Where have I heard that before?

Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I have lost my job. I am happy to say I have never officially been fired. I have, however, been laid off many a time.

Some highlights:

"Barry, we are letting you go because there is no work, but if there was work we would fire you because you have a bad attitude."

"Barry, we have dissolved your department. I know it is the day after Christmas, but I am sure you will find something soon."

"Barry, we decided to cut anyone who wasn't a manager that was making more than X dollars. Take care."

**Side note - The company that dissolved my department the day after Christmas rehired me January 2nd. They then laid me off again five months later. What is the saying, "Fool me once......."

And finally

"Barry, Toyota has decided not to renew your contract. Your last day will be Friday. They feel they are being more than generous giving you two days notice for the five years you have been there. Take care."

I was just asked by a friend what I would be stealing from the office on my last day. I said, "The same thing I have been stealing for the last five years: Time. Oh, and staples. You can never have enough staples."

D Listed

This site is damn funny. Check it out. I like it. That should be enough for you!

D Listed

Game Plan

Since I got the news yesterday about my impending unemployment, a great number of people have asked me what I am going to do next. Well, the honest answer is I haven't really thought about it that hard. Sure, I am going to work or find something to occupy my time between dumpster diving for day old bread, but I have not really gotten into the particulars of it yet. As I sit here, I do realize there is one thing I really want to do with my new found freedom: grow a mustache. I have talked about it before, but now is my time. It is going to be a bold statement about my individuality. The real question is, What kind of mustache can I pull off. Handlebar? Hitler? Pencil thin? I am not really sure. One of the key factors to having a good mustache is having solid real estate between the nose and the upper lip. I don't really have that going for me. It might be a crap shoot. I figure the best way for me to approach the 'stache is to grow everything and anything on my face first. Once that is accomplished, I will be able to sculpt my mustache. Maybe something I can twirl while laughing maniacally?

Word

I just got the word that Friday will be my last day at Japan's largest automaker. I have written about it before, so no tears will be shed. Could you imagine if I cried over losing my job? There is something positive in everything.

I can now look forward to making sure I never have to do the following again:

1. Eat at the Cheesecake Factory, PF Chang's, The Elephant Bar, TGIF, Ruby Tuesday or any other chain restaurant that drones love.
2. Attend a pot luck meal for a holiday I don't celebrate or for a person I don't like.
3. Work for a boss that has a different Christmas outfit for every day of December.
4. And finally never, sit under a sign like this again:

Hot Girl Grimace

I am not a terrible looking man. I would say I am decently average. With my average looks I will even say I can pull off a girl who is out of my league (lots of booze and low self-esteem on their part). There is one attractive girl, however, who feels that despite what I may or may not be able to pull off, I have a serious issue with attractive women. She calls it the 'Hot Girl Grimace.' I am not referring to Grimace from McDonald's. That would actually be awesome. I see a hot girl, and I suddenly turn into a Happy Meal character. I am talking about a full-on grimacing scowl. She claims that when I see attractive women I suddenly make this ridiculous face because I don't know how to approach these lovely ladies. She describes it as a face of rejection without a word being said. It is mildly amusing. Please see below for a picture of said face:


**No hot girl was harmed during the taking of this photograph

Sucka - Even in my dreams

And the idiotic dreams continue........

Over the last few years I have had a secret crush on Niki Gudex. She is a mountain bike racer from Australia. The thing that is mystifying about her is she is also a professional model. Not exactly your normal combination of professions. She is a very, very attractive girl.

Last night I dreamed that she and I were friends. The dream could have ended there, since being a professional racer she would have been ashamed of my mountain biking skills or lack thereof and never been my friend. During the dream her boyfriend got her pregnant and ditched her. With the impending birth to this imaginary deadbeat's child and had a terrible fear of being alone, she asked me to move to Australia and be the father of her child. I, of course, agreed. Such a sucker for a pretty face.

The Waiting Game

I have been back at work two days now and aside from blogging I have had nothing to do. My boss came over yesterday and asked what I was working on. I was honest and said nothing really. In a cheerful way she said she would have to rectify that. One of those lovely answers where you don't know if it means I will be given work or I will be fired. Both solutions take care of the problem. Honestly, I don't really care if they get rid of me since I am no fan of IT work. It is just something to pay the bills until my job as an international spy comes through. It is funny to me though. I have been told multiple times to find a new job, yet I don't. I have turned it into a game. Who will end the relationship first? They want me to do it so there are no legal ramifications and I of course want them to do it because I want to see said ramifications. So I sit here and blog and stare my boss in the eyes. My guess is she is going to blink first.

Everything I learned in New Jersey

Well, not everything ever, but everything I learned on this specific trip:
1. Every house in New Jersey has aluminum siding. Even the ones you think don't, do.
2. The only place to have breakfast in the state is a diner.
3. White Castle is evil.
4. The Fireplace's steak sandwich is amazing.
5. Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge for pizza is only a good idea if you have a ride back.
6. My mom wants to enjoy her life.
7. My mom has enjoyed her life so far and I quote "Because I was alive."
8. My childhood toys steal money from my wallet.
9. According to the New York Times, Hillsdale is number 49 on the top 100 towns in New Jersey.
10. I can only block so much out.

Everything I learned in life, I learned from Pacman

When I was in elementary school, arcade video games had more power than the space shuttle. Due to the complexity needed to build a machine such as Pacman, Zaxon, or Kung Fu, it seemed an impossibility that there would ever be a day where games would fit on cartridges. The only way to have these machines was to be rich like Ricky Schroder on 'Silver Spoons.' Since Nintendo seemed like a fantasy at this point, it would appear to be a good business idea to open an arcade in a town populated with children. Rent a space, jam a couple machines in, and watch as the neighborhood teenagers try to catch Blinkie stoned off their asses. As long as I could remember, there was a place called 'The Game Center' located in Westwood, New Jersey. It was the place to waste a summer afternoon improving your hand eye coordination. I would grab whatever loose change I could find in our sofa and ride my Ross over there daily.

I was too small to get in any trouble at The Game Center, but even as a boy I could tell there were some shady kids there. Sixth graders smoking outside. Sloppy making out behind Pole Position. Sadly, it was one of those places that quickly disappeared as technology advanced. While I was in high school, the space became a lawn mower repair shop. My mower was repaired where I once stood in the dark killing oncoming space aliens.

I drove past the place for the first time in years today. I am not sure if I was caught in some sort of time warp, but half the sign proudly displaying the word ‘Center’ was up, and the awnings had Pacman symbols on them just as it did in '83. Was The Game Center going to reopen? Not likely. The place looked vacant. Just some memories of simpler times peeking through the run down building.

New Jersey heritage at its finest!

Impulse Control

I spent a good portion of yesterday sitting in a German Beer hall in Alphabet City. My friends and I had a table outside, and the weather was just right for a lazy cocktail filled afternoon. Like most German beer halls, this place was all about large steins of hopps. After three or four wheat beers I was feeling pretty well lit. Between beer three and four would have been a perfect time to go home. Sadly, I did not. Due to circumstances beyond my control the following items were on our table: beer, paper coasters, cigarettes, and one white Bic lighter. Can you see where this is going? I couldn't stop myself from playing with the lighter. At first I would just flick it and stare at the flame. Once I got bored with this, my natural progression was to light the coasters on fire. Here I am sitting at a respectable establishment on the lower east side, with a bonfire roaring at my table. I haven't accomplished such jackassery in a long time. I am not sure what I was thinking or not thinking. Luckily our waitress thought nothing of my shenanigans. She only asked me to extinguish the fire once the smoke started to carry into the indoor section of the restaurant. Good service I tell you.

Law of Diminishing Returns

One White Castle Hamburger - Delicious!
Two White Castle Hamburgers - Damn good!
Three White Castle Hamburgers - Love that steamed taste!
Four White Castle Hamburgers - What are you looking at?
Five White Castle Hamburgers - Little bit full, but can't stop.
Six White Castle Hamburgers - Why did I order a sack of ten?
Seven White Castle Hamburgers - The table next to me can hear my labored breathing.
Eight White Castle Hamburgers - Mommy, am I going to die?

According to my sources, three White Castle hamburgers are the perfect number to be eaten at any given time. Anything less or more and you are not getting the maximum taste out of each bite.

Poor dog

Due to cirmustances beyond my control, I was unable to bring my dog to New Jersey with me. Luckily My brother decided to care for my furry child. I just heard a rumor that the little guy tried to eat a condom today. I have no details, but I pray it was in the package.



I think my brother is available to babysit if anyone is interested.

Ready to telecommute

Does anyone have the number for Prodigy?

Live to fight another day

Today was the big day. Sybil was examined by a neurologist. Good news, everyone. She is going to live. Not that there was much doubt, considering Parkinson’s disease doesn’t kill. At the very least we know it is very early and should be treatable.

In typical style the appointment was memorable in a way only Sybil could make it. Surprisingly she allowed me to come into the exam room with her. Luckily there was no disrobing. We just sat there while a doctor fired questions at my mother. On a table within the exam room, there was a fairly large bag of safety pins. Could they have been for closing gowns? Did it even matter? Between each question regarding her health, my mother would comment on the size and shape of the pins. Occasionally she would say, "You better not stick me with those pins." Now to most people this would never cross their mind but my mother is a different bird all together. She always likes to remind me of the time my cousin was being fresh, as she calls it, to her mother. Sybil figured the best way to end my teenage cousin's outburst was to stick her in the fleshy part of her behind with an open safety pin. Once stuck, and before tetanus set in, my cousin was no longer sassy to my aunt. I think Sybil got that from chapter seven of a Dr. Spock book.

Thankfully with a very low dose of dopamine, Sybil should be fine. As long as she is healthy enough to stick the neighborhood child with pins when they aren't nice I will be happy.

On another note, why doesn't anyone respect my stuff? I leave the house to go to the doc and I come back to some jerk sleeping in my bed.



**Disclaimer - I have not verified with my cousin if she was ever stuck with a safety pin for being fresh.

Yo Joe!!

Today I had the good fortune of accompanying my mother to the cardiologist. The plan was to hook Sybil up to some electrodes and give her a stress test. While we waited in the mostly empty waiting room, I couldn't help but overhear a very elderly couple discussing how one of them had Emphysema. My mother also overheard them and screamed out, "You have Emphysema?" "Why yes I do", replied the kind old lady. Now here is where Sybil came to a crossroads. I am sure this went through her mind. Which do I say:

A. "I am sorry to hear that. There are plenty of good treatments out there. I am sure you will be fine."
OR
B. "My sister died of lung cancer."

I am sure everyone knows which choice was selected. Luckily before much else could be said, Sybil was called in to be examined. A quick walk on a treadmill assured the doctor Sybil's heart was healthy. One less thing to worry about.

I really thought the stress test was going to be the hardest thing for me to deal with today, but as it turns out my biggest problem came at home. It seems while I was away, the last remaining Joes that I had got into a little squabble with Cobra. Luckily I was able to intervene before mutual assured destruction took place. After I got the détente in writing, everybody decided to go back to their carrying case.

Fight for freedom. I certainly am.

**Disclaimer - I am not a horrible person. I know it is impolite to talk about my mother in a negative way to strangers, especially when I am not getting paid for it.

I know some cows that are lactose intolerant

Actually it is some calves, and it is more like lactic acid intolerant. Maybe that wasn't as funny as I thought. That seemed like the type of joke one's uncle would say at some family get together. Not my uncle though. I didn't really grow up attending family get togethers or have a funny uncle. Anyway before I totally go off on a tangent, the purpose of this blog was to discuss my day in the Garden State. After spending the morning with my mother and thinking of specific chapters that will be in my book on my childhood, I decided to run away for a few hours and go mountain biking. The fear of being isolated in Hillsdale, New Jersey prompted me to bring my bicycle with me on the plane. Don't tell the airline it was a bicycle though. As far as they know I brought golf clubs. I will never understand why a huge box containing a bunch of nine irons is free but if you tell them there are two wheels and a frame, they charge you. Shouldn't it go by the size of the box?

Anyway during my furlough, I went to Lewis Morris County Park in Morristown with a buddy that I ride with every time I come to NJ. We have been riding together on and off since '99. We typically always have a good time with moderate complaints about lactic acid buildup and not being in shape. The ride was really fun. Nice deep woods with rolling trails. I haven't been on a bike in a long time so this was the perfect place to get my body moving again. It almost made the trip worth it. Almost.

More eventful stuff about the trip coming soon!

In case you were wondering

For some reason I made it through the entire day of work yesterday without anyone having a 'talk' with me. Looks like I am still employed for the foreseeable future. After work I took the redeye to New Jersey to see my mom. I am currently hiding from her in my childhood room. Thankfully there has been one major Easter miracle this weekend. I am able to poach internet service off her neighbor.

Praise the lord.

The Jewish Green Lantern

In typical Jewish tradition, there were no prayers at the Passover Seder I attended, just pure comedy.

Since I moved to California, I have had the good fortune of being invited annually to my friend Bruce's for any and all Jewish festivities. Actually it is more like he supplies the house and I bring the festivities, i.e. the food. I have some great memories from the last four years. There was the time my mom came and told Bruce his coffee was bitter. Oh, and let's not forget the time my mom came and asked Bruce's mother who got the house when she died. This year, even without my mother being there, the memories were plentiful.

I got to Bruce's before the other guests arrived because I told him I would replace a few electrical outlets that seemed faulty. Well, one was definitely screwed up because it set the drapes on fire earlier in the week. I replaced this one without incident and moved on to another one that wasn't really giving any reason for concern, but it was decided that it should be replaced for piece of mind. Now, I have done this type of electrical work many times before without there being a problem, so I guess I was long overdue for something to go horribly wrong. After what I consider top notch work, Bruce turned the power back on only to watch as the carpet around the outlet burst into flames. If only it was Hanukah, it would have been the perfect beginning to the festival of lights. I wonder if the fire were not extinguished if it would have burned for eight nights.

After the smell of burnt nylon started to dissipate the guests began to arrive. Without going into too much detail or hurting anyone’s feelings I will only describe a few key people that were too unbelievable to leave out. If they are reading this, please remember you are all loved, I just have to call it as I see it. One guest came in all white, as if he had just left the Kaballah center. I know it is before Labor Day, but come on. What man wears all white unless he is at a P.Diddy Hamptons party? Actually as the night went on I realized that this guest may very well be the Jewish Green Lantern. He came dressed in what seemed like a costume and he wore the biggest gold ring I had ever seen. At the center of said ring, there was a Jewish star. If the light hit it right, the symbol of the Jews would shine over the table like the Bat Signal. I have these images of him punching a criminal in the head over and over again. As the victim falls to the ground, all anyone would see is the imprint of the Star of David severely bruised into the skin. That is one badass Jew!

In brightest day, in blackest night
No evil shall escape my sight
Let those who worship evil's might
Beware my power, Jewish Green Lantern's light!

The other guest of note was someone only my brother could bring. This particular guest was someone he had never actually met in person before. All contact was through a wonderful website called JDATE. To makes things even weirder, she wasn't Jewish. When asked why she was on JDATE she explained how she feels Jewish men are just more honest. I think she may have been a few eggs short of a carton. She used the phrase 'Oy' no less than three times during the evening. Besides the uncomfortable affection she showed my sibling, she was nice enough. Actually she was a good sport to show up to a holiday event not knowing a soul. Something tells me she did it for the story. Like most women my brother has introduced me to, I know I will never be seeing her again.

The Seder itself went without a hitch. There were no prayers read, just lots of eating and screaming over one another. One of the most memorable conversations of the evening was when half the table decided to start making fun of Hotel Shalom, a local shithole senior facility. The jokes seemed never ending. That was until the Jewish Green Lantern casually mentioned his mother lived there. The awkward silence only lasted between courses.

Last but certainly not least, Carsey, Bruce's Welsh Terrier, decided to finish the night off right. She came rocketing in the house, leaped into the air, ricocheted off the Jewish Green Lantern, and landed on the middle of the table. She was a bit confused as she wondered how she ended up next to a strawberry shortcake. Much to my amusement she was able to knock over a few cups of coffee before anyone tried to grab her.

You really have to wonder why Elijah would pass over the house with the burnt carpet, dog on the table, non Jewish JDater, and pretend super hero.

Thanks everyone for making another holiday memorable.

Special thanks go to the power ring worn by the Jewish Green Lantern.

Getting closer by the day

Has everyone got their bets in as to when my last day will be? Now granted this all could be coincidental, but here are my reasons why I think Friday is the end:

1. It has been mentioned that my contract is up for renewal.
2. My boss stopped assigning me work even though he knows I am not busy.
3. I am going away on Friday. Don't they always get rid of people right before vacations, or is it after?
4. No one will look me in the eye today.
5. Someone took my stapler.

I made up 4 and 5.

Dream Bike

There are two types of people who love bicycles. There are bike riders and there are bike builders. Bike riders don't care about brands or the latest carbon fiber. Happiness to them is riding. Two wheels, two pedals, mashing along. For bike builders it is a bit different. For them it is all about the intricacies of the machine. They are fascinated with every part, weight, weld, style, etc, etc. Another term for this type of bike fanatic is bike geek.

I tend to lean towards being a bike builder. I love to ride, but honestly I might get more joy out of actually putting the bicycle together than pedaling it. I really appreciate things that are well crafted. Whether it be perfect welds or custom paint. I am in awe of the fact that someone can create all these parts to work together.

Last night I experienced a true high in bike geekdom. I went to Independent Fabrication's question/answer session at I.Martin Imports in Beverly Hills. A few of the guys from Independent came to town for the Sea Otter Classic and to visit a few of the local IF dealers. Basically the Q and A was held to show prospective buyers some built up bicycles and to go through the step by step process of ordering your own custom frame. I have always wanted my own custom bike, but after listening to Joe, the CFO of the company, talk about how each frame is truly a one off creation for the owner, my WANT has quickly changed to MUST HAVE. Everything from rider's weight to riding style is factored when the frame is designed.

While bombarding the IF guys with questions I also got to check out some of their latest bikes:

Ti Deluxe - Standard titanium hardtail with a not so standard metallic white paint job. In addition to the white there was intricate red pinstriping down the frame. The fact that anyone can hold their hand steady enough to do the detailing is beyond comprehension. I wish I got a picture of this bike but the camera was at home.

Beatstick - This is IF's new dirt jumping bike. It looked burly. I didn't really get that close it since the only thing I have been known to jump is a curb.

Titanium 29'er singlespeed - This was my favorite of the show. I have never been on a 29 inch bike but it just looked really fun. It had a really compact feel yet at the same time these huge wheels. I would think you could whip the thing around. This was another finely painted bike with really well done flames.

Tungsten Electrode - There aren't many companies making full suspension custom frames. The frame consists of a custom sized titanium front end with a standard aluminum rear. The suspension design is a DW-Link. The bike had a brilliant white paint job with green decals. It is one of the nicest full suspension bikes I have ever seen. You could just tell that every last detail from the frame tubing to the pivot bolts were well thought out.

XS - Last but certainly not least was the XS. This was the only road bike that was displayed. It was beyond beautiful. The frame was half carbon and half ti. The head badge was made out of gold. To finish the bike off it had all Campy parts. The best way to describe this frame is to say that it has won 'Bicycling' magazine's dream bike award two years in a row. It is easy to see why. I am not a road biker but I definitely could appreciate the work that went into making it.

All in all it I was glad I got to learn a bit more about Independent Fabrications. I can see why they have a very loyal fan base. There is a lot to be said for being attentive to detail. I am a bit depressed now though. It isn't because I can't afford a frame. I know I will get one eventually. It was depressing to see people who REALLY love their jobs. I could just tell that the employees who were on the trip really loved the company and that they took pride in knowing how happy their customers were with the finished product.

Envy and jealousy on all levels!

For more info on IF:
Independent Fabrication
IF Register

**I was too lazy to bring a camera with me so all the pictures I stole directly from the IF webstie.

Suspension of disbelief

My willingness to suspend my critical faculties and ignore the fact that Jennifer Aniston would never be caught dead with Scott Caan in real life was essential to enjoy 'Friends with Money.'

It is actually a great movie and very believable. I have no problem believing Jennifer Aniston as a pot smoking maid who would date anyone that even looked at her. Very believable! Other than that minor fact the movie is really good and I highly recommend seeing it. It is easy to relate to it, especially if you live in Los Angeles and are RICH! As hard as I try, there is no way to stop the sarcasm.

Seriously though; see the movie, it is good.

Last days

'We're leaving together
But still it's farewell
And maybe we'll come back
To earth, who can tell
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground (leaving ground)
Will things ever be the same again
It's the final countdown...
The final countdown
Ooh oh'


I was told for the millionth time today that my tenure at Japan's finest automobile manufacturer would be coming to an end soon. Rumor has it I have exceeded the time limit the legal department wants any contingent worker employed. My boss really wants me to find a new job before the higher ups decide to ax me. Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, but I just don't feel like leaving yet. Anybody want to bet how many days I have left?

Do I know you?

When I used to live outside New York City I was in close proximity to the town I grew up in. As a result there was always a good chance of bumping into someone from my past out and about. Sometimes it was nice to see someone that perhaps I sat next to in 9th grade earth science; other times there wasn't anything I dreaded more. For every blast from the past I was happy to bump into there were fifteen losers that I crossed paths with. Seeing these dregs of New Jersey wasn't as bad as I am making it sound. Eye contact with them was the route of all evil, however. If even for an instance our eyes met, there would be that awkward moment where we would have to decide if there would be any acknowledgment. There were instances where I escaped without opening my mouth and there were times that I felt time stand still as we discussed yesteryear.

"So you still in a band?' "
You still dating that girl with the hair lip?"
"Oh, you live in your stepdad’s basement now, cool."
"See you around."

Living three thousand miles away from my hometown, I pretty much don't have to worry about the lawn boy being someone I played freeze tag with. Instead of seeing people from my schoolyard, in LA, I see celebrities. I see them, they see me looking at them, and for a split second I think to myself "Hey I know him/her." Thankfully I quickly realize I don't know these people and I don’t approach them. Our relationship is and should be limited to me watching them dance around inside a 32-inch box in my living room. (As I proofread this, I realized how that last sentence could be misconstrued. I mean my television, not some box that I stuff celebrities into and force them to dance.)

I saw an actor tonight at Honey's Kettle. The guy who plays Lex Luther on ‘Smallville’ was enjoying some delicious fried chicken on the other side of the restaurant. I looked at him. He looked at me undressing him with my eyes looking at him, and for a second it was like we knew each other. Thankfully I did not interrupt his dinner. A beyond gay conversation about kryptonite was avoided.

BEFORE ANYONE BOTHER'S COMMENTING, I KNOW THE FACT THAT I WATCH 'SMALLVILLE' MAKES ME A LOSER, SO SAVE THE JOKES!

Soap Box Rant!

I have a dog and I love him more than anything. It was tough at first because I never had a dog/cat growing up and I wasn't sure what to expect. Most of my pets cost $1.99 and lived in a 5 gallon tank with a small bubbler. When my dog (hereon after, we will refer to him as Monkey) first arrived, he was only six pounds and he was full of insane energy. I really didn't know what I had gotten myself into. If I was changing my clothes, Monkey would run away with my socks or bite at my pant legs until they were around my ankles. Good if you are getting undressed, not so good if you are trying to get ready for the day. With all this in mind, I still never thought of getting rid of the little guy. Okay, maybe one time, but he did pee on my comforter with me under it.

In all seriousness, I could never get rid of him. If my apartment suddenly didn't allow pets, I would move. It is that simple for most things. You might notice on the side of my blog I have a link to Welsh Terrier Cares. This site is dedicated to finding homes for Welsh Terriers around the country. I am friends with one of the people who shelters some of the dogs until they find homes. I have heard all types of stories of why people get rid of their pets.

Recent surrender stories:
1. A couple had a Welsh Terrier and were no longer home during the day to care for her so they gave it to their son. The son loved her but his neighbors complained that when the dog peed on his balcony it dripped down to them. Due to the urine shower he was forced to give the dog up. Are you ready for the age of the dog? Fourteen. Who the hell could give away their pet after having it for that long? The dog is in the twilight of its life and now it has to go find a new home. I am glad in a way for the dog because it won’t be with such idiots anymore.

2. A couple had a two year old Welsh Terrier that doesn't play well with the new dog that they just got. They decided to get rid of the Welsh because the new shiny one makes them happier (inferred).

3. Single man gave up his dog because he was too rambunctious. Dog was crated except for an hour in the morning and an hour at night. What did he expect? To give this guy credit though he did cry when he gave the dog up.

Sorry to go on a tirade about this but to me dogs are part of the family. You don't just give them away. I know there are certain instances where you are forced to give up a pet, such as illness, etc, and I have no problem with this. I just can't get over people who can give away a pet like it is old clothing.

Would you ever give this guy away?

School's out

You would think a green short sleeve tee-shirt over a white long sleeve one would hide profuse sweating caused by first day nerves. WRONG! My left pit looked like one of those ‘Grow your own pony’ toys they sell in mall kiosks. You know, the kind you put in water and it gets bigger over night. Only difference is we are talking about a big wet stain growing in minutes, not hours. Thankfully, I don't think any of the other kids saw it. My reputation is safe.

As for going to school it certainly was interesting. I not am sure what I expected but I totally forgot what a classroom looked like. Somehow I thought I would be sitting in a coffee shop while some old guy in a blazer with arm patches taught me the nuances of being a master of the written word. What I got was old plastic chairs, long tables, and a wall-to-wall blackboard. "Welcome to Creative Writing,' was written prominently across the board. There were two instructors, a husband and wife team that really had great chemistry. At times I felt I was watching a routine by Abbot and Costello, but it didn’t diminish what they were trying to convey. There are some really positive aspects to the class. The best thing is that all the criticism on one's writing will be given in a constructive way. Meaning, the instructors will try to highlight each person’s natural strengths rather than their weaknesses. This way you won’t focus on what you can't do and let it consume you. This works really well for me because I cry like a three year old when I am criticized. What is the saying, "I can dish it out but can't take it."

So far I like the class, except for one tiny thing. The instructors ask that each student read their work out loud to the whole class. This way everybody can get an idea of the different writing styles out there. I am not sure why I am taking issue with this, but I am. It has made me insanely jittery. I love people reading my shit, and I love an audience, but reading to a group of other writers is just nerve racking. Especially when others go first and their writing makes mine look like I am back in fourth grade. It is the worst. The first exercise we did last night was going around the room introducing ourselves and giving a bit of background of what we do and why we were there. As soon as I started to talk, I sensed my face turning a nice magenta color while sweat poured out my nose and eyebrows. That was nothing compared to the feeling of my ears closing up as I rambled on about being there to find some sort of style. Blah Blah Blah!! Enough whining. I am acting like I was wearing headgear to class. I got my first homework assignment which I am eager to start tonight. If you are good maybe I will even share it with you.

Sweet sweet rejection

As some of you may know, I have been trying to sell some TV shows with a friend. Without getting into specifics, because I know how everyone wants to steal my ideas, I will just give you a quick rundown on one of the shows. It is called 'Skin Doctors' and it is a half-hour reality/comedy show, hopefully filmed in a 'Curb Your Enthusiasm/Unscripted'-like fashion. In any event, my partner on the show took it to Playboy television a few weeks ago. I was feeling very positive about the meeting because he wasn't thrown out immediately. We have sat eagerly waiting for a response since then. Today was the day they finally decided to pass. The rejection sucks but the reason was amazing. There exact words were, "The show is just not jackable enough." I can't help but laugh. I guess the type of people who pay for a three hour block of Playboy programming have no time for comedy. It is all about business. It is a shame they don't sell blocks of shows in three minute increments. It would be the better value.

First day of school

Another great dream last night that would be perfect fuel for an insanity plea. Unfortunately for me, after waking in a cold dank sweat at 2AM, I was unable to remember anything.

On another note, today is my first day of school. At 7PM, my creative writing juices will flow at UCLA. I am kind of nervous. What if the other thirty year old kids don't like me? What if no one asks to be my partner during lab? I better pick out the perfect outfit so everyone knows how cool I am. No pants with elastic waists. Nothing with pink in it. I can't be that risky on the first day. Got to blend in.

Jeans
Short sleeve tee shirt over long sleeve tee shirt
Hooded sweatshirt
Bedhead
Bike messenger bag with apple laptop

Back to school. Back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool. I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight. Ohhhh, back to school. Back to school. Back to school. Well, here goes nothing.

Yo Joe

Maybe this week's blog theme should be dreams. I had another great one last night. As much as I tried, this dream did not include Jennifer Aniston. I saw her on TV last night and felt a pain in my heart. Oh Jennifer, why can't we be together? If not here, how about in heaven? Kidding!!! I am no stalker. At least not anymore. On to the dream.

Dream:
I went to visit Sybil, as I plan to do in real life next week. At her house she broke the news to me, my childhood home was to be sold. Out of all my friends I am one of a few who still have a house in my hometown. My mom is keeping the dream alive, I guess. Well, in this twisted dream world, she finally decided to sell. There is nothing too weird about that. It is a big house and my mother has lived there alone for a long time. There is no need for her to keep it anymore. Here is the strange part: she decided to sell it with all the contents intact. Now, I know people sell homes with the furniture, but most people would take their personal effects out of said furniture. Last thing I want is to buy some guy’s house and find all his tightie whities stacked in the linen closet. I had a screaming match with dear old mom regarding her rash decision. “How can you sell the house without even opening a drawer to make sure nothing important is left behind?” I screamed. I finally got my point across when I opened my bedroom closet displaying the toys of my youth. The light grew bright in Sybil's head when she saw my 1982 G.I.Joe Wolverine. For some reason, the very site of this little tank made her realize the error of her ways. She called the real-estate broker to try and cancel the deal. No dice!! I was forced to grab as much stuff as I could before the new owners showed up.

The funny thing about this dream is my mother is a crazy packrat. She insists that every minute item has a purpose, causing her to not be able throw anything away. The mere idea of this dream would be the ultimate nightmare for her. Maybe when I go visit, a certain collection of Real American Heroes will have to be taken out and put on display.

The moral of last night's Sopranos

I assume everyone watched last night's episode of the Sopranos. Can you guess the moral?

A. To get any street cred as a rapper you need to be shot.
B. Just because your ma turns out to be your aunt, doesn't mean you should stop loving her.
C. Never let your children get involved in the family business, especially if it is waste management.
D. Even gangsters are worried about health insurance.

If you picked 'D', you were right. It doesn't matter how many men you choke to death with a piece of piano wire, making sure you have the right PPO will still be at the top of your priorities.

Dreamscape

Anyone who has ever lived with or had the pure ecstasy of sharing a bed with me can tell you that I have some twisted dreams. I am not sure what is worse, the fact that I have these dreams or that I insist on telling the first person I see about them. Last night's was a doosie. Hopefully I will be able to articulate the details.

Dream:
I was living at my mother's house with my brother and of course Sybil/mommy. It was summertime and even though I am thirty, I was attending the Meadowbrook elementary school summer program. I think I was making up an English class, but I am not sure. On this particular day, I drove to school in my 1989 Honda Prelude that for some reason was still leaking oil in the driveway at 25 Taylor Street. I distinctly remember selling it in 2001, but, perhaps like a certain '58 Plymouth Fury, it couldn't bare to be apart from me. At school one of the project managers from my current job insisted on showing me her new BMW 535i. It was red with a green Louis Vuitton interior. The car had one strange color combo going, but that was nothing compared to the oddity of the car having a full home entertainment center inside and yet plenty of leg room. German engineering for you. Once I was done admiring the Beemer and secretly cursing my project manager, I hopped in the 'Lude and went home.

Arriving at the Fein estate, I noticed a pristine early seventies Mercedes convertible in the driveway. We must have had company, since there is a better chance of being hit by lightning than my mother purchasing a car that wasn't made by Honda. I walked in the house, through the kitchen and into the dining room to find my brother napping in his bed where the dining table should be. I walked past him in typical disgust, and went to my bedroom. In my room I should have realized I was in some sort of 'Vanilla Sky' fantasy world. Sound asleep in my twin bed under an Aerosmith Pump poster was Jennifer Aniston. Was I one of the three little bears? Was Jennifer Aniston Goldie Locks? Apparently she was lying low to avoid the paparazzi. Somehow my mother befriended her Greek family and that is how she ended up in the house. I don't know which part is more of a dream, Jennifer Aniston sleeping in my bed or my mother having friends. Oh, and it turns out the Mercedes was hers. Since Jennifer, yes we are now on a first name basis, was in my bed, I didn’t see the harm in climbing in with her. She didn't seem to care. You have to love dreams! Next thing I know, I am professing my love to her, and she is actually into it. Telling me that she doesn't think Vince Vaughn really likes her anyway. Two seconds later we are at some huge Greek birthday celebration with her family and my mom. Jennifer tells me she has to go and she will see me later. Being a good son and quite happy at that moment, I sit next to my mom and start eating a bunch of food I can not pronounce. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP....What the hell is that sound? My alarm clock bringing me back to reality. I hit snooze. I pray to God I can reenter the dream. Nothing! I cannot believe the last thing I was doing before being woken up was eating what looked like fried turkey with my mom. That really sucks, but such is life.

Now for the hidden meaning of the dream:

Summer School for English - I am about to take a creative writing class at UCLA.
Old Mercedes Convertible - I saw one for sale on Barriginton this weekend. I have also seen pictures of Jennifer Aniston driving one.
Brother sleeping in the dining room - During the great depression of 2002 my brother lived in my dining room.
Eating with my mom - About to go visit her where undoubtedly there will be artery clogging goodness served.
1989 Prelude - My first car. You never forget your first.
Greek Family References - I am currently reading 'Naked' by David Sedaris. In the book he goes to great lengths to describe the insanity that is his Greek grandmother, better known as YaYa.
Jennifer Aniston - What do you expect, it was a dream.

What did you say?

I bought some new clothes today. One pair of jeans and one pair of pants. I guess the jeans are pants too, if you want to get technical. How about one pair of jeans and one pair of 300 thread count grey cotton twill trousers? I guess the jeans are trousers too. I digress. If my pantalon shopping doesn't interest you, maybe the fact that the jeans came with earplugs will. Still not interested? How about the fact that I have the ear plugs in right now as I type this?

It is such a weird feeling, not being able to hear. I am sitting on the couch in a very peaceful silence. My apartment could be burglarized as we speak and as long as the bandit didn't walk in front of me I would have no clue. Okay, now I freaked out. These things must leave my ears immediately. Why did my pants come with them anyway?

If you too would like a pair of pants/jeans/pantalon that come with earplugs, the brand is: