This is not a wine cooler

  • by Drew

I realize that when I went off track in my last, already legendary post Boats ‘N Hoes, I did not really clarify my opening thesis. See, Boats ‘n hoes is just fun and funny to say. And yes, it is a reference to the movie Step Brothers. I mentioned a more appropriate potential title for the post that involved diet pills and a particular fortified wine product.

My personal, non-politically correct comments about increased obesity in Christmas shoppers should speak for itself in regards to the pills, but perhaps I should explain the Cisco remark. No, I didn’t mispell some obnoxious R&B-ish singer’s name. Cisco is the stuff of legends, a somewhat ghetto/college town wine product whose critics have included Surgeon General Antonia C. Novello. Novello was unhappy with the products packaging because it made the liquid rocket fuel appear to pack little more wallop than a standard wine cooler. Its 20% alcohol content is more than double the average wine cooler’s.

If we’re going to speak of legends, Cisco is certainly one. It is, in fact, the only libation I have ever consumed, in any quantity large or small that actually had me seeing double. In fact, I had only had a few drinks, perhaps half a bottle at the time. And while it was a decent amount of hooch that offered a buzz, it was far from taxing to the limits of my then college freshman constitution. I tell you, that shit is CRAZY.

So, once again getting back on point, holiday cruising these days you’ll feel like you’re seeing twice as many people as normal. You are actually seeing 25% more people, but they are, on average, 39% larger than they used to be, so if my math is correct (not a chance) you are, in fact, seeing roughly double the flesh you should be seeing.

Just like when you drink Cisco.

Peace.

(btw – Christmas is coming and Cisco is cheap. I haven’t actually purchased a bottle – or had one purchased by someone with ID – in about 17 years, but back then it was about 89 cents for a fifth. How much could it be now? Who said last minute gifts can’t be affordable?)

Boats ‘N Hoes

  • by Drew

Yes, another Step Brothers reference. Actually, for this post, Apidexin ‘N Cisco might have been a better post. It is, after all, the season of chunky Walmart shopping, angry large people seeming to descend from the hills for their single day shopping outing. All this holiday spirit, dripping from me personal ramparts reminds me of an overheard conversation a few years ago at the Dollar Store…

I was walking up and down the aisles with a then 2 year old Jake while Carol waited on a huge line to complete an insubstantial purchase of stocking stuffer chocolate and batteries, or something. I had repeatedly passed members of a particular family who were doing their Christmas shopping…yes, ALL of their Christmas shopping. They had been talking rather loudly, hogging the aisles, and making something of a spectacle of themselves.

As I was making my way to the front of the store, praying that Carol was almost to the front of the line so we could flee, I passed a final pow wow of the three women, representing three generations in this particular family. They had dumped their booty into Grandma’s cart and all were reviewing what they’d purchased. It seemed like they had gifts for several family members or friends. Several gifts for each of these people, and they seemed rather pleased. Then the whopper –

Mom: What did we get for Daddy? (I assumed she meant the daughter’s father)
Daughter: Ummm. We can give him these Santas (she held up a box with 8 or so chocolate Clauses)
General mumbling as they pushed things aside and searched.
Grandma: Oh, I got him these nice socks for church (they were tan and, in all honesty, fairly nice looking…for the Dollar Store)
Mom: Goddamn it, we should have spent more time in the man aisle.
Grandma: Too late now.
Mom: Yeah, we gotta get on line.

Let me just end with this – I am a very lucky man because every year, year after year, my wonderful wife always spends the exact perfect amount of time in the man aisle.

Merry X-ma$ indeed.

Flyboy

  • by Drew

I’m flying to Virginia this week for a few meetings at our main corporate offices. I haven’t flown in over a year – that was a flight to Colorado during serious bad weather. My 5pmish flight was cancelled and I ended up flying out around midnight. I ended up checking into my hotel room around 3:30am – Colorado time. And I had an 8am meet.

I checked the flight regulations and see they still have the liquid rules in effect. This was a relatively new thing when I went to Colorado. You can travel with liquids in containers of no more than 3 ounces, as long as they are all contained in a zipper bag of no more than one quart in size. 

This reminded me of my return flight from Colorado. As I went through security in Boulder, I ended up in line behind a mouthie business traveler. The lines were actually moving pretty fast, but this guy wouldn’t shut up about how long it took. Bitch bitch bitch.

There was a side line that went off to a different machine, and the yawning guard would occasionally pull people aside to go down that little roped path. The impatient guy walked up to the tired security guard and somewhat boldly asked her “Hey, what does a guy have to do to get on the short line?”

She shook her head at his error and told him it was three at a time. Naturally, I got stuck following the noisy schmuck that-a-way, along with another poor fool suckered in. I knew I was in for trouble.

It turns out that this was a new, experimental process. You had to remove your shoes and walk into a huge sci-fi box. Inside, the machine gave instructions.

“Put your feet on the shoe-prints on the floor.”
“Please don’t move.”
“Keep your hands at your sides.”
“Please don’t move.”
“Keep your head up.”
“Please don’t move.”
“You will feel an impact of air on your body.”
“Please don’t move.”

I’m not kidding, it went on and on. I got nervous in there. I thought maybe whirling sawblades would come out and slice off something vital if I didn’t keep my arms down. Eventually you would get blasted with air. Apparently, this was supposed to detect traces of explosive materials. Neat. Very neat. And much slower than the regular procedure. As I stood behind the loudmouth, I looked forlornly back to the main line and watched as people who’d been behind me heading for their flight gates.

Loudmouth had all kinds of issues. He complained about taking off his shoes. When they first told him to remove them he said “what if I don’t want to?” After an uncomfortable moment he chuckled and said he was joking. He argued about removing his fake Rolex because it is “mechanical winding watch not some quartz thing.” He also had magnetic bracelets that “improve circulation” and a wedding ring he couldn’t get off. “I got rid of the wife years ago, but I can’t get rid of the ring.”

After the added 15 minutes of wasted time I spent waiting to get through this process I really need a drink.

Incidentally, 50ml ‘mini’ bottles of vodka are well under the 3 ounce limit. I sure am glad I picked up all those Smirnoff flavor minis last year as a semi-joke gift for Carol. I’ve got Captain Morgan too. The only question is how many I can fit in a one quart zipper bag and still have room for my travel-sized toothpaste tube.

Has My Faith Been Restored?

  • by Drew

Last night, as the clock rolled past midnight, we came into a new day both literally and figuratively. I saw the labors of thousands bear fruit. I saw the dreams of millions become a reality. It was a remarkable feeling.

There is a lot of talk about the younger generation as a prime driver of this dramatic political and social shift. I remember the last time they described an election in similar terms, driven by the young vote. I am proud to say that I was a part of that happening. It was my first vote, and the change in policy and philosophy resulted in, perhaps, the most significant period of growth in our nation’s history.

This nation was founded by people of vision and courage. They were smart, strong-willed, unbending, and most of them were very young. They wanted something better for themselves and their children. They were full of hope.

But this event, this success, this triumph should not be diminished by statistical nonsense or rhetoric about race or age or gender. This is a victory shared by all Americans, regardless of age, race, religion, sexual orientation or political affiliation because the system worked. It was a difficult campaign with, much of the time, spite, accusation and invective. Mud was slung. Nasty things were said. But in the end, the people of this nation took advantage of their right, in fact, they embraced their responsibility and made a selection. The system worked.

During the primary race, I wondered if the United States as a whole was ready for what the Democrats had to offer – a black man or a woman. Could we, as a nation do it? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Over the last few weeks in the campaign, as I saw repeated examples of ignorance and intolerance, I found myself questioning the integrity of the American people. I found myself with very little faith in the American people.

But last night, as a man made his concession speech, and a handful of his supporters embarrassed themselves and disrespected their candidate, I realized something. Perhaps those ignorants and the intolerants, though vocal and loud and adept at making themselves visible, perhaps their numbers are smaller than I feared. Perhaps, even, a lot smaller.

A long time ago I wrote a pretty trite line in a song…Change is good, even when you feel it. It may not be particularly insightful, but it is true. Tom Waits said it even better. If it’s worth the going, it’s worth the ride.

So what does this philosophical wank all really mean? Am I getting warm and fuzzy and Yankee Doodle Dandy in the George M. Cohan style? Not really.

And to answer the titular question, has may faith in the American people been restored?

Truthfully? No. But my hope for the American people has been. And looking at some of the moments in time that brought us to this very new morning – the Declaration of Independence, the Revolutionary War, the Emancipation Proclamation, the Second World War – all predicated on the hopes and dreams of the American people, I will take hope over faith any day.

The Wagon

  • by Drew

That’s right, I’m going on the wagon – the South Beach wagon, that is. I did it a little over a year ago and lost 30 pounds. After about 8 months I was still 20 pounds down, so it wasn’t so bad.

But lately I’ve been feeling a little big and slow, so I figure it’s a good time to try and clean up my act before the holiday eating season is upon us. It’s not like I want to be running around modeling sexy lingerie or anything, but I want to lose a little of the old spare tire. I’ve always had love handles, but the extra thickness on my back is kind of disheartening.

I tell you, though, reducing the carbs isn’t too bad, but I’ve really been missing my cocktail every night. Just axing the booze will probably take me down another 20 pounds.

Being the Boss

  • by Drew

Once upon a time I had some employees, and while I think I was a decent and tolerant boss, I had some…well pretty awful luck.

Once I went on a short vacation – I had two guys working, one in the morning and afternoon, the other for a few hours in the evening. The evening guy did not show on Monday. I was up in the Adirondacks trying to reach him on a cell phone that got a single bar of reception if I stood in just the right place in the middle of a particular parking spot in the middle of a parking lot in front of a Super Shoes outlet store. When I finally tracked him down, he told me he’d fallen asleep watching the World Cup. On Tuesday he didn’t show up again. When I confronted him on Wednesday, after racing home from vacation, he told me he had a few beers with his friends and forgot. I took his keys back that day.

Another time I hired a guy who worked in a nearby store and wanted a few extra hours. He used to come and talk about comic books and horror movies with me on his breaks. I gave him some training and a part time job. Then, his first night of work, when I had to go to a fundraiser, he never showed up. I never heard from him again. He totally disappeared. My awareness of comic books and horror movie happenings went down the tubes.

I had another guy who worked for me for a few months. One morning he didn’t show up. I called his house and his cell phone and even his father’s house. I got some disconnected numbers, no responses to any messages I left. Turns out he had to go to court for a moving violation and they discovered his resident Visa had expired. So he was deported to Africa where he had to “sort things out.” At least he eventually called me and brought back my keys – 8 months later!

But my crowning achievement was hiring a young lady with , among other issues, an apparent sleeping disorder. She continually failed to wake up in time to make it to work on time – 10am. Often she would not roll in until noon. She started going to a sleep disorder doctor and had to do the overnight sleep test at his clinic – more than once. She was supposed to sleep in a monitored environment, but from the sound of it, the pulse oximeter and heart rate monitor and IV drip and some sort of smoking beaker apparatus out of  Frankenstein was a little too disturbing. Apparently, her doctor could find no reaosn for her inability to get out of bed in the morning.

Finally, I sat down and had a talk with her, one that I guess her sleep disorder doctor never got around to. Ondays she worked, she routinely slept past 11am. On days she didn’t work, she usually slept until 2 or 3 in the afternoon. I don’t think she really had any problem sleeping, at all. I think her only problem – other than bad habits –  was her doctor.

Also, she was a heavy smoker and most nights before work she was partying with her friends, and drinking heavily. I asked if she mentioned any of this to her doctor. She was like, “Duh, of course not.”

Now, I’m not trying to be mean, but there were a couple of incidents, all within about a month when I needed her to show up for work because I had important obligations. One such example, I was best man in my brother-in-laws wedding. Another time, I was at my wife’s grandmother’s funeral.

So, picture me at the cemetery as everyone is gathering around the plot, frantically hitting redial on my cell. Yeah, I was that dick. Or how about in the Church, as the priest (who already had issues with me) was like “what the hell are you doing” as I tried to track her down, 2 minutes before heading to the altar. At least I didn’t lose the rings.

Dude, it’s never easy.

The Ongoing Struggle

  • by Drew

Last year we got this recumbent bike at sears. It was a fairly inexpensive model on sale, basics without the crazy bells and whistles. Like, no extra cupholders or vanity license plates. But it works and it’s a great way to get some exercise while watching a movie or something. It’s way quieter than the treadmill we’ve had gathering dust for like 6 or 7 years now, and it’s more than enough. I’m not a gym guy so I have no desire for big equipment, ellipticals, or Chuck Norris gear. (I’m also not interested in Christie Brinkley’s old equipment.)

We had the bike in the den when we first rearranged rooms in the house last year – we moved upstairs to the guest room and Jake and Noah share the other upstairs bedroom now. Our former master bedroom became the den/playroom. But a couple months ago we put in a new floor and fixed up the den a bit. We’re trying to minimize the feeling of playroom craziness right now, so we moved the bike (in two pieces) down to the basement.

I was just about to put it back together and maybe start looking for some biking time when I discovered that the wonky old TV we have in the basement is acting up again. It’s an old Zenith my father gave me years ago. He had thought it fried when his building got hit with lightning many years ago. It lived in storage for a couple of years when he discovered that it actually worked. Paired with a cheap DVD player, it’s 20 inches of monkey-barrelesque entertainment. Or was. Now the picture is splitting and the color is whacked.

What is the point of all this? I don’t know. I guess I’m just going to have to blame Zenith for my love handles.

This is the Season

  • by Drew

Despite a few days of past-life insanity thanks to Facebook (see IH8FCBK), I am happy. Why? It’s this time of year. The weather is just perfect for sleeping, cozying up under the comforter. It’s the time for picking apples and pumpkins at the farm. I can cut wood without drowning in perspiration or worrying about poison ivy. The boys are so cute in their jeans and hoodies. And it’s great weather for heavier reds, and bourbon nightcaps. It’s definitely time to open a few new bottles from the bourbon collection.

It’s also getting on toward holiday season. Yeah, Thanksgiving is going to rock – how I do love stuffing. And Carol’s birthday is coming up, so we’ll have some fun family time. But this year, I’m really psyched for Halloween. We haven’t had a Halloween party in a long time, and it was always one of my favorites to throw. I especially love the tasty treats. Brain matter punch, eyeballs on a stick, finger sandwiches and other thematically appropriate holiday appetizers make for a swingin’ good time.

And if any Facebook crazies want to visit I can always try and dig up some insanity peppers.

And another thing…

  • by Drew

I was talking about my disgusting back fat the other day and got onto South Beach. Now it’s stuck in my mind. We did South Beach almost a year ago. During the time we were following the plan pretty closely, I dropped about 30 pounds. And that carried through the holidays, so I was pretty happy about it. Since then I put about 10 pounds back on, but I’m still at like a -20 net, so…cool.

This time around though, especially with our basement currently full of wine and booze, I have been enjoying my evening cocktail quite a bit. Honestly, those first two weeks of the South Beach program, where you drop all alcohol along with the white bread and other junk, that’s sounding tough. I mean, I don’t think it’s time for a 12 step program or alcohol rehab or anything, but I have been making a lot of excuses, and the booze thing is definitely a contributing factor.

Anyway, I was always saving my institutional cherry for a nice drug treatment center after my rock opera did a three year run on Broadway, but my third major label release was summarily panned by the critics, but before my seminal ‘back-to-basics’ fifth album, self-produced and on most critics top-10 for the year lists…

Oh crap, did I write that or just think it?

Anyway, clearly none of this is in my future (or past or present) and I am destined to just be me, sans critical acclaim, so I think the Beverly Hills rehab is out. I’ll leave that to Britney. I’ll just forego my cocktails for a couple of weeks, try to melt some of the back bacon, and skip the liposuction. I’ll leave that to Britney as well.

Damn, she gets everything…rehab, lipo, K-fed. Some girls have all the luck.

Cheese Me, Jesus!

  • by Drew

Random thoughts to share (Noah was up a little early this morning) –

1. Noah is into saying “Wall-E” in a computer voice since we saw the preview on another Disney DVD movie months ago. When we were in Lake George a couple weeks ago we went to the Magic Forest (I’ll have to tell you about the Diving Horse at another time) and saw a Magic Show. The aged, very tired magician (in a white under shirt and royal blue sport coat) selected an adult volunteer for a $100 bill trick. The volunteer’s name was Wally, and at a random moment during the trick, after the magician had said the guy’s name a few times, Noah just piped up with his imitation, “WALL-E.” Maybe you had to be there but we were laughing our butts off.

2. Noah and Jake (but mostly Noah) are really into saying “Cheese Me!” at random times. They get it from a commercial – I think for Cheetos. It’s a way to get them to smile for pictures, at least.

3. I’ve never been to a Chuck E. Cheese’s restaurant, but after a commercial for one this morning I realized just how much it sounds like Juckie Jesus. It amuses me.

4. We were just watching an old Tom and Jerry cartoon and Jake (he got up a little while ago) was fascinated by a scene in which Jerry fell into a big wine bottle and…well, he fell down a bit. Jake asked, “IF you drink a lot of wine do you sometimes get really silly?”

Absolutely.

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