Fuck the (Food) Police

Everyone has their own way of eating. Some people are always on the go and shove McDonald's or Subway into their mouths every day, some people are vegetarians and don't eat meat, while others are really hardcore and don't even eat food that came from an animal.  We call those crazy assholes vegans.  As insane as that lifestyle sounds I actually commend the vegan lifestyle simply because it seems really hard to do.  A lot of important vitamins, minerals and protein's that were easy to come by from meat, milk, eggs etc are out of the question.  If it did not seem like such a huge pain in the ass I would consider trying the vegan lifestyle for a change and clean out whatever horrible toxins that have remained dormant in my system since I was old enough to make my own meal choices.  Usually your body does not resent you when fruits and vegetables are the main staple of your diet.  Although if you have read some of my recent posts, you are aware that I eat a HELL of a lot better than I use to.

What gets on my nerves are the people that tell us what we can and can't eat.  It seems like every other day there is some new fad diet that has everyone going crazy because they thought they were suppose to be eating the shit they were told to eat last week by the same group of people.  They're called the food police.  They spend their time doing research and stupid scientific studies over a span of 30 years only to discover that putting ketchup on your french fries may lead to slowly and painfully dying of cancer.  Then again, that would explain why people in Holland put mayonnaise on their fries.    

I seen'em do it man, they fuckin drown'em in that shit!

Obviously its not "recommended" that you eat fast food every day.  All that sugar, salt and fat can be pretty hardcore.  We don't need any shit doesn't stink asshole scientist to tell us that.  But if its 3am, you've been out all night drinking with your buddies and your (hopefully) designated driver comes across a McDonald's or Burger king and wants to pull in for a snack then fuckin'a feast away.  There's a reason fast food places are open late.  

No matter what we have for breakfast, lunch, dinner or a late night snack some prick that spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to go to college is going to tell us that "a new study finds that banana's are the leading cause of peoples heads blowing off."  There actually are some lab coat wearing mother fuckers that believe fruits are bad for us.  Are you kidding me?  Sure a lot of today's produce are grown in a different environment.  They are bigger and sweeter than organically grown produce.  But until organic food companies stop charging an arm and a leg I will continue to chow down on apples and oranges that not only taste crisp and sweet but also help me shit my brains out if I need a little help with a bowel movement.  Organic food causes me to scratch my head.  A product that does not have anything added to it cost more than a product that has a bunch of stuff that I can't even pronounce added to it.  That makes as much sense as parents complaining about school lunch menus because they don't provide enough nutrition.  I remember when I was a kid I brought my lunch from home.            

At the end of the day I make a decent enough living that allows me to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner on a consistent basis.  That's more then a lot of people in the world can say.  It kicks ass that if I wanted to I could dial a number order a pizza and have it at my doorstep within half an hour.  If I don't eat the whole pizza, I'll stick it in the fridge and have the rest for breakfast tomorrow.  Cold pizza is the best breakfast of all time.  That is fucking luxury compared to a lot of other people in the world that dig through restaurant dumpsters and find a shit load of unused food that the restaurants just threw away.  How come the food police isn't doing anything about that?    

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

Whats happening?  Before I get into my letter I'd like to say those Best Buy commercials that have those parents buying trunk fulls of presents for their bratty kids telling you "Its on" are fucking horse shit.  Any stupid electronic store can slap a discount sticker on an I-Pad "Just in time for the holidays."  If I were you, I would run two sleighs this year.  One for all the kids you plan on visiting and another to dump a shit load of coal on the doorstep of the Best Buy CEO.  If you need me to drive the Best Buy one, I would be more than happy.  Now, on to my Christmas list.  

I know its been a long time between letters.  The last time I remember writing to you was when I wanted a Teddy Ruxpin doll.  Remember those talking bears that had a built in cassette tape player in his back?  You play a specific tape and it would tell you stories from his past that would keep a kid entertained for hours at a time.         

Play with me children....

It was one of the best Christmas presents I ever got.  To this day I can still remember how speechless I was when I tore off the wrapping paper and saw Teddy looking back at me.  What I also remember about that Christmas is you also brought my younger brother Matt a talking Alf doll.  It was one of those dolls that every time you gave him a squeeze he would say one of about 4 different catch phrases. 

How bout a hug for the old Alfer...

Two brothers, two 80's fad toy's, one very Merry Christmas's.  

This year my list is a little different.  Even though I'm gonna be home for a weekend in January, for the first time in my life I will be away from my friends and family while they are taring open presents and sitting down to Christmas dinner.  It will be a tough transition, but in a shitty way I know it will be good for me.  The whole experience of being away from home for the past four months has been eye opening.  I've never gone this long without seeing my parents.  Its taken me 27 years, but I'm finally starting to officially grow up.  

The only present I ask for myself would be to get a Job... I'm living in one of the coolest cities in the world and have almost ZERO money to get out there and experience it first hand.  

For my Brother it would be cool if he got some kind of break music wise.  Right now he's working some customer service Job in New York.  He's to awesome of a musician to not blossom.  

For both my Parents, see what you can do to make sure there are not any crazy winter storms that might fuck up my brother and I's travel plans in the first weekend of January.  Who knows when we will BOTH be home again.  Would be cool if the sky's remained clear and the roads remained bare.  

Also... share some warmth for my Grandfather down in South Carolina.  He's watching his wife, my Grandmother slowly slip away from Alzheimer's.  This time of year must be pretty lonely for him.  Stop in on him and have a beer.

In closing, keep up the good work.  You've been kicking ass for a long time making kids all over the world happy on Christmas morning.  Give your reindeer a pet for me, I'll be looking for Rudolph's nose Saturday night.  Love to the Mrs!

-Mike     

Faster than the speed of Time

The month of December is always a festive time of year.  Everywhere you look you're reminded that Christmas is around the corner.  Whether its a hardcore display of lights on your neighbors front lawn, or another commercial reminding us that every kiss begins with spending a shit load of money, its impossible to avoid.  It's also a reminder that another year is beginning to wrap up.  The Holiday season comes to its epic climax as the clock strikes midnight on January 1st.  We all joyfully toast our drinks, wussfully kiss our significant other and celebrate the fact that we've all made it through another calender year in one piece.  Later on that morning everyone wakes up in their post holiday fog.  On top of the fact that the christmas cookies are gone, a lot of us are all hung over and slowly coming to the conclusion that the holiday season is over... back to school, work and really starting to get pissed off at Winter.

This will be the year we turn the pages on 2011 and enter 2012.  The most talked about year since Y2K.  It will be another year filled with speculation concerning the end of the world.  I'm sure by the time December 21st rolls around you'll be so fucking tired of the doomsday media coverage and Discovery Channel specials that you'll welcome the end of the world with open arms.  

Time for some s'mores!!

For me, not only does 2012 signal the potential end of the world, it's also the 10 year anniversary of when I graduated high school.  I've grown from a timid 18 year old kid unsure of what the future holds to a much wiser confident (almost) 28 year old dude that's still unsure what the future holds.  It can be really fucking mind blowing to see and hear about people I went to school with settling down with a career, getting married and having kids.  While it's something I would certainly love to do at some point down the road, the thought of starting a family is still pretty intimidating.  I still feel I'm not even CLOSE to ready.  No more sleeping in, puffing on the god given herb in the middle of the day, or leaving the house whenever you want.  Life is all about changes.  As a kid you're always changing grade levels, changing clothing and shoe sizes.  As a young adult your body changes, you go from a little boy or girl, to a jacked stud or a smoking hot babe.  All of the sudden you're shaving areas that you only saw your mom and dad shave as a little kid.  You're voice starts cracking and getting deeper, next thing you know you're taking the girl that use to chase you on the playground to your senior prom.  

Some of you graduated High School knowing exactly what you wanted in life.  You went to college to make it happen and along the way you met a girl or guy that you fell in love with and got married.  Before you knew it, you were paying a mortgage and having kids... holy shit... out of all the changes that have taken place, having a kid takes the fucking cake    

Hundreds of THOUSANDS of dollars will be needed out of  your pocket for the next 20+ years!

When I was a young child I always assumed that things would always be the way they were for the rest of my life.   I had yet to come to the realization that the older I got the more things change.  Even though it seemed like childhood flew by I always remember thinking "When the fuck am I gonna be old enough to do shit on my own?  Being a kid takes fucking forever!  FUCK!! I DON'T WANNA GO TO BED ITS STILL LIGHT OUT!"  I was always told fairy tails by my parents about eventually growing up to be an adult. I would some day have my own job, my own house and if I'm lucky my own family.  I would always believe that to some degree, but at the same time would not really think about it.  When I did think about it never phased me. "Pfft, I'm 8 and that shit did not happen to my Parents until they were in their 30's.. I won't be in my 30's for at least another 50 years."

Now hear I am 20 years later.  I'm in a brand new surrounding, taking it one day at a time.  While I'm still a single dude in right smack dab in the middle of life's adventures and only a few of those changes that my parents talked about have taken place, it has certainly become clear to me that no matter what I end up doing with my life, time will always be moving and life will always be changing.  It may not always move as smooth as I would like it to, but that's life.  As far as I'm concerned I was dealt a pretty half decent hand.  I always remind myself that no matter how rough things can be, someone out there has it a lot worse than I do and unlike me.. they would welcome the end of the world with open arms.      

The Best Friend who Followed me Home, Chapter 4 - Saying Goodbye

As a younger Cat, Bud was a very free spirit.  He came and went as he pleased and only allowed affection to be poured on him if it did not interfere with him going outside and picking off unsuspecting birds.    After Cassie passed away Bud underwent a very clear personality change.  Not only was he getting older, he no longer had to worry about sharing the house.  He finally had his own turf.  When she was alive, Bud had clearly given her the respect of the Alpha Cat.  If you've ever had Cat's before you know they can be extremely territorial.  Even Cats that get along 99% of the time will go at it every now and then.  This constantly had Bud on edge.  Once it was clear to him that Cassie was not coming back he seemed to breath a big sigh of relief.  Not to mention we no longer were splitting our affection between two Cats.  He was now getting all the love from everyone and was not fucking complaining.

The older he got, the more he chilled out.  He spent less nights outside and more nights curled up at the foot of my bed.  Or if it was a night he felt like sleeping alone, he would quietly lay next to me until I dozed off.  Only then would he make his way downstairs and sprawl out in his favorite armchair.  

Fuck sharing a bed with that burly asshole 

Old age slowly began to set in, he graduated to only being able to eat wet food as he could no longer handle the crunchy kibble on his sensitive teeth.  Days that had normally been spent frolicking outside for hours on end were now spend inside sleeping in the sunbeam to keep his old bones nice and warm.

Catch your own god damn bird

What I noticed the most out of those last three years was how my Dad fully embraced him.  While he did not mind having Cassie around my Dad never seemed to fully warm up to her.  Mostly because Cassie knew where she was loved and did not waste her time.  It certainly would have been his preference to not have any Cats around at all.  He put up with it because he knew it made his family happy and had no interest in being the villain.  When we got Cassie, she was already fully grown and set in her ways.  When your not a cat person, its hard to form any kind of emotional bond with one that does not seem to give a fuck if you're around or not.  Bud on the other hand approached my Dad as a little baby kitten that needed someone to pay attention to him more than anything.  Bringing him home may not have been my Dads first choice, but in the end I know he did not regret it.  Towards the end of Bud's life my Dad even shared his sardines with him.  

The time had come to make a heartbreaking decision to end his suffering.  During his last few days, Bud never left the kitchen.  He could barley hold himself up anymore and began to develop an infection in his jaw making it nearly impossible for him to open his mouth.  Knowing I was never going to get a chance to pet him again I spent the last day he was with us sitting with him in the kitchen.  He slowly got up and made his way over to me and crawled into my lap.  I slowly stroked his bony frame and did my best to make sure the last moments we shared together were as comfortable as possible.

With heavy hearts, my Mom and I brought him to the Hospital.  When you spend that much time with a pet its just as bad as losing a family member.  The whole time I was there all I could think about was that summer morning 16 years ago when he trotted out to greet me as an 8 week old kitten.  I could not believe this day had finally come.  My Mom and I tearfully gave him a kiss on the head, told him we loved him, heartbreakingly let the vet end his pain and put him to sleep.  As I watched the life leave his eyes all I could think was "No way... No way this is happening right now"  We each stayed there for another five minutes or so as the Vet respectfully gave us some time alone to say our final goodbyes.  After my Mom and I each let it out we finally gathered ourselves together to make our way back home.  Before I left I sent him off with one more scratch behind his lifeless ears, turned and walked out of the room.

Its been about five months since I said goodbye.  I still miss the hell out of him.  For more than half of my life he was always there sleeping at the foot of my bed, waiting for me when I got home from school, or hopping up into my lap when he sensed I was having a rough day.  I think about him every day and as more time passes, I am think less and less about the heartbreaking day at the Animal Hospital and more and more about the good times.  Weather its fucking around with a piece of string, petting him until my arm falls off, and of course 16 years ago when I was an 11 year old boy getting out of the one church service I attended that summer and a little helpless kitten followed me home to eventually became the best Cat and friend I had ever had.

Rest in Peace old friend

  

27 years of highlights

I've been on this planet for almost 28 years.  As long as it feels like I've been alive, I know that I (hopefully) am not even halfway towards no longer being alive.  Its been a hell of a ride so far.. lets look at some moments that have shaped what I am today.  If you don't want to read it then yeww can giitoout!   

Age 5.  My First trip to Fenway Park. 

Imagine being a five year old kid that had barley ventured outside of his back yard let alone outside of his home state towards Boston Massachusetts.  For weeks I had heard my dad talk about going to Fenway Park for a Red Sox game and now finally at fucking 6am on a Saturday we were going.  This better kick ass.  I'll never forget driving into the city.  Seeing the largest buildings I had ever seen in my life.  I was blown away before we were even at the game.  

After a (terrifying) subway ride we were finally outside of the ballpark.  I had never seen so many people in one place in my life.  That was until we went inside to grab our seats.   Holy Shit....  

That's gotta be at LEAST 100 people...

From that day on I have lived and died with the Sox.  The 04 and 07 world series titles were two of my biggest thrills as a sports fan.  Fuck the 2011 collapse.  

  

Age 12.  I hit a Home Run in Little League.  

It was one of the last games of the season.  During my little league career I had already had some cool moments but always wondered what kind of powerful feeling would overcome me if I hit a ball over the fence for a home run.  Chad, the pitcher for the other team just happened to be one of my younger brothers best friends at the time.  He was also a kid I could not fucking stand.  All he did was suck his own dick about how great of a pitcher he was.  He kept peppering fastball after fastball on the outside of the plate and I kept fouling them off.  Finally, he threw one right in my wheel house.  I knew I had gotten a hold of it because I did not even feel the ball hit the bat.  That's when you know you hit the sweet spot.  I watched the ball sail into the center field night sky and without hesitating I put my head down and ran as hard as I could.  I was at LEAST gonna get a double out of this.  By the time I rounded second base I realized no one was making a play on the ball.  "They must of lost it or something.. fucking right!! TRIPLE!!" I kicked towards 3rd base only to see my coach saying.."Mike, its ok!  You hit it over the fence!"
"What?"  It did not dawn on me until I trotted into home and saw my teammates pouring out of the dugout to greet me.  Hitting a home run in the league that I played only happened a handful of times.  The icing on the cake was watching Chad hang his head for the rest of the game.  

Age 18.  I Graduated High School   

School had always been a little bit of a challenge for me.  When I was in 3rd grade I was diagnosed with a learning disability.  Things that would be cake for a "normal" student were always more of a challenge for me. so I always needed a little extra attention.  Some teachers were great about it, others felt like they were explaining the material clearly enough and it was my fault that I was not picking up on it.  Each year became more and more of a challenge.  To put it in perspective, I was a fucking JR in High School before I opened up an Algebra 1 book.  Fuck Math.  Not to mention, I was in Special ED.  Its pretty hard to feel good about yourself when you walk into a High School classroom and see a banner of the fucking Alphabet hanging on the walls.  There were definitely some moments that had me up at night wondering if I was gonna be able to get my shit together but I fucking did it.  Not to mention I was one of the few people in High School that could actually grow a sweet beard.  Hearing my full name called to go grab my High School Diploma was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Partying in Vegas for a Weekend

It was the spring of 2011 and a really good friend of mine that lives in Arizona knew I was looking to live it up before making the move to Chicago in the fall.  She mentioned the fact that her and some buddies were gonna be spending a weekend in Vegas in the middle of May and wanted to know if I was game.  Fuck...Yes.  I met them in Arizona on a Thursday night and the next morning we got up and made the drive to the number 1 party town in the world.  It was one of the coolest rides I have ever been on.  On top of a brief stop at the Hoover Dam, the desert landscape is certainly something to behold.

All Hunter S Thompson and shit... 

After a 5 hour drive we finally made it.  Everywhere I looked people were living it up.  On top of the fact that we had a two bedroom suit for a hotel room that had three bathrooms a kitchen, dining and living area I was also quickly aware of the fact that everywhere you went you could carry an open alcohol container.  I  immediately came to the decision that for the next 2 days I was going to be an alcoholic.  Surprisingly (by Vegas standards) we did not have to break the bank to live it up.  Whether it was getting grub at a Burger bar, going out clubbing, playing Beer Pong Tournaments or just walking around with a beer in my hand for two days straight it was one of the funnest times I've ever had.
Oh and the drive back to Arizona Sunday afternoon with the Sun setting behind me in the rear view mirror was pretty fucking sweet too.

Bad...Fucking...Ass

Moved to Chicago
About a year ago I decided to relocate.  While Maine had been a great place to grow up and I was already making a decent living working two relativity stress free jobs, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't missing out on a chance to possibly make something of myself as a stand up comic.  While New York and LA had appeal as possible landing spots, I came to the conclusion that I was not seasoned enough as a performer to make a name for myself.  I finally decided on the place where a lot of the great comics of the past got their start.  Chicago...

Lets share some fucking laughs

Its been close to 4 months since I made the move.  Its been a very humbling experience.  I obviously miss my family and friends a great deal but know in the end this will make me a better person and a better comic.  If it works out then fuck yeah, if it doesn't?  At least I'll know I gave it a shot.
     

One of my biggest pet peeves in the world has got to be when I see people type FML *Fuck My Life* for their Facebook status updates.  Quit being a whiny bitch and think about how big of a miracle you are.  At one point you were one of a million other tadpole's that could not see, hear and had no idea where the hell they were going but despite all that you found and egg and fertilized the hell out of it and it eventually became what you are today.  You are a living breathing miracle and every day you are alive is a fucking gift.    Get out there, see the world, take some chances and live it the fuck up.  You won't regret it.  

The Best Friend who Followed me Home, Chapter 3 - The Bud

Spending time with my new furry friend was a fun way to wind down the summer.  While sitting with him on the porch it was almost impossible to keep him off me.  When he was not on my lap, he was sitting on my shoulder like a parrot would do for a Pirate.  Even if I picked him off my lap, as soon as he was on the floor he would hop right back up.  It was so fucking cute that I did not bother trying to fight it.  The "not allowed in the house while the add is in the paper" rule lasted for about 24 hours.  As the phone lines stayed silent and more time went by, the more my Dad realized the whole family was growing more and more attached, and even though he did not admit it at the time, I'm positive my Dad grew attached too.  After only one day on the porch, he finally caved and let the kitten in to explore his potential new home.

At first, he was a little bit of a pain in the ass.  Kittens need to fucking realize that their cuteness can only get them so far in the world.  Jumping up and down on my lap and shoulders was one thing, but when your jumping up on the counter trying to fuck with my dinner... we've got problems.  He learned the word "NO!" really quick.  It also did not take long for him to realize that there was another Cat in the house that was not pumped about sharing her turf.  She did not exactly have the agility and spry that the young kitten had, but if he pushed her buttons to hard, she would push back even harder.  It did not take long for him to fall in line.  While our other cat Cassie made him very skittish to go along with his already free spirited personality, he realized that he was in his new home and was a lonnng way away from the street we found him on.    

The only thing left to do was name him. My family never really got together for any kind of pow wow when the time had come.  During those few days my brother and I had been calling him our "Buddy" or "Bud."  The more we called him that, the more he reacted to it.  While it was not the most creative and original name in the world, it fit him like a glove.  Its like when you know someone for a long time and you can't picture them having any other name than the one they have.  If anyone else had found him and named him something else... they would have been wrong.  

He was very much a Buddy to both my brother and I.  Each day began with him greeting us in our room with a few "good morning" meows.  In his early years my brother and I had bunk beds, but that would not stop Bud from climbing the fucking ladder to keep my brother company while he was fighting another migraine that kept him up at night.  As he grew older he would spend the warm summer nights on the porch perched on the top step.  In his mind, he was guarding the house and making any neighborhood cat think twice about stepping on his turf.

Back the fuck off..

He even got on Cassie's good side in her later years.  She no longer had to worry about letting use know that the food bowls were empty with Bud running around the house squawking at us until we gave in.  During the 13 years the two of them shared the house it was clear they eventually formed some kind of bond.  When she passed away he spent several days looking for her and any time we fed him, he would wait a few minutes before eating just to make sure she would not show up out of nowhere and knock him out of the way.  It soon became clear to him that he was alone and the house was now his.  He was no spring chicken though, 13 years is a long time for a cat and even though he was still relatively spry, it was hard not to wonder how much longer he would be in our life.    

The Psychedelic Reset Button

Just about everyone I've met has played Super Mario Brothers at least ONE time in their life.  Hell, even my Dad played it out of curiosity.  Once he immediately lost all three of the "lives" you are given at the start of the game he quickly dropped the control pad and went back to doing his crossword puzzle never to play video games again.  Assuming you've played the game, you know that its about a plumber named Mario who embarks on an epic journey through a magical kingdom of danger that tests how quickly you can jump over cliffs, avoid weird pissed of mushroom looking dicks, flying snapping turtles and destroy bricks all in the hopes of saving a Princess from the evil grip of King Koopa.  A psycho lizard monster that probably was pissed off the Princess would not go out with him so he kidnapped her.  Seems like a tall task for a plumber.

Fucked....

However, if you've played the game, you know that our hero had some help along the way in the form of a magical mushroom that would cause him to double his size and strength.  Without the aid of this wonder fungus the Princess would be left at the mercy of a real asshole.  Due to the fact that my parents limited me to only an hour of Nintendo a day, I was never able to defeat Koopa.  To this day I still don't know how my parents lived with the death of a Princess on their conscience.  But I digress...  I never thought much about said Magic Mushroom as a child.  If you've played old school video games before you know they are super unrealistic.."This Magic Mushroom is gonna pop out of a brick and make Mario super strong... fucking right!  I wish their was a mushroom like that in the real world!!"  Little did I know that in my later years, I would find out there was.

Obviously Mushrooms in the real world are not going to make you bigger and stronger.  You're thinking of spinach.  In fact, mushrooms.. or *shrooms* are much smaller and don't fucking move in the other direction and fall off a cliff when you try to eat them.  When you eat shrooms in the real world you best prepare yourself for at least 4 hours of staying in the same place while your mental and physical perception opens the fuck up and you see and experience things that you never thought were possible.  Its known around the world as "tripping"  or "Fucking tripping balls"  Why is it called a trip?  Because that's exactly what it feels like.  Some people have been known to have a "bad time."  Those are the people that set themselves up for failure.  They probably ate to much, did it indoors with a group of people they did not really know, or absolutely cannot stand the fact that they don't have 100% control over reality.   

The best way to have a fun time is put yourself in a surrounding you are 100% comfortable in.  I highly recommend doing it with at least one other person you know really well in an outdoor setting.  I've had the best times of my life from just sitting on the shore of my camp with my favorite band playing through the headphones.  When I'm tripping, I like to think of the world as a big movie, and I'm the director.  Your mind is constantly thinking of things you never imagined.  The sky, clouds and trees are all living and breathing to the beat of the music you're playing on your I-Pod.  The smallest simplest joke is the funniest joke you have ever heard in your life and you can't stop laughing.  The minor struggles of life become pointless and worry free. 

While the initial "peak" of the trip only lasts a couple hours, the long term effects can last for months at a time.  When the trip ends and you start to come down, you are a different person that has seen, learned and experience new things.  You've been to places you would not have gone to if you had just normally gone about the day.  You have new theories and belief's about life and death.  Some people have even experienced spiritual peace and enlightenment.  Its almost as if your life has been reset and you're ready to take on challenges with a brand new outlook.  I can honestly say that it has changed my life for the better.  I have done it on more than one occasion (never twice in the same year) and I can honestly say that I no longer worry about the little things that can sometimes have the potential to ruin someones day.  While its obviously not something that's for everyone, I highly recommend it for anyone that's curious about seeing what life can be like when everything has the potential to be 100% perfect and life is a whole new window of opportunity and possibilities.               

                  

  

Pro Athletes are to fucking young

The mighty slugger Moe Vaughn of the Boston Red Sox hitting a 450ft blast causing the 35,000 people at Fenway Park to leap in an explosion of cheers.  Steve Young keeping the legacy of great 49er Quarterbacks alive by leading the 9ers to a 5th Super Bowl.  The only team in the NFL with a perfect record in the annual match.  Ray Bourque of the Bruins finding the back of the net with a blast of a slap shot from the blue line.  The only ones in a packed Boston Garden that were not cheering were the rats that famously took residence in the old building.  All those loud bursts of applause had them shitting their pants all fucking night.        

These were the sports memories of my childhood.  From my first trip to Fenway Park, to my first day of peewee football I wanted to be a Pro Athlete.  I would put my football gear on in the middle of the day just so I could get use to doing push ups with the added weight.  I wanted to be the best.  For a lot of kids (including me) Pro Athletes were hero's.  In my eyes they could do no wrong.  Even if they had a bad night at the plate it did not matter.  I would still cheer for them just as loud and could not imagine booing a player from my favorite team.  But what a lot of kids don't realize, is that most of the players standing on the outfield grass of Fenway Park or taking the Face off at TD Garden are still "kids" themselves.  This does not register when you're 8, 9, 10 years old.  You see these fuckers growing mustaches and beards and you think "These guys must be in their 30's or 40's!  I could be that good at baseball by then!!  I'm gonna go play little league and pretend to be Nomar!!"

As time went on I began to realized that a lot of things had to fall in place if I was going to play ANY sport in the pros.  I slowly started to register that when you're a kid these guys were pro's because they were older than me.  Once I got older Lebron James entered the NBA a year after I graduated High School.  It was then that I fully came to the conclusion that these guys were pros because they were better than I was at life.  Even though most Athletes got to where they are today by working their asses off, they were still blessed with insane genes that allowed them to grow bigger, run faster and lift really really heavy shit.  I myself was blessed with typical American dude genes.  I grew to a towering 5 foot 10, could run at a blazing fast average speed and on a good day I could bench press my weight 8 times.  It was respectable... but nowhere NEAR what I needed to be if I was going to sack the shit out of Tom Brady.

Now a days it seems like the older I get, the younger they get.  The prime of my life means being able to run 5 or 6 miles, while the prime of their life is getting bulldozed by a wall of defensive lineman, getting up and doing it all over again.  I'm dulling the hell out of razor blades with my thick Irish beard and these baby faced little fuck nuts are hitting home runs left and right.

Fuck you...

While I still consider myself a fan I don't let it consume me the way I use to when I was younger and the constant struggle of life was not getting in the way.  Booing guys on my favorite teams use to be out of the question.  Now I'll boo a player till my throat hurts.  Call it jealousy, call it.... well I guess jealousy is the only word needed here.  Fuck'em though, at the end of the day these guys have the life.  If I'm lucky I'll work till I'm around 70 years old and retire to a respectable house somewhere in Maine where I will live for 5 to 10 years before I either die, or end up in a nursing home.  These guys will play a game for 10 or 15 years, make millions of dollars while they do it, then retire in their late 30's or early 40's with plenty of time left to enjoy the fruits of their "labor."

All I know is that Spring Training starts in February...  Go Sox.