that after searching through my receipts and paperwork that the tax gentleman...a fine going to say, "Uh, you're screwed."

Usually I do okay, but it is never enough, is it?

I don't like April either.

Oh yeah, baseball season. I do like April.

Anything else to jot down this morning?

It's cold. My knee is sore.

Ah hell, at least I ain't pretending that I'm Ronald Reagan.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Violent Overthrow

The unrest in Egypt has been tough to watch, hasn't it? As an American whenever I hear about such chaos, I wonder why things can't be somehow worked out before an entire nation of people rises up.

The system that we are governed under doesn't lend itself to such unrest, or does it? I think it was Jefferson who said, during the time of writing the constitution, that a revolution should take place every twenty years or so in order to keep a balance.

Wouldn't that be fun? We can bet on it like the Super Bowl.

Yet we are still working off that document, and while there certainly are problems, there doesn't seem to be the type of violence from within...even though we shoot each other for sport here...then there is in other countries.

Yet it is strange how we think of those in other parts of the world. As if none of it really matters, you know?

The nightly news shows you tape of mad, screaming people hurling rocks at the capitol building in a country such as Egypt and we sort of chuckle at the television, don't we?


Yet last night I was sort of looking beyond the footage into the faces of some of those gathered to try and rise up against their government. These people weren't dressed in loin cloths running around like chickens without a head. They were sort of assembling with an eye on having their voices heard by a government that lost touch with what their country was about.

In America we turn the crooks out at every election. We keep trying to turn it until we get someone we feel we can believe in. We battle back and forth, left and right, gays or no gays, guns or less guns, but when it is all said and done there is a bit of discourse that keeps us from that revolution every twenty years.

I try and leave such heady matters to people who have a clue, but there is no escaping the news of the Egypt turmoil.

"They should just blow all them bastards off the face of the map," one guy said on one of the job sites yesterday.

I may not be heady, but that one doesn't seem right to me.

Hopefully, it calms down soon and they can get a whole new regime in there that slowly steals their money.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

So Long Andy

Drift back in time with me until 1996, won't you?

It was a year before I got married. So there weren't any children kicking around yet. I had just purchased my first house. I was playing softball with my friends, drinking as much beer as I could get my hands on. I had just rescued my dog Max from the SPCA, and I had a girl hanging around with me, all the time, for some reason, acting as if I were a viable adult. My third book was released that year.

And all I ever thought about was the New York Yankees. I needed a World Series title...bad. It had been 18 years since they last won.

As luck might have it, they had a great team. A young guy on that team, Andy Pettite was just starting out. He was pitching game 5 of the World Series against John Smoltz. The series was tied at 2. The game was 1-0 Yankees late in the game.

The beer was flowing. My brothers were watching with me. Kathy was there. Max was at my feet. Pettite pitched into the 9th. Two nights later, the Yankees won the series.

Life was grand.

Andy retired today. Must be nice to retire from work at 37.

I have learned so much about life since that October night just 14 years ago. So much that I would like to not know now. So much that I needed to learn.

And some things haven't changed.

I still like World Series titles.

And beer.

I don't have a lot of sports idols anymore.

They lie and cheat and act like asses.

But I will miss Andy. For his aw shucks personality. For his great left arm. Because he wore the interlocking NY on his cap for so long.

Because they really need him next year!

But I understand. He is quitting because he wants to watch his kids grow up. He wants to drive them to school. He wants to hang around with his wife.

I wouldn't have understood such logic 14 short years ago.

I honestly do now.

Some things are more important than watching the Yankees win the World Series.

Did I really just write that????????

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Hit By A New Car

Years and years ago my mother and father were in a fierce discussion about something at the dinner table. Tensions were high and we were all relieved when my mother, searching for a perfect comeback told my father: "You'd bitch if you were hit by a new car."

Of course that is a variation of the 'hung with a new rope' cliche, but my mother was looking for more. It didn't get the reaction she was looking for: my father laughed uproariously. We all laughed. And for years, whenever someone complained the idea that they'd bitch if hit by a new car has entered my warped mind.

Today it seems that everyone I ran into would bitch if they were hit by a new car.

We didn't get 16 inches of snow in hot and dusty Buffalo today. In fact, the storm was a whimpering little dusting when you get right down to it. It rained and the roads were greasy and then a few inches of snow fell.

Hell, that's Mid-May around here.

Yet people wanted to complain. The same people that pissed and moaned about the coming storm yesterday, bitched about the weatherman today.

The ones who were complaining that the brutal forecast should lead to children being off of school, were crying that THE KIDS WERE OFF OF SCHOOL TODAY!

It's enough to drive you nuts! Bitch and moan. Piss and whine.

Yeah, the weather is not an exact science, and there are a lot of people crying today that they'd like to have a job where they get it wrong 50% of the time and still get paid.

I got news for many of you: you do have that job. Nobody is perfect. Err on the side of caution. All of that.

Stop whining about everything. Don't play both sides of the fence on every issue.

I swear.

You'd bitch if you got run down by a brand new Ferrari.

God Gave Me the Courage

So the joker that cut off his wife's head is explaining that God gave him the courage to perform the deed.


That was God's solution?

There really is a strange dynamic at work there. When things go tragically wrong, there are a lot of people who point to the imaginary man in their head to explain their behavior.

Now I'm not being atheistic here. I am not saying that there aren't moments when God's light shines through in the children's eyes, in the wife's smile, when the dog leaps and runs through the snow. I'm not saying that God isn't there when spring arrives and the beauty of nature takes hold as the complex idea of just being alive is fully appreciated.

I've just never had God whisper in my ear, "Cut off her f*&$%ng head!"

In fact, unlike George Bush, he has never once consulted me in a voice that sounds like Morgan Freeman in that movie with Jim Carrey.

The voice of God that I've heard has come in the form of things my children tell me, lessons that I learned at the hands of my parents, and in the sound of my own voice as I try and put together my own moral code.

God didn't tell that freak to chop his wife's head off. God didn't tell Bush to invade Iraq. He doesn't tell people to perform self-destructive behavior to win His love.

Perhaps I'm wrong. There certainly enough people who are willing to place blame, or find a convenient crutch with which to support themselves and their lame brain ideas.

God is telling me to get up and go to work today.

He is telling me to be kind to my family and the people I see as I travel through my day.

"What's that?"

God just told me to eat pasta this evening until it comes out my nose.

Okay, we go. Watch the circus freak eat.

God is making me do it.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Batten Down the Hatches!

How can I write about anything today other than the coming snowstorm? For sure it is all that anyone is talking about here in Buffalo.

The snow will arrive around ten, they say. We are in for about 16 inches by morning. The morning drive will be so messed up that they have already issued a hazard warning and the kids school already told them to stay home.

I'm sort of all for it. I have a lot of paperwork to do to get ready for the coming weeks, so why the hell not? Tomorrow is pasta day...I can spend some time getting that ready.

Of course, it always brings back memories of 1977 and the blizzard. We got a week off of school then, and we were stuck in the house for so long that I'm sure Mom and Dad were ready to jump out the window into the ten feet high snowdrifts.

My boys have enough to keep them entertained. The X-Box will be burning all day tomorrow. If the snow is real bad in the morning no one will be able to get out, so we won't have to worry about anyone on the roads.

The whole thing has sort of a romantic feel to it, doesn't it?

A lot of times these storms don't turn out quite as bad as the meteorologists point out, but here's hoping that this time they are right.

If I had my way we'd all have Wednesday off anyway, to sort of regroup and hit that second pasta with full force.

I hate the cold. I abhor the snow. My aching bones are already sick of the winter, but I will take this storm as it comes.

Let's go old man winter...I'm already in my pajamas. Let me stay that way until Thursday morning.

Happy Birthday, To One of the Dopes

The funny thing about your kids getting older is that as a parent, you have all the goods. Today Matt is 25 years old (I’m pretty sure - w...