On the day we returned from Atlantic City I went straight to the car wash, ’cause my “new” car was covered in road filth and bugs. And when I got back home I parked in our driveway, climbed out from behind the wheel, and the woman across the street yelled, “Here comes fatty!”

Whoa whoa whoa! My head swiveled in her direction, and I was ready for war. But she was talking about one of her cats. They have a whole passel of outdoor cats over there, and they roam the neighborhood terrorizing and murdering various smaller animals. Apparently, she was feeding one of them on their porch, and another one came running. Hence the proclamation, “Here comes fatty!”

Thankfully I didn’t yell anything back at her and just went into the house as normal. And five minutes later I bent over to grab a cutting board from inside a kitchen cabinet and blew the entire ass out of my pants. It was an emotional roller coaster, I’m telling you.

Earlier this week I hired a guy to mow our lawn this summer. Actually, it’s not just one person, it’s a whole team of Larry the Cable Guy lookalikes. Last year I did it myself, with the dubious help of my kids. But this year I’m outsourcing that shit. I can’t really afford it, but that small detail isn’t holding me back. During my life, I’ve dabbled with living above my means, and find that I’m reasonably comfortable with it. Indeed, the day I told those guys to “get ‘er done” was like Christmas morning to me. I have an extra spring in my step now, and am greeting people on the street with “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” and that sort of thing. And in Northeastern PA that’s viewed as bizarre behavior. This is more of a Do Not Make Eye Contact kinda place. They probably think I’m Special Needs. Oh well.

A few weeks ago I was in Wal-Mart buying socks. I don’t know what they’re called, I’m not up on all the latest sock lingo, but there’s a specific kind I like and Wal-Mart always has them. They’re fairly difficult to find elsewhere. Anyway, there were three girls in that section, maybe 14 years old. And they had some guy on the phone: his face was on the screen and they were talking to him about underwear. “Are these OK?” they asked. “Does it say 100% cotton?” he answered. “Hold them closer to the phone so I can see better.” The dude looked like he was 50 years old, and he sent a group of young teenage girls out to buy him a fresh bundle of tighty-whities? It was weird. And they weren’t even snickering or making sarcastic comments… The whole thing made me uncomfortable.

On a related note… Why do socks come in a resealable pouch? I sincerely don’t understand.

Here’s a conversation I had with Toney a few minutes ago:

Me: I think I’m going to order Chinese for lunch. Want anything?
Toney: Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll have General Chicken. …And don’t say it!
Me (ignoring the warning): I prefer a more specific chicken.
Toney: That was funny the first 25 times I heard it, but now it’s getting a little old.
Me: It’ll never get old. Never!

From the You Guys Were Completely Right department: The best thing on SiriusXM is Little Steven’s Underground Garage, Channel 21. It’s the only thing I listen to now. It’s fantastic. I’m even getting to know the DJs on there (Kid Leo, Mighty Manfred, Palmyra Delran, Lenny Kaye, etc.). It’s a pleasing mixture of things I know and love, songs I haven’t heard in 35 years, and a whole lotta great stuff that’s completely new to me. I no longer play CDs in my car or stream anything from my phone. It’s Underground Garage 100% of the time. The only small (very small) complaint is that they’re a little heavy-handed with the Joan Jett. I don’t have an issue with her, but they go overboard with it. Also, there’s too much latter-day Ramones. Is there really a need to hear deep cuts from Brain Drain etc.? I submit that there is not. But those are only small little bitch-bites. I love the channel. It’s made my life a little bit better.

I have to leave for work now. I’m working the old 3 pm to 1:30 am schedule today, covering for somebody on vacation. I worked that schedule for six years or so and didn’t think anything about it. Now it kicks my ass. It feels like it lasts roughly 20 hours. But I’ll survive. I’m almost sure of it.

We’ll be flying to Myrtle Beach in a few days. For a Question, I’d like to know what type of person is the worst to sit beside on an airplane. Also, if you have any terrible airplane passenger tales to tell, we’ll gladly take those, too. Use the comments section. I’m not sure when I’ll update again, but I should have some stories for you guys. Please stay tuned.

Have a great day, my friends.

See you again soon.

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Nobody cares about the weird dream you had last night, I’m aware. But please indulge me for a couple of minutes.

I was in a Mexican restaurant, you see, with some people from my current job. There was a large envelope on our table, and I asked why they hadn’t turned it in yet. “Nobody’s come around and asked for it,” they replied, with a shrug. This annoyed me because it felt like half-assery, and I said, “Just give me the goddamn thing. I guess I’ll have to do it?”

As I was walking to the cashier’s station I passed a guy I used to work with at a different job. His head was completely shaved, and he was sporting a red, white, and blue headband, like a basketball player from the 1970s. I greeted him enthusiastically and even gave him a hug, which is wildly out of character for me. We chatted for a few seconds, and I continued. Then I happened upon a woman who has been a friend of my parents for decades. She was hobbling along and had a cast on her right leg. “Kick somebody’s ass?” I asked her. Which is, again, out of character, considering the person I was talking to. She told me what happened, but I don’t remember. I think I completely checked out in my dream, just like I do in real life.

When I got to the cashier, she wouldn’t take the envelope. She said I needed to give it to Kristen, and she’s in the clubhouse. This is a Mexican restaurant, remember.

So I went outside and walked around the building. I climbed over a chain that was blocking a path across an empty field. Eventually, I was on ancient railroad tracks with weeds growing up in every direction. I was afraid of snakes but finally arrived at a fancy movie theater without incident. I went inside and asked where the clubhouse is, and the person said I should talk to the manager. An older black lady with a flamboyant hat introduced herself as Powerful Organic-Thong and gave me directions to the clubhouse.

Kristen was there, and she was a blonde woman in her 30s. It appeared she was wrapping another woman’s ankle with an ACE bandage. You know, inside the “clubhouse” of this Mexican restaurant/high-end movie theater? A place managed by Powerful Organic-Thong? She didn’t want to take the envelope either, but I insisted.

The End.

It’s weird because I don’t usually remember dreams in such detail. I often wake up and realize I’d been dreaming, but it all evaporates in about two seconds. But with this one, I can recall emotions and how hot and muggy it was while I was walking on those railroad tracks. And I somehow knew Organic-Thong was a hyphenated last name. I still don’t know what was in that envelope, though. But it seemed mighty important that it be “turned in.”

If anybody would like to attempt an analysis of that nonsense, please knock yourself out. Use the comments section so thoughtfully provided by our WordPress overlords.

A week from today we’ll be in Myrtle Beach, or in transit, or something similar. It’s going to cost us a lot of money, and I’m not sure how it’ll turn out. It’s a lot of togetherness. We’ll see what happens. But I’m a little on-edge about the whole thing. There’s a very good chance it’ll come completely off the rails. There are some difficult people involved. Three to be exact, and I ain’t one of ’em. Pass the beer nuts.

Last week I went through three days of “leadership training” at work. All the supervisors and some of the managers were “invited” to attend. I mean… It’s fine, but I don’t like the constant role-playing and interactions. It feels like I’m at a comedy club and the comic is one of those guys who continuously picks on audience members. Ya know? My sphincter was winking for three days.

Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. The anticipation and dread were far worse than the reality of it. I can get myself worked up about shit like that. But it was fairly painless, to be honest. However, there was an incident very near the end that I’d like to pass along.

It was almost over. In fact, the words CLOSING STATEMENTS were projected on the screen. I’d made it! The end was in sight! And suddenly… my phone started blaring music real loud. I didn’t touch the damn thing, it was just lying there. And it was all of the sudden cranking a Daily Mix at Spotify. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was a lot of acoustic guitars and was fairly upbeat.

I about shit and was fumbling and stumbling. But the thing would not turn off. Every head was turned my way, and it seemed like the volume of the music was increasing by the second. Eventually, everybody was laughing hysterically, as I mumbled profanities and monkeyed around with my phone. And then the instructors started waving their arms above their heads, like they were at Coachella or something. I was about ready to throw the phone on the floor and start stomping on it, but it finally stopped.

Sheesh. The gods of humiliation would not allow me to escape unscathed. And so it goes.

I guess I should call it a day here, my friends. I’m working on some stuff behind the scenes and should be able to share it with you when I return from the beach. Please stay tuned. I’m going to try to update again this week, on Thursday or Friday, and then I’ll bring you up to date on stuff if/when we successfully return from Myrtle Beach.

For a Question, I’d love to read the stories of your own personal public humiliations. Please tell us about it. Also, on the first day of our training last week we had to go around person by person and tell the group about one thing that makes us unique. See? That’s the kind of shit I hate. Sweet sainted mother of Jo Anne Worley! But if you’d like to give it a shot, go ahead. What makes you unique? Use the comments section.

And I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker
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We made some tactical errors, completely our fault, but it was a good trip nonetheless. For one thing, we left too late. Check-in at the hotel is at 4, and we didn’t leave our house until almost noon. It’s a three-hour ride — supposedly — and we were putting way too much emphasis on that 4 o’clock restriction. In retrospect, we should’ve left early in the morning, parked our car inside the Caesars garage, and started the day before we had access to the room. It feels like we sometimes do some stupid shit. Oh well.

Traffic in Philadelphia was horrendous, as usual, and we didn’t arrive until 4:15. This is Dupree who checked us in at the main counter. I tried to make him laugh a couple of times, but was not successful. Dupree was nothing if not stoic.

The room was nice, with a great view o’ the ocean. As you can see below, it wasn’t super-sunny out, but it was relatively warm. Toney wanted to change clothes, but I was itching to get the party started. It was late in the day already, and we’d just rolled into town. I was in no mood for lounging and watching the syringes and bloody gauze wash up on the shore.

The bathroom was a little weird. It had a sliding fiberglass barn-door type situation with large open gaps on both sides of it. So, if you were getting out of the shower, somebody could easily walk past and see your entire ass and/or wang. Or whatever. I didn’t care for that. The toilet was inside another room — a room inside a room — so at least there wouldn’t be any public wipings or anything. Sometimes that fancy stuff doesn’t make practical sense. Right? What’s wrong with just a normal door? Normal doors have served us well for centuries.

We had a beer in the room, from our white trash carry-in cooler, and went downstairs shortly after arriving. Happy Hour at Gordon Ramsay’s Pub was still running until 5. We had to hurry to get even one half-price pint there.

We looked at the draft beer list and, as usual, I found it to be fairly predictable. Somebody should allow me to choose their beer selection. I mean, it wasn’t bad, it’s just… what every place like that offers. Ya know? We went with Fuller’s ESB, and they were $4.50 each — usually $9. I find that to be ludicrous, but whatever. The beer was good, and we’d vowed to only have one at each stop, and keep moving.

Here’s our bartender serving us the first of what I was hoping would be many adult beverages. I sent the photo to my brother with the caption “It begins…”

Toney suggested we get dinner, and we’d pre-chosen a place in the Tropicana called Broadway Burger Bar. I was assured that it’s just a short stroll down the boardwalk. Just seventeen minutes, according to Google. I already had two beers in my great belly and frowned at this news. Who wants to take a walk in the middle of a “session.” Not me, that’s who.

But it wasn’t bad. It felt good to get outside. It was a little stuffy inside Caesars, and the cool air was nice. The boardwalk was sparsely populated, but far from empty. We walked past a giant billboard advertising a future appearance by Rod Stewart, with special guest Cyndi Lauper. Some cynical woman walking past said, “Ha. Cyndi Lauper. That’s hilarious.” It rubbed me the wrong way. If you’re going to be cynical and negative, at least approach it creatively. Just shitting on everything does nothing to benefit humanity. In fact, it’s a drain. I wanted to holler, “Yes, not all of us can work in a State Farm office in Ass Zits, New Hampshire!” But, of course, I just kept walking.

As soon as we walked through the doors of the The Tropicana we were hit with a wave of heat, followed quickly by a tidal wave of cig smoke. Sweet sainted mother of Aldo Nova! Clearly, they not only allow smoking in that place, but they encourage it. Possibly even require it. I’m not a fan and was instantly frowning. Where is this goddamn burger place? We need to get out of this hellish emphysema hotbox.

And we walked… and walked… and walked… That casino is sprawling and we could not find the restaurant. They had fancy interactive directories that did nothing but confuse us further. It was so freaking hot in there I couldn’t believe it. And the smoke was entering my body from every angle. It looked like the clientele was a little on the riff-raff side, and my good mood was fading. Oh, it was fading.

We finally found it, and they led us to a dark dining room deep in the bowels of the place. Before we even sat down I was bitching about the darkness. “I guess we should’ve brought our coal miner helmets,” I said to whoever wanted to listen. Indeed, I couldn’t see the menu. I had my phone out, with the flashlight app engaged… What the hell, man?

We both ordered cheeseburgers, and a Cape May IPA. Again, it was the only thing on the beer list that was mildly intriguing. The waiter said, “Good choice!” And I wanted to say, “Thank you, but we’ve already had enough smoke blown up our asses just walking through this shithole.” Also, I asked what came on the burgers, and he said lettuce, tomato, and pickles. And there’s ketchup, mustard, and mayo on the table. “So, no onions?” I asked. I like onions on a burger. It’s an important component, right? The dude acted like he was taken aback by my exotic request. Like I’d asked for a pineapple ring or something. But he promised to look into it. Crazy.

As it turned out, the burgers were fantastic. Possibly one of the best I’ve ever had. I don’t know if I was just hungry, or what. But that shit was excellent. The beers — served in a super-pretentious brandy snifter-type deal — was OK. I don’t think the boys at Dogfish Head have anything to worry about, though.

But the whole ordeal — the frustration of not being able to find the place, the walking, the high-heat, and the cig smoke — kinda broke us. Neither of us was now in the mood to continue our self-curated pub crawl. As we walked back to Caesars the boardwalk was deader than Kelsey’s nuts. We discussed having a beer at a place called The Continental, but screw it. The spell was broken. We returned to the room. and had another Founders All-Day IPA from the hillbilly cooler, took in the view for a little while, and turned in early. It’s a sad state of affairs: so easily knocked off our game…

The next morning I went downstairs and got us two large coffees from an over-the-top pastry/coffee shop. They had stuff stacked in that place like they were expecting thousands of people to descend upon them within the hour. I also ordered a chocolate chip cookie with a circumference only slightly smaller than a steering wheel, for us to share.

Then we visited a breakfast buffet, for $19.99 each. The food was good. Toney went to the omelet station and had the dude in the Chef Boyardee outfit create something to her specifications. I just stuck with the tried and true: scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, etc. It was all very good. Expensive, though. Am I wrong?

It was a sunny day, and we walked around looking at the ocean and just taking it all in. It was nice. Good to get away. The ride home was aggravating, because of the Philly traffic again. This time it was worse than the last time. We were literally sitting in PARK for extended periods. That’s not good for the ol’ blood pressure. But I maintained. I didn’t blow a gasket or anything. Just some mild muttering of profanity, and many changes of the SiriusXM dial. SiriusXM was my musical pacifier.

When we got home I went straight to the car wash and knocked all the road filth off my new car. I’m still in the mode of keeping it shiny and clean. That’ll pass, of course. But it’s where I am now.

So, I’d rate the trip a B. We should’ve left earlier on Sunday, and not ventured far from Caesars that night. That place has a dozen or more restaurants and bars in it. We didn’t need to hoof it to that Pall Mall sweat lodge at The Tropicana. But, it’s a lesson for next time. It was fun, and not super-expensive. We’ve vowed to do these little quickie getaways from now on. This was a good start in that direction.

And the kids? Nothing horrible happened, as far as I know. There were some shenanigans, apparently, but I don’t believe the cops or the military were summoned. And the house was still standing when we returned, so I consider it a win.

For a Question, I mentioned SiriusXM. It, of course, requires a monthly subscription fee. After my first six months are done, anyway. I’d like to know what subscriptions you pay for monthly. Use the comments. I finally canceled eMusic, after ten years. But I still subscribe to SiriusXM, Spotify, Texture (a magazine app), MLB At Bat, Netflix, and Hulu. What about you? Bring us up to date on it, won’t you?

And I’m going to work now. You guys have yourselves a great day.

I’ll see you again soon.

Now playing in the bunker
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Sorry I disappeared for a few days. I have some stuff going on, it hasn’t been just pure sackism. Although to be honest, there has been some sackism. In any case, I’ve been dabbling with some stuff that takes me far outside my comfort zone. No, it’s not homosexuality. It’s something I hope to have enough courage to share with you guys soon. But we’ll see. There’s at least a 35% chance I’ll shitcan all of it, and that’ll be that. Stay tuned.

It’s still winter here, in case you were wondering. We had one and a half days of spring, on Friday and Saturday. And by Sunday it was full-on winter again. Also, the wind is blowing like a bastard out there. There’s garbage cascading through the neighborhood, and tree limbs falling. Last night it was gusting so strongly it felt like the house was going to come apart. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but this is bullshit.

Toney and I are going to Atlantic City on Sunday, leaving the kids by themselves overnight. They’re 22 and 19 now, but it’s still not a slam-dunk that there won’t be shenanigans. But, screw it. This is our summer of travel. All four of us are flying to Myrtle Beach in May, and Toney and I are going to Las Vegas for a week in September. With some quickie overnighters here and there, like this Atlantic City deal. For the record, it’ll be about food, drink, and decompression. Wot’s wrong with that? Nothing, I say. Should be fun. If the boys burn the house down, we’ve got insurance. Right? Right.

I’ve been fairly invested in the young baseball season and my team, the Cincinnati Reds, are 2-13. Meaning they’ve won two, and lost thirteen. Currently, they’ve lost eight games in a row. WTF? They’re absolutely terrible. They’ve been in “rebuilding” mode for about five years. Shouldn’t that shit be rebuilt by now? It only took four years to construct the Golden Gate Bridge, for godsakes. In all seriousness, how does the manager still have a job? I don’t understand. Oh well.

Do you watch Homeland? The first four seasons or so were fantastic. Then it took a steep nosedive and became ludicrous. LUDICROUS! But this year — Season 7 — is really good again. How often does that happen? I think it’s fairly rare, right? When the shittiness starts to creep… it almost never stops creeping. But they’ve turned it around somehow. It’s great! Can you think of any other shows that went bad, and became good again?

My cell phone is about two years old, and it’s suddenly become sluggish. There’s a brief, yet completely infuriating, lag that wasn’t there a month ago. It’s a Droid Turbo 2, and it’s probably the best phone I’ve ever had. It’s close to perfect, in my estimation. But I think they build this kind of crap into them. I think there’s an internal timer and the slowness is triggered at some pre-determined number of days past activation. Is that paranoid? A month ago it never crossed my mind to upgrade, and now I’m thinking about it. See how it works? Man, oh man. I’m getting fired up.

Other conspiracies I’ve uncovered through the years: I believe Kleenex adds sneezing powder to their products to cause the use of more Kleenex, gas pumps randomly switch from 87 octane to the more expensive 89 or 93, and NOBODY needs Chapstick until they starting using it — once they make that first swipe… they’re a prisoner for life.

Do you have any personal conspiracy theories? Please share them, won’t you?

Speaking of conspiracy theories, RIP Art Bell. I loved that guy. He was very odd, and (as the linked headline mentions) mysterious. But he was a great broadcaster and raconteur. George Noory is OK, but he doesn’t have the edginess or the humor of the original host of Coast to Coast. Art will be missed.

And I need to go to work now. I have more stuff in my notebook — it’s been a while — but not enough minutes on the clock. There’s always next time, though

Have a great day, my friends.

I’ll see you again soon.

Now playing in the bunker
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By the way, it’s snowing again. In April… after Easter… during the second week of baseball season. But I’m not supposed to complain about it. My only two options, apparently, are STFU or move to Florida. There are no other acceptable courses of action. Love it or leave it, baby! Here’s a shot from our back door. But whatever. Unless I’m willing to immediately quit my job, sell my house, pack my bags, and move to Tampa… I have no right to complain.

Speaking of baseball, I once again paid for Gameday Audio from MLB this year. It only costs $20 for the season, and you get access to every radio broadcast of every game for every team. I’ve been listening to the Reds since Spring Training and enjoying it. I might enjoy it a little more, of course, if they could win every once in a while. But it’s fun. Some quick thoughts:

• It’s great to hear Marty Brennaman, who’s been calling Reds games since I was 10 years old. He sounds exactly the same, and still speaks his mind and stirs the shit. Love it. He’s a direct connection to my kidhood when I was completely and absolutely obsessed with the Reds and baseball. He’s still doing the games, almost 45 years later!
• I don’t know any of the players, which is a big part of the challenge. At some point, during the mid-90s, I disengaged from the sport, and know almost literally nothing from that point. So, there’s a fairly steep learning curve. But I wanna do it. I tried a couple of years ago, and it didn’t take. I’m giving it another shot.
• I’ve always loved listening to baseball on the radio. I think I like it even more than watching it on TV. I can be having the worst week ever, with aggravation stacked upon aggravation, and after a few innings of baseball on the radio…. aaaah, I can breathe again.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Baseball is boring. Shove it, dullard.

Last Saturday I bought a new car. Toney’s inheriting the Suzuki, and I’m now driving a 2015 Chevy Cruze. It has 24,000 miles on it and seems 100% factory new.  Two things I noticed right away: the seats are about one million times more comfortable, and the car is incredibly quiet on the interstate. I don’t think I realized how noisy and windy the Suzuki sounded. The Cruze seems almost silent. So… I’ll drive that bastard into the ground, and we’ll go from there. Pass the beer nuts.

As soon I got home from the dealership, I went on the SiriusXM site and subscribed for six months. I’ve never had it before, and the preview channel in the new car said I could get six months for $30. Some quick thoughts:

• I was super-excited about the 1st Wave channel, which plays early New Wave stuff. However, after just a week I’m less excited. For one thing, they play WAY too much Missing Persons. They were a C List band even when they were at their peak. 1st Wave is very heavy-handed with the Missing Persons, and apparently believes they’re as important as the Pretenders and Elvis Costello. And they just generally play too much dancy bullshit like Information Society, and crap like that. I find myself frowning at the radio within ten minutes, and seeking something better.
• There’s a channel called Lithium that plays 90s alternative, they say. But I’ve never been able to string together more than five minutes there. Remember that bullshit band Live? They play a lot of Live, and Seven Mary Three. It triggers a very quick frown, as well as a furrowing of the brow.
• Classic Rewind is pretty good. It’s just classic rock. For some reason, I can lock-in there better than with the so-called alternative options.
• And Hair Nation sounds like something I could get behind, but it’s always shit like White Lion, etc. Seriously?

What do you listen to on SiriusXM? I don’t get Howard Stern, ’cause that costs something like twenty bucks more. I wish there was a channel that played 80s indie rock. Like Husker Du and the Replacements and Dinosaur Jr. But I ain’t finding it. There’s a lot of stuff on there, though. I’ll keep digging.

Last night, at exactly 10 pm, my phone rang and it said the call was coming from Salem, Oregon. No way I’m answering that crap, but it only rang once. Weird. I put the number into Google and there was a long conversation about it. People all over the country were saying they receive calls from the same number, on Sunday nights only, at exactly 9:30 or 10:00. Never 9:32, always 9:30. And it only rings once or twice. How freaky is that? Any ideas on what it’s all about?

And speaking of strange phone calls, I had a guy calling me over and over again who claimed to be a lawyer. He kept calling me by the name of a cousin, who I haven’t seen or spoken to since I was 12 years old, and was making all sorts of threats. He said he was going to come to my workplace and serve me with papers, and there was a judgment against me, blah blah blah. But he never called me Jeff or Jeffrey, he kept calling me by the name of that cousin. At one point he even said his full name, including his middle name, which is unusual. So, WTF? He spoke in an odd cadence like he was hosting some kind of late night Chiller Theater TV show. Like the fucking Crypt Keeper, or something. It was mildly unnerving. But it had scam written all over it, so I never called the guy back. Eventually he stopped calling. Pure scam, right? Right.

What’s the weirdest, most baffling phone calls you’ve received? That one from Oregon is bizarre. What is the point?? It makes no sense to me.

And I’m going to call it a day, my friends. I had to get up early this morning, and I’m already feeling it. I’m tired before the work week even begins. The coffee power is starting to fade, and fatigue is taking over. Oh well. I’ll leave you with a silly Question that might lead to a few laughs, maybe. Q: What is a phrase that is perfectly appropriate for the Easter dinner table, but never during sex? Make of it what you will.

I’ll see you guys again soon.

Have a great day!

Now playing in the bunker
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