Thoughts of a Common Man

My hysterical children have worked up a bit of a comedy act. Yesterday at a wonderful party thrown by Pops (stuffed peppers were okay...that's why I only ate nine), my boys waited until there were a group of people around who had no idea who we are. "My mother told me that I was an accident and she really, really wanted an abortion," Jake said. I watched the jaw of a woman hit the floor. "You know what day I hate most of all?" Sam asked. "Dog food Wednesday. If I eat another can of Alpo I'm gonna puke." Yesterday was the first time I listened in on their polished routine. I guess my wife had heard it before. The women leaning close to our table had never heard it. "I hate when he lines us up in the driveway and throws basketballs at us," Jake said. "I'd eat six cans of dog food if I didn't have to take a ball off the face again." "Yep, yep." Sam said. "That is bad, but not as bad as when they tied us to th

That's a Gordon Lightfoot lyric from Carefree Highway ...great song. I thought of it the other night because I passed Matt in the hallway after I finished working. Kathy had taken Jake and Sam to baseball and since I was late, I missed the game. Matt hadn't been around for dinner, so I was surprised to see him there. "What're you doing?" I asked. He whispered his answer. "I'm going to watch a movie." "Why the hell are you whispering?" I asked. Then it hit me. He missed dinner because he'd taken a girl out. Evidently, she was now in my house, preparing to watch a movie. The girl was as nervous as Matt as I walked by where she was seated. "Hi," I said. She smiled back. About ten different girls entered my mind. Girls that I knew in college, or high school, or hell even grammar school. Girls who were now middle-aged women with kids of their own. Some who'd been through failed marriages, loser boyfriends, the entire shebang. W

I really need to stop reading the paper. My heart was aching this morning after reading about a 35-year-old man who was killed in a car crash. The last line of the recap talked about the police officer who had to notify the young wife...now a widowed mother of two. And since I had to travel to Rochester, for the 2nd day in a row (A 180-mile round trip) I had a lot of time to think about things. And I was tired. Long week. They seem longer than 5 days these years. Got things done and decided to put on the I-pod to pick up my mood. It was raining hard when I thought about that poor wife and her kids. But I drove towards home. When I stopped to get a coffee. I called home. Sam and Kathy were both on the line and I betrayed what I was feeling by trying to be upbeat about the coming weekend. Steak for dinner. Yankees at 7. Golf on Sunday morning. Party with Pops tomorrow. Planning life. I got back on the Thruway and the rain slowed. The music kept coming though. Stones doing Where the Boys

Hideki Irabu was a pitcher for the New York Yankees. They signed him to a big contract in the 1990's and he was supposed to be a great star as he had been in Japan. It didn't work out that way. Irabu was pretty awful as a Yankee. I wanted to like him, I really did. But he stunk. My brother used to yell at me about him as if I signed him to the deal. The Yankees ended up dumping him and he signed with Texas. They cut him after he showed up to pitch - drunk as a skunk. Irabu was found dead today. 42 years old. He died at his own hand. These sort of stories really drive me crazy. He was blessed with talent enough to throw a ball and sign a 12 million dollar deal for doing so. He left Japan and came over to the United States, and it all fell apart from there. When Irabu was with the Yanks he spoke only through an interpreter. The rest of the team talked about how hard it was to communicate with him. Yet he stayed. He was living in Los Angeles at the time of his death. He was still

MESA, Ariz. — Police in suburban Phoenix say they have arrested a man suspected of killing his girlfriend and living with her body for more than two months. Thirty-five-year-old Erik Grumpelt was charged Tuesday with one count of second-degree murder. After receiving a tip from Grumpelt's father, Mesa officers went to the suspect's apartment Monday and discovered the body of 39-year-old Melinda Raya on a bedroom floor under several sheets. Investigators say the body was in an advanced state of decomposition and surrounded by air fresheners. Authorities say on May 19, Grumpelt struck Raya several times in the abdomen after learning she had cheated on him. When she became unresponsive, police say Grumpelt panicked and tried to hide her body. My favorite part of the story, of course, is that they discovered her body with air freshners all around her. Are you freaking kidding me? And how do you live like that for two months? Wouldn't you consider moving? Wouldn't you consid

If I had to put a finger on my main source of mental illness it would have to be that when I feel cluttered, I'm cooked. How many emails are in your inbox as saved, sent, or archived? I was talking to a guy today who said that he had 1,400 saved emails. I would honestly slit my throat. I have zero saved, zero in the sent box, zero in the box waiting to be opened. If I get one, I address it and delete it. If there are emails in the box when I wake up in the morning I address them and delete them as well...even before I hit the head. If the kids leave their shoes in one of the rooms where I decided that shoes shouldn't be stored, I put them in the room where they should go. But I hide one of them. I can't stand when we take a car trip because they leave things behind in the cup holders. I will very often be driving down the road when it hits me that the storage area where I keep job information, in the back of the truck, is disorganized. I have pulled over at a rest stop to c

Twenty-seven years old and Amy Winehouse is dead. Now, every person that ever met her is appearing on radio and television to talk about how talented she was and how they wish she would have beat down her addictive and self-destructive behavior. Isn't that always the way? Everyone saw it coming, but there was no way to stop it. I'm not being critical here because there really isn't any way that you can slow down that train. She was a wreck. It came. Destructive, addictive behavior is something that we all face, right? I must admit that I've toiled in all sorts of self-destruction. I have a hammer in one hand to build things with and a torch in the other to burn down the things I've built. We all do. Whether it's drugs and booze or gambling, or sex-addictions...whatever, it's all over the news. There isn't a person in the world who doesn't feel as if they are on top of it either. I marvelled at the drug parts of the Keith Richards book. He hated heroi

I'd never actually cooked for a hundred people before. Yet I wanted to do it that way because my Mom and Dad really went all out for our graduation parties and why the hell not, right? As it turns out, I can do it. We had plenty to eat, drink and a lot of fun in the sweltering heat. I swear to God during the next rainstorm I'm going to run outside and yell thank you to the sky. It's been that long. Remind me of this in February, would you? Yet the day had a Fuzzy party feel to it. Peppers were featured on the menu and the pasta was gone as usual. As I cooked, I listened to my I-pod. Certain Springsteen songs always bring a tad of sadness as I spend hours alone, but yesterday it was Sinatra that did the trick. My Dad was 44 when I graduated from high school. A blink of an eye later and I'm down there cutting up the garlic and onions. I remember being amazed at the way my parents put a party together. I'm pretty sure Matt was amazed last night. Of course, a graduation

On Saturday most of the small Town of North Collins will gather to play kickball. Yep, in 90-plus degree heat grown men and women will play kickball in honor of a friend to all: Cathy George who passed away after battling cancer. This is the 7th annual kickball tourney and all of the proceeds go to charity. Life at its best. Of course, being born and raised in North Collins I knew Cathy fairly well. I was a wee bit older, but that didn't stop me from knowing her entire family. That's the way small town living is. Besides, who doesn't know Foxy and Foxy Jr., right? Yet tonight I was slipping off to sleep and I saw the announcement for the tourney on the Facebook page of Cathy's friend Diane Mathis, and it struck me that life is really something sometimes. There is so much to get down about, but this is a great story. Imagine tomorrow. Beer, fun, burgers, Chinese Auction, love, laughter and friendship. I'm sure that events like this go on every once in awhile in all o

The NFL players all across the land are sending out tweets today because the owners are holding their feet to the fire. The players are really upset that they are being treated like slave labor as the average pay is only a mil or so for the 25 weeks they have to work so they don't get busted for drunk-driving, drugs or raping the "civilians." And the owners must thinks we is real dumb. They is having trouble making money. They's can't compete. There's nine billion dollars out there! Ah, who the hell cares? Play, don't play...just shut the hell up. Then I listened in on a couple of them there proposals about dat debt thingy-ma-bob. This is a fun one. They are going to take away the mortgage write-off on our taxes. Yep. Create some jobs. What about the people that have jobs and have homes? Are we intent on strangling every last nickel out of the working bastards so that we have more homeless people and more people who want to put a gun down their own throat?

I took a photo of the sky as I entered the Thruway at Milestrip Road. It was a little after seven a.m. when I pointed the camera at the sky and I did it without really thinking. Just sort of looked like something was reaching down to me. "Just another day," I thought as I clicked through the list of places I was expected and true to my nature, one stray thought made me think about a bunch more. Just another day is kind of a waste. Especially when you only get about 25,000 of them...and that's if you're real lucky. And break it all down. One-third of those days is spent asleep...not counting after-pasta naps - so we're down to 16,500 or so. The first twenty years are spent in a cloud of confusion...so down to about 10,000. We spend hour after hour waiting on line, sitting on the toilet, waiting at a red light, watching countless hours of garbage television. Conservatively, we are down to about 6,000 days left. How can we afford to just throw one away as 'just a

Whew! Pretty crazy from the heat, huh? They are talking about 100 degrees here in Buffalo-freaking-New York. That's what I'm talking about! I will NEVER complain about it being too hot. I know what it feels like when my bones are cold and I have snow up to my ass. Bring on the heat! But I am beginning to understand that no matter what happens people are going to bitch. "It's too hot!" "It's too cold!" "We need rain!" "I wish it would stop raining or snowing or whatever!" Bitch, bitch, bitch. I guess that's the nature of things. Will it ever be just right? There's a television commercial out now where a man asks for toilet paper. His wife tosses a roll at him and it's too abrasive and shaves off his hair. "Too rough," the narrator says. A second later, he's in the same spot and asks for another roll. She throws it. He catches it, and it turns to dust in his hands. "Too soft," the narrator says. T

Isn't that a great photo to make your day? You should try and enjoy your life instead of trying to understand it. I received a package in the mail yesterday from a great guy: Dave, anything to help the family, Neisser...we laughed because I told him he sounded like Sonny Corleone. The package was filled with sports memorabilia to auction off at the Thunder Road Softball Tourney on August 14 at 11 a.m. at the New Oregon Field. The tourney itself is being setup by more of Jeff's friends and was the brainchild of Jan Mathis. Dave's package held signed photos of everyone from Joe Paterno to Eli Manning to a few of our beloved Yankees. Then late last night, another friend and reader, Brian Schmitt, asked if he could donate about a dozen special Springsteen CD's for the show. Some never heard before, quality (duh, it's Bruce) music that can also be used as a door prize! I'm going to spend a lot of cabbage just trying to win this stuff! And just when I get down about t

I almost didn't listen to the interview. That's how closed-minded I am. I figured that Lady Gaga was all about style and that there wasn't any substance. People tried to tell me that I should give Eminem a shot and I did and almost pulled off my ears listening to that crap. What in the world would make me think Lady Gaga had any talent? And to imagine that I never...ever...heard one of her songs. Where am I going to hear them? On my Bruce/Stones filled I-pod? On the last John Mellencamp or Tom Petty CD? So, Stephanie was on the Howard Stern Show today. And the interview started and I thought to myself, "Hmm, she's not an idiot." And the more she talked, the more I liked. She was playful, honest and heartfelt. What the hell was happening here? So Howard asked her to sing...right after he found out she wasn't wearing a bra. And she told the story of her grandfather dying. She took us through the process of why she wrote the song Edge of Glory. I was hooked.

The 27-Time World Champion Yankees put a sound whooping on the Blue Jays yesterday and they finished just in time too. I had just put the water on for pasta and the chicken and veal parm was all set. The women's World Cup soccer game was also still nil-to-nil. "USA! USA! USA!" Sam chanted. "Who cares," I answered. "Are you crazy?" Sam asked. "What country do you live in? How can you not root for the USA?" "I'm rooting for them," I said. "But it's soccer. If they lose it doesn't mean Japan is better and if they win it doesn't mean the USA is better. They have a ball out there. You don't settle anything by kicking a ball." The game was actually mildly entertaining as soccer matches go. You know the story. The USA coughed up the lead twice and then lost on penalty kicks. What was really neat to me was seeing both sides of the coin. The agony on the faces of the USA girls and the jubilation on the faces of

I don't like when you hand the lady at the grocery store a big bill and she takes her little pen out and checks to see if its counterfeit. I always wonder what I'm going to do if she swipes it and then looks at me and says she can't accept it. I'd probably have to go over the counter. Don't you hold their breath until she puts it in the drawer though? I also don't very much like when there's a cop behind me for a few miles as I drive. There's a mental checklist going on: My speed's okay, I'm not on the phone, no firearms, drugs, or booze in the car, seat belt on. Is he going to stop me? What's his problem? Come on, asshole go ahead. Don't you hold your breath until he's by you? Another thing that gets under my skin are the guys and gals on their bikes who are dressed up like Lance "Douche" Armstrong. They drive down the shoulder of a busy road when there is a perfectly good sidewalk up there and then they use hand signals t

So, J-Lo is getting divorced...again. I'm back in the mix. Although she's no Kathy Fazzolari. Wondering a lot today about what Casey Anthony can do when she gets out of prison. A career in baby-sitting? That ship may have sailed. I predict an OJ Simpson type of deal. If she gets busted for urinating in public she's going to jail for about 50 years. They just said that she is too exhausted to answer questions about the case. What the hell is she doing in jail? I'd have been sleeping. Do you believe that people have been mailing her money. WTF???? as the kids says. Can't wait for the debt ceiling to be raised. Thank God there has been a bi-partisan effort on this one. Unbelievable that there is a war going on in this country that has nothing to do with guns and bombs. Speaking of war...I listened to the Howard Stern broadcast from 09/11/01. It was amazing how upset I got listening to it unfold all over again. You can hear the absolute terror in the voices of Howard an

Can you imagine running your household the way the government is being run? I can't imagine telling my wife that we are going to raise the debt ceiling so that I can waste money on all kinds of crap that we don't really need, or that I'm ill-equipped to handle. "I need ten grand to play Pebble Beach," might not go over real well. So how can we do it differently so that perhaps when I'm crippled up I can collect social security rather than slough off to work at Wal-Mart and greet guests in as miserable tone as I can? "Welcome to F%&*ing Wal-Mart," won't go over very well. Here are my thinking points: 1). Stop with the steroids crap. We know Clemens cheated. We know Bonds cheated. We know Lance Armstrong cheated. Take the money you're spending on that crap and put it in a cookie jar. Send out a blanket statement headline: Clemens, Bonds, Armstrong...proclaimed as douches! 2). Enough with the election money. Empty the coffers into the cookie

Of course, everyone who really knows me understands that I'm a very snappy dresser. I'm meticulous about the clothes I wear and whether or not they are stain-free, or wrinkle-free. I have a hard time stepping out of the house if everything isn't just perfect. Truth be told: That is the biggest lie I've ever told on this blog. I'm a mess. Oscar Madison would certainly laugh at me and my piss-poor sense of fashion. Yet yesterday even I had had enough. Two days ago my favorite pair of jeans developed a hole in the crotch area. There are a couple of jokes there about the fabric never standing a chance against size, or what-have-you, but I'll leave it mostly alone. I still wore them. That night, I threw them out. The next day, another pair of jeans developed a nice split in another area. Again, we can talk about size being the problem... So I did something I never do. I stopped at a store and I bought some new clothes. Let me tell you...I'm a little lost without

My beautiful wife turned to me the other day and said: "Do you know that you're very opinionated?" "Is that a revelation?" I asked. "After however the hell many years, you're just learning that?" "No, I've always known it," she said as she laughed. "I just want you to know that you aren't always right." "That, right there, is bullshit!" I said. My most recent opinion, however, is that life is better when the sun is shining. Perhaps it is becoming closer to the time when I will get the hell out of Buffalo when the cold winds start blowing. It's a tired cliche that old birds fly to the south for the winter, but I definitely know why. Last night I was driving back from North Collins. My brother John and I had spent a couple of hours mowing Mom's lawn and just sitting and chatting with Mom. It had been a great visit that left me thinking that 'nothing feels better than blood on blood.' The sun was s

There's a pretty famous story in Fazzolari folklore. As you see, I hated peas when served without macaroni surrounding them. My Dad and I really disagreed on whether I should eat them or not. I lost. I ate the entire bowl and pushed it defiantly away. "How were they?" he asked. "Friggin' great!" "Good, have some more." Last night I watched two news stories. That's two too many. The first was about the budget or raising the ceiling, or debt. It's funny but the reporter said that the two factions of the country are at war over how the bill shall be paid. One side wants the burden to be handled by the middle and lower class so that the upper class can hang onto their money to generate jobs, or build a lake home and re-up their country club memberships. The other sides wants the people that work for a living to pay the entire burden so that others can sit at home and sponge off the system...or do something crazy like eat. Either way, Obama used

Not all the time, mind you, but on Mondays with a full work week staring me in the face, there is a bit of temptation. The photo of Paris is sort of in your face, isn't it? You see, Paris is a real slap-happy animal. Every moment of every day to Paris is like the split second when she emerged from the womb. She's just plain fired up about living. Paris is the kind of dog who when confronted with the stairs jumps down all five, never even really touching one until she gets to the bottom. She gallops across the backyard like a deer, eats fast, runs fast, chases the tennis ball with reckless abandon, and even takes a quick dump as though she's missing something else while doing it. In other words, she loves life. And there are moments, such as when I snapped this photo, when I think it would be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it? She's just so carefree? Of course, there is a downside to being a dog, right? Like no concept of money. Dogs don't have money. The probl

I give and take a lot when it comes to the Yankees. Of course, I haven't been a quiet fan of the team, and there's always been a spiritual approach to my wanting them to win every single game of every single year. For those of you that knew my family as we grew, you know the television was always on in the garage on summer days, and there were so many people there, getting a whiff of the sauce, having a drink, laughing, and keeping an eye on the game. "They're losing," was usually followed by my father saying something along the lines of, "They aren't going anywhere this year." "They're winning," got a proud nod. As a family we call agreed on a few universal truths: 1). Billy Martin was crazy, but a great manager. 2). Reggie was clutch and 3). Jeter is an amazing player. Way better than A-Rod. My mother and father named the dog Jeter. My wife, possibly my sisters and just about every female we ask about wants to marry him. He

The other night at a Texas Rangers game a man tumbled over the railing after catching a ball tossed to him by a player. The man, Shannon Stone, died from injuries in his fall as his 6-year old boy watched. The part of the story that absolutely hurts my heart is when the man, as he was loaded onto a stretcher, asked one of the players to keep an eye on his son. Last night Dateline recapped the Casey Anthony case and I watched that bitch smile in court when she realized that her time in jail was almost done. The horrifying part of that story being that she had to know what happened to her child in the 31-day gap before she reported her missing. Last week we went swimming over at my buddy's house. My buddy's young son was jumping in the pool from the diving board, running all around with swimmies attached to his arms and laughing. I caught my buddy's eye one time and saw undeniable love and appreciation in what he was seeing. I knew the feeling. Years and years ago I watched J

There's a new study out that states that men actually crave cuddling and that they aren't getting enough. I can buy the not enough argument, but cuddling? Come on guys, who took this survey? I know that the gay marriage law recently passed here in New York, are those the guys they interviewed? Is that a politically correct statement? Probably not. The thing is, I'm not down with the whole cuddling thing, but I may not fully understand. Is this cuddling before or after? Before? Hell yes, we'll cuddle. We'll also rub your back, massage your feet, wash the windows and do the laundry. But that ain't about the cuddling. After? No chance. Usually there's a baseball game on somewhere. Even if the Yanks are done, the west coast games are starting. Plus there's gotta' be something in the refrigerator that needs to be eaten. Cuddle? It's more like...got that done...what's on television until I drift off to sleep? Yet in this society men are trying to b

I work as a construction safety consultant and on a daily basis I see some bad accidents. It's usually a case of someone doing something they shouldn't do and there's a tremendous amount of pain involved as the victim didn't truly understand the consequences of the action. I try and tell guys that they should stay clear of things that can knock them down that they don't see coming. The photo above sort of caught my eye as something that just really shouldn't be done. Far be it from me to tell others how to live, but that's about a 3-year old kid in the sidecar of a motorcycle heading down Niagara Falls Boulevard. Sure, the mom and dad on the bike no doubt have all the safety training in the world. Everyone was wearing helmets. Speaking of which did you read the story about the guy who was riding his Harley helmet-less in a demonstration to protest the New York State helmet law? He flipped the bike and died on the road in a town outside of Syracuse. The cops

It really seemed like a good idea at the time. Derek Jeter was just 6 hits away from 3,000 and he got hurt. I checked the schedule, did some math and figured out that he would get the big hit last night. Except the old man didn't heal quite as quickly as I expected so he was still six short heading into last night. The other thing I didn't figure was that this old man can't work 9 hours, drive 4 hours, watch a 3.5 hour game and then drive home 4 hours, and get up after 3.5 hours and work another 9. But you know what? It was worth it. Check the photos above. The big lug is going to college in two months. The middle lug doesn't like the Yankees so with them winning big, he was shut all the hell the way up, and the little lug loves the Yanks so he was thrilled. Momma bear is tired today too, but she was in a great mood for a poor lady who has to spend all free time and a lot of disposable income at baseball stadiums...but she did comment on A-Rod and Jeter's glute musc

Saw a lot of tan and sore people at work today. The sun was shining in Buffalo for 3 straight days and there was a lot going on. My final tally? About 6 hot dogs, a couple of Italian Sausages, salt potatoes, pasta, a few shots of Jamesons, a couple of beers, a bit of prime rib, and a half dozen stuffed peppers (yes, I used Jeff's recipe...no, they weren't nearly as good). I also played an absolutely horrific round of golf with the Apes and shot basketball with the boys at least four times. It was funny but I watched Jake and Sam play a one-on-one and their personalities, their games, everything reminded me of my brothers and me playing in our backyard. Sort of heartbreaking. Yet the weekend wasn't about heartbreak. It was about fun. Late last night I laid in bed with Melky cowering beside me because the neighbor kids were blowing off fireworks. I really never got the appeal of lighting them, but as I laid there a few words popped into my head. And the rockets red glare, the

The passage of time continues to amaze me. I've spent so much time this weekend missing things that I decided to move around a little with the boys. The 4th of July holidays of my youth were fun-filled events with a lot of eating, shooting hoops, swimming and drinking beer. I really wanted to turn back the clock a bit, but 2 of 4 days in the car to make it to Maryland for such fun was sort of out of the question. So, I had to try and force the issue here on the home front. I shook the trees around here by announcing to the kids that we were going to have an epic basketball shooting contest. Sam couldn't have been more excited. Late last week I was driving in the car on the way to somewhere when I glanced down at my left hand. "It's all wrinkled," I said out loud. "My freaking hands look like old man hands." I worked the rest of the week feeling cheated by time. I actually glanced at Matt, Jake & Sam's hands and the perfect skin. All of my replace

Do you know how many unattractive mothers are accused of murdering their children? You probably don't because you're spending your time wondering how Casey Anthony is going to get away with murdering her child. It is certainly troubling because there's a lot of time being spent discussing this case. I'm not sure why I know that Casey and her father may or may not have had a disturbing relationship. I don't know why I am drawn to the case like so many others. The other day, out on a construction site, I saw two guys covered in dirt, eating sandwiches that had to have grime on them, debating about whether or not she did it and how much the grandparents knew about it. There was definitely a difference of opinion for these two guys, but they had one thing in common: They both agreed that they'd 'do' Casey. Of course the media is to blame. This is a case that should never have received the sort of acclaim that it has. The entire circus has been played out on

Made a trip to the Niagara Falls Casino last night and for the first time, I sat at a table and played cards. The dealer yelled at me about seven times. "You can't use the phone at the table." (I was checking the Yankee score. They won again, by the way). "Don't touch the money." (Sounds like my beautiful wife). "Are you placing the bet?" (Hold onto your hat, lady, I have to have my chips stacked in piles). But the interesting thing about it was the guy to my right. He'd lost 3 grand up to the moment we sat down. Still, he was playing at least $100 a hand. I was risking $15a hand. "Gotta bet big to win big," he said. "Or lose big," I answered. He didn't smile. We were playing a game where you are dealt three cards down and then use the dealers two cards to make your hand. "I got triple 7's," he whispered. "You have three 7's dealt to you?" I asked. Doing the quick math I saw that he would win

Thinking back a week when Kathy asked if I'd ever made a mistake in life and I acknowledged making one and that it had been a doozy... Picture the scene: A tiny little bar that is home to construction workers. My watering hole. I would stop each and every Friday night...and a lot of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights as well. Kathy and I were working together at the time and we were becoming fast friends who liked to flirt quite a bit. I was eternally single...she was Miss-A-Little-Time-On-Her Hands. She was the only female in the bar, but she hung around anyway, laughing and talking with my buddies. Van Morrison songs were on the jukebox. Think Into the Mystic and Domino and Moondance . The owner of the bar removed the Springsteen songs when I started coming around. I guess the time I played Better Days eleven times convinced her of such a move. Anyway, a half dozen Michelob Lights and a couple of shots of Cuervo had me feeling pretty good. Yet I was living alone and facing

There's a movie out now about three people that want to kill their bosses. I haven't seen it, but the trailer looks interesting, and that's because we've all sort of been there. Do you have, or have you had a boss that you just couldn't stand? Maybe not to the point of murder, but you seriously hoped that they'd reach the end of their career at least? I had a couple of beauties... Back in '83 on my first real construction job I had a simple task to start each day...I had to buy a case of beer for my foreman. Not kidding, I'd punch in and head off to the store to pick up 24 bottles of ice cold Bud. I'd watch my boss, who was usually in a good morning mood, click back the tab on that first one. We'd talk for a minute, and then I'd be off to work. That one minute conversation was significant though because it was the only coherent thought that came from him all day. By noon he'd be pissed up and really mean. He'd torture the crew with hi