Dear, Maine...Don't fuck this up...

There's an election comin..

"NO SHIT MIKE!"

Well.. if you had given me a chance to finish you would have come to the conc..

"OH MY GOD!!!!! GET TO THE FUCKING POINT!!!"  

Look... I'll let the talking heads do all the blabbering about the Presidential election.  The last thing we need right now is another opinion about two guys that are both cocky pricks.  Lets face it though, you want to rule the country... you need to be cocky.  I just hope whoever gets elected never calls in, and show's up to work on time.  Besides, there is another issue on my mind that I feel is a lot more important.  

"Go on..."  

Alright, well.  A couple years ago my home state of Maine overturned a law that allowed same sex couples to marry.  People actually made a point to take time out of their day to collectively make a decision that had nothing to do with their personal lives what so ever.  But at the end of the day, the Maine people decided that they were not ready for same sex couples to get married.  Even though the state allowed it for a few months and nothing even remotely tragic happened that involved two people who love each other getting married.  

"Well, the Bible says its an abomination for a man to lie with another man! ITS CALLED ADAM AND EVE NOT ADAM AND STEVE!!  ITS AGAINST GODS WILL!!"

There is nothing I can say here that's going to cause thousands of hardcore bible tapping god fearing individuals to change their mind.  Any time you try to throw a single bit of logic at these people they come RIGHT back at you with a quote from the bible that supposedly disputes any point you try to make with them.  My only hope is that some day they are brave enough to venture into a world that took billions of years to evolve and adapt into the life sustaining planet that it is today.  Sure there can be life after death and if there is, I hope its a million times better than what was written down in the bible thousands of years ago by WHO FUCKING KNOWS?  Besides... Adam and Eve got kicked out of the garden of paradise.  Fucking trouble makers.  

"HOW ARE SAME SEX COUPLES SUPPOSE TO HAVE CHILDREN?"

They don't.  But I'm sure the millions of children crowding orphanage's around the world because their parents fucked up can tell you that being born to a couple consisting of one man and one women does not always make a happy family.  Besides, not all straight couples have children.  Some dudes drank to much Mt. Dew during their childhood and have a low sperm count, or there is something up with the Females reproductive organs.. or something... I'm pretty sure it was safe for you to drink Mt. Dew at least.  

"IT WILL RUIN THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE!!"

If you people are so concerned about the Sanctity of Marriage then lets also vote to pass a law not allowing couples to divorce.  Something that I'm sure is "against gods will."  

But get this Maine...at this coming election you have a chance to back track on the hiccup you made a few years ago.  While you're at the polls voting for the next president of the united states, take some extra time to think about the fact that all these people want to do is fucking get married.  You won't have to go to the wedding, or have anything to do with the wedding reception.  In fact, I bet every single same sex marriage that's ever taken place has had ZERO effect on you....  Don't be an asshole..      

My Day on the South Side Part - 3

In case you missed Parts 1 and 2.  Eyes up next time...

Part 1

Part 2

So there I was.  Maybe 10 minutes into the day and I'm coming across a homeless man that fears for my life, and another fellow yelling at me from across the street.  Unlike the man sitting in the ally, this man seemed to be a little more spry.  The first thing I noticed was that he was certainly well fed.  However, he wasn't very intimidating.  He walked with a limp and did not really have any anger in his voice.  It was almost like he was trying to get a Teacher's attention on the school yard playground.  I looked back at the homeless man who once again told me to "Just walk away..."  It was almost as if he was begging me.

I tried to ignore the fellow across the street at first.  I figured if I act like I didn't hear him and just walk away I would be fine.  The fucker did not give up though... "Hey white boy in the suit!!"  Yo!!  YOU A COP OR SUMTHIN?!  YO!  WHITE BOY, I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!"  I finally snapped back at him...

"WHAT?!  WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"  At this point the fellow was lumbering across the street towards me.  By the time he reached my side he started apologizing.

"Look man, I'm sorry for yellin at you... I waz jus'wundrin if you had any change, I'm tryin'd catch a bus."

"Sorry, man.  I actually don't have change"  I really didn't...

"Yu dun' have to give me much, I'll take whut yew ghat"

"I got nothing man.  Really.  No change"

"Don' be holdin out on me white boy"  At this point, I was starting to get frustrated, so I did the only thing I could think of.  I reached into my pocket, took out my wallet, opened it and showed him how empty it was.  It was a move that he did not appreciate one bit.

"MAN WHAT DA FUCK YEW DOIN?!"   He frantically backed away.. "I DIN TOUCH YO DAMN WALLET WHITE BOY!!"

"I'm not trying to frame you guy!  I'm just showing you how fucking broke I am!"

"MAN GET DA FUCK OUTTA HERE!!"  To my relief he finally staggered back across the street.  I looked down at my watch.  It had been 15 minutes since I got off the train.  I decided to press on.

As I continued to walk down the street I noticed there weren't to many Caucasian folks dressed up in a suit and tie that day.  In fact, there were zero.  Usually when you're a "white boy" walking along that section of town in a suit and tie can only mean you are some sort of officer of the law.  It was not something I had thought of until the fellow who needed change for the bus colorfully asked me if I was a cop.  "He was just trying to get me wound up" I thought.  "People out here know what a fucking cop looks like don't they?  Yeah.."  I could not let it bother me.  It was time to sell some shit.

I reached my starting point and went into my first business, a little convenience store selling the basics.  I introduced myself to the dude behind the counter and told him why I was there.  At first he actually seemed kind of interested.  He was around my age so he was easy to talk to.  I started to get excited and thought I was gonna make a sale to the first person I talked to.  That was until another dude (who apparently knew the guy behind the counter) started to come time the store, took one look at me quickly turned around and walked in the other direction.  It was not until the guy behind the counter yelled at him "ITS OK HE AIN'T A COP!" that he decided to come back into the store, at which point the guy I was talking to said to me.  "I'm gonna need you to get out.. you're hurtin my business."  It was a problem I had all day.

Every where I went people were giving me the "Who the fuck are you and what do you want" look. All day  having to explain to scattering customers that I was not a cop was not exactly putting me in good standing with the employees.  And the ones that were interested at first abruptly said "Manager not here!" or "Fuck you!" when I asked them if I could borrow their ID so I could run a credit check on the tablet I was carrying around.

Finally it was getting towards the end of the day.  I hadn't had ANY luck and was trying to decide if I wanted to take a shot at one more business to see if the law of average's were on my side.  As I stood there a little kid was peddling towards me on his bike.  He looked to be around 12 or 13 and was looking right at me the same way the homeless man had looked at me earlier in the day.  Except unlike the look of dread and fear the homeless man had given me, this one was of joy and excitement.  His face was grinning ear to ear.  Once he reached me on his bike he began doing circles around me on the sidewalk, not once taking his eyes off me.  Finally, he spoke..

"Its getting dark!  Its getting dark!!  ITS GETTING DARK!!!" and peddled off.          

I looked down at my watch.  It was only 3:30... it would not be dark for another 2 hours and this kid was already fucking warning me.  There was something really fucked up about a child in that situation telling you that its getting dark.  Its almost like it was his way of telling me that night time on the south side was no place for a white boy, but he would be happy if I stuck around if it meant more entertainment for him.  It was then that finally decided to get the fuck out of there.

Even though the sun would be up for another couple hours my walking pace had picked up.  I was a good mile or so away from the train and was honestly freaking out a little bit about this little fucking kid.  I did not want to push my luck anymore.  Apparently neither did the two officers that pulled up next to me in an SUV Cop Car.  Jesus Christ.. what now?!  The officer in the passenger seat rolled his window down, looked at me like I was a moron and asked,

"What are you doing?"

"Working my territory... I'm an authorized cell phone dealer selling phones to business in the area"

"You're a brave white boy"  Even the fucking cop is calling me white boy

"Oh yeah?"

"We don't even like coming into this area...most of the time its only when we have to. If I were you I would get a new 'territory'"

"Yeah... I think I've had enough.  Was actually trying to get to the train."  The cop that was driving spoke up

"Well hop in, we'll get you there a little quicker"  I accepted the invite.  Mostly because I was tired of walking.....  

On the train ride back to the office I made up my mind that I was going to quit.  I came to the conclusion that there is a difference between being frustrated and wanting to quit at something I was not immediately good at, and being frustrated and wanting to quit because I didn't want to fucking die.  I told my "boss" this to which he replied "This job is not for everyone"  Even though the thought of being unemployed sucked ass, at least I wouldn't be working for someone who clearly did not give a fuck about my well being.

I struggled though a little over a month of being unemployed before I finally got hired at the bookstore.  I jumped on the opportunity simply because I needed a job and couldn't NOT work.  Every day I get into my clunky ford ranger and make the long journey out into the sub-burbs where I do my best to assist helpless yuppies find a book that they don't know the name of or who wrote it.  Some days are better than others, but I'm alive, employed and know for an absolute fact that it could be a whole lot worse.

The End.         

My day on the South Side: Part - 2

IN CASE YOU MISSED PART 1.

I think we can all agree that the national media embellishes the hell out of everything.  Its non stop, in your face and jammed down your throat politics, sports, holidays, and for some FUCKED up reason the Kardashians.  So, as someone who grew up in Waterville Maine, my mental image of Chicago's South Side was what I had seen on the news and on History Channels every other episode of Gangland.  Obviously I was not gonna be in Waterville Maine, but I knew enough about Chicago to know that not ALL area's of the  south side were a fucking "war zone".  I just blindly assumed there was no way my employers would put me in a Dangerous situation.  Looking back on that moment I can say with 100% confidence that my "Street Smarts"   failed to make an appearance.  

I walked out of the office building.  It was crisp fall day and the sun was beaming but it was cool enough that I was not pouring sweat in my suit and tie.  I had never had a job that required me to wear a suit.  Usually all I needed was a nice pair of pants and a shirt that was "provided."  I made my way to the train station with a few other fellow employee's that also relied on public transportation to take them to their territory or "T's" as they so brodudelessly put it.  They were all wondering where I would be heading.  I will never forget the looks of "Holy Fuck", "Son of a Bitch" and "Good fucking luck" that came across their faces when I showed them my T(erritory).

We all piled into the train and headed towards our destinations.  The ride was long.  Not only was I heading to a shady section of town, but the thoughts of a new sales job in a new city with huge income potential were echoing through my head the whole time... I knew it was going to be tough, but I also knew I had to stick with it.  I had to validate moving to Chicago.. NO pressure right?  Finally after about 30 minutes I arrived at my destination.  I got off the train and walked down to street level.  The sun was still burning and it had warmed up.  There wasn't a fucking cloud in the sky and at first glance the area did not look half bad.  "This looks alright.." I thought, and dug out my map to find a good starting point.  After settling on a location I folded up my map, boated up my Tablet and made my way to my first business.  

On this day I would learn just how quickly the city of Chicago can change just by simply crossing a street.  After coming to my first intersection, I crossed the street and took a left to head down to my starting point.  It was not to long after I had made this change in direction when I came across a man sitting on a slab of cardboard in one of the ally's.  At first glance it was clear that he was someone who did not have a place to call home.  His clothes were musty, he did not have any shoes and the few belongings he had were in a worn out trash bag that he clutched to his side.  I also noticed the way he was starting at me, dead in the eyes, looking right into my soul like he was the fucking Southern Oracle from the Never Ending story.  It was enough to make me stop dead in my tracks and look back at him with my best "Can I help you?" expression.  He finally spoke.  

"Ohhhh...White boy.. Be safe White boy...Be safe man.  If I were you I'd turn the fuck around and walk away"  

It was around this time I became a little concerned.  Here was a man who had nothing but a trash bag full of clothes and a piece of cardboard and yet... his biggest concern was my safety.  I did my best to shake it off.  That's the advice he followed and he ended up homeless!  Wait... why is there another guy across the street yelling at me?

To be continued.....        

       

    

My day on the South Side

They say there are two kinds of smarts.  "Book Smart" and "Street Smart"  I could take a while to break down the difference between the two of them, but its been a long day.  I will only say that considering the somewhat lack of book smarts I have dealt with throughout my life, I've managed to get by just fine. Oddly enough I work at a used Bookstore. ( No relation to "Book Smart)  The job itself?  Not to bad.  The people I work with are overall solid dudes and duddets.  The customers can certainly get on your nerves.  If you've ever worked any kind of retail in the past you know how difficult people can be to deal with.  But aside from the occasional over privileged yuppie fuck wad, most people are relatively pleasant, and the ones that aren't pleasant sulk to themselves and won't talk to you which is fine by me.  I would much rather interact with someone like that vs some fucking smart ass, needle dick, angsty teenager.  My dick may not be much bigger, but at least I've seen Slayer three times.

The only drawback is that I drive an hour and twenty minutes to AND from work.  If it were not for the Chicago  traffic it would be more like 45 minutes.  Still, even 45 minutes would be a drag.  I drive a 1998 Ford Ranger pick-up truck.  Quite possibly the worst fucking vehicle you should be using through the bumpy inner streets and the stop and go marathons on the interstate.  The amount I spend on gas in a month is only 100$ cheaper then what I pay for rent. I'm coming up on the 4 month anniversary of my check engine light coming on, not to mention the other little warning lights that like to flicker on and off every now and again.  The main reason I'm not taking it in to get looked at, (aside from the fact that I'm not very "well off") is the first time it came on was when I first started it up in the parking lot of the auto shop that I had JUST thrown 400$ at for a new Alternator.  I just try to tell myself that some sort of amateur fucked up the wiring when it was getting fixed.  Plus... its an old truck. It could just be his way of telling me "WHEN THE FUCK IS THIS GOING TO STOP?!"  Regardless, it still starts up every day and gets from point A to point B.      

People that come in the bookstore are almost always shocked when I tell them I commute from the city.  The can't understand why someone would do all that driving.  I dunno.. I guess in their perfect little fairy tail of a world jobs are still being given away.  But in my peanut butter and jelly sandwich eating world jobs are fucking hard to come by.  This job may not be the most ideal job in the world, but it beats the shit out of what I was doing before that which was being unemployed for almost two months.  Not to mention the few days leading up to the two months of unemployment.  Not only were they some of the most memorable days of my life, but they also make it a hell of a lot easier to handle a simple hour an a half drive through stop and go traffic.  

Its been about a year since those few days.  I had just been offered a sales position with huge income potential.  It sounded great compared to what I had been doing for the past month.  Leading up to that I had been working 25 hours a week at a gym.  The hours sucked and my boss and I never got along.  When I put in my two weeks notice after getting the sales job she told me to "just fucking leave."  I had a feeling I would not be hired back if the new job did not work out, but that certainly sealed it.  The bridge had been burned and in a few days, I was wishing it never happened.

The new job required a week of training before being sent out into the field on our own.  During that week I would sit in an office every morning with the other new employees and learn about what we were going to be selling and to whom.  It turns out we would be doing door to door selling of cell phone plans to local business for their employees.  What this meant is we would walk around the streets in a suit and tie with a tablet going into every business in our "territory" and fucking interrupt them at work to ask them what they used for a cell phone plan and if they wanted to switch.  If at that point they were interested and by some fucking miracle they trusted a complete stranger that just showed up unannounced we would take their credit card and run a credit check with the tablet.  The sales people I shadowed during my week of training made it look easy.  Obviously there were people that had zero interest, but we would always make at least 1 sale a day.  Sometimes that 1 sale was all you needed if you sold them multiple lines.  For every phone line you sold you made commission.  I was obviously nervous about it, but figured it was just a matter of getting out there, doing it and finding my style.

The day finally came when I got my "territory."  In this section of the city I would be responsible for going into every business to try and sell them cell phones.  They handed me a little map with the streets I was suppose to hit.  I looked at the map.  I recognized a few street names.  Chicago being the huge grid that it is has the same streets all over the city.  However...I began to notice that the letter S appeared on the street name.... S as in "South"  Chicago's famed South Side.  When people talk about Chicago they talk about what a great city it is.  The summer's are awesome, the sports are fun and the girls are pretty....just stay away from the south side.   But really though... how bad could it be?

To be continued....

Quit your bitching, this country rules.

It was a little after 2pm.  I had been going to school for almost 12 years and that day was about as mind numbing as it gets.  The first part of the day was pretty normal, next thing I knew the teachers were turning on every T.V in the school and for the rest of the day, we were watching  three of the most recognizable buildings in the world burn to the ground.  What really sucked was that the buildings actually burned down in a pretty short amount of time, but there was the footage all fucking day, the same buildings, the same speculations, the same public reactions being played again and again by the whichever news coverage we were watching.  When school got out I even stopped at a friends house on the way home and kept watching more news coverage... I guess we all wanted to make sure it was really happening.  I was confused, shocked, sad and blown away all at the same time, and now that I had time to myself on the walk home from my friends house, I was starting to get really pissed off because I knew the Godsmack show I had tickets to that night would be cancelled.   

First of all, now that I'm older and have a broader music taste I MIGHT possibly go to a Godsmack concert if they were playing about a 5 minute walk from where ever I was living....and the show was free... plus I've already seen them like three times since then so now it doesn't even matter.  Mike - 1  Terrorist - 0  

Second of all, I feel like an asshole.  Over 2000 human beings lost their lives that day and yet here I am talking about how it effected me and me only.  All I can talk about is where I was when it happened and how pissy I was when I found out the concert was cancelled.  Godsmack is not even that good.  Just boring fucking radio rock.  Whatever though... I was 18 years old and unknowingly knew nothing about a lot of things.  It turns out one of them was "How the hell to react to something like this?"

When you live in America, you live in a country that hardly ever has stuff like that happen to it.  All the violence you usually see on the news is happening in other countries.  Now it was happening in America and it was getting shoved down our throats 24 hours a day by the news, friends, family and even teachers.  Nothing like talking about the biggest disaster in American history with the same assholes that assigned me homework on the weekends.  Who am I to complain though?  Part of being an 18 year old American in those days was being naive to everything that was happening outside of the country.  Stuff like what I was experiencing for the first time in my life was the norm for kids my age in a lot of other countries.  That and I can't even fathom what it was like for anyone who lost a close friend or family member and only in my craziest fucking nightmares could I imagine what it was like to be a passenger on any one of those planes.

Its been exactly 11 years since that day.  I think about how much has gone down in those 11 years  Recessions, everyone being unemployed, fucking Hurricanes taring up all kinds of shit, Oil Spills turning oceans into cesspool's.  Its easy to be pissed off and worried about what the next couple years hold.  I would be lying to you if I said I was not a little bit concerned. Now a days when I think about September 11th 2001 I think about a day that will forever shape the future of our country.  I think about the horror the victims went through and grief and sadness their loved ones felt.  But... I also think about where I was and what I was doing and how far I have come since then.  America may have taken a huge blow that day, but when the sun came up on September 12th 2001 and on, that same America let me experience  High School graduations, the thrill of becoming a stand up comic, doing two movies, losing a shit load of weight and of course starting a new life in Chicago.  Its pretty cool to know I live in a country like that.    

*Dedicated to all those who missed out on a chance to see Godsmack on September 11th 2001*

             

   

Real Athletes play Wiffleball

Since the dawn of time, the competitive edge has dominated whatever life form inhabited the earth.  I've never met anyone that lived around the same time as the Dinosaurs, so I can't speak for them.  But I imagine that a T-Rex would get insanely pissed off whenever anyone tried to mess with whatever animal he or she was eating.  I bet he would also all of the sudden call time out whenever he was playing sandlot football with a bunch of other T-Rex's and the team that he was not on was about to score a touchdown.  No one likes to lose, even if its a friendly game of sandlot football.  Now a days competition is everywhere, politics, religion, education, burping contests and of course, sports.

What sucks about a lot of sports these days is its less about the competition and more about business.  How many times do you hear about some pompous pro athlete signing a "business decision" contract to play for a pro team. Specially in baseball  *COUGH* Albert Pujols and Prince Fielder this year *PUKE* Johnny Damon in 2005.  MLB, NBA, NFL you name it... money is first, winning is secondary.  The NHL kicks ass.  How many times do you hear about some spoiled hockey player holding out for a new contract?  Exactly.  Then again... how many times do you hear about hockey?  Exactly.  Fuck you ESPN.  World wide leader in sports my ass.  The best sports are the ones played in neighborhood driveways, and backyards.  Street Hockey, Sandlot Football, Pickup Basketball and my personal favorite, Wiffleball.

Whether you're playing in a tournament or just messing around with your friends its a sport that can be played by anyone of any age or fitness level.  Both the bat and ball are light enough for a 5 year old that still might be a little weak to handle a wooden bat or a 60 year old that cant really handle the ware and tare of throwing a real baseball without the shoulder flaring up.  There is also very little running involved. (fuck yeah)  While baseball relies on running the bases, wiffleball uses ghost runners.  So if you have a bad knee or weigh a little more than the average person, fear not.  Singles, doubles, triples and home runs are decided by how far you hit the ball.

Got nothing to do on a mid summer Saturday?  Load of a cooler with sandwiches and Gatorade and head to your nearest Wiffleball tournament.  If you thought you and your friends were the only people in the world that knew how to whip off a sweet wiffle curve ball think again.  Teams from all over the area flock to these tournaments every year and why wouldn't they?  There is no better way to spend a kick ass summer day then with some of your best friends playing a sport you've played since you were kids.   After a few years you get to know some of the other teams and become friends with them as well.  It does not take long for the tournament to become one giant backyard were everyone is joking around telling stories and having fun.  By the time the day is over, you're sunburned, tired, ready for a beer and your sides hurt from laughing.  Fuck the beach, I'd rather be playing wiffleball.

So if you're tired of watching 200 million dollar athletes complain about their back being to stiff to play or your favorite player signing a contract with another team because they were offering him a couple million dollars more just remember, there is a backyard with your best friends waiting for your turn to bat.  If you strike out, who gives a fuck.  No one is paying you anyway.

It also makes for a pretty sweet movie plot.  

 

Dorothy said it best...

After a long journey down the yellow brick road that featured a talking scarecrow that could not walk for shit, a tin man that danced like a sonofabitch, a lion that would tare a hippopotamus from top to bottomus and a wicked witch that would stop at nothing to get her ruby slippers back, we learn from Glinda the "good" witch of the north that all Dorthy had to do in order to return to her beloved Kansas was close her eyes, click her heals three times and repeat the phrase, "there's no place like home."  Next thing she knew she was waking up in her bed surrounded by her friends and family welcoming her back from the land of Oz.  Really?  Miles and miles of yellow brick road, lions tigers and bears, a shit load of flying monkeys ALL while a witch is trying to fucking kill her and her friends?  That's all she had to do to get home?

Put your fucking wand down and explain yourself...

HEY, GET BACK HERE!!!

While it might have seemed like a dick move by someone who's suppose to be good, in the end it was necessary for Dorothy to learn the true value of friends and family and how important it is to never forget who you are and where your from.  If it means having a witch throw huge fucking balls of fire at you then so be it.  It will teach you to not spontaneously run away from home again wont it?  Your poor auntie Em was worried sick.

After being away for close to five months I got a chance to visit my home town of Waterville Maine last weekend.  Unlike Dorothy I left my home town without the aide of a Tornado.  I packed everything I could fit into my 98' green ford ranger and put peddle to the metal towards Chicago.  It took me a while, but I'm finally starting to get things churning out here.  If you've ever made a big move like that it can be easy to forget that starting life over takes time.  You go from an area you know like the back of your hand to an area that you've never seen, heard or experienced before.  Not to mention its an area that's fucking HUGE compared to Waterville Maine.  Its almost like relearning how to walk.  When my plane touched down in Portland everything was exactly how I remembered it.  I could not help by think of those last lines in the Wizard of Oz "There's no place like home."  Seeing my parents and brother Matt (who had made his own trip from New York) for the first time since the end of August was a little bit surreal.  Its a weird feeling when your home state is no longer your home.

During that weekend I fell right back into place with my friends.  It was almost as if I had never left.  We all told the same stories, ate the same food, drank the same beer and had just as much fun as we always have.  Except this time my tiny apartment in Chicago was constantly in the back of my mind.  Even though I was having the time of my life with the best friends and family in the world, I was anxious to get back to my new life of not knowing what the next few days will hold.  It dawned on me that during these past five months, I have without even realizing it come to embrace what I was afraid of when I first got out here.  Everything in Maine was the same, everything back in Chicago was still new, exciting and even a little bit scary.  The rush I had been living for those past 5 months had slowed down to a crawl... as good as it was to be home I was not ready for things to slow down.  

Taking it one day at a time with a new job, new friends and new opportunities is something I will continue to look forward to while I plant my roots out here.  It might suck ass that I'm not three heal clicks away from Waterville, but that won't keep my friends and family away from my heart.  They will always be there along with the thoughts that if the roots don't grow the way I want them to out here, I've got no spaz of a wicked witch keeping me from going back.                             

          

The Catch of the Day.

For most people every day starts early in the morning when we fight ourselves out of bed knowing that we have a full day of work or school ahead of us.  As we rub our eyes and get dressed, we glare over at our comfortable looking beds and think how awesome it would be if we could crawl back underneath the warm covers and continue dreaming about really awesome shit.  Its amazing how hard it is to start the day when you know that day will be spent doing something you don't want to do.  Monday through Thursday the mental war can be brutal.  Friday mornings are usually a little easier to take knowing that the weekend is right around the corner. The chance to finally sleep in and not get up at the ass crack of dawn, unless you were sleeping at a little camp in Hartland Maine that sat on Moose Pond.

Getting up at 5am on a Saturday morning in Maine was always a lot easier when you looked out the window to see a layer of fog slowly rising off a dead calm lake.  America's day was just beginning and there was no better place in the world to witness it.  The dew was sparkling in the early morning sun, the birds were chirping and downstairs I could hear my Dad and Uncle John filling up the cooler with food and beer for a long day on the lake in a 14 foot aluminum boat.  The only living creatures that were not enjoying themselves were the fish that made their home underneath the surface of the water.  It would not be long before our lures would be hitting that same surface in hopes of rousting a 4lb rouge small mouth bass.  Knowing that my day would be filled with picturesque scenery, a few ice cold beers, some puffs on the god given herb and COUNTLESS fishing stories from my Dad and Uncle John made it a lot easier to jump out of bed to greet the day.

Even if the day itself was not particularly nice it would not stop us.  The best part about fishing in the rain was that you knew you would pretty much have the lake to yourself.  Aside from a select few local hardcore's, all the out of state summer residents were sulking at home because of a little rain, oblivious to the fact that out on the lake there were people reeling in a small mouth bass that could not believe he got caught by people stupid enough to be fishing on a rainy day.  The only thing that would slow us down was if the wind picked up.  Even then we would tuck into a stream or cove, kick back and wash down some puffs of the god given herb with a couple more oat sodas.   

TV would like you to think that the only people that know how to fish are those rich fucks in their $30,000 fishing boats.  

"Don't tell anyone that I told you my penis is really small.."

Underneath all the fancy equipment and 200 horse power motors are idiots that have no idea what they are doing.  As much as they hate to admit it they know that the dudes in the 14 foot boats know where the fish are.  I usually spot these assholes about 100 yards away from my boat doing everything they can to make it look like they are not trying to fish in the same spot I'm in.  I've lost track of how many times I've moved out of an area only to see some prick in a bass boat immediately move into the exact area I was just fishing in.  They may have the flash, but I've got the 4lb bass at the end of my stringer.  Good luck trying to catch a fish that was just caught.           

Whether you're a 3 year old kid with a plastic fisher price pole just learning how to cast a line or a 90 year old man sitting on the edge of his dock dangling a bobber at the end of his line not even giving a flying fuck if he catches a single fish.  

American Dream

The best part about fishing is that anyone can do it.  It could be in a boat, on the shore of a pond or in the middle of winter in a shack on the ice.  Even if you're to tired to fight yourself out of bed at 5am just remember that a hell of a day is out their waiting for you on the lake. Even if  they are not biting it beats the shit out of having to go to work.  As my great uncle Dick use to say "You can't catch'em sittin' on the porch!"    

  

          

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.      

The Best Friend who Followed me Home, Chapter 2 - A Father Outnumbered

Cats are not as stupid as a lot of people think.  While they may be dumb enough to mess with a skunk and play chicken in the road with passing cars, they are smart enough to know when to look cute and how to melt your heart.  Especially when it's a desperate kitten fighting for survival.  Not only did he have the benefit of being a kitten that was cuter than anything you had ever seen before, but he was hamming it up big time.  He was constantly rubbing up against our legs and when I bent over to pet him he jumped up in my lap as if to say "YOU'RE ALL I FUCKING HAVE!"  I can still hear my Dad's words to this day..
"I just don't know what to do... I don't know what to do with this Cat.."  The little guy had clearly made an impression on him.  Even if my Dad had no intentions of keeping him, he was not going to leave him on the side of the road.

If we had hearts of stone and wanted to leave him behind we would not have been able to.  While we had been walking around the area trying to figure out what to do, we were noticing that where ever we went, he was right on our heals not letting us out of his sight.  So without even picking him up we started the walk home wondering if he would follow.  It was as if he was a well trained show dog.  When we sped up, he would speed up, if we slowed down, he would slow down, if we stopped he would stop.  No matter how many people we passed on the street the kitten stayed with us.  People passing by or observing from their yards could not believe it, each one of them disappointing my Dad even more when they told them they had no idea where the kitten had come from.

My younger Brother and Mom along with our other cat Cassie were all surprised to see a kitten at our heals when we walked up the driveway to our house.  My Brother and Mom reacted with the same enthusiasm that I had.  The kitten saw this as a chance to improve his chances of staying and doubled his outpouring of affection and love.  It was then my Dad realized he was out numbered.  Even though Cassie shared his disapproval, it was still two against one.  It would be worse for Cassie, because now she had to play Mom to some snot nosed punk kitten that she did not even want.

The kitten was not ours yet though.  My mom had talked my Dad out of dropping him off at the Animal Shelter with the 50 other cats that had yet to find homes.  However, my Dad still wanted to make sure the kitten did not have an owner that was looking for him and took out an add in the lost and found section of the paper.  The add would run for 3 days, if no one claimed him within those three days the kitten would be ours.  Until then, he was to stay outside on the front porch and not come in the house.  For the kitten it was definitely a better situation then the side of the road.  He had a little food dish some water and a new friend to keep him company as he and I would both spend the next 3 days hanging out on the porch getting to know each other, praying that no one would call.