We did indeed have a snow day today. Sort of. It was a snow day because it did snow enough to cancel school, but it started raining at about 10:30 or 11 am. Before that was the 6:30 phone call to announce the school closure, then the 7:15 call from my sister to update the flight info (delayed minimally), then the infusion of kids into my bed, and finally the realization that I hadn't heard from my cleaning woman and needed to get up. So at 7:45 I got up and opened the shade to a view of a beautiful snow covered world and a car that jumped the curb and came to a rest on my neighbor's lawn with the help of a well placed tree. Well that entertained the troops for about an hour. They were mesmerized by the (immobile) car, and then eventually the cop, and then finally the tow truck. I'm not sure if another car that was originally on the scene hit the guy who ended up parking up the wrong tree, or if tree man wasn't just blaming the guy. Either way, the unstuck car stuck around until the cop showed up.
After that was just the lazy day we had hoped for with the anticipation of the cousins' arrival. Once that happened it was time for lunch. We eschewed pasta for Pizza (the roads were slushy at this point and though not perfect, more than passable). Sledding was off the schedule because of the rain. I don't mind if they go out when it's snowing, but I wasn't willing to send them out in the rain. So we went to visit the Grandmother and did a little shoveling, noshing and shmoozing.
The rest of the day was uneventful and I messed myself up by writing the blog post yesterday. Because now I do feel bad that I was not productive. I'm hoping for a sort of do over. A one o two hour delay would be perfect. Not to be productive of course, but maybe I could sleep guilt free.......
Potentially.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Flutter of Forecasted Flakes
Tonight is one of those great nights. It's the night before something exciting MIGHT happen, though everything would have to align juuuuust right for it to go exactly my way. At around midnight tonight, it's supposed to start snowing. No big deal in some locales, but around these parts a three to five inch snowfall that is not predicted to stop until about 9 am, means no school. No school means I get to sleep late. Potentially. I have cleaning help, and she usually arrives around 8 am. If she can get out of her driveway I'll need to be up before 8. So that's one hurdle, there needs to be enough snow that she chooses not to be here. I am very excited that my nieces are coming to visit and are flying in. Their flight is due to arrive at 9 am, so I'd have to leave about 8:00 to get there about on time. I'd love for them to be delayed about one hour, but no more than that, thus I could leave my house at 9. Of course the main factor in my sleep quest is getting the school district to actually cancel school, but based on past history this should not be a problem. Unless the forecast is waaay wrong (always a possibility), I would be shocked, shocked! if there was school tomorrow.
I love snow days, and not only because I can potentially sleep late. I love that at home cozy day. Today I shopped for provisions, we have enough milk for hot chocolate, we have enough pasta for lunch, and the girls love to laze in pjs until it's time to go sledding. As someone who doesn't work, it's almost like a vacation day for me. The kids are all home, there's often nowhere to go, so it's just a freebie day. For a lot of people it's a day to be productive, and it may well turn out that way, but mostly I laze with the girls (even though I do not stay in pjs). That's what makes tonight so much fun. It's the hope that tomorrow will be something different. No need to make lunches, the little ones can stay up a little later, and everything tonight is more laid back. A weekend day in the middle of the week, how cool is that.
So the closets probably won't get cleaned out tomorrow, and the toys will not get organized either. We may bake, though more likely we'll play a game, go sledding, read books, and try to have a fun in house day.
I can't wait.
I love snow days, and not only because I can potentially sleep late. I love that at home cozy day. Today I shopped for provisions, we have enough milk for hot chocolate, we have enough pasta for lunch, and the girls love to laze in pjs until it's time to go sledding. As someone who doesn't work, it's almost like a vacation day for me. The kids are all home, there's often nowhere to go, so it's just a freebie day. For a lot of people it's a day to be productive, and it may well turn out that way, but mostly I laze with the girls (even though I do not stay in pjs). That's what makes tonight so much fun. It's the hope that tomorrow will be something different. No need to make lunches, the little ones can stay up a little later, and everything tonight is more laid back. A weekend day in the middle of the week, how cool is that.
So the closets probably won't get cleaned out tomorrow, and the toys will not get organized either. We may bake, though more likely we'll play a game, go sledding, read books, and try to have a fun in house day.
I can't wait.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Floor Is Not A Smorgasboard
This post is for a certain two foot person. Unfortunately, she can't read. However, maybe someday she will chance upon this blog, and she will see how she sustained herself when she was a wee lass.
Not really sustained herself, but everyday as I sweep she comes running over to the pile as I get out the dustpan (for some reason I like to call it a dustbin, but it looks weird in written form), and sees what she can salvage. This morning as I swept up the Fruity Pebbles that were scattered along the floor, she came running over. I think she thought I was collecting them for her to dig in. I really thought that at this point she would no longer feel she had to scavenge on the floor for scraps. When she began crawling at about 8 months old she found the floor to be a delightful entree to the world of food. So I started her on solids. This obviously did nothing to dampen her desire for floor food.
She is now 22 months old. Very mobile, and communicative. You would think that she would not need to resort to scraps. Anyone who knows her, knows how much she likes to eat, and how she will ask for food from anyone. On Friday I needed to go to the girls' school to drop something off. The secretary was eating pretzels, and the little twerp was not shy about wanting some. When the woman put out her hand with six pretzel nuggets in it, she tried to take them all.
So my dear almost two year old cutie, please don't run over to the sweep pile to find the food you discarded from your high chair minutes earlier. If you didn't want it then, why do you want it now?
Not really sustained herself, but everyday as I sweep she comes running over to the pile as I get out the dustpan (for some reason I like to call it a dustbin, but it looks weird in written form), and sees what she can salvage. This morning as I swept up the Fruity Pebbles that were scattered along the floor, she came running over. I think she thought I was collecting them for her to dig in. I really thought that at this point she would no longer feel she had to scavenge on the floor for scraps. When she began crawling at about 8 months old she found the floor to be a delightful entree to the world of food. So I started her on solids. This obviously did nothing to dampen her desire for floor food.
She is now 22 months old. Very mobile, and communicative. You would think that she would not need to resort to scraps. Anyone who knows her, knows how much she likes to eat, and how she will ask for food from anyone. On Friday I needed to go to the girls' school to drop something off. The secretary was eating pretzels, and the little twerp was not shy about wanting some. When the woman put out her hand with six pretzel nuggets in it, she tried to take them all.
So my dear almost two year old cutie, please don't run over to the sweep pile to find the food you discarded from your high chair minutes earlier. If you didn't want it then, why do you want it now?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Winter of My Dis-caffeining, Part II
Editor's note: This post in another in a series of updates on MBB's attempt to live a caffeine-free lifestyle. Unfortunately, our subject does not seem to be doing very well right now.
Day 16:
Have you ever listened to a middle-aged person speaking about something that he/she did when he/she was much younger, and now feels embarrassed about? The story typically ends with the person saying something like, "I can't believe I thought it was a good idea at the time."
This is how I feel about my caffeine-free phase, with one little caveat.
I never, ever thought that it was a good idea.
This was a terrible idea from the start. A foolish, nasty, downright cruel idea.
I'm tired, irritable and unfocused. Having thumbed my nose at caffeine and its appetite-suppressing qualities, I'm in the process of eating everything in my house that is not nailed down.
This is sheer madness.
Why do I get the impression that this is the kind of stunt that Ted Bundy tried, back when he was "normal?"
How am I supposed to make it through at least four years of a Democratic administration like this?
Doesn't the Geneva convention cover something like this? Can someone look this up for me, please? (I can't focus long enough to use Google effectively. Or, perhaps I should have said, "to effectively use Google." Darn that Chief Justice Roberts. Now he's got me confused as well).
Anyway, I think I'll stick it out for a little while longer. I want to see if I can keep this going until the three week point.
Day 16:
Have you ever listened to a middle-aged person speaking about something that he/she did when he/she was much younger, and now feels embarrassed about? The story typically ends with the person saying something like, "I can't believe I thought it was a good idea at the time."
This is how I feel about my caffeine-free phase, with one little caveat.
I never, ever thought that it was a good idea.
This was a terrible idea from the start. A foolish, nasty, downright cruel idea.
I'm tired, irritable and unfocused. Having thumbed my nose at caffeine and its appetite-suppressing qualities, I'm in the process of eating everything in my house that is not nailed down.
This is sheer madness.
Why do I get the impression that this is the kind of stunt that Ted Bundy tried, back when he was "normal?"
How am I supposed to make it through at least four years of a Democratic administration like this?
Doesn't the Geneva convention cover something like this? Can someone look this up for me, please? (I can't focus long enough to use Google effectively. Or, perhaps I should have said, "to effectively use Google." Darn that Chief Justice Roberts. Now he's got me confused as well).
Anyway, I think I'll stick it out for a little while longer. I want to see if I can keep this going until the three week point.
Will Obama Be Good For...the Yankees?
I'm sure that before long, FBB and I will have plenty to say about our new President. However, I wanted to start out with a quick analysis of some areas where our new leader can be expected to make a significant impact.
In looking at all of the crazy things that occurred during George W. Bush's eight years in the White House (9/11, Enron and other corporate scandals, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, stock market crashes, oil price shocks, the credit crisis, etc.) one thing stood out as particularly abnormal. It was the type of thing about which we could all truthfully say, "I just didn't see that coming."
From the time that George W. Bush took office on January 20, 2001, until he left office, on January 20, 2009, The New York Yankees did not win a single World Series title.
Dating back to 1923, when the Yankees won their first title, the only other president to serve a full eight years during which the Yanks went without a title was Ronald Reagan.
This led me to wonder, have the Yankees been more successful during Republican or Democratic administrations?
Let's take a look, by breaking down the Yankees' 26 World Championships by president.
Coolidge (R): 3
Hoover (R): 1
FDR (D): 6
Truman (D): 5
Eisenhower (R): 3
JFK (D): 2
Carter (D): 2
Clinton (D): 4
Based on the above, 19 of the Yankees' 26 titles (73%) have occurred during Democratic administrations. Their last eight titles have been captured while a Democrat resided in the White House.
So, while I'm not sure that Obama's policies will cure our country's economic ills, his mere presence in the White House increases the odds that the Yankees will soon return to their rightful place at the apex of the baseball world.
(That $200 million payroll won't hurt, either).
In looking at all of the crazy things that occurred during George W. Bush's eight years in the White House (9/11, Enron and other corporate scandals, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, stock market crashes, oil price shocks, the credit crisis, etc.) one thing stood out as particularly abnormal. It was the type of thing about which we could all truthfully say, "I just didn't see that coming."
From the time that George W. Bush took office on January 20, 2001, until he left office, on January 20, 2009, The New York Yankees did not win a single World Series title.
Dating back to 1923, when the Yankees won their first title, the only other president to serve a full eight years during which the Yanks went without a title was Ronald Reagan.
This led me to wonder, have the Yankees been more successful during Republican or Democratic administrations?
Let's take a look, by breaking down the Yankees' 26 World Championships by president.
Coolidge (R): 3
Hoover (R): 1
FDR (D): 6
Truman (D): 5
Eisenhower (R): 3
JFK (D): 2
Carter (D): 2
Clinton (D): 4
Based on the above, 19 of the Yankees' 26 titles (73%) have occurred during Democratic administrations. Their last eight titles have been captured while a Democrat resided in the White House.
So, while I'm not sure that Obama's policies will cure our country's economic ills, his mere presence in the White House increases the odds that the Yankees will soon return to their rightful place at the apex of the baseball world.
(That $200 million payroll won't hurt, either).
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Winter of My Dis-caffeining
Editor's note: From time-to-time, we will post updates on my attempt to live a caffeine-free lifestyle.
Day 13:
Our provisions (willpower and curiosity), once so plentiful, have begun to dwindle, having been replaced in the rucksacks of our souls by incredible craving. I can sense that the men are becoming restless, as they huddle for warmth near the fire they've built (I should probably turn up the thermostat a bit). It has been nearly a fortnight since we last ingested the life-affirming nectar.
I can see the doubt in their eyes. What is the source of this doubt? Are they questioning my leadership? Even worse, have they completely lost faith in our noble quest to scale Mt. Caffeine? Just the other day, I heard one of them ask his peers for a word that rhymes with "quixotic." (The response was "neurotic." I'd have said "exotic," but no one asked me).
Their doubt lingers like a festering sore. It must be bluntly silenced, lest they bring down the rest of the group. I pray that I will not have to do something unpleasant. In the event that I must, I pray that I be given the strength to carry out the necessary steps. Or, at the very least, that I not be eventually tried by a court of law for my egregious mixing of metaphors.
So, Doubt has appeared on the scene. He is not an unexpected visitor, although I did not anticipate seeing him so soon. No matter, he must be forcibly engaged. So lay down some odds, my bookmaking friend, Doubt and I are set to tussle. With apologies to Don King, we could refer to our confrontation as "The Caffeine Clash."
Still others are now demonstrating a heretofore undiscovered, steely resolve. This, too, I can see in their eyes. Their faces do not betray the despair which is the constant companion of the beaten man. Rather, they are determined to see this thing through. I am proud to know such men, to struggle alongside them.
I think that we're getting to the point where the quest itself is no longer relevant (was it ever?). Now, it's about survival. It's about testing ourselves via deprivation of the most extreme sort. We've gotten to this point. Dare we back down now?
Yet, even as I write these seemingly courageous words, I can feel my own resolve crumbling. Verily, my heart continues to beat, and my blood flows, but they do so lethargically, robbed of the thing which makes them race, in so exhilarating a manner.
However, the physical impact of my deprivation, while troubling, does not bring with it the horrors that the quest now seems prepared to visit upon my tortured psyche. When I lie asleep at night, I dream of the magical, banned elixir, in nearly all of its forms. The 20-ounce Diet Coke, with 75 milligrams of caffeine; the Big Gulp, with 30 ounces of Diet Coke (112.5 mg. of caffeine) and 2 ounces of regular Coke (5.8 mg. of caffeine); or, the massive, (yet still only $0.99) 44 ounce cup, available at a nearby ExxonMobil station, which can deliver 165 milligrams of the stuff. I've even seen some Diet Mountain Dew in some of my nocturnal visions, featuring 4.6 milligrams of caffeine per ounce. Temptation is everywhere.
Have I begun the slow descent into madness?
For now, there's no time to contemplate this terrible possibility. FBB just spilled some coffee onto the newspaper. Perhaps if I suck on it, I can get some caffeine into my system. And to think, I don't even like coffee.
Day 13:
Our provisions (willpower and curiosity), once so plentiful, have begun to dwindle, having been replaced in the rucksacks of our souls by incredible craving. I can sense that the men are becoming restless, as they huddle for warmth near the fire they've built (I should probably turn up the thermostat a bit). It has been nearly a fortnight since we last ingested the life-affirming nectar.
I can see the doubt in their eyes. What is the source of this doubt? Are they questioning my leadership? Even worse, have they completely lost faith in our noble quest to scale Mt. Caffeine? Just the other day, I heard one of them ask his peers for a word that rhymes with "quixotic." (The response was "neurotic." I'd have said "exotic," but no one asked me).
Their doubt lingers like a festering sore. It must be bluntly silenced, lest they bring down the rest of the group. I pray that I will not have to do something unpleasant. In the event that I must, I pray that I be given the strength to carry out the necessary steps. Or, at the very least, that I not be eventually tried by a court of law for my egregious mixing of metaphors.
So, Doubt has appeared on the scene. He is not an unexpected visitor, although I did not anticipate seeing him so soon. No matter, he must be forcibly engaged. So lay down some odds, my bookmaking friend, Doubt and I are set to tussle. With apologies to Don King, we could refer to our confrontation as "The Caffeine Clash."
Still others are now demonstrating a heretofore undiscovered, steely resolve. This, too, I can see in their eyes. Their faces do not betray the despair which is the constant companion of the beaten man. Rather, they are determined to see this thing through. I am proud to know such men, to struggle alongside them.
I think that we're getting to the point where the quest itself is no longer relevant (was it ever?). Now, it's about survival. It's about testing ourselves via deprivation of the most extreme sort. We've gotten to this point. Dare we back down now?
Yet, even as I write these seemingly courageous words, I can feel my own resolve crumbling. Verily, my heart continues to beat, and my blood flows, but they do so lethargically, robbed of the thing which makes them race, in so exhilarating a manner.
However, the physical impact of my deprivation, while troubling, does not bring with it the horrors that the quest now seems prepared to visit upon my tortured psyche. When I lie asleep at night, I dream of the magical, banned elixir, in nearly all of its forms. The 20-ounce Diet Coke, with 75 milligrams of caffeine; the Big Gulp, with 30 ounces of Diet Coke (112.5 mg. of caffeine) and 2 ounces of regular Coke (5.8 mg. of caffeine); or, the massive, (yet still only $0.99) 44 ounce cup, available at a nearby ExxonMobil station, which can deliver 165 milligrams of the stuff. I've even seen some Diet Mountain Dew in some of my nocturnal visions, featuring 4.6 milligrams of caffeine per ounce. Temptation is everywhere.
Have I begun the slow descent into madness?
For now, there's no time to contemplate this terrible possibility. FBB just spilled some coffee onto the newspaper. Perhaps if I suck on it, I can get some caffeine into my system. And to think, I don't even like coffee.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Caffeine Karma
Hmmm.
About three years ago I needed to lose a few pounds, and Weight Watchers had done just about all it could for me and I needed a jump start with something new. So I started the South Beach Diet (one I highly recommend, but that's a different post and as such we will leave it until then). South Beach is a low carb low/no sugar diet. Though really, having been to South Beach, I'd say it should be cigarettes, cocaine and mojitos, but again that's another post. Now, until this point I was drinking three or four cups of hot milk with Nestle's Quik stirred in. Nestle's Quik is a delicious confection, now called Nesquik, of cocoa powder and sugar, good both hot and cold. The sugar was a problem so I made myself lattes by microwaving milk and adding instant vanilla decaf coffee. My dearest, darling husband saw that I had seemed to develop a taste for coffee and decided to buy me a gift.
THE MOST WONDERFUL GIFT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!!!
It is in fact the greatest gift I could imagine, it makes me happy on a daily basis and if you ever wondered what a gift recipient should ultimately feeling like on a recurring basis after receiving a gift, I could tell you, because I have achieved Nirvana on that front. It is the gift that keeps on giving as I am joyous from it many times throughout the day. I actually saw someone buying one at Costco the other day and could not stop extolling its virtues. What is it you ask? What has made me so happy, and each and every day (at least for a few minutes) makes me think happy thoughts of MBB?
The Keurig B60 coffee machine. This thing has changed my life. I pretty much drink only decaf, but there's one great flavor that I love (Green Mountain Golden French Toast)that doesn't come in decaf, so I will indulge in a cup of the forbidden stimulant a few times in a week. Other than that I probably drink at least three to four cups of decaf coffee a day, this coffee is so delicious (pumpkin spice decaf is just amazing)I cannot drink instant, and most brewed coffees at bagel stores and the like hold no appeal to me (though in general 7-11 and Dunkin Donuts make great coffee. Starbucks is just gross). So I have been drinking steaming joy for the past three plus years, enjoying the machine, the coffee, my warm thoughts of the man who gave it to me, all that.
Until Friday. The machine didn't work. I put the K-cup in, it said READY TO BREW, I pressed the buttons, and nothing happened. Well, something happened, my palms got sweaty, my heart started racing, but no coffee came out. I turned off the machine. I waited at least ten minutes and turned it on again. Nothing. I pulled out the plug and waited. Still nothing. Yikes. I called the company, they said technical support would get back to me (I'm still waiting!). I continued to try throughout the day. I checked out the problem online, and it did not look fixable. Everything I read indicated that the company may throw me a few bucks towards a new machine, but that was about it. I'd definitely replace this machine whether or not they gave me money so I hope no one from The Keurig company is reading this. At about 4pm, I unplugged the machine and put it away, as I do every Friday.
I decided to try again Saturday night. HUZZAH!!It did indeed work. It's like getting a gift all over again. I'm so happy, but a little nervous about it happening again. However, many members of mine and MBB's families now have this machine too, so I could always run over to one of them for a great cup of Joe. So MBB has, without his knowledge, gifted me again, and now those warm and fuzzy feelings can return.
Unless it was all a nefarious plot by him in the first place.
HMMM, indeed.
About three years ago I needed to lose a few pounds, and Weight Watchers had done just about all it could for me and I needed a jump start with something new. So I started the South Beach Diet (one I highly recommend, but that's a different post and as such we will leave it until then). South Beach is a low carb low/no sugar diet. Though really, having been to South Beach, I'd say it should be cigarettes, cocaine and mojitos, but again that's another post. Now, until this point I was drinking three or four cups of hot milk with Nestle's Quik stirred in. Nestle's Quik is a delicious confection, now called Nesquik, of cocoa powder and sugar, good both hot and cold. The sugar was a problem so I made myself lattes by microwaving milk and adding instant vanilla decaf coffee. My dearest, darling husband saw that I had seemed to develop a taste for coffee and decided to buy me a gift.
THE MOST WONDERFUL GIFT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!!!
It is in fact the greatest gift I could imagine, it makes me happy on a daily basis and if you ever wondered what a gift recipient should ultimately feeling like on a recurring basis after receiving a gift, I could tell you, because I have achieved Nirvana on that front. It is the gift that keeps on giving as I am joyous from it many times throughout the day. I actually saw someone buying one at Costco the other day and could not stop extolling its virtues. What is it you ask? What has made me so happy, and each and every day (at least for a few minutes) makes me think happy thoughts of MBB?
The Keurig B60 coffee machine. This thing has changed my life. I pretty much drink only decaf, but there's one great flavor that I love (Green Mountain Golden French Toast)that doesn't come in decaf, so I will indulge in a cup of the forbidden stimulant a few times in a week. Other than that I probably drink at least three to four cups of decaf coffee a day, this coffee is so delicious (pumpkin spice decaf is just amazing)I cannot drink instant, and most brewed coffees at bagel stores and the like hold no appeal to me (though in general 7-11 and Dunkin Donuts make great coffee. Starbucks is just gross). So I have been drinking steaming joy for the past three plus years, enjoying the machine, the coffee, my warm thoughts of the man who gave it to me, all that.
Until Friday. The machine didn't work. I put the K-cup in, it said READY TO BREW, I pressed the buttons, and nothing happened. Well, something happened, my palms got sweaty, my heart started racing, but no coffee came out. I turned off the machine. I waited at least ten minutes and turned it on again. Nothing. I pulled out the plug and waited. Still nothing. Yikes. I called the company, they said technical support would get back to me (I'm still waiting!). I continued to try throughout the day. I checked out the problem online, and it did not look fixable. Everything I read indicated that the company may throw me a few bucks towards a new machine, but that was about it. I'd definitely replace this machine whether or not they gave me money so I hope no one from The Keurig company is reading this. At about 4pm, I unplugged the machine and put it away, as I do every Friday.
I decided to try again Saturday night. HUZZAH!!It did indeed work. It's like getting a gift all over again. I'm so happy, but a little nervous about it happening again. However, many members of mine and MBB's families now have this machine too, so I could always run over to one of them for a great cup of Joe. So MBB has, without his knowledge, gifted me again, and now those warm and fuzzy feelings can return.
Unless it was all a nefarious plot by him in the first place.
HMMM, indeed.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Sicilian Scissors
Last week, I found myself in my old neighborhood, Kew Gardens, and I drove down the block where my barbershop had been located.
I say "had been" because to my surprise and dismay, it was no longer there, having been replaced by a store that sold mobile phones and accessories. While this new store might be very nice, it will never recapture the magic of Joe's Barbershop.
Joe's was owned and operated by Joseph Annunziata, an Italian-American fellow who was very proud of his roots. I really think that the place was originally set up as a shrine to Frank Sinatra. There were pictures of Frank Sinatra everywhere, as well as about a dozen very large Frank Sinatra bobble-head dolls. Eventually, Joe decided that since he was already paying rent on the place, he might as well earn some money by putting in some barber's chairs and giving haircuts. I'm not really sure if this is the way it happened, but it makes sense, and would explain a lot.
Everyone I knew had his hair cut at Joe's. The shop became synonymous with getting a haircut. You'd say, "I've got to go to Joe's this week," not "I need a haircut." Neighborhood parents would tell their sons, "Look at you. You're a mess. I'm taking you to Joe's."
Everybody knew Joe, and Joe knew everybody. My friends and I were convinced that Joe was "mobbed up." Looking back, we had absolutely no evidence to support this belief, but it just made too much sense to us, so we believed it. (Years later, the NY Attorney General's office, under Elliot Spitzer, employed this very same sort of logic when dealing with Wall Street). For some reason, we were very proud of the fact that we knew this "highly connected and influential mafioso." We always believed that if we ever got into a pickle with the mob, we'd just drop Joe's name, and we'd be on the right side of things. Add to that the fact that I've always been very fond of both pizza and pasta, and I was practically the mayor of Bay Ridge.
Undoubtedly, the best thing about Joe's Barbershop was the non-stop entertainment provided by the group of his buddies who were always hanging out in the place. These guys would walk in, sit down, and spend the next two hours reading the paper and shooting the breeze. Like Joe, most of these guys were Italian-American, with typical names, like Sal, Dom, Nicky and Tony. Invariably, one of the guys would have no larynx, and would speak in an incredibly raspy voice that my brother and I would spend the next week trying to imitate, much to my parent's chagrin.
Oddly, these guys never spoke of their children, only their nieces and nephews. A typical conversation went something like this:
Dom (entering the barbershop): "Hey Joe!"
Joe (as he was cutting someone's hair): "How you doin', Dom? How's your nephew?"
Dom: "Ahh, he's just a fat punk. He's got no respect for his elders."
Nicky & Tony (from the far corner of the shop): "What's that? He's got no respect?"
Sal (sitting in one of the empty barber's chairs): "Hey, Dom. Why don't you teach him a lesson?"
Dom: "Nah, I couldn't do that to my sister."
I'm not going to get too nostalgic about the barbershop I patronized as a kid. If anything, I should be nostalgic about my hair itself. However, I really learned a great deal about the world while sitting in Joe's barbershop. What a great place it was. Where else could you get not only a haircut, but the "guaranteed" winner of that day's 3rd race at Aqueduct race track?
Why, I'll give you 3-1 odds that the manager of that fancy new wireless phone store doesn't even know a filly from a furlong.
I say "had been" because to my surprise and dismay, it was no longer there, having been replaced by a store that sold mobile phones and accessories. While this new store might be very nice, it will never recapture the magic of Joe's Barbershop.
Joe's was owned and operated by Joseph Annunziata, an Italian-American fellow who was very proud of his roots. I really think that the place was originally set up as a shrine to Frank Sinatra. There were pictures of Frank Sinatra everywhere, as well as about a dozen very large Frank Sinatra bobble-head dolls. Eventually, Joe decided that since he was already paying rent on the place, he might as well earn some money by putting in some barber's chairs and giving haircuts. I'm not really sure if this is the way it happened, but it makes sense, and would explain a lot.
Everyone I knew had his hair cut at Joe's. The shop became synonymous with getting a haircut. You'd say, "I've got to go to Joe's this week," not "I need a haircut." Neighborhood parents would tell their sons, "Look at you. You're a mess. I'm taking you to Joe's."
Everybody knew Joe, and Joe knew everybody. My friends and I were convinced that Joe was "mobbed up." Looking back, we had absolutely no evidence to support this belief, but it just made too much sense to us, so we believed it. (Years later, the NY Attorney General's office, under Elliot Spitzer, employed this very same sort of logic when dealing with Wall Street). For some reason, we were very proud of the fact that we knew this "highly connected and influential mafioso." We always believed that if we ever got into a pickle with the mob, we'd just drop Joe's name, and we'd be on the right side of things. Add to that the fact that I've always been very fond of both pizza and pasta, and I was practically the mayor of Bay Ridge.
Undoubtedly, the best thing about Joe's Barbershop was the non-stop entertainment provided by the group of his buddies who were always hanging out in the place. These guys would walk in, sit down, and spend the next two hours reading the paper and shooting the breeze. Like Joe, most of these guys were Italian-American, with typical names, like Sal, Dom, Nicky and Tony. Invariably, one of the guys would have no larynx, and would speak in an incredibly raspy voice that my brother and I would spend the next week trying to imitate, much to my parent's chagrin.
Oddly, these guys never spoke of their children, only their nieces and nephews. A typical conversation went something like this:
Dom (entering the barbershop): "Hey Joe!"
Joe (as he was cutting someone's hair): "How you doin', Dom? How's your nephew?"
Dom: "Ahh, he's just a fat punk. He's got no respect for his elders."
Nicky & Tony (from the far corner of the shop): "What's that? He's got no respect?"
Sal (sitting in one of the empty barber's chairs): "Hey, Dom. Why don't you teach him a lesson?"
Dom: "Nah, I couldn't do that to my sister."
I'm not going to get too nostalgic about the barbershop I patronized as a kid. If anything, I should be nostalgic about my hair itself. However, I really learned a great deal about the world while sitting in Joe's barbershop. What a great place it was. Where else could you get not only a haircut, but the "guaranteed" winner of that day's 3rd race at Aqueduct race track?
Why, I'll give you 3-1 odds that the manager of that fancy new wireless phone store doesn't even know a filly from a furlong.
All My Coffee
Perhaps not as prolific as MBB in the art of soap opera writing I will nonetheless attempt an alternate series on another network:
Y'all see where this is going right?
If not tune in tomorrow and find out:
Despite the burning in his chest, Brett races out of his bed and into the bathroom. He stares into the mirror for what seemed like days, before turning and quite discreetly heaving into the toilet. He readjusts his silk robe, and walks over to the silver coffee service on his dresser and pours the steaming liquid into his delicate china cup.
Later, as his shoes click across the highly polished tile floor of the restaurant he frequents each day for lunch, he has a double shot espresso while discussing his plans for world domination with his third ex wife Tina who is now married to his twin brother Blake. Meeting half the town at this restaurant, and even coming face to face with his greatest nemesis, Lisa, his first ex-wife, does not deter him from laying out his plan in detail.
Later that evening, as the burning in his chest intensifies he meets his right hand man, Nico, at the docks being sure to blend in with all the others out for an evening stroll by sipping fountain sodas through a straw. Somehow, Brett makes it obvious that this activity is beneath him while making it seem sinister at the same time.. As he throws his finished cup into the river he turns and comes face to face with Tony. As Tony (Lisa's current husband) vows to stop Brett's plan, whatever it may be, Brett just laughs. He assures Tony that no one will be able to stop him and as a parting shot asks how things are going over at Rick's Garage. As Tony walks away, Brett holds his breath as the pain is intensifying, he's about to begin coughing violently, when Tina arrives holding two coffees. He smiles, and gladly accepts.
Y'all see where this is going right?
If not tune in tomorrow and find out:
Will Brett's condition stop him before Tony does? Will Tina double cross him in an effort to pull Tony away from Lisa? Will Lisa tire of her mechanic husband and come to Brett's aid, despite their tortured past? Will Brett wise up and stop killing himself, or will he be like his father who smoked despite needing oxygen treatments throughout the day?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
As the Big Gulp Turns
I just can't take this anymore.
It is just too much to endure.
This craziness must stop.
For exactly one week now, I have not had any caffeine.
Officially, it was a doctor's idea. Apparently, he feels that his medical degree gives him license to suck all of the joy out of a person's life. Unfortunately, FBB was in the room when he issued his no-caffeine decree. She jumped on it like it was the clearance rack at Lord & Taylor. Her enforcement capabilities are without peer. We're talking about a woman who can smell when I've been to 7-11. I kid you not.
Now, I'm no sucker. I know a conspiracy when I see it. I'm fully aware that this was really FBB's idea, and she went behind my back and convinced the doctor to concoct this silly no-caffeine thing. Yes, indeed. FBB and the good doctor are clearly in cahoots in this situation.
While FBB should get some points for effort on this one, the conspiracy is hardly original. I believe that this scenario is very similar to a plot line in a soap opera, perhaps All My Children, Young and the Restless or General Hospital. Probably all three of them, at one time or the other. It usually goes something like this:
To be clear, I don't believe that FBB's aims are nearly as nefarious as those of the hypothetical Alexis. In fact, she probably means well. However, it's just not working out. The first few days were fine, but now I'm starting to get edgy. I'm tired, irritable, and in general, not on top of my game. I feel like some sort of modern-day Samson, who has been shorn of his source of strength. Perhaps Popeye without his spinach would be a better analogy.
(Speaking of Popeye, to this day, I cannot fathom what he and Brutus saw in the shrill, hideous Olive Oyl. They fought - violently - over this woman?! I consider this to be one of the world's great mysteries. You could stump the Sphinx with that riddle).
I understand that Mormons do not consume any caffeine. How do these people manage? Can you imagine being unable to drink any caffeinated beverages, even while your six wives are all yelling at you at the same time?
Anyway, I'll take this one day at a time, but it certainly isn't getting any easier. However, uncovering the conspiracy against me has definitely given me a nice measure of comfort. Now I think I'll play along with this little game for a while.
Whatever you do, don't tell FBB that I'm wise to her plot.
And if you happen to see my evil twin, tell him to return that sweater he borrowed from me a while ago.
It is just too much to endure.
This craziness must stop.
For exactly one week now, I have not had any caffeine.
Officially, it was a doctor's idea. Apparently, he feels that his medical degree gives him license to suck all of the joy out of a person's life. Unfortunately, FBB was in the room when he issued his no-caffeine decree. She jumped on it like it was the clearance rack at Lord & Taylor. Her enforcement capabilities are without peer. We're talking about a woman who can smell when I've been to 7-11. I kid you not.
Now, I'm no sucker. I know a conspiracy when I see it. I'm fully aware that this was really FBB's idea, and she went behind my back and convinced the doctor to concoct this silly no-caffeine thing. Yes, indeed. FBB and the good doctor are clearly in cahoots in this situation.
While FBB should get some points for effort on this one, the conspiracy is hardly original. I believe that this scenario is very similar to a plot line in a soap opera, perhaps All My Children, Young and the Restless or General Hospital. Probably all three of them, at one time or the other. It usually goes something like this:
Alexis cannot remember her last name, as she suffers from amnesia, having only recently woken up from a month-long coma, the result of a mysterious disease which has no symptoms, other than to put people into a comatose state.
Desperate for a surname, Alexis decides that she must get married. She weds Baron Clayton von Van der Meulen, a wealthy industrialist who is 25 years her senior. Before long, Alexis grows to hate her new last name, and instead sets her sights on inheriting Clay's fortune.
She finds an ally in Dr. Jutt Jawbone, who treated her while she was in the hospital. Although their relationship at that time was completely professional, Jutt always admired Alexis' fighting spirit, and the fact that her makeup and hair somehow remained perfect throughout her 30-day coma. Together, they hatch a diabolical plan. Dr. Jawbone, who also happens to be Baron von Van der Muelen's physician, tells Clayton that for medical reasons, he can never remove his suit jacket at work, even while he is sitting behind his desk, working on the elusive "Anderson account." The jacket also must remain buttoned at all times. Eventually, unable to handle the constricting jacket, von Van der Meulen goes insane, and is locked up in an asylum. While there, he encounters his evil twin brother, Clinton, who continues to harbor a grudge against Clayton for stealing his mint condition 1979 Ricky Henderson baseball card. Clinton kills Clayton, and Alexis inherits his millions.
To be clear, I don't believe that FBB's aims are nearly as nefarious as those of the hypothetical Alexis. In fact, she probably means well. However, it's just not working out. The first few days were fine, but now I'm starting to get edgy. I'm tired, irritable, and in general, not on top of my game. I feel like some sort of modern-day Samson, who has been shorn of his source of strength. Perhaps Popeye without his spinach would be a better analogy.
(Speaking of Popeye, to this day, I cannot fathom what he and Brutus saw in the shrill, hideous Olive Oyl. They fought - violently - over this woman?! I consider this to be one of the world's great mysteries. You could stump the Sphinx with that riddle).
I understand that Mormons do not consume any caffeine. How do these people manage? Can you imagine being unable to drink any caffeinated beverages, even while your six wives are all yelling at you at the same time?
Anyway, I'll take this one day at a time, but it certainly isn't getting any easier. However, uncovering the conspiracy against me has definitely given me a nice measure of comfort. Now I think I'll play along with this little game for a while.
Whatever you do, don't tell FBB that I'm wise to her plot.
And if you happen to see my evil twin, tell him to return that sweater he borrowed from me a while ago.
There May Be Less Traffic, But There Are Too Many Waynes
Recently on Icebergcarwash a certain blogger was not pleased with the revelations of his personal medical history and subsequent behavior. It's not like I posted pictures of his esophagus and stomach. (which, by the way, I found fascinating. I always think of the inside of the body as gory and gooky and gross, it's amazing how CLEAN it looks inside).
Truthfully, I thought long and hard before posting (ok, maybe not that long or that hard). I realized that when one has a blog there is an inherent obligation to the followers. If we don't blog about anecdotes and incidences that are outside our normal day to day, this blog would become:
1)preachy
2)All finance and sports all the time
3)A forum to rant,rail and tease(to that end, did anyone see the news story about the Mets' BRAND NEW stadium rusting already??? You can't make this stuff up!!!)
So in the interest of pleasing our readers I feel it is incumbent upon us to let you know about exciting and different things that happen in our lives. If you blog in cyberspace and no one reads it, is it a blog at all? No. It's just a diary. Can I help it if he was grist for my mill?
Oh, one more thing, if MBB posts about how I couldn't walk straight the other night, don't believe it.
Truthfully, I thought long and hard before posting (ok, maybe not that long or that hard). I realized that when one has a blog there is an inherent obligation to the followers. If we don't blog about anecdotes and incidences that are outside our normal day to day, this blog would become:
1)preachy
2)All finance and sports all the time
3)A forum to rant,rail and tease(to that end, did anyone see the news story about the Mets' BRAND NEW stadium rusting already??? You can't make this stuff up!!!)
So in the interest of pleasing our readers I feel it is incumbent upon us to let you know about exciting and different things that happen in our lives. If you blog in cyberspace and no one reads it, is it a blog at all? No. It's just a diary. Can I help it if he was grist for my mill?
Oh, one more thing, if MBB posts about how I couldn't walk straight the other night, don't believe it.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Always Take the High Road. You'll Encounter Much Less Traffic.
When FBB and I started this blog four months ago, I was under the impression that our goal would be to entertain and inform our readers. At the same time, we'd be able to keep our writing muscles toned and free of atrophy.
We didn't want to be like so many of those other "rant" blogs, which feature writers who are just angry with the world, and determined to let everyone know about it. Even more importantly, we didn't want to be a blog that shamelessly shares details of our personal and private lives, right down to the results of every trip we make to the bathroom. IcebergCarwash would hold itself to a somewhat higher ideal.
Apparently, I misunderstood our aims.
A few days ago, I casually navigated my browser to this very blog. I wanted to see if any of our recent posts had received any witty comments. Or, perhaps I wanted to avail myself of the opportunity to re-read some of our older (but still amazingly relevant) posts. However, much to my shock and disappointment, on this very page, there was a post which laid bare some of the most private elements of my medical history. As if this unwanted - and unwarranted - exposure weren't bad enough, this odoriferous post also discussed my reaction to a strong anesthetic.
I began to wonder, am I guilty of this type of thing as well? Do I write posts detailing FBB's behavior every time she goes on a bender? Has anyone ever read anything on this blog detailing her peculiar reaction to certain types of hallucinogenic narcotics? Has anyone ever been made aware of the number of times we've had to call the police to our home?
The answer to all of the above questions is a definitive, resounding "No." I just don't discuss this type of stuff.
(Granted, it's also because FBB isn't much of a drinker, has never used drugs of any kind, and the only time we've ever had a cop here was after someone knocked down our mailbox, which has since been booby-trapped to prevent another such occurrence. The point is that I wouldn't blog about that stuff even if it did happen).
Nor will I discuss these things in the future.
After all, MBB knows only one way to play it....classy.
Oh, and smooth, too.
Correcting my previous statement, then, MBB knows two ways to play it, classy and smooth.
Actually, upon reflection, that represents only one way to play it, not two.
It's not "classy or smooth." It's "classy and smooth."
We're dealing with a combination of these two elements, (sometimes referred to as "clooth" or "smassy"), which represent the one and only way to play it.
It is this path that I have chosen.
I hope that's clear.
If it isn't clear, it's probably due to this condition I've had since my childhood which prevents me from...
Never mind, you'll probably end up reading about that in a subsequent post.
We didn't want to be like so many of those other "rant" blogs, which feature writers who are just angry with the world, and determined to let everyone know about it. Even more importantly, we didn't want to be a blog that shamelessly shares details of our personal and private lives, right down to the results of every trip we make to the bathroom. IcebergCarwash would hold itself to a somewhat higher ideal.
Apparently, I misunderstood our aims.
A few days ago, I casually navigated my browser to this very blog. I wanted to see if any of our recent posts had received any witty comments. Or, perhaps I wanted to avail myself of the opportunity to re-read some of our older (but still amazingly relevant) posts. However, much to my shock and disappointment, on this very page, there was a post which laid bare some of the most private elements of my medical history. As if this unwanted - and unwarranted - exposure weren't bad enough, this odoriferous post also discussed my reaction to a strong anesthetic.
I began to wonder, am I guilty of this type of thing as well? Do I write posts detailing FBB's behavior every time she goes on a bender? Has anyone ever read anything on this blog detailing her peculiar reaction to certain types of hallucinogenic narcotics? Has anyone ever been made aware of the number of times we've had to call the police to our home?
The answer to all of the above questions is a definitive, resounding "No." I just don't discuss this type of stuff.
(Granted, it's also because FBB isn't much of a drinker, has never used drugs of any kind, and the only time we've ever had a cop here was after someone knocked down our mailbox, which has since been booby-trapped to prevent another such occurrence. The point is that I wouldn't blog about that stuff even if it did happen).
Nor will I discuss these things in the future.
After all, MBB knows only one way to play it....classy.
Oh, and smooth, too.
Correcting my previous statement, then, MBB knows two ways to play it, classy and smooth.
Actually, upon reflection, that represents only one way to play it, not two.
It's not "classy or smooth." It's "classy and smooth."
We're dealing with a combination of these two elements, (sometimes referred to as "clooth" or "smassy"), which represent the one and only way to play it.
It is this path that I have chosen.
I hope that's clear.
If it isn't clear, it's probably due to this condition I've had since my childhood which prevents me from...
Never mind, you'll probably end up reading about that in a subsequent post.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Caffeine is My Hair
Today MBB had an endoscopy. It's something he gets done fairly routinely since he suffers from Acid Reflux, and they like to keep an eye on the esophagus since the acidic damage could lead to a very bad situation.
Well, he hadn't had one in a little while, and they changed the type of anesthesia they use since his last endoscopy (that's the tube down the THROAT procedure, not the other one...). My, my. Someone got a little happy from being knocked out. It wasn't really anything specific or crazy, just seeing him be himself with lowered inhibitions, it was really funny. Maybe I need to get him liquored up more regularly.
First sign of something different was the way he drank. Well, firstly, we passed a water cooler, and he said "Hey water, I want some." I'm pretty sure he then whispered to me "it's free!" I got him a cup of water and he drank it faster than I have EVER seen him drink anything. Ever. Granted he had just fasted for basically the second day in a row, having fasted until 5:30 pm on Tuesday, and here it was 3:45 on Wednesday and he hadn't had anything since midnight . So I guess the next time I would see him drink this way would be if was stuck in the desert for a day or two. Though I'm not sure he still wouldn't sip without the help of those drugs.
There were other instances of out of character exclamations, but the funniest was when we finished speaking to the doctor and as he walked us to reception, MBB spied a table near the water cooler. On that table were supplies for the patients in recovery (read: sleeping it off). He raised his eyebrows and looked at each item like it was Sunday afternoon at a garage sale. Had I not moved him along he would have walked off with a box of straws.
So here's to whatever drug they gave him, I'm sure I could get the same results with a good amount of bourbon, but then we'd just end up back there for another endoscopy......Country Club Drive, indeed.
Well, he hadn't had one in a little while, and they changed the type of anesthesia they use since his last endoscopy (that's the tube down the THROAT procedure, not the other one...). My, my. Someone got a little happy from being knocked out. It wasn't really anything specific or crazy, just seeing him be himself with lowered inhibitions, it was really funny. Maybe I need to get him liquored up more regularly.
First sign of something different was the way he drank. Well, firstly, we passed a water cooler, and he said "Hey water, I want some." I'm pretty sure he then whispered to me "it's free!" I got him a cup of water and he drank it faster than I have EVER seen him drink anything. Ever. Granted he had just fasted for basically the second day in a row, having fasted until 5:30 pm on Tuesday, and here it was 3:45 on Wednesday and he hadn't had anything since midnight . So I guess the next time I would see him drink this way would be if was stuck in the desert for a day or two. Though I'm not sure he still wouldn't sip without the help of those drugs.
There were other instances of out of character exclamations, but the funniest was when we finished speaking to the doctor and as he walked us to reception, MBB spied a table near the water cooler. On that table were supplies for the patients in recovery (read: sleeping it off). He raised his eyebrows and looked at each item like it was Sunday afternoon at a garage sale. Had I not moved him along he would have walked off with a box of straws.
So here's to whatever drug they gave him, I'm sure I could get the same results with a good amount of bourbon, but then we'd just end up back there for another endoscopy......Country Club Drive, indeed.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
High School Musical
I went to my 9th grade daughter's school production last night. Aside from the pain to my rear end from sitting for 3 1/2 hours, it was a really great night. Her dance and gymnastics were superb, and my nieces shined in their parts as well.
For me, one of the cool things about this production, was my daughter's ability to reinvent herself. She has always been in drama. In skits and plays and even a movie. But she really wanted to be in dance. She's a good actress, so I need to wonder if she's talented enough to actually throw an audition. I think she did, and in this case good for her! School rules dictate that everyone try out for drama, so I'm really glad she got what she wanted. She went to high school without her core friends, so I love seeing her confidence, and ability to go out of her comfort zone and take a big chance on things.
I love watching her mature into a young woman. I can't say that this journey is not fraught with moodiness and defiance, but that's par for the course. She's a good kid, and I'm really proud of her.
Now if she would just clean up her room.......
For me, one of the cool things about this production, was my daughter's ability to reinvent herself. She has always been in drama. In skits and plays and even a movie. But she really wanted to be in dance. She's a good actress, so I need to wonder if she's talented enough to actually throw an audition. I think she did, and in this case good for her! School rules dictate that everyone try out for drama, so I'm really glad she got what she wanted. She went to high school without her core friends, so I love seeing her confidence, and ability to go out of her comfort zone and take a big chance on things.
I love watching her mature into a young woman. I can't say that this journey is not fraught with moodiness and defiance, but that's par for the course. She's a good kid, and I'm really proud of her.
Now if she would just clean up her room.......
Monday, January 5, 2009
Senator Stuart Smalley
Despite a disappointing loss in their playoff game Sunday, by a count of 26-14 versus the Philadelphia Eagles, it appears that the Vikings are not the biggest losers in the state of Minnesota. That distinction clearly belongs to Norm Coleman.
Today, the Minnesota State Canvassing Board certified the latest results of the U.S. Senate election recount, confirming that Al Franken, who until this point had been best known as a writer/actor on "Saturday Night Live," won the election by 225 votes.
There are sure to be continued challenges from the Coleman camp as to the validity of the latest version of the recount, but he clearly faces an uphill battle.
Assuming these latest results stand, Norm Coleman has now accomplished the ignominious feat of having lost statewide elections to both Jesse "the Body" Ventura (1998 gubernatorial election) and Al Franken. That's a rough decade, by any measure. In fact, the one election Coleman did win recently, the 2002 U.S. Senate race, only went his way because his opponent, the incumbent Democrat Paul Wellstone, died in a plane crash 11 days before the election. Needless to say, Wellstone had been leading in the polls at the time. Coleman eked out a narrow victory against replacement candidate Walter Mondale, who, it turns out, has been dead since about 1990.
There is some talk that Coleman might consider running for Governor in 2010. I'm no political strategist, but I'd advise him against it. I hear that the Pillsbury Doughboy is also mulling a bid.
Norm doesn't stand a chance.
Today, the Minnesota State Canvassing Board certified the latest results of the U.S. Senate election recount, confirming that Al Franken, who until this point had been best known as a writer/actor on "Saturday Night Live," won the election by 225 votes.
There are sure to be continued challenges from the Coleman camp as to the validity of the latest version of the recount, but he clearly faces an uphill battle.
Assuming these latest results stand, Norm Coleman has now accomplished the ignominious feat of having lost statewide elections to both Jesse "the Body" Ventura (1998 gubernatorial election) and Al Franken. That's a rough decade, by any measure. In fact, the one election Coleman did win recently, the 2002 U.S. Senate race, only went his way because his opponent, the incumbent Democrat Paul Wellstone, died in a plane crash 11 days before the election. Needless to say, Wellstone had been leading in the polls at the time. Coleman eked out a narrow victory against replacement candidate Walter Mondale, who, it turns out, has been dead since about 1990.
There is some talk that Coleman might consider running for Governor in 2010. I'm no political strategist, but I'd advise him against it. I hear that the Pillsbury Doughboy is also mulling a bid.
Norm doesn't stand a chance.
I'm Glad We Renamed that Bridge!!!!
I used to think The New York Aquarium was nice. Even after I had been to other Aquariums, there was something quaint about a small slice of oceanic life in the middle of Coney Island, mere steps from the Atlantic Ocean, and the famed Cyclone, and Astroland. Well, the bloom is certainly off that rose. As far as the marine and animal life goes, it is a good aquarium. Proximity to the animals is good, and for the most part they seem to be active. There are a lot of feeding demonstrations, and the sea lion show is one of the best I've seen. So it's still a decent aquarium, just not as good as I used to think it was.
The problem is two fold. 1)It's ugly. There's no part of this aquarium that is even remotely appealing, except some of the fish. 2)Except for at feedings there are no keepers around to answer any questions, and the signage, though interesting, doesn't answer simple questions about the actual animals in the actual exhibit that you are actually looking at. I find that disconcerting. A shark tank filled with sharks and giant tortoises, and a school of large fish had many people wondering how the different species could co-exist in one tank (I believe, from past aquarium experience, that sharks only eat when hungry, and they make sure to keep them fed). I wondered why three of the sharks looked dead at the bottom of the tank, having never seen sharks not swimming. Alas, there was no one there to let us know, and no signage to help with these questions. Also, where were the penguins? This is not the first winter here, so by now those who run this establishment know where the penguins are, and why and how long the stay there (in the holes in the rocks of the display), it would have been nice if they had let us know.
Truthfully, this Aquarium can be considered a microcosm of the city of New York. Everything is there, it's just done in a way that makes it difficult to fully enjoy it.
All told I had a great time, but how could I not? I was there with two of my little girls.
The problem is two fold. 1)It's ugly. There's no part of this aquarium that is even remotely appealing, except some of the fish. 2)Except for at feedings there are no keepers around to answer any questions, and the signage, though interesting, doesn't answer simple questions about the actual animals in the actual exhibit that you are actually looking at. I find that disconcerting. A shark tank filled with sharks and giant tortoises, and a school of large fish had many people wondering how the different species could co-exist in one tank (I believe, from past aquarium experience, that sharks only eat when hungry, and they make sure to keep them fed). I wondered why three of the sharks looked dead at the bottom of the tank, having never seen sharks not swimming. Alas, there was no one there to let us know, and no signage to help with these questions. Also, where were the penguins? This is not the first winter here, so by now those who run this establishment know where the penguins are, and why and how long the stay there (in the holes in the rocks of the display), it would have been nice if they had let us know.
Truthfully, this Aquarium can be considered a microcosm of the city of New York. Everything is there, it's just done in a way that makes it difficult to fully enjoy it.
All told I had a great time, but how could I not? I was there with two of my little girls.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
We Find the Defendant....Stupid, On All Counts
This post is likely to cause me some degree of embarrassment, but I'll proceed in writing it anyway. Perhaps the very publishing of the details of the incident in question will prove to be cathartic.
I'm quite shaken by something that occurred today.
I (inadvertently) committed a crime.
Here's how it went down:
I was shopping at a local supermarket, and quickly found all of the items on my list. As I headed towards the checkout aisles, I decided to grab a small pack of gum. As I unloaded my shopping cart onto the checkout counter, I absent-mindedly put the gum in my pocket. After paying for my purchases, I left the store. A few minutes later, I put my hand into my coat pocket, and much to my horror, discovered the pack of gum. A quick check of the receipt confirmed my fears: I had not, in fact, paid for this gum.
I had entered the foul fraternity of shoplifters.
I quickly drove back to the store, placed the gum back on the shelf from whence it came, and left the store, ending my shoplifting career after about seven minutes. Technically, I could've kept the gum, and paid for it. However, I decided to eschew the gum entirely (had it been bubble gum, I imagine that I'd have esbubbled it), for the following reasons:
(1) The store was packed, and waiting on the checkout line to pay for the gum would've cost me another 10 minutes.
(2) Waiting on line to pay for only one small pack of gum is decidedly pathetic. Therefore, before paying for the gum, I'd probably have bought about $20 worth of additional merchandise I didn't really need, just to make it look better.
(3) After initially taking possession of this gum via (unintentionally) nefarious means, I wanted no part of it. I also feared that the gum would mock me forever. Worse yet, the gum might begin to speak to me, convincing me to continually "up the ante," by committing even worse crimes. Try as I might to resist its spearminty entreaties, I could eventually fall prey to the gum's incessant nagging, and embark on a terrible crime spree. Upon being captured, I'd be brought to trial, and would be called to testify. The prosecuting attorney would probably begin his questioning by addressing me in the following manner. "Mr. MBB, you sit here today, accused of committing several heinous crimes." At that point, the trial would take an immediate turn for the worse for me. At the risk of sounding rather immature, I must admit that I've always found the word "heinous" to be incredibly funny. There's no way I'd be able to keep a straight face. In the best case scenario, I'd chuckle. In the worst case (and most likely) scenario, I'd completely lose it. I'd be sunk even before the questioning began, and the rest of the trial would be little more than a formality.
Of course, the part about the pack of gum speaking to me would probably get me an insanity defense, and keep me out of jail. Then again, a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane is no picnic either. I just can't see myself thriving in that type of environment. Chances are, I'd be viewed as "uncooperative," and subjected to regular electroshock therapy treatments. A couple of years ago, while attempting to change a light fixture, I got a small shock, and really didn't enjoy it at all. The thought of electroshock therapy terrifies me. So, I just put the gum back, and quickly left the store.
I recall reading once that some people who had been arrested for shoplifting later said that they did it just for the thrill of it, to see if they could get away with it. Let me tell you, from my standpoint, there's no thrill involved, whatsoever. I guess that's a good thing.
One thing still disturbs me, though. Sure, I returned the gum immediately upon discovering that I had taken it without paying for it. Then again, we're talking about a $0.69 item. What would I have done if I had taken a much more expensive item, and gotten away with it? Say, for example, instead of a pack of gum, I had taken a 20 pound bar of gold off a shelf in the produce aisle and slipped it into my pocket, only to discover it after leaving the store? That's roughly $280,000. I'd like to think that I'd return the gold under that scenario, but can I really be certain?
I believe that some deep soul-searching and introspection is in order.
I'm quite shaken by something that occurred today.
I (inadvertently) committed a crime.
Here's how it went down:
I was shopping at a local supermarket, and quickly found all of the items on my list. As I headed towards the checkout aisles, I decided to grab a small pack of gum. As I unloaded my shopping cart onto the checkout counter, I absent-mindedly put the gum in my pocket. After paying for my purchases, I left the store. A few minutes later, I put my hand into my coat pocket, and much to my horror, discovered the pack of gum. A quick check of the receipt confirmed my fears: I had not, in fact, paid for this gum.
I had entered the foul fraternity of shoplifters.
I quickly drove back to the store, placed the gum back on the shelf from whence it came, and left the store, ending my shoplifting career after about seven minutes. Technically, I could've kept the gum, and paid for it. However, I decided to eschew the gum entirely (had it been bubble gum, I imagine that I'd have esbubbled it), for the following reasons:
(1) The store was packed, and waiting on the checkout line to pay for the gum would've cost me another 10 minutes.
(2) Waiting on line to pay for only one small pack of gum is decidedly pathetic. Therefore, before paying for the gum, I'd probably have bought about $20 worth of additional merchandise I didn't really need, just to make it look better.
(3) After initially taking possession of this gum via (unintentionally) nefarious means, I wanted no part of it. I also feared that the gum would mock me forever. Worse yet, the gum might begin to speak to me, convincing me to continually "up the ante," by committing even worse crimes. Try as I might to resist its spearminty entreaties, I could eventually fall prey to the gum's incessant nagging, and embark on a terrible crime spree. Upon being captured, I'd be brought to trial, and would be called to testify. The prosecuting attorney would probably begin his questioning by addressing me in the following manner. "Mr. MBB, you sit here today, accused of committing several heinous crimes." At that point, the trial would take an immediate turn for the worse for me. At the risk of sounding rather immature, I must admit that I've always found the word "heinous" to be incredibly funny. There's no way I'd be able to keep a straight face. In the best case scenario, I'd chuckle. In the worst case (and most likely) scenario, I'd completely lose it. I'd be sunk even before the questioning began, and the rest of the trial would be little more than a formality.
Of course, the part about the pack of gum speaking to me would probably get me an insanity defense, and keep me out of jail. Then again, a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane is no picnic either. I just can't see myself thriving in that type of environment. Chances are, I'd be viewed as "uncooperative," and subjected to regular electroshock therapy treatments. A couple of years ago, while attempting to change a light fixture, I got a small shock, and really didn't enjoy it at all. The thought of electroshock therapy terrifies me. So, I just put the gum back, and quickly left the store.
I recall reading once that some people who had been arrested for shoplifting later said that they did it just for the thrill of it, to see if they could get away with it. Let me tell you, from my standpoint, there's no thrill involved, whatsoever. I guess that's a good thing.
One thing still disturbs me, though. Sure, I returned the gum immediately upon discovering that I had taken it without paying for it. Then again, we're talking about a $0.69 item. What would I have done if I had taken a much more expensive item, and gotten away with it? Say, for example, instead of a pack of gum, I had taken a 20 pound bar of gold off a shelf in the produce aisle and slipped it into my pocket, only to discover it after leaving the store? That's roughly $280,000. I'd like to think that I'd return the gold under that scenario, but can I really be certain?
I believe that some deep soul-searching and introspection is in order.
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