Correction

I am trying not to reread my blog entries because my typos and bad writing puts my stomach into knots. I've noticed that it doesn't take that long to dump my thoughts into writing but it takes forever to read and re-read analyzing and editing. Also, I have a tendency to be in the middle of an edit, get distracted, and completely forget about it, the end result being it makes not sense.

Anyhow, I di reread Sunday's post and I need to make a correction.

I had mentioned " Sir Thomas Tophat" and when I later said this to Kay I was angrily informed that the correct name is "Sir TopHam Hatt". This is a character in the show/movie "Thomas the Train." If you know anyone who was born between the years 2000 and 2005 there is a good chance that you know who Thomas the Train is. In fact, you may be so sick of Thomas the Train that you shut down this blog at the mere mention of him or you are so delighted that Thomas knocked the Wiggles out of your child's top two you are currently clapping at your computer.

Or, a third option is you have no idea what I am talking about and that is okay, I get that alot. The only thing you really need to know going forward is that in the Thomas movie the part of Sir TopHam Hatt was played by none other than Alec Baldwin. I have to admit, he was pretty good in it. Sure, I half expected Sir TopHam to start pummeling the piss out of a photographer but I was plesantly surprised. The only thing that could of shocked me more is if the role went to Danny or Steven Baldwin.

I fucking love the Baldwins and for all sorts of different reasons. If I'm in the mood for some decent acting, there is always Alec. Crazy drunken escapades? Hello Danny. Bible-beating nutty talk? Steven please raise your hand. Good looks? Billy you are the man. I'm sure there are others but its early.

Combined I guess you could say the Baldwins come together to form a great first husband for someone - talented, exciting, funny (strange not ha-ha), and good looking.

Okay, I"m really reaching this morning but coming up with useless bullshit isn't as easy as it may seem.

Sunday Afternoon Booze and Blog

It is a beautiful crisp clear New England fall day today. I was up early to go to church with my family as I do every Sunday (YEAH RIGHT), have already run some errands and picked up the house. Bella and Elsie are out shopping, Regina has a headache from last night, and here I am.

I jumped in my car earlier and just drove around for a bit hoping something would come to me. When I have free alone time coupled with energy and opposition to watching television or reading, I usually shop. But, the last weekend of the month is always the time I am most budget concious and poor due to all of the things throughout the month that I simply could not live without and had to buy. But I truly see no need to beat myself up about over-spending when there are so many other things to fuel my self-loathing. The main purchases this month were a new bench and four pieces of canvas art for my bedroom. I hope that me and my cat Nickels enjoy these items since at this point the only man in my room I possibly forsee in the near future would be a rescue worker if the house was burning down. And probably even then I'd get the only chick in the firehouse trying to assist me down the ladder. Perish (bad choice of words) the thought.... I'm only kidding. There are no women firefighters in Brighton. Again, I tease.

So as I drove I was thinking to myself - I should do something fally, Halloweeny even! PUMPKIN CARVING!! That is it. Where does one buy a pumpkin? Wait, didn't I read somewhere that there is a pumpkin shortage this year? Wow, don't feel like hunting around for one and I certainly don't want to deprive a kid of a pumpkin if I do find one .

Next thing I know I'm in the parking lot of the liquor store.

And now, here I am, drinking a beer, hoping Reg will shake the headache and get over here, and writing in my blog.

This morning started off early, as I mentioned I went to church, and no, I really don't go every Sunday, although it couldn't hurt. Maybe I'll start. I went today because it is the 10 year anniversary of my father's death.

It has been a long time since I went to a regular Sunaday mass, but since I was raised by semi-strict Catholic parents and attended Catholic schools my entire life, most of it comes back to me like an old 80's tune, let's say "Video Killed the Radio Star" just for shits and giggles. But, there were a few things about attending mass that I had completely forgotten and I was kicking myself for when I rediscovered. One, I always get a really dry throat in church and cough like a lunatic and I was without a cough drop. Two, my brother always passes gas during mass. This has always led me to mouth (since I was ten ans apparently continues on to this day) "I am going to fucking kill you after church" because I freak out thinking what pigs the poor bastards behind us must think we are and then I doubly freak out when I wonder if they think I am the culprit. Damn you Michael. Today, the only saving grace to the later fear was Kay, his four-year daughter, yelled out "Daddy farted!!" which in hindsight may have alerted others who were not in smells way to the situation but at least it cleared my name.

After church it was off to the IHOP with Jude, Kay, my brother, my brother's fiance Jen, and her mother.. I have not been to the IHOP sober in probably 10 years. There is a very good reason for that. I'd go on about the horrible food, service, bathroom conditions, etc. etc., but it's the fucking IHOP, what should anyone expect?

Kay insisted on coming back to my house afterwards and I don't see what is so fun about my place to her. Oh yeah, we have two cats and a dog who we let her dress up in hats. Not to mention my roommate Bella and our friend Elise (who pops in on the weekend) - the two of them are more entertaining than Sir Thomas Tophat and Harmony the Carebear to her and both have the patience of Christ.

So Kay came back and told me she had something very serious to talk to Bella about. I pushed for details but she wouldn't budge. When we got inside she went into Bella, took her by the hand and said "I am so very sad today." Of course we both gushed and asked why. "Well, I miss my Papa very much." Papa? Your Daddy? No. Your grandfather (mother's father)? No. "my Papa. He died. He's in heaven and I miss him so very very much." Holy shit she's talking about my father. Hands over face, she runs to the next room. Bella and I look at eachother and in unity say "dah-rah-mah." We follow her into the next room where she has already discovered a cat toy and is waving it in front of Nickels, giggling. Can't wait until she's a teenager!

Well, I just got off the phone with Regina and admitted I've been passing the last hour or so writing in my blog about my brother's gas and IHOP. Apparently that was the only motivation she needed and now she's jumping in the shower, grabbing her "Arrested Development" DVD, and getting her ass over here. Bella and Elsie are coming through the door.

So, as ashamed as I was at the beginning of this it turned out not to be such a bad way to spend an hour on a Sunday afternoon.

Lloyd the Psychic

Last night myself, Ellen, Amy and Kerry found ourselves sitting in the living room of Lloyd the Psychic on River Street in Cambridge. The walls were covered in african masks, incense filled the air, and strange growling noises were coming from the next room. The place gave me an uneasy feeling, I wasn't neccessarily spooked out but let's just say I wouldn't have been surprised if someone jumped out of a closet naked at us. I know that is effed up to say, but I don't know how else to describe it, it's just how i felt.

Kerry has promised to comment with better descriptions of the masks and I'm hoping she will include some of her deep and moving personal experiences with Paper Machéte.

Moving forward - around some of my social circles Lloyd the Psychic is famous. I heard alot about him but I had never been. Ellen made the appointments for herself, Amy and I and Kerry was just along for the ride. Both Ellen and Kerry had been there before and tried to prepare both Amy and I. They told us to have two questions prepared, that he rings a bell and we shouldn't laugh when he does this. I freaked out when I heard the last part because I have this problem with inappropriate laughter and if someone tells me not to laugh it's almost certain that I will let out a loud snort because I am trying to stifle the giggles.

When the time came for one of us to go in and get read by Lloyd the plan we had made earlier in the week for Ellen to go first suddenly shit the bed. Up first - Auntie Scotch.

The moment I sat down with Lloyd (who by the way looks the infeminate twin brother of Lou Gossett Jr.) and he rang his bell the my feelings of angst died down. I was kind of nervous I would have to hold his hand or he would have to touch my head or something and that caused me all sorts of anxiety. Once I realized that there is nothing funny about his bell and I won't have to get touchy feely with a strange man in a trance I calmed down (yeah, yeah, I know I'm leaving myself wide open for promiscuity jokes with that line).

He started to say things about my life, some true, some totally false, all the while scribbling it down on a piece of paper. According to him I am quiet, a good listener, and children are drawn to me. I immediately flash back over the past few days and recall myself bellowing into a microphone, falling asleep when Jude was telling me about her work life, and talking to my four year old niece on phone and being told "you are not my friend, Auntie." Hmmm....

But, he did say a few things about people in my life that were right on the money such as Jude is "surrounded by boxes" (which I didn't think was true until I told her. "Oh my god! Amazing! I need to go see him myself! Wow! Oh, and if your boxes aren't out of my house this weekend they are being put out with the trash"....goddamn you Lloyd).

After my reading Amy and Ellen went in and we promised we would not discuss our readings until we were all together. Once everyone was done with Lloyd we headed to the Tavern on the Square for drinks and appetizers.

We got to comparing our readings, Amy seemed happy enough with hers because he spoke alot about her art work. Ellen wasn't jumping for joy, but she was content. As we literally compared our notes it turns out he said alot of the same stuff to all of us - deep insights such as "you have a friend at work who you talk to" and "You have taken a trip to Florida".

Just about the time we should of left we ordered another round of beer.

The night goes on, and I will write about it soon because it involves Kerry possibly being in a Miller Lite commercial and me and Amy tap dancing at the request of a tranny. But now I am so so so tired.

The Week Begins - Rage, Pets in Hats, Willy Pics

Monday I woke up with a mean case of PMS and throughout the day decided I would focus my rage silently on my brother and Jude for lack of anyone else. Somehow the headlights in Jude’s car are completely out and he hasn’t fixed it yet as promised. The rage part comes in when I find out my mother has been driving the car in the dark but "not to worry" because she’s "been using her hazzard lights so other cars can see her." Note to Jude - it’s not other cars seeing you I’m worried about, it’s the inevitable jogger being thrown onto your windshield and a pesky vehicular homicide trial I’ll have to support you through that gets my goat.

My PMS rage still exists on Tuesday and the everyday struggles of life are starting to get me down. Traffic, problems locating items such as socks and my bus pass are about to push me over the edge. And speaking of bus....I won’t even go there because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.

But by the end of the workday I head home in a better mood because I had decided that tonight will be the night that we finally do the Animal Halloween Costume photo shoot I’ve been talking about for weeks. My roomate Bella had WildThrasher (WT) and Elsie over for dinner and since they were never ones to shy a way from a good old fashion pet photo shoot, it was all the better.

The shoot is gets underway with my cat Nickels rolling around the table with a witch hat on loving every minute of it as WT clicks away when I hear someone coming through the kitchen door calling out to me. It’s my cousin Pat who I haven’t seen forever with a friend coming to pick-up a spare table that has been in my family since god was a child.

Bless Pat, because he knows me well enough not even to flinch at the four of us idiots standing around as the pets prance around in witch hats, princess costumes, and sailor suits. But I’m pretty sure his friend had his finger on send button of his cell phone with 911 already typed in just in case.

After they left, the rest of us, or shall I say them, watched Dancing with The Stars. I’ve sat in front of the television while that show has been on like five times now, but I just can’t stop yapping during it and I’ve probably ruined it for everyone, there's just something about that show that makes me want to change the subject, I can't figure it out and I'm sorry gang. The only thing I know about that show is that there was a country singer on there who is getting a divorce because her husband had 100 pictures of his erect penis on his computer. Do you think he created subfolders for those pics? Really, how does one keep track of that many photos of the same subject?

• erectpenisintheprairie.jpg
  
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I just giggle that the print media keeps on referring to it as "erect" penis. I mean, if some Joe is taking a picture of his ding dong shouldn’t it be assumed that it is erect? I can’t imagine any guy getting out of pool, dropping his drawers and demanding that "someone go grab a camera - we need to get it at it’s absolute smallest."

Okay, enough with the penis talk already.....

Last Weekend in Review - Line Dancing, Respect, and Duck Tours

Friday night started off well enough. We had an Asian dessert party at work that included some fancy named thing that was actually pork spareribs stuffed into a roll. For that I'd like to give a shout out to God for finally answering my prayers.

After work it was off to meet my friend Sandy, et al., in Waltham. For those of you not in the know, Waltham is the Karaoke Capital of Massachusetts. Now, you would think I would know myself better than to assume anything good could come out of the equation of Booze + Me + Microphone, but I went anyhow with the intention of having a few laughs and hanging out with Sandy and other friends from Curves.

Fast forward two hours into the night - I've already broken my karaoke seal by belting out a hip hop version of "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?" by Dionne Warwick (with a smooth robot dancing routine during the musical interlude) and now it's on. There is a mentally disabled woman named Lucy who lives near the bar and from what I understand frequents the karaoke scene around town and together we did a great rendition of "Endless Love" - me being Lionel Ritchie of course. The rest of the night in Waltham is a bit of a blur but I know that I was teaching line dancing to Lucy and Sandy at some point and I took the job very seriously because after a few drinks I truly believe that I am a Solid Gold Dancer who needs to share her gift with the world.

Sandy gave me a ride back to Brighton around 11ish and in some parallel universe, a universe where I am a good decent, non-self destructive human being, the night ends there. BUT NO! I need to over-do it by calling my friend Jessica and insisting she meet me for a drink or five. The usual good clean funniness ensued, again it’s sort of a blur but I do know that on Saturday my mother/landlord ("Jude") told me if I ever played the music that loud so late again she would not only call the cops but she would let them in with the spare key so they could sneak up and startle us causing chaos and a certain arrest. And many wonder where I get my insanity from.....

If cleaning the house, doing laundry and going grocery shopping equates to sleeping in, eating ones weight in McDonalds and watching TV then I accomplished everything I had set out to do on Saturday and I’m quite proud of myself.

Sunday it was off to the Stuart Street Theater to see the show "Respect" with my mother Jude and the ladies from Curves. It was a hokey musical journey through the history of women (quote/unquote minus the hokey) but it was entertaining enough. The only real interesting thing I recall is that Jude and I drove a group there that included one of the ladies who was there on Friday night who proceeded to narrate in great detail my "hilarious" karaoke escapades. Dammit don’t people know I like to keep my drunk and sober world completely separate???!? This led Jude to come to the conclusion that I should become a tour guide because I am so good with people. I don’t ask for elaboration when she starts talking crazy like that. Really, her dream for me is to drive the Duck Tour? What the fuck....