"I go to some bar room, to drink with my friends, where the women they can't follow, to see what I spend"

Mr. GF beat me to the punch but that's ok...I'll post one anyway.

2008 has been interesting to say the least. I started the year serving the gubment and finished it serving myself. I weathered uncertainty and a slumping housing market and managed to Forrest Gump my way into a good job and a sold house...the whole situation could have been a lot worse.

Looking back at the year I would keep July and December and probably junk the rest and the reason for those two months is that I had a beach house in Clearwater in one and spent 11 wonderful days in the Tampa area the other.

Thanks for all of the help and for humoring me when I was visiting...I know that you each have to spend some family capital when I come to town and I want you all to know it's appreciated.

I'll be spending New Years with an ex-girlfriend (not the one you are thinking, the other one) but I hope you all have a fun, safe, and prosperous New Year!

...Also, I am a selfish jerk

The titkle to this post is not a song lyric for the first time in a while, but it occurs to me that in the midst on my own self centered bitching, I overlooked some fairly important stuff. The Host lost two grandparents this year and Pauly lost our beloved Aubela this year.
Sorry for the oversight, as we all know it is sometimes difficult for me to get outside of my own head.

“It’s been a long December but there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last”

As anyone who has met me will attest, I am a Glass Half Full kind of guy. It takes a whole lot to get me “down” and very little to get me “up”. As such, I can’t remember one year in my life up to this point that I would unequivocally call a “bad year”. In fact, most I would call good years with some even reaching great year status. Well as I sit here less than 20 hours from the start of 2009 it occurs to me that 2008 was kind of a bad year. Sure, I got married this year and that is a nice little feather in my personal cap, but in reality people get married every single day and the only ones who really care at all are me and Mrs. GF. So other than that little victory, we have collectively and individually experienced quite a few tribulations, some of which have been documented in this space and others which have not. The Host lost his job (though he later found another), Pauly lost his job (and is still searching for a replacement gig). My dog died (not current Dog, but Rufus Dog) which is actually quite a bit more devastating than one would think. Mrs. GF and I endured The Rat House fiasco and subsequent uprooting. The economy and my industry in particular collapsed. My political party of choice ran a curmudgeon and a real life grown up High School Mean Girl for President with predictable results. The hometown baseball team lost the World Series to the worst group of people in the world (Philadelphians). And the home town football team made us endure one of the worst late season collapses in a franchise history full of collapses and disappointment.

So you know what 2008? Suck It. I’m glad to see you go. So tonight as I sip whatever libation I am choosing to enjoy, I will not celebrate the arrival of a new year but rather the demise of the old one. Here’s to a New Year that is better than the last. Cheers!

“Simplify, testify, identify, rectify, and if I get high stop being so uptight”

This morning as I sat on the couch, watching the news and having my morning jolt of caffeine, I saw two stories back to back that were so absurd they warranted mentioning and ridiculing.
The first was about New York Governor David Patterson and his objection to a (unbelievably hysterical) skit on last weekend’s Saturday Night Live that lampooned him quite nicely. Fred Armisen’s impression was dead on and while it may not have portrayed Patterson himself in the most positive light, little of that had to do with the fact that he is blind. The show made no intention to show a direct link between blindness and incompetence, it was simply pointing out that those are two traits that he posses. These are the facts: when you are a minority Governor of a state as prominent as New York, who was never elected but rather appointed when the previous “holier than though” Gov. was busted for whoremongering, who also has a well documented affinity for cocaine…..well you need to expect that you are going to fall under some scrutiny regardless of whether you can see or not.
The second story is even more ludicrous as it documented the most appropriate way to greet people during this holiday season. An “expert” was brought on to discuss the relative merits of holiday themed salutations such as “Merry Christmas”, “Happy Holidays”, “Season’s Greetings”, etc… He further pointed out that some folks may take exception to a greeting like “Merry Christmas” because they may celebrate a different holiday like Chanukah or they may celebrate Christmas for secular reasons. Well two points here, 1. regardless of religious affiliation, if you celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ for “secular reasons” you are either a hypocrite or an idiot. Those are really the only two options. And 2. If you are the type of person who is in anyway offended or disrespected by a seasonal salutation than you, my friend, take yourself way too seriously and really need to dial it down a notch. I am not a Jewish man, but were you to throw a “Happy Chanukah” at me you would get a cheerful “Shalom” right back. We really, as a society, need to be just a bit more tolerant and stop being so uptight about every little thing.
So the next time that you are working your Harrumph up over something stupid (and trust me, whatever it is, I promise you it is stupid) take a deep breath, pour a cup of cheer, and just relax. It’s all good.

“It’s a sad man, my friend, who’s living in his own skin and can’t stand the company”

It was a day of great rejoicing in my head a couple of months ago when one of the local papers fired columnist/talentless hack/general miserable wretch Dan Ruth. For years this guy has written columns that are meant to be the humorous voice of reason, the snarky conscience of the good people of The T. In reality they are the thoroughly non-entertaining musings a bitter old crank who clearly has no love lost for this town. Given all this, you can imagine my chagrin upon learning that the other local paper recently hired him as a weekly columnist. It is one thing to be the voice of dissent regarding corrupt local pols and shady big business, but it is quite another to be thoroughly dismissive of everything good about this town in the process. It is beyond me why a local newspaper (a dying breed to begin with) would employ a “writer” (I use quotes because he is really, really very bad) who so openly disdains the town in which he lives and works. But I guess if that old hack can get work putting pen to paper (or finger to keypad as the case may be) there is the hope of gainful employment for all of us.

“Tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin, till the sandman he comes”

I have made several references in this space to my neurotic dog, Dog. Well she isn’t so much neurotic as she is bat poo KA-RAAZEE. After a period of becoming seemingly well adjusted, she is back up to her old tricks. A couple nights ago she got the kabuki in her head and spent the evening banging the door knob with her nose, pawing at my head, whimpering, and pacing. This is not the first time this has happened. When it does, she does not want out, she is not hungry, she doesn’t even want what she thinks she wants. It is impossible to sleep when this happens and since I seem to function better without sleep than Mrs. GF, I take Dog into another room so she can continue to do all of these same activities but only disturb me. The first night I got less than an hour’s sleep. The night after that was better, but then last night she was up to this mischief again and I got only two hours sleep. When this happens it is difficult not to try and think of ways to sedate her for a few minutes of peace. It really doesn’t seem like to much to ask for a dog that goes to sleep for a few hours a night.

But here’s the thing. We love her. She was a gift from friends and is part of our family. Getting rid of her is not an option. We have to try and find a way to solve this little issue of hers. So where does that leave us? Doggie therapy? Do I become the guy who takes his dog to a shrink? Puppy Prozac? I always said that if I ever become a parent I would not medicate my kids with those kind of pharmaceuticals, so am I willing to do it to my dog? Pot? If I knew how to get any of it, would I bake her some “special” puppy treats? I really don’t know the answers to these mysteries.

The worst part of all of this is that I am so hysterically sleep deprived that I every time I get in my car I hear sirens that aren’t there and also, me and my surly leprechaun friend Mickey Collins just slayed a dragon, took his gold, went down to the local pub and bought a round of Tullimore Dew for Santa and all the elves….and given my current state I can’t even be 100% totally sure that really happened.

"Think I'll go down to The Well tonight, I'm gonna drink till I get my fill"

I have to admit that I am not as smart as this entry may make me appear. I had no idea the anniversary referenced was approaching us until reading an article in Forbes this morning. Wait, I read Forbes. And Investment News. And the Wall Street Journal. I guess I am smart after all.

Anyway, regardless of how it came to my attention, this coming Friday is the 75th Anniversary of the repeal of the Volstead Act. As history buffs and drunks everywhere know, The Volstead Act was the legislation that officially banned the sale, consumption, and possession of alcohol in the United States. “Prohibition”, as it would come to be known, was one of if not the most misguided attempts at legislating morality this country has ever seen. Not only did it fail to reduce consumption of the Demon Rum, it actually increased the number of bars (illegal but widely accepted) and allowed organized crime a solid foothold into the major cities of America.

After failing in nearly every conceivable way, and accompanied by the growing social acceptance of alcohol, Prohibition was repealed on December 5, 1933. And there was rejoicing.

So in this season of giving thanks, make your way on Friday down to your local speakeasy, pub, tavern, bar, or fundrinkery of your choice and give thanks for the freedom to hoist a pint of your favorite Holiday Cheer.

And Suddenly It Came to Life...

Wow! I have been calling out the clowns (read: my best friends in the world) that share this blog with me for months now about not posting. It was soon to be the G and Me site if they didn't step up. Much to my pleasure, the blog is abuzz with new activity. I heart it. You know, maybe we should try to distribute this thing or something so other people read it...

Anyway, the last few posts have been alternately funny, dismal, cathartic, calming, reassuring, and surreal (glad to see Santa letters still). There's no way I can top the wittiness of GF or assuage the emotional turmoil with Pauly. Z, who never posts on here is having a rough patch and Ant'ny misses us here at home while he chases fortune and glory (at least there is great live music at the same place). As for me, while my posts are random at best, boring at worst and somewhat academic in the middle, I have been strangely content lately.

See, wife and I are on better terms. We go through down periods a lot...kind of like Ireland, we even call them "the Troubles" like they do over there. But we are on an upswing. My kid is amazing and I love him more every day. That makes Pauly's post hit even closer to home. Despite the deaths in my family and not making as much money as I used to (or would like to, but who does), I have reached some stasis in my life.

I like my job. I enjoy coming in every day and I really like the people I work with. I like what we do as an organization and I really like what I do for them. How many people can say that?

But, you know what? There is nothing in my life that compares to the 4 guys I share this blog with (I mean, with the obvious exception of my family). Actually, we are like family but in a better way. We rarely annoy each other (at least not too much) and we almost always would like to spend time together, because we are fun. I don't live near any of my family, but I never feel that way. Someone to watch the dog, check. Someone to watch the baby, check. Someone to take the family in during a storm while I am away, check. Pick up at the airport, got ya. Borrow some money, if we have it. Seriously, despite what each of us has going on in our own domes right now...it's the season to thankful and I am thankful for this motley band of merry men I call my best friends.

Now, each of you can kiss my ass (just so you don't think I am too mushy).

"Oh Santa Claus, I still believe in you. There's still a kid in all of us that still believes you're true"

An open letter to Santa Claus....and also the one that I actually sent.

Dear Santa,

What an eventful year it has been for me. There have been highs and lows, goods and bads, but like all things it is just life and it is wonderful.

The year began, as is usually the case, with January and with my wedding. It was a tremendous, beautiful, fun event and I would be less than honest if I said I wasn’t immensely happy to have that over and done with. The wedding was quickly followed by a trip to Cabo San Lucas and a week of much deserved relaxation. From the time our plane landed back in Tampa, time seemed to move into fast forward mode. I traveled extensively for work in the spring and early summer, my Main Man Rufus went to the Happy Hunting Grounds in the Sky in June, we were forced from our house by vermin, mold, and the general stench of death in August, and the cutest, sweetest puppy in the world revealed a neurotic side that would make Larry David blush upon arriving at our new domicile. Somewhere along the line gas started costing more than the car itself and the economy as a whole crashed. And before we could blink twice, here we are at the beginning of December and the precipice of a new year.

Despite the bumps in the road there is a bright day on the horizon. Our new place is immensely more comfortable and livable than the Rat House and Dog has finally adjusted to life there. In November America held a historic election and voted for our first Socialist President (well, the first one since FDR at least) and this was apparently the cause for great hope for a certain segment of the population (presumably the Socialists).

So with the best wishes for a happy and healthy 2009 for both the GF's and our nation, I respectfully tender this list of possible Christmas gifts.

-Lowe’s gift card. This will actually be used for a two chair (wide w/ cushions) and small table patio set. So if you happen to see a set that fits this description, you could get that as well.

-Mrs. GF likes gift cards to Sephora, Borders, or any electronics place where she could get photography stuff (like Best Buy).

-I need some more of those long sleeve work out shirts like I got for my birthday. Those are awesome.

-Treats for Dog. Dog does not want any more canine behavior books though. She hasn’t learned to read yet and when we read her the ones we already have, it makes her feel bad about herself.

-Tequila, por favor.

-Gift cards to any place (like Target) that I can buy CD’s.

-Super Bowl Championship for Buccaneers.

-Some recruiting success (the fiscal year is off to a rough start).

-A job for Pauly.

I guess that would about it. If Dog’s goal of literacy comes to fruition I may let her write this next year, if not I guess you’ll be stuck with more commentary from a married dude in his mid-thirties who still writes to Santa Claus.

Merry Christmas!

GF, Mrs. GF, & Dog

A Thanksgiving Irony

Sorry if this is a bit of a downer, but I feel like it has to be said, maybe more for my own benefit than for anything else.

As many of you know, over the past months, like so many others, I have found myself looking for work. As a matter of fact, it was 7 months ago today that I last worked. The past 7 months have been a figurative rollercoaster of emotion; job interviews, promising leads, unreturned phone calls, and potential employers who have dropped off the face of the earth following an interview. Through all of this, with the help of the other clowns on this blog, I have tried to keep in the best humor possible. My mantra has been, “It could be a lot worse.” My family is blessed to have a emotional and financial support structure. We have some ‘rainy day’ money put away, and unlike so many others, we are in no danger of missing payments on anything. We also have out health, sure there’s a cold here and there, and toddlers are so gracious in sharing germs that sniffles are a way of life in the Pauly household.

That said, last week was a particularly difficult one for me. Early in the week, I found out I was no longer in consideration for one position, it became apparent that I had been passed over by a second company as it’s been two and a half weeks since my interview and there has been no follow up, and it’s looking more and more like my latest best hope will also pass me over (more on that later); Monday, after three weeks of fighting a cold my son was sent home from daycare with a fever – requiring that he stay home Tuesday, I’ve been fighting a cough for three weeks, my daughter and wife have gotten the mung and to top it off, I had to take my dog to the emergency vet last Wednesday for a bum paw. That little trip set me back $170 for three anti-inflammatory. So Thanksgiving was looking to be a blast. Sure, down deep, I know it could be much worse, and we/I still had plenty to be thankful for, although I was getting real tired of getting kicked.

All this is just back story to something that happened today. As is my usual routine, after our breakfast, my daughter watches some cartoons and I retire to the laptop to go back to the job search. Until about 10 a.m. I have the TV on ESPN2, listening/watching Mike and Mike, they make me laugh and have sports views very similar to ours. Today something struck a nerve. Today, they’re doing a live remote from Dallas, not in an ESPN Zone or from an ESPN Radio Affiliate, but from a children’s cancer hospital. They’ve show several shots of the guys interacting with kids ranging from 3 to 18 who are in this place fighting for their very existence. I don’t mean to get too heavy or depressing. We’ve become accustom to using this forum as a place for levity and frivolity with the occasional meaningful note mixed in. But I truly believe this show was a message to me today – it really can be worse We all have children we’re close to; some of us are even parents.

I’m not really sure what the point of all this was other than to say we each need to thank the Almighty (whatever we believe), that our children (or the children we care about) are happy, healthy, and loved. . As I sit here and write this, I’m waiting on the last company I interviewed with to call me with their decision, in all likelihood to tell me thanks but no thanks. Originally I was supposed to hear late last week, then I was supposed to hear on Monday, now I’m supposed to hear sometime this morning. It’s an excruciating wait, but ‘it could be worse.’ I can’t stress enough how watching those kids this morning has grounded me. My job search is temporary and will, eventually, have a happy ending. Not all the kids and families in those cancer centers can will be able to say the same things.

OK, lesson over. Things could be worse. Go hug a kid you love as soon as you can. And Happy late Thanksgiving.

"These rainy days, they ain't so bad when you're the king"

I guess that is one of the benefits of big city living. While I have seen all three of those bands, we would be lucky to get one of them to visit The T in any given year, and you get all three in the same week. All three bands are incredible live. DBT are really the only ones who speak to the audience any or tell any stories. Caleb Followill is too shy to speak and Brandon Flowers is too good for it (in a "I'm a rockstar" kind of way). Anyway, all three shows will be great and I am very, very jealous. But I'll be in St. Thomas that week, so I guess I'm not that jealous.

"Whiskey bottle, over Jesus, but not forever, but just for now"

I've had to make some pretty difficult decisions in my life...whether or not to go into the military...whether or not to get out...what job to take after...but some decisions can be fun. Take, for instance, January. Betweeen January 21st and the 29th I have the potential to see the "Drive by Truckers", "The Killers", and "Kings of Leon". Even though work is tough right now because I have to "learn" a whole bunch I still feel that one must play hard in order to continue to work hard. So, put your phones on silent and disable your computers becuase Ant'ny is going to be up to some no good drunk dialing and picture sending come January...visitors are always welcome, just throwing it out there.

“If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away”

As the end of the year draws near the weather has finally turned chilly in our fair peninsula. It is perfect for walking, enjoying drinks at outdoor cafes, playing in the park and all sorts of other activities that I have no interest in engaging in. Unfortunately it is not always the perfect weather for walking Dog, especially on her 10:00 p.m. bedtime walk. Last night was downright cold. Mrs. GF, not wanting Dog to be chilly and not realizing that Dog has a built in coat in the form of her…..coat, went out and bought Dog a sweater. Yep. A brown and pink arguil sweater. A sweater for a dog. Just to be clear on this, last night I was out walking a dog who was wearing a sweater. I am not under any illusion that I used to be cool, because I’m quite certain that was never the case. But I’m relatively sure I used to be cooler than this. Where did it all go wrong?

When It All Ends...I Mean It All

Lately I have been thinking a lot about mortality. Not necessarily my own, just the idea in general.

See, I am not a religious man...at all. I won't go so far as to say I don't believe in God and for the most part I subscribe to judeo-christian values (though I don't hold others to that). Some of those values are a little too heavy-handed for me and most of those are what I think are misinterpretations of the Bible to begin with. I do drink. I don't dance (not for religious reasons) and I have cavorted about in my time as well. Anyway, I'm getting a little off topic.

The issue for me is, is there really something when it all ends? I find it somewhat amusing that there is no other work of literature from any time period people take as literally as the Bible. We don't read Homer and think it's real. We don't read Beowulf and think it actually happened. Don't get me started on that Jabberwocky poem and I know that people didn't really come and go in the room speaking of Michelangelo. It all means something to the author and the reader can pull certain things from them and get from the text what they may. The experience of each reader being slightly different than another. That's why I think religion is mortally flawed. Religions are created by man (who is flawed) so they are inherently hokey from their inception. In addition, it would mean that every person who subscribes to said religion must either really believe that stuff exactly the same way as the dude next to them, or they just blindly follow because it's easier and makes them happy.

Now, I will be the first to say that if sitting up front, singing Amazing Grace and uttering some well placed "amens" is your cup of tea, fine. If living everyday in fear of some judgment that may or may not come makes you happy (seems counter-intuitive) then go ahead. Just don't look at me and say I am going to hell. The way I look at it, one of the religions could be right and the rest of the world could be damned. It's a 50-50 shot. But, I don't choose to look at it that way. The way I see it, some kind of combination of Protestant, Hindu, Catholic, Buddhist, Davidian, Jonestownian, Kabballah, Judaism, Shinto, and so forth is probably the right answer. Because, really, they all have some redeeming thoughts...it's just the entirety of their individual dogmas that are ridiculous.

Getting to the point I was driving to before my train took a turn to Whatever Town...both of my grandparents just died within 40 days of each other. They spent their whole lives as strict Southern Baptists and they truly believed the real reward would be in Heaven. After my grandfather died, there was nowhere my grandmother wanted to be more than there with Him and him. I believe she willed herself to die and it happened. So, I hope they were right. If not, at least they got some comfort from the thought while they were here on Earth.

For me, it's not a good fit. I know lots of people will say that having this feeling allows me to live a life with no consequence; never fearing for the destiny of my soul. I say, it's my soul and it's a chance I am willing to take. Let's face it, it's pretty far fetched that lightning really etched some commandments on stone, or that a burning bush spoke to someone, or that the Red Sea really parted. I think Jesus was a real man, but I am not sure about the fishes and loaves. What I mean is, maybe it's all just metaphorical. Like I said, no other work from that time would be accepted at face value and believed to be literally true in every word. And if all that happened, why has it never happened again since the book was published? People do the "Lord's work" everyday and I will give them all credit for the good they do in people's lives. But, I don't think for a second that any one of them has secured a better place somewhere because their lives took on a different tenor than that of others. Of course Catholics don't agree, otherwise they wouldn't have Saints.

Anyway, what I do know is in the end we threw their whole lives into a 20 yard dumpster and it was depressing as hell. I have now buried three of the closest people to me in my life with only my father and sister left to follow. Not only am I not rushing them, I am hoping it doesn't happen. Because regardless if there is a "better place" I would just as soon have them back.

"I been working ever since, every week down at the Ford plant but now they say they're shutting down"

So by now we have all heard that Congress is “considering” a bailout of the automobile industry. By “considering” I mean that they absolutely, without a doubt are going to do it. This is not only a bad idea, it is misappropriation of their authority. We operate under the idea, or at least the guise, of a free market economy. The American automobile industry is a FOR PROFIT industry. These are publicly owned and privately operated companies whose sole purpose is to generate a profit for their shareholders. When For Profit companies fail to make a profit, they fold and go out of business. This creates a vacuum that is either filled by their competitors or absorbed by replacement products or services. It is not now, nor has it ever been, the right, the role, or the responsibility of the United States government to prop up a failing company or industry. To do so compromises the free market system. If the automakers of this country can not find a way to make cars that is profitable and helps them sustain their business model, then they should go out of business. Yes, this would some people their jobs. Yes, this would cause the economy to worsen in the short term. And yes, there would even be foreign policy ramifications as it relates to the import/export balance. Such is the sacrifice associated with a true free market economy. If Ford, GM, et al were to go out of business, the afore mentioned vacuum would indeed be created. In the short term people would buy Toyotas, Nissans, and Hondas (none of whom are having any issues right now). In the long run, it is very likely that enterprising U.S. citizens would figure out how to build a quality car and develop a business model that would allow them to sell those cars for a profit and compete with foreign auto makers. This is how a free market economy works.

As for the argument that a “collapse” of the U.S. auto industry would cripple the economy, stow it. My Fusion was made in Mexico, BMW’s are made in South Carolina. The vacuum will be filled and jobs will eventually be created. Either Congress needs to go ahead and embrace this path of regulated socialism that we have embarked on, or they need to step off and let the market do what a market is designed to do.

See Mom, that Poly Sci degree wasn’t totally useless.

"Ought to be a side show act for freaks like me. Yea I could be the star of the show with my name on the marquee"

Yesterday The Host posted a very well thought out and articulate take on the election and the general state of America as we near the end of 2008. Well today I am going to counter that with a tale of sheer, unabashed Moronacy. If right now you are thinking, “hey, ‘moronacy’ is not an actual word”, I say read the following tale and then perhaps you will feel inclined to cut the stoopid kid some slack.
This morning I was running a couple of errands on my way to work. Among other things I swung into my local convenience store, grabbed my morning Diet Dew, smiled nicely at Rajesh** behind the counter (**name approximated), paid him $1.49 with an Honest Abe, put the change back in my wallet, and left the store. Onto the next stop! I pulled into the bank down the street and strolled up to the ATM only to realize that my wallet was no where to be found. I went back to The Fusion and tore it apart looking for the missing wallet. No luck. This baffled me as I clearly had it less than 10 minutes earlier when I paid for my beverage. Fearing the worst, I returned to the store and asked Rajesh if by chance I had left the wallet there. He gave me the strangest of looks and shook his head slightly as he produced my missing billfold from a drawer below the counter, checked the ID to make sure that it was in fact me (in fairness, the picture on the license was taken 13 years ago), and returned it to me. How a grown man with a good job and a Master’s Degree can continually do things like walking away from a wallet with cash, credit cards, and a figurative “Steal My ID” sign on it is beyond me. Like I said, Moronacy at its finest.

And Then There Was One...

So the election is over and my friends and I (all members of this blog) have hashed out all of the questions and comments remaining.

A black man is going to be President of the United States. I am happy about that. I like to think it means this country has turned a corner. Unfortunately, I think the real story is that a polka-dotted polar bear could have won that election as long as he wasn't a Republican. Yes, I fear the only corner turned was the one turned while running as fast as possible from Bush43. Nevertheless, it has happened, I am happy and I hope and think the next four years will do more to turn that proverbial than the last two. Let's hope so, because failure will put us back 60 years socially, nevermind the devastating consequence on the economy, foreign policy and so on.

Slightly more disturbing is the fact that gay marriage bans passed in many states including our home the Sunshine State. Discrimination is discrimination, no matter the guise and against whom. I was digsuted at the ban on homosexuals while I served on active duty (it was also preposterous, since we all knew who was anyway). Listen, if you are a right wing, ultra conservative evangelical, live your life. Sit around and think WWJD as much as you like. But if you think that Adam and Steve somehow lessens the sanctity of your marriage, your marriage sucks. That's on you, not Ellen or Rosie or Elton or that Star Trek guy. Besides, why should only heterosexual people have to suffer through the drudgery of marriage. Seriously, while we are spreading the wealth, let's spread the pain!

Last, I had a neat thought on my way to the polls Tuesday. It's somewhat romantic in nature when it comes to how you view this country. My polling place is 3 blocks away so I walked. I then stood in line for 40 minutes to elect the leader of our country and still in some regards the most powerful world leader. In that line I heard some of the most absurd comments from some people I was scared were allowed to vote. I also saw a little bit of every social circle. Minorities, rich, poor, young and old. I thought to myself: I just walked here and had the right to participate in my country's process. All of these people have the same right. I wondered what it must be like in country's where they would give anything to be able to vote, no matter how hard it was to get there. And to be able to have an opinion or a thought, even if it's scary.

Hey, we aren't in great shape right now. America has taken a fast ball to the stomach lately and took a knee. We'll walk it off though. This country is great...

"Cold, But I'm Still Here"

It is one of those truly glorious days outside that make those of us living in this part of the country wonder why anyone would subject themselves to wet, cold, and snowy winters. While we watched the home town team toil through a near freezing monsoon in Philtydelphia last night, we awoke to a pleasant 65 degrees without a cloud in the sky. So why do I bring this up? Because it is 61 degrees in my office right now. Seriously, my colleague has a thermometer and it is 61 degrees! For someone who enjoys the heat associated with this part of the country, how is this not a hostile work environment? It got so cold that I did something so out of character, so reprehensible, that The Host may never speak to me again. I hopped my chilly butt in the Fusion and drove across the street to Starbucks for a coffee. It should be noted that this was not some ordinary, overpriced black coffee. No sir, this was a full on, Venti (that means big) Nancy Boy Deluxe! So now I am back in my office and less cold, but also kinda less of a man. I’m not sure how I feel about that trade off.

Work the Verb vs. Work the Noun

Piggybacking on GF's nice piece below, I have to say I agree with him. At some point, reality is what it it is. You are what you think, you are (thanks Denny Green) and the man isn't going to let you off the hook (I could go all day with quotes like that). But, yes, the harsh reality of life is that at some point all of the people lined up to separate you from your cash become the masters of your universe.

I am one of the fortunate people (especially in this economy) to have a job I still love to come to every day. Now, don't get carried away thinking I wake up every day and say "Yippeee, I get to go to work!" No, I am still very much the person that given the choice would never work again. But that choice is overtaken by the hierarchy of my needs. Food, clothing, beer, shelter...probably even in that order. I also have a Mrs. Host, a Mr. Host the Dog, and a young Master Host Junior. Quite simply, you have to do what you have to do to make it all come together.

My job for the most part is to keep people happy and to offer events and programming that make our members feel their annual dues are worth it. My staff and I do a very good job of it. At this time of year, my job involves weekly tailgate parties and watching football games, often from a suite. Not bad as far as work goes...but, it is still work. Is it fun? You bet. Compared to working an assembly line or mowing lawns or changing transmissions it's a dream. Is it better than drinking with friends and doing whatever? Nope...not even close.

You see, work is work to me. I don't work because I love it. I work because I love what I do when I am not here and I need the money to make that happen. From that departure point, finding something you like to do is a big bonus and makes the day go by that much easier.

At times in my life, I have had jobs where Work as a noun was more fitting than Work as a verb. At other times that cycle has been reversed. Currently, I think I am striking a very harmonious balance. Sure, I haven't changed the world the way I, or many others, predicted I might. But, I am still young and for now I am still happy to have the time to have those random beers in the middle of the week with friends. One day when one of us is ruling the world (or maybe just Polk County) we may not have as much time for that. So, I am good getting it while the getting is good. The rest will work itself out when I am old.

“I was a hopeless romantic, now I’m just turning tricks”

It is interesting how, as a young person, we are full of resolve to do something meaningful in life. Whether it be for personal gain or the betterment of the world, most of us leave our institutions of higher learning with a head full of ideas about the future. I would hazard a wager that for most of us those ideas have very little in common with our respective realities 10 or 12 years later. Initially we take jobs that aren’t exactly what we are looking for because we’re tired of living with our parents and have credit card bills to pay. Not ones to fail, we apply ourselves to tasks that we believe to be below us and gradually work our way to better jobs and better pay, all the while growing further away from the grandiose dreams we held in our younger years. All of a sudden more than a decade has gone by and we have careers and, in some cases, families and all of a sudden this no longer a means to an end, this is a career and what our lives have become. But you know, it isn’t so bad. The view is nice from my office and I get to travel and even make enough to take Mrs. GF out for dinner at a reasonably priced restaurant from time to time. Perhaps this is complacency or just a shifting of priorities. Whatever the case, I still hold tight to the dream of changing the world….or at least being able to afford good tequila on a more consistent basis. That would be okay too.

"And the line gets drawn when my eyes can't see, Hit me twice with the Tussin and the morphine IV"

After a weekend of travel and standing in alternating rainy/cold and steamy/hot weather for a football game, I returned home with the most predictable, unavoidable, and unpleasant case of the mung imaginable. So I have struggled through the first two days of this week with little productivity but quite full of myself in my ability to persevere….Until last night when something got into Dog’s head that so disrupted her normal (if Dog has such a setting) behavioral pattern that she refused to sleep for the entire duration of the hours normally reserved for such activities. She paced, whined, tapped the door knob with her nose, and forced me to take her out 3 or 4 times just because she could. All of this amounted in less than an hour of sleep for me. Coupled with my afore mentioned malady, today is trying to say the least. With eyes looking like a map of the Southeast and a voice that would make Tom Waits cringe, this is probably the first and only time in my life when I could pass for a Rock Star….or a rock addict. One or the other. And all of this after a night when I exercised, had a healthy dinner, and attempted to go to be early. So what’s the moral of the story here? Life is too short. Have the extra glass of wine, stay up late, have fun, go crazy. You’re going to feel like junk the next day anyway.

"I know that somebody's lying, I know that somebody's lying"

I just mailed the following appeal to Platinum Parking in regards to a $50 parking ticket. It's really just a matter of principle. Fifty Dollars? For a parking violation? Just to be clear, I didn't actually park on top of anyone or in the Mayor's personal spot or anything. Anyway, since these firms don't usually listen to reason in regards to their gouging, I thought perhaps I could appeal to any sense of common decency they may have.

September 15, 2008

Re: Violation #AA691105

To whom it may concern,

On the evening of September 5, I was beginning to suffer the effects of salmonella. Due to the gastrointestinal Tilt-A-Whirl I was experiencing, it was very, VERY necessary for me to get into my apartment immediately to avoid an embarrassing and quite nasty situation. For this reason I parked on the 2nd floor, where my apartment is located, as opposed to driving higher up and searching for a legal spot. Fortunately, I was able to make it into my home and spent the next day and a half there recovering from this malady. For this reason I respectfully ask for a one time exemption from this parking violation.

I thank you in advance for your understanding in this matter.

Best regards,
GF

"You're so gay and you don't even like boys"

I just wrote a check for $281.00 US dollars for New Kids on the Block tickets. That’s right, “Hangin’ Tough”, Pre-pubescent “Please Don’t Go Girl” whining, Marky Mark’s older brother, New Kids on the Freakin’ Block. Now please understand that I will not be attending this concert, nor will even ask how it was when Mrs. GF returns home from it (seems like a redundant question). I will also be getting all of the money for the tickets back. But still, for record keeping purposes my bank will always have some ledger that shows that on September 16, 2008 GF scratched a check for New Kids on the Block tickets. I just don’t know what else to say.

Seriously, I Don't F*&$ing Care!

As GF defined below, he is the political hack of the group. He actually cares enough to get involved. I keep up with the issues, I generally can delineate between good ideas and bad (Iraq = Bad; Repealing the Alternative Minimum Tax = Good). When I was in high school, I was all about politics...I even thought one day I might run for office. The fact that a political operative would have to spend about 1.7 seconds to find some dirt on me aside, you would have to be absolutely bat shit to get involved in politics today -- especially on a national level.

Look at the lovely Governor of Alaska. She is a very well-spoken, down to earth, good looking family woman. Within two weeks of her arrival on the national scene we know her daughter is pregnant, think she might be Pentecostal, does / did drugs, and whatever other daily nonsense fills the headlines and sells air time and clicks (like anyone buys a newspaper anymore).

The national political scene is so screwed right now that if a Republican walked out of the Capitol and declared that after much deliberation by a Blue Ribbon Panel (what they fuck are those?) it has been determined that dinosaurs are, in fact, extinct; the Democrats would be bucking for equal air time right after it to declare that they aren't really...they just haven't been seen for like a hundred million years or whatever. I think they might provide evidence that Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney are actually dinosaurs, but that's beside the point. The fact is, the disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing is utter horseshit and I am tired of it.

Look, I am the guy who will tell you that I thin the ACLU gets carried away sometimes but it's a good thing for a country because they keep people in check. The same goes for whackos like Jerry Falwell. I don't like the guy or his views (and of course, unless you believe his spirit is walking the streets of gold and still delivering messages to his flock, he is dead now) but again, I don't mind their existence on the far ends of political spectrum in terms of a balancing act. But somewhere along the line, this whole party system and lobbyists and special interests and PACs and whatever the hell else we are calling them these days really fucked things up.

Lobbyists now outnumber the lawmakers in capitols across the country by like 7 to 1. Who does that serve? It just continues to perpetuate the notion that if you have money you can buy influence. If you have influence, it doesn't matter how bad it is (especially while Dubya runs the show), we have a place for you. Thank you Big Oil for posting record profits while every time I fill up the tank I wonder if I should walk my ass into the door labeled Lube Job. Thank you everyone for the war. It's working out well. Oh, and the national debt...that's okay, we're Americans that's just the way we roll. Can't afford the house, go sub-prime. Wait, Oh NO! Can't afford the car, lease it. Can't afford the new shoes and expensive bag, charge it. Like I said, fuck it we're Americans. We are entitled because we are better than everyone else in the world. We shouldn't earn anything and for sure we aren't going to work for the wages in menial jobs like Mexicans will. Nope, we'll just sit around and bitch about them being here and talk about how with my GED and no experience I am worth far more than $5.75 an hour and working at McDonald's is beneath me. Again, it's the American way.

The funny thing is, I love this country. In the purest sense, it's the freedom we have that allows us to let things get so shitty. In the end, it's still better than living most anywhere else...anywhere that's not an island fantasy anyway. But back to the subject line to tie this whole thing together. I am staring at 50 something days before election day. In the process I will be bombarded with character smears, personal attacks, tactical oppostion and philosophy differences. And you know what, in the end, it doesn't matter who gets elected because not enough people care to affect change in the areas it is most desperately needed and when all is said and done, neither of them will make a difference. And therefore, seriously, I don't fucking care. Just get it over with so I don't have to hear about it anymore.

"You walk around like you’re oh so debonair, you pull 'em down and there's really nothing there. I wish you would just be real with me"

I am generally pigeon holed as the one of the 5 Guys with the most clearly defined political allegiances due to my affiliation with the governing body of the local GOP. And while it is certainly true that I am more of a Packaderm than a Jackass, I have never worn political blinders. Dubya has proven himself to be living, (mouth) breathing buffoon and it is well established that Dick Cheney is an evil robot wired for mayhem. With that said, the three nights of the circus that has been the Democratic National Convention are about to get the proper lampooning that they deserve. I’ll give Michelle Obama her due for delivering a well prepared and heart felt speech on the first night, but it was tainted by the 197 shots of a smirking Joe Biden sitting in the balcony like he was King George. It really takes a lot of gravitas to be quite that smarmy when you haven’t had a genuine thought of your own in your entire career. Let’s keep in mind that this is the very same man who once had a Presidential campaign of his own derailed when he blatantly plagiarized a speech from British Labour Party leader Neil Kinnock, right down to details of family history, that while true for Kinnock, were bald face lies when Biden attempted to apply them to his own clan. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not won over by shots of Biden’s 91 year old mama and his “folksy” stories about how she raised him because, let’s be real, they probably aren’t true anyway. This does not even take into account his claim last night that he is really, truly great friends with John McCain, just seconds before he went on to attack McCain on a personal level. The fact that if Obama got elected, some reprehensible racist hillbilly would probably try to kill him, making Biden the POTUS pretty much seals up my vote for McCain. None of this even takes into account the Clinton’s spotlight hoggery of the whole event. From Hillary’s “ringing” endorsement to Bill’s “Candidate X” analogy less than 24 hours before he “urged” the party to unite behind Obama, it all reeks of disingenuousness. The always self-serving Clintons are best served by Obama losing, allowing them to carry the “I told you so” torch for the next four years when Hills could look to unseat McCain as we enter Year 10 of toiling in Iraq.
Lest you think I am blasting only the Dems for a week display, I’ll be back next week to discuss all of the GOP’s shenanigans in Minneapolis.

"Squalls out on the gulf stream, Big storm comin' soon"

Please don’t misunderstand the intent of this post, I am by no means discounting the severity of hurricanes. We have all seen the destruction that storms like Katrina and Andrew can cause. With that said, there is not another natural disaster that comes with quite as effective of a built in escape clause. Tornados, Earthquakes, and the like give no warning, they are on you in a heartbeat. Hurricanes, on the other hand, give you at least a week to board up the windows, stock canned goods, go to the liquor store, work yourself into a false panic, hunker down, and generally be well prepared for the absolute worst. This is both a blessing and curse. Because of the damage wreaked by the afore mentioned storms, every time there is a “Tropical Event” in the Caribbean or the Gulf people around here start evacuating the trailer parks, closing the schools, and heading to Home Depot to stock up on a bunch of over priced merchandise they’ll never end up using. Case in point would be the Fair Lady Fay blowing through our fine state this morning. Schools in 7 surrounding counties are closed today for a storm that never even reached hurricane status and thus far has left the hardest hit areas with some palm fronds down in the streets and a few traffic lights out. By this afternoon, as the storm meanders its way northward, we will be experiencing some winds and rain with slightly more kick to them than what we get every other afternoon during the summer in this sub-tropical climate that we have chosen to live in. Like most native Floridians, my home is at all times stocked with the necessities for riding out this type of storm: A flashlight, a few cans of Spaghetti-O’s, and a bottle of liquor. I think we’ll all be just fine.

"There's a place in the dark where the animals go, you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow"

It has been an absolutely crazy couple of weeks. More plot twists than a mid-90’s season of Melrose Place. I’m not sure if I’m coming or going right now.
For the past 18 months or so Mrs. GF and I have been renting and living in a fairly non-descript, older house. Like all houses (especially older ones) it had its issues but for the most part was acceptable. Our story of woe began about two months ago when we started to notice sounds and certain “remnants” that would indicate that we had some sort of rodent visitors. We called our land lady, a sweet older woman who has always been very quick to help when things went wrong. She recommended a few things we could try ourselves to rid the house of these pests and said she would have someone come out. Days went by, no one came out, and the problem didn’t seem to get any worse…..until about two weeks ago when these little rodent buggers started having a house party every night in our attic, walls, and floors. The noise was such that Mrs. GF kept thinking that we had actual villains breaking into our house. In fact, two Sunday evenings ago as I waited at baggage claim in the Knoxville airport, I got a teary a call insisting that we had an intruder in the house. As if this was not bad enough, the next morning I got a text stating that a foul smell had begun to develop in the house. By the time I got home on Tuesday afternoon the house was totally unlivable. The smell of death was so overpowering that flies had begun to form around the windows and it took every bit of restraint to not gag when we entered the house. Mrs. GF and I packed up Dog and headed for the Lake House (my parent’s home 15 miles away). The next day our land lady had a very thorough and expensive exterminating crew over to the house. They sealed every possible entrance, placed traps, and (most importantly) removed a dead possum from the attic. Whew! Problem solved, right? Not so my friends. We returned to the house to find that while the smell was not quite as over powering, it still lingered in the house. Over the course of the next several days (all while staying at my parent’s) we would return to the house and attempt to air it out by opening all the windows and doors, using various odor absorbers, and cleaning as thoroughly as we knew how….yet the smell would not be conquered. On Saturday when we returned to the house (total days we had been displaced at this point: 5) we discovered that mold had formed along a wall that separated the kitchen from the bathroom. We had long suspected that there was a build up of water in this wall so while the mold was certainly appalling, it was not totally unsuspected. Well as Popeye himself would say “I’ve stands all I can stands and I can’t stands no more!” The mold was the final straw and after a very long conversation Mrs. GF and I decided it was time for a move.
This is just the beginning of the fun. This particular move could not come at a worse time, both financially and from a timing stand point. Due to schedules, etc… we had to find a place immediately. Fortunately, Mrs. GF is very good at internet research and we were able to find an acceptable place and execute a lease all on that very same Saturday. This left me feeling a little, how you say…over a barrel, since we still had an existing lease on the House of the Damned. The following day we had some negotiations with our land lady who suddenly went from sweet grandmotherly type to stone cold business woman who tried to bilk us out of thousands of dollars to break the lease, rats, mold, and stench be damned. We finally came to a compromise that I think satisfied neither us nor her, but would make the issue go away. We spent the rest of yesterday moving all of our furniture to the new place and thanks to the diligent help of my parents, were able to spend last night in the new place. The new residence is what is I would call a Luxury Apartment. Very different from any place I have ever lived and certainly from a house with a yard. Dog is still learning to walk on a leash. With that said it is just so new and clean and vermin free that we slept the sleep of angels in our own bed last night. Additionally, because it is gated, Mrs. GF feels very secure when I am out of town for work (as I am the rest of this week) and I can feel free to booze it up in various cities of the Southeast United States without worrying for her safety. There is a lot left to do in the next week or so to be completely out of the old house and rid ourselves of the whole smelly mess, but we’re moving in the right direction.

I Would Fight Kevin Youkilis

One of my good friends (a member of this blog) has a bit of an edge to him. If he's been drinking and the wrong guy at the wrong time and place comes along, my amigo is ready to fight. The good thing is, he is usually too wasted to actually do it or calmer heads prevail and we go back to drinking.

So what's my point? Generally speaking, I am one of the calmer heads. Don't get me wrong, I am an idiot and I will do just about anything. It's just that fighting to me isn't glamorous or fun. Actually, fights hurt and pain ain't cool.

However, Kevin Youkilis must be the quintessential wrong guy and time and place for me. Every time I see him I want to bash his head in. I am not sure if it's sphincter hair goatee or the stupid way Red Sux fans chant "Yoooooouuuuk" every time he is announced. I am pretty sure part of it is that ridiculous hands apart, 12 year old female softball player dance / stance he has at the plate.

Whatever the cause, whatever the reason that ass clown makes my pacifist blood boil. Chances are, it's because he plays for a sports team that I have never hated anything more than. 90% of Sux fans have never been to Boston and the other 10% are on parole. They sucked (I mean really, out loud sucked) for 84 years. After 2 Series wins these frontrunners crawl out of the woodwork with their sideways, flat billed "B" hats. And then, of all things, have they have the audacity to call a Rays fan obnoxious. Ummm, sure buddy.

Anyway, I would fight Kevin Youkilis. Stay tuned to the sequels to this post: "Manny Ramirez Wears Hammer Pants," "Jason Papelbon Likes Barbara Streisand," "My 6 Month Old Throws Harder than Wakefield," and "Jason Varitek and His "C" Jersey Drive a Fusion."

"We doin' big pimpin, we spendin' cheese..."

Last night the Mrs. and I rolled into Bern’s for dinner. As you may have guessed, my days of self parking are long gone. I rolled the Fusion right on up to valet and tossed him the keys. Cause that’s how you know you’re a baller. Maybe it was the cocktails and wine, or maybe it was the copious amount of time I spent in the sun yesterday, or perhaps a combination of both, but I decided to get crazy and break all ordering conventions. First, I noticed that one of the appetizer specials was “Tres Tacos”. Three soft tacos, one each of beef, shrimp, and pork and done in a way that only Bern’s could pull off. Truly phenomenal. Then for the first time in my life I ordered something at Bern’s besides steak, opting for the rare, peppered Tuna. This particular dish came with, oddly enough, Fries. These were no crap Oreda fries though. These were Bern’s fries and they were the best I have ever tasted. So apparently Tampa’s finest steakhouse is now my favorite Tacos and French Fries joint….because deep down I’m simple. Later in the desert room, the Mrs. and I got embroiled in a heated game of “Name That Tune” using the songs the pianist was playing. After she jumped out to a quick 4-2 lead, I came roaring back and took the game 5-4. The song I won on? Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana”…..because deep down I am also very gay.

"Sweet Caroline (BA BA BA), Good times never felt so good"

Suck on that "Red Sox Nation". See you in September.

Go Rays!

"It ain't true that the sun don't rise in Vegas, I've seen it once"

If this blog were VH-1 then think of this post as VH-1 Classic. This is something I put together last October in anticipation of my Bachelor weekend. It will give anyone reading this a LOT more insight into just who the hell these 5 guys are. I have changed the names to protect the guilty. Without further adoo, the 5 Guys’ Top 10 Vegas Moments:

10. “The Night at MGM”: This one has been the source of much debate over the years. On an overnight trip from L.A. with , , and , Dawn in 1999, I found myself at a blackjack table somewhere in MGM at 3:00 in the morning after the others had gone to bed. At the table with me were 2 guys my age, one of whom was also from Tampa, and an older gentleman. As we played, the three young guys cracked jokes and drank while the older gent just continued to accumulate chips. Some time around 7:00 a.m. he stood up, said “guys it has been a hell of a night”, and pushed a portion of his chips to each of us. Between my winnings and his charity I had around $3,800 at one point. Over the next few hours I would give all but about $700 of that back, but I was having too much fun to get up and leave. Finally I got up, staggered out to the pool (I had been wearing board shorts and a ratty T-Shirt the entire time) and fell asleep for several hours, eventually missing my flight back to L.A.. I used most of what was left of my winnings to buy a walk up ticket on Reno Air. Everyone in my family still clamors to hear “the real story” which, as I’ve mentioned, is told in its entirety above. As a side note, while all this was going on some drunk woman came up and asked me if I was Vince Neil. I can’t even begin to fathom why.

9. “South Strip Day”: While staying at Ceasers for a work conference in February of 2006, I had the opportunity to go exploring one day. At the time I wrote the following about the excursion:
“Today has been epic thus far. Right after I woke up while I was still wiping the sleep from eyes and scratching my balls I got on the phone and closed what could be (potentially) a huge recruit which could mean (potentially) a very, VERY nice payday for me. *Editor’s Note: It was neither*. To celebrate I went on a huge walkabout of the south strip. I got a margarita at a roadside joint and made my way to Hooter's casino. At first glance it is very cool. It looks like a giant Hooter's with full liquor and gambling. What could be better? The plan was to have lunch there but the actual Hooter's restaurant had a line that was about an hour long to get in so I ate at Pete and Shorty's, which also serves as their sports book. The book is hilarious. It is literally a counter in the back corner with two dudes and a dry ink board. After I ate I played some cards and their tables proved to be as unforgiving as I had heard. After I left there I went to the Trop and played some beginners Blackjack at the $5 tables (the only ones I have seen all week). From there I made stops at the Excalibur, Luxor, The Hotel, and Mandalay before making my way to New York, New York (where I had some very nice luck playing with a good ole country boy and a real By God Mexican). Overall I gambled at Paris, Aladdin, Hooters, Trop, Excalibur, Luxor, Mandalay, and NY, NY and finished about even. Along the way I drank about 37 beers, 3 waters, two energy drinks, and a margarita. The weather was perfect. High 60's, slight breeze, and not a could in the sky. I also rode the monorail which is really very cool and economical. Got back to Ceasers in time to shower and shave and head to dinner in about an hour with the guys from my department to celebrate the afore mentioned deal that I closed. Hopefully I'll still be upright in a few hours. The 5 nights here are starting to take a toll. I'm borderline exhausted but with only about 36 hours left I can't let up.

8. “Light”: That very same conference I had a very nice evening at Light, the marquee night club in the Bellagio. Again, I chronicled the evening at the time thusly:
“Tonight I was everything I am not. I was a shot caller. I was a big baller. I suited up. It was most definitly my birfday. It kinda sucked. After taking a couple of my prospects out to a fancy dinner at the Venetian (average entree cost $60), I met up with some friends and went to LIGHT in Bellagio. We bypassed an hour and half wait and a $30 cover because my boy Scotty is the ultimate salesman. He convinced the bouncer that we were supposed to be on JoJo Buldin's list. JoJo is not a real human. Scott made him up.....and got us in and comped. LIGHT is a typical club full of silicon babies and wanabees. I was the best dressed person in the joint because I was still in my suit and looking good. It was a typical club and after a while I got bored with the 12 show girls that were hanging out at our VIP table (no exaggeration) and left. On the way to my room I stopped at a $25 table and played some cards with 3 Associates of my fine firm. After a little up and down at $75 a hand, I took $105 back from the tables making me even (I think) for the trip. I have to give a speech in 7 hours (I think) and I'm not sure how it will go. I also have a basketball game with some big time advisors tomorrow. I'm looking forward to this despite the fact that I have apparently broken my ankle. It is roughly the size of Frank's head and I have no discernable toenails, which I don't think is normal at all. I have no idea how this happened. I would ice both the foot and my head but I have no ice. I have been here for little over a day and it feels like a life time. I love it and am ready to cash out all at once. Tomorrow the real fun begins. I wish at least one of you were here.
*Editor’s Note: In hindsight this was a really great evening and produced some fantastic stories. For Goodness Sake, WE HAD 12 VEGAS SHOWGIRLS AT OUR VIP TABLE!!!*

7. “Everyone OUT of the pool”: March of 2005, a mere 2 days after Frank and I had our run in with Federales and spent time in the Tijuana klink, we found ourselves hanging out with Ant’ny in Vegas. It was Saturday, we were wrecked…the norm. At one point we found ourselves wandering around The Flamingo (not our hotel) and decided to have a swim in their pool despite the chilly temps and lack of other pool patrons. We were quickly asked by hotel security if we didn’t find it a bit queer that we were the only ones swimming in a normally crowded resort pool. The pool, as one would suspect, was closed and they quickly asked us to leave. Upon leaving we discovered a bar that would serve us rum drinks in coconuts carved into the shape of pirate monkeys (awesome). Later that afternoon we spontaneously decided to try and get tickets to a Jimmy Buffett concert that evening, where we drank and danced until such time that I nearly died of exhaustion/alcohol poisoning. Good times.

6. “National Champs”: This past January I was staying at the RIO with my boss and two of my colleagues for a conference. On the second night of the conference our beloved Florida Gators were playing for the National Championship. The four of us laid our money down on the good guys, found a good spot to watch the game, and enjoyed the subsequent route. Not only did I win $230 on the game, but my boss also happens to be a Bull Gator who was in the mood to celebrate when the game ended. We went upstairs and had a steak and lobster dinner, complete with more cocktails and a nice bottle of wine….all on him. By the time we were finished it was the middle of the night and we were all good n’ drunk. A very nice way to celebrate a Championship for our boys.

5. “Bikini Bull Riding”: It was January, it was cold, it was my 7th night in Vegas (3 of which were with some of the knuckleheads on this blog). I was done. We all should have been at that point. But while illness and common sense allowed Pauly and Ant’ny to ignore “I need one good hour from you” speech, I am a sucker for peer pressure and I gave in. We found ourselves at 1:00 a.m. in Gilley’s in the Frontier for Bikini Bull Riding and $1 Busch Beer Drafts. I think at one point I attempted to two step but almost fell down. Later that night, through a strange turn of events, I met Lemmy from Motorhead in an establishment that I have since determined was probably a brothel, though I was unaware of this at the time. As a side note, getting our picture taken under the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign earlier this same evening was also a noteworthy occurrence.

4. “The Run”: My single greatest gambling achievement. It was March of 2003. We had a crew of many, both family and friends, in town for the trip, but this story relates only to Ant’ny and I. Shortly after it happened, I wrote the following:
“….Once back at Harrah's a couple people stopped to eat but Ant'ny and I weren't hungry. I suggested a couple hands of Blackjack while the others ate but he didn't have any money on him, having reached Saturday's spending limit (Always a very good idea to have one of those) *Editor’s Note: This may be the last time Ant’ny exercised this kind of judgment in Vegas*. Being the friend that I am I flipped him a $10 and we sat down. That's when it started, an evening that will forever be known simply as "THE RUN". Over the course of a few hours I won a couple hundred while Ant'ny turned that $10 into $750. It was the hottest table ever. Probably the only bad thing about that night is the face I know Pauly is making right now while reading this. He had looked every where for us, finally giving up and going to bed.

3. “Cards in the Pool”: Way back in our college days Pauly and I were on a week long trip out to California. While staying with he informed us that we would be heading out to Vegas for an overnight trip to celebrate his buddy Kenny’s graduation from the Sherriff’s Academy. The group we ended up with was the four of us and Aussie Mark. The next day we headed over to the pool at Tropicana where we were able to secure an in pool Blackjack table. *Editor’s Note: Several years later Ant’ny would get peed on at this very same table*. Despite being under age at the time, we played and drank for most of the afternoon, taking breaks only to use the restroom or so that could swim across the pool and propose to a young lady who looked particularly nice in a bikini. Probably made all the better by the fact that two of us were under age and had already been tossed from several establishments. More to come on that. After we finished, we threw some clothes on over our bathing suits, grabbed some food at the buffet (Aussie Mark: “look at the size of those F’ing carrots”! Pauly: “those are yams”), and went to the airport to fly home.

2. “Ridin’ With the Russian”: What can you even say about that cab ride. From the driver’s opening epithet of “F’ing Vegas” to his polishing off of beer as we pulled into the hotel, it was one of the craziest, scariest, most memorable 10 minutes of my life. I know that one day many years from now, the hidden video will surface, but I don’t need it. I remember every single thing about our run in with the drunken, maniacal, Bella Carosi looking cabbie.

1. “My Very First Time”: While I had been to Vegas once when I was 16 (I was abandoned by in Circus, Circus while he went to play cards), there was no way I was getting away with anything at that age. So I really consider my first trip to be the setup described in number 3. I was still a good 4 months shy of my 21st birthday but thought I would take my chances. Right after dinner Pauly and I were able to get away with a few hands of blackjack at the Hard Rock, before they politely asked us to leave. Later that evening we were able to worm our way into The Beach Club, which was a very loud club with lots of people and bikini clad bartenders. After some time, I lost the group and decided to head back to The Sahara, where we were staying, on my own. I sidled up to a $5 blackjack table and had a seat. As I continued to play (and win), I kept waiting for someone to come check my ID. I sat there for hours. stopped by at one point and encouraged me to hang it up, but I just kept going. The rush was too strong. I was underage, drinking, and gambling at a Las Vegas casino. Finally, at one point late in the evening a pit boss came over and asked to see my ID. When I could not produce it, he asked me to leave the table. So I did, and walked right over to the other side of the casino and started playing again. Vegas. What else can you say.

"And I'll fight for the right to go over that hill, If it only means something to me"

Each of the Five Guys is at this point pretty well established in adulthood. Some of us are raising families, others are focused on delusions of building empires. I myself have a pretty cool job that many people would love to have. It allows me to set my own hours, earn potentially uncapped bonuses, and travel to some cool places. So, yeah, I got no worries on that front. But sometimes, maybe two or three times a year, I just completely glaze over. In college I referred to this as “Spring Fever” but as I advance in years I realize that I am gripped by the most insatiable case of Wanderlust imaginable. When this gets a hold of me occupational and domestic concerns have no bearing on my reality and the most important thing in my world is the view from my office window, the water in the distance and the hazy skyline on the other side, and beyond that…the horizon and the unknown. It is on days and weeks such as this when I would love nothing more than to get in the car and just drive until such point that I found some place that compelled me to stop. Eventually the curtain of reality falls on this little fantasy in the form of a ringing phone or an Outlook reminder popping up to remind me of a meeting. But for right now, until that phone rings, I am embracing the hell out of that Far Away Gaze and enjoying the adventure in my mind.

"If I die before I'm old, my story will be less than told"

My job requires me to travel on fairly regular basis and allows me to go to some fairly interesting locations, as well as some down right wretched ones. It is a fairly indiscriminate occupation in the regard. Regardless of the destination, I am not and have never been a “room service” guy. I complete the work that I made the trip for and then make it a priority to get out of the hotel and see whatever that particular City, Town, Province, or Parrish has to offer.

Last week I found myself in Nashville on the same night that Jason Isbell was performing at The Mercy Lounge. This was far more than just good fortune, this was the equivalent of some celestial alignment, as I had just missed his show in my own town a few weeks earlier (ironically, because I was traveling for work). Needless to say I attended the show. I believe that I was the fourth or fifth person to arrive at The Mercy, depending on whether you count the bartender. It was a while before show time which resulted in a solid 4 beer wait time. People trickled in over that time and by show time the crowd was large and comprised mostly of floppy haired frat boys with sunglasses hanging around their neck (the number one fashion accessory of the Southern douche bag) and their very pretty girlfriends wearing sundresses and pretending to loooooooove Jason Isbell.

After suffering through the gloomy, off-key warbling of opener Jessica Mayfield, Isbell casually strolled on stage, plugged his guitar in, raised the beer he was drinking in acknowledgement of the crowd and then launched into his powerful set. Other than telling the crowd (which had grown a little too large for the smallish bar to handle) that he was “selling some shit there in the back of the room” and, later, that he was “taking a 10 minute break to smoke a cigarette”, Isbell stayed mostly introverted, preferring to let his songs tell the stories rather than waste any time doing it himself. Throughout the well over two hour set he deftly alternated between songs from his Drive By Truckers past (Decoration Day, Danko/Manuel) and his solo present (Chicago Promenade, Razor Town), with a couple of solid covers thrown in for good measure. While he probably will never be known as a great entertainer, Jason Isbell proved yet again that he is an incredibly talented musician and one of his generation’s best song writers.

"My body is a cage, that keeps me from dancing with the one I love"

I realize that there are a certain group of people who would consider eulogizing a dog to be silly or a waste of time. And that's fine. I get that. But those people clearly never had the privilege of getting to know Rufus. As much as a black mutt from the Pound can be one of a kind, Rufus fit the bill. I met Ruf in my single days back in early 1999. I was at the SPAC looking at puppies to adopt but was far more interested in the young lady working there than in the 8 week old lab-ish looking puppy with the bright eyes. Somewhere between flirting with the SPAC girl and trying t0 keep this little black puppy from climbing up my leg, I ended up going home with a new friend. Over the next ten years Rufus was with me on countless adventures. He was my roommate, my sounding board for anything going on in my life, and my jogging partner. We bonded over countless beers (I mostly drank the beers...but he was there). He saw me through my single years and was the only one who truly knew who I was or wasn't dating at any given time. In his later years Ruf fell in love with two new ladies in our lives. The first was my new wife, who he diligently protected when I was out of town for work. The second, a precocious young yellow lab puppy named Bella who he immediately embraced as part of the family. We spent our last night together as we had so many others, sitting together on the couch with a beer, watching a baseball game.

Rufus will be remembered as an avid hunter of squirrels and Jack Russell Terriors. He was a staunch defender of.....whatever it was he cared about, occasionally smacking down fools who dared to cross him. But there was a softer a side as well. He was a gentleman of leisure who enjoyed nothing more than sitting in the yard, baking in the sun for hours on end. His name will inevitably come up in any future discussion of "Greatest Dogs To Have Ever Lived", and one day children will sing songs of tribute to him. In the interim, Rufus will be sorely missed by both me and others.

Rufus 11/29/1998 - 6/19/2008.

"Smell ya later...forever", bro.

I Hate Stupid People and Things

Anyone who knows me, knows I am prone to a rant every now and again. Basically, I am smarter than pretty much everyone so lots of dumb things irritate the hell out of me. Two particular things have raised my ire of late.

1. The local Sons of Confederate Veterans have erected a large flag pole near the interstate and affixed a large Confederate battle flag on said pole. Why do I care? Well, because any time a Confederate flag story comes up, idiots abound. First of all, if you read my first two sentences carefully, you will notice I refer to the flag as a "Confederate" battle flag...it's proper name. It is not, nor was it ever, a "Rebel" flag. Anyone referring to it as one is simply, horribly uneducated.

Where it really gets maddening is in the fight these things incite. Here's the deal: You have toothless rednecks saying ludicrous things like "It's about heritage." Now, you and I know as well as they do (which is why they do it) that the flag is going to cause a stir. Maybe they do it for the press, but I think they want to irritate people. That's exactly why as someone who is eligible for the SCV, I have never considered it...it's an organization with an interesting mission, but is instead full of hillbillies.

Then of course you have the minority community who have made it their mission to make Americans feel like as a citizen you have the right to never be offended. Of course they are too stupid to realize you can't have that right and have a First Amendment. Then you get the minority "representative" (I'm looking at you Jesse and Al) who come a-calling. Interestingly, of all the minorities I know, Jesse and Al are about the least representative of any them. Look, when someone is wronged, it's simply wrong...I just don't think a flag can do that.

Now for some education. At the end of the War Between the States (it can't be a civil war when it's two countries) Gen. Lee agreed to fold up the flags and they would never return. Years later a Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest started the KKK and the flags came back out. However, a little research would tell you Forrest was only for preserving a Southern way of life (without slavery by the way) and state's rights. He was also very opposed to the punitive nature of the Reconstruction. The same research would tell you that when the KKK went awry and started going toward all out hate...Forrest left. Don't miscontrue anything I'm saying here...I think the KKK is one of the worst things is this country. I think they are by and large poor, uneducated hicks that have no capacity for improving their lives so they hate other people. They are in no uncertain terms...despicable.

So, now we have a flag that was a battle flag that apparently is a symbol of hate and maybe that reputation is rightful as a result of idiocy years ago. I blame everyone in this mess, because everyone's desire is rile other people up. The simple solution would be for those of Confederate heritage to fly proper national flags of the Confederacy (like the Stars and Bars...that's right the Stars and Bars is not the same flag as the battle flag...again, educate yourself). But then, nobody would know what that is...and that's why I don't think the SCV motives are pure.

2. Spygate. The next time some controversy breaks out and some idiot media guy labels it with a -gate suffix, I might bash in my TV. Clearly this a reference to Watergate. But am I the only one that knows Watergate was not a controversy that erupted over water? (Stay tuned though, that controversy is coming soon to Middle East near you). Watergate was (and still is) the full, proper name of a hotel and convention center, for all of you young'uns who don't know that. You can't just take the end of that, make it a suffix and suddenly it's a synonym for controversy.

If we did that for everything we would be living in a world of gates. Think about it...we have Gasgate right now, there's Iraqgate to deal with, there's Refgate in the NBA, Replaygate in MLB and Flopgate in international soccer. Hell, just the other night my wife and I had Dinnergate and we had to flip a coin for restaurants.

Does all of that sound stupid? Exactly, so stop f---ing doing it! IDIOTS!

"Last night I heard a Siren's song, and I followed it in the ditch"

Last week I left for a conference down in Ft. Lauderdale. While I was gone, the Mrs. left for a business trip to California so I returned to an empty house. Being a temporary bachelor, I did what most guys would do in my situation, ate my weight in barbeque and drank most of the bourbon in this fair 'burg. I currently feel bloated and near death. I have drank approximatley 67 liters of water today, so I'm feeling pretty good about my prospects for tomorrow. Fingers crossed that I'll survive being home alone until Sunday.

"Don't get me wrong, if I'm looking kind of dazzled"

Like most men, I am creature of habit. And like most men, when my hair gets a little shaggy I roll into my local SuperCuts, Great Clips, or Fantastic Sam’s. So like most men would, I bristled when my wife strongly encouraged me to get a “big boy haircut” from a “stylist”. After getting a particularly bad cut my last time out (I really think it was more of a language barrier issue than a lack of skill), I finally relented and last night I made a visit to the Tribeca Salon. My first impression was that it was cleaner, smelled nicer, and played better music than any of the places I usually go. I was quickly greeted and offered a complimentary beverage. After surmising that they didn’t offer beer or tequila in this particular kind of joint, I agreed to a glass of wine, which was a nice touch since I had just knocked back two beers at the bar next door. Pretty quickly a gentleman named Steven came out and began the arduous process of “styling” my hair. He clippered it, he washed it (Awkwaaaaaaard), he stopped to chatter with the other “boys” who worked there, he textured it, he stopped to gossip some more, and finally he put some stuff in it and mussed it up in a very trendy way. All told, it took me close to an hour to get the exact same haircut that I can usually get in 15 minutes at SuperCuts (which Steven quickly pointed out is not at all Super, nor is Sam’s Fantastic), but I did get a free glass of wine and Steven recommended a hair product that makes my hair look oddly better than it ever has. I feel fabulous!

"And Napoleon is weeping in a carnival saloon"

In the first ever post on this site, our host mentioned one of the 5 Guys having an OCD like predisposition towards music. Well I'll go ahead and come out of that closet carrying a harmonica, my iPod, and a mirimba. He was talking about me. I buy (yes, actually go to the store and physically purchase) anywhere between 2 and 5 CD's in an average week. Some of the stuff I get is very mainstream, while other stuff is fairly obscure (as is pretty evident by the titles of some of my posts).
With that said, I always respect and usually agree with the music reviews in Blender. However, last night I was reading this month's issue (the one with Tila Tequila on the cover, which in itself is a huge problem) and saw that they gave a CD of Scarlett Johansen doing Tom Waits covers 3 ½ stars while they hit the new 3 Doors Down with 2 stars. I just....don't know what to say. I will certainly admit that ideologically 3DD are most definitly built to appeal to Red Staters and there is a song on the CD that was commissioned by the National Guard (which rocks by the way), but overall the CD is 12 songs of hard hitting, guitar driven rock and roll. There is really not much to dislike if you enjoy rock music on any level. I agree it is nothing revolutionary, but it certainly isn't "bad".
On another note, Gavin DeGraw's new release is highly enjoyable. Very similar to his first one, which was also surprisingly good. There isn't really anyone else who combines guitar riffs with piano melodies quite the way he does, especially when each of those take a back seat to his tremendous voice. Worth checking out.

"I was lost in the cities, Alone in the hills"

After two weeks of hotels, airports, casinos, meetings rooms, and taxis, I am finally home on a weekend. I have to say, I feel rode hard and put away wet, not to mention a little bloated and greezee. Below are some thoughts, mostly chronological, from my travels of the last two weeks.
-Vancouver is a strange city. Very "European", which up until recently I thought translated to "topless" but as near as I can tell means that it is full of a bunch of really skinny dudes who all dress better than me. But the downtown area is pretty cool. From my hotel window I could see the water with sea planes landing and taking off, a green, hilly park with lots of runners and Frisbee players, and huge peaks with ski slops (still covered in snow) running all down them. Unfortunately because it is in the Pacific Northwest, I could only see these things for the first two days before the sea fog and rain moved in.
-I believe we all knew this, but Canadians can drink their weight on a daily basis. I can't hang with those guys....but I sure tried.
-Went to a casino on the last day. Pretty standard casino except for a couple things: It had floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the water and it had large clocks all over the place. It was almost the anti-Vegas, like they wanted you to leave so they could get someone else in there to take your place. Oh, and they also charged for drinks while you're playing (stingie bastards), so even though I was on quite a spectacular run I only walked out of there with an extra $120 Canadian ($93 US, thanks sagging dollar) in my pocket.
-In the airport on the way home, I managed to lose my cell phone. The whole customs process there is a massive cluster. They really need to get it straitened out before 2010 when the winter Olympics role through town. It didn't help that it was 4:15 in the a.m. and they were woefully understaffed.
-Was home long enough to repack and catch the Drive By Truckers show on Friday night. Great show but I will say till I'm blue in the face that they miss the Isbell songs in a live setting. As good as it was, the show needed one massive, lighter in the air ballad like Outfit or Decoration Day to anchor the whole thing. Great show though.
-Left early Saturday for New Orleans and then drove right over to Biloxi. Stayed at the new Grand. Hotel is very nice but the casino is small and kind of a dump. I think they are just using it as a stop gap until Margaritaville (which connects via walk bridge) is finished next year. Also played at the Beau Rivage which is beautiful and the I.P., which is surprisingly nice. The real jewel, however, is the Hard Rock. Fantastic casino, beautiful location, great pool that's right on the water and has a beach entrance and a swim up bar. Definitely where we will stay next time.
-Back to New Orleans on Sunday. Conference was pretty decent and afforded us plenty of time to have some nice meals, get fairly wrecked on Bourbon Street, walk around the French Quarter, and tour the Garden District. A very nice get away overall.
-I am now back in town for a whopping 10 days before heading down toFt. Lauderdale.

Getting Old

Let me be the first to say, I don't feel old. I don't think I act, dress or speak like I am old. But, lately, being old seems to be a reality. I just celebrated a birthday, without so much of the celebration part. Nice dinner, in bed by 10. Sure, having a 4 1/2 month old baby has something to do with all of that, but I am not built to go to bed at 9 or 10 every night. Just 6 months ago I was rarely in bed before midnight and on some weekends I still managed to see the sun come up (not recommended unless you like fighting with your wife). Nonetheless, this has been a huge a change in my life and I can't remember the last time I went out for a night.

Now, most people say "you get used to it" or "you just learn that your life has changed." I say, why does it need to be that way. Can I not be a good husband and dad but still have some part of the life I had before? I hope the answer is yes...and now that the baby is actually sleeping, it may be time to test it out soon before I go absolutely batshit staring at the walls of my house for many more weekends. I'm not disavowing responsibility, I hope that's evident...just that generally speaking I would like a higher percentage of fun mixed in. If not, I may as well add Barbra Streisand to my Neil Diamond collection and go buy a Fusion.

Everything's Coming Up Diamonds!!!!

I'm not a big fan of American Idol but I was flipping through the channels last week and came across the dark haired normal looking kid singing "Sweet Caroline" right there on the ol' boob tube. I'm a fan of this song (mostly because of the alternate lyrics) so I was compelled to sit and watch as each of the final 5 got to perform 2 songs, all of which were Neil Diamond songs. Now, I know for a fact that there are authors on this blog team that have been to a Diamond show and think very highly of his music and I must say, after years of making fun of my Aunt, Uncle, Gary, Danny, and anybody else that claimed to be a fan, I will now have to take it all back and call myself a fan.

I'm not sure when it happened...really, I've got no idea. I have a theory though. I think it's in our DNA. I think we have a time clock in our bodies that tells us when it's time to stop wearing t-shirts with a message on the front, to start growing ear hair, and when to start liking Neil. I've obviously reached this point and sadly I've reached it unloved and alone (see "what you need is a wife")

The "idol" also showed me what a farce pop music is in this day and age...indeed these are the words of the unsophisticated money machines (only Gary will get that) that pollute the Fox network and dupe tens of millions of Americans into voting for extremely average singers (see the week prior, Mariah Carey as a mentor...need I say more). What's perhaps even better, is that not a single one of the top 5 talents in America could even come close to out-Neiling Neil...it wasn't even a contest!

The spiky haired kid came the closest but at best the performances were an abortion of good singing and songwriting. I mean, the performers thought they could get by "improving" Neils songs by abruptly starting and stopping the lyrics and ended up completely erasing every scrap of the essence that is Neil Diamond. The songs had no flow, no dynamic and were utterly disappointing.

So, I am now the proud owner of some of Neil's greatest hits and I will enjoy them while dropping off a bag of old t-shirts at goodwill with a pair of freshly trimmed ears...I can't help it, I am, I said...sing on Neil...sing on.