Fun and Games Dept

There was a big announcement at work today. I have been waiting with bated breath since Tuesday for this announcement. By the way, what the hell is bated breath? Or is it baited breath? Does it having something to do with bait? Bate? Sardines? Minnows?

Anyways, the big announcement came in an e-mail AND the weekly company newsletter.

I won the office chili cook-off!

That’s right… with a lot of help from Earl Monday night, my crock pot of chili was deemed the tastiest by my peers. Since no one dropped dead and there didn’t seem to be any linger odors the afternoon after the tasting I think that’s a pretty smashing thing. All the entries were good as I did the right thing and tasted them all. I was a little confused as to how this was working because some people brought there chili in on Monday and one person brought in some sort of soup on Thursday but the bulk of the tasting was on Tuesday and everyone did a great job.

I’m going to share a little secret – Earl and I basically made the chili topping we used to use at the restaurant back when we did that sort of thing for a living. I’m glad to see that the recipe held up well.

I’m in the mood to do some groovy line dancing. Care to join me?

Here’s “Second Time Around” by Shalamar.

So yesterday we headed to the big city, in these parts it’s called ‘Syracuse’, and went to the movies for the afternoon. The movie of choice was “Up In The Air” with George Clooney and a bunch of other people.

The movie was showing at the theatre in the someday-will-be-the biggest mall in the U.S., so naturally the auditorium held only 59 people. Why 59 and not 60 I’ll never know, but a woman in a wheelchair came in to enjoy the movie and she chose to get out of her wheelchair and sit in a regular seat, which threw off the ticket counts apparently because two people stared at the filled auditorium, poised with popcorn and pop in the hands and mouths agape, well into the previews before they realised that no one would levitate from their seat. They apparently left and found something else to watch. Perhaps the theatre company was celebrating that this movie had a lot of airlines in it and oversold the auditorium.

Before we get to the main feature, I have to say that this growing trend of showing 10 minutes of commercials before the 15 minutes of previews, but after the 20 minutes of pre-show excitement called “First Look” or “The 20”, is getting tedious. Yes, I know I’m drinking a cup full of something that rhymes with Hoca-Hola. It’s printed on the cup, it’s printed on my popcorn and it’s displayed on the LED flat panel televisions that now serve their lives as menu display boards. Said logo even dances for me now. There is no reason to show lots of commercials about this said product beforehand. I get it.

One last thing before I get to the actual movie: to the woman that sat to the front and right of me, do not start checking your e-mail on your ruby studded non-iPhone device when the very persistent, annoying announcement proclaims that cell phones should be turned off and stowed away. And yes, it was noted that your accent was not a Central New York one, though I suspect you still have “NY” in your address. Thank you.

I enjoyed this movie very much. First all I felt like I was watching something real in that my brain wasn’t in overdrive looking for evidence of a green-screen or CGI. I recognised airports, I recognised hotels and Earl and I are able to proclaim that we have been in every city that was emblazoned across the screen, well, except Miami. I found the story to be very engaging, real and subtle enough in tone to make me feel like I wasn’t being banged over the head with some sort of message.

To keep it short and sweet, George Clooney plays a guy that fires people for a living and lives around 320 days a year on the road, er, rather in the air. We meet his family, he finds a relationship, he mentors a young one and he deals with his company’s cost cutting methods of using technology to essentially ground him. I won’t spoil the movie by giving further details than that, but I will say that George plays the part well, as does the rest of the cast. The movie went by quickly for me and I didn’t feel like I had wasted a good chunk of change. I will say that I fully know that his character prefers American Airlines, Hertz and Hilton, as this was dwelled on. A lot. But I like those companies too so I didn’t really mind, contrary to the constant product advertisements before the movie.

Directly in front of me sat a woman who came in alone and was wearing some clothes that could be described as “eccentric”. She had big black glasses and a “flashdance” sweatband on her head. I think she had Christmas tree ornaments for earrings and she had a bedazzled sweater on. Halfway through the movie she started talking back to the movie screen, usually when George Clooney’s character was terminating someone. “Fuck you!” “Go to hell!” “Right on, sistah!” She wasn’t overly loud, but in an auditorium of 59 people you definitely knew she was there. By the end of the movie she was worked up in such a state that she was poised in her chair like she was going to leap up and wring someone’s neck. When the credits rolled she leapt over the woman’s empty wheelchair and headed for the exit. She was singing some weird song when she did it.

On the way out of the theatre I mentioned to Earl that I REALLY liked the travel that the main character did in that movie and I really wished I could do more travel like that. Not only does it appeal to my loner tendencies but the idea of seeing the country in that manner is very enticing to me. I really wish my work took me places. Now I’m not saying that I don’t want to be home or I want to be away from Earl and my family or anything like that or that I don’t like the people I work with; what I’m saying is that I have always found the thought of not knowing what city I’m in when I wake up, flying from one three-lettered destination to another and exploring the world from that vantage point is something that I have always wanted to do. Always. It’s sexy to me. That type of travel is very freeing for me; working at the same desk day in and day out is very confining. At my age I should probably want (and be grateful that I have) stability, but I still want to soar. Earl says I’d last a year at most but I disagree.

For once I’m not rushing with last minute shopping this year. Everything is wrapped up and under the tree.

It’d be a kick to fight some crowds today though. Maybe I’ll drive by the mall and see how lively it is.

It was earlier this year that I was on the road and decided to stop for a quick bite to eat in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, a set of golden arches signaled the location of another fried nirvana and I made the decision to go through the drive-thru. Trying to stay healthy, I opted for a grilled chicken sandwich value meal but then I negated the healthy part by making said meal a large. (It’s not a super-size, wink wink).

The surly-turned-friendly drive thru attendant handed me two bags: one which contained my meal and another which contained a Coca-Cola glass. I was surprised by this; I didn’t know I would be getting one of these glasses. The fries were turned upside down in the bag.

I didn’t go to McDonalds a lot over the summer or through the autumn, but a couple of weeks ago on my way back from Danbury, Conn. I stopped at another McDonalds where I ordered the same meal. I was handed another glass for opting to go large. This glass was tinted brown, whereas the first glass was tinted green.

Great gods they’re collectible!

When I was a kid there was a fast food restaurant chain here in Upstate New York called Carrols, and they had collectible glasses back in the 70s. These glasses (I think) had lead painted characters of Looney Toon characters on the side and were quite nifty to look at. While the Coca Cola tinted glasses didn’t have Looney Toons characters on the side, they are still quite attractive. A little research on the internet turned up that they not only have green and brown but they apparently have _six_ different colors to add to your collection.

I have become obsessed with these glasses.

So I went to our local McDonalds and proudly ordered the same meal I had ordered out of town. Twice.

“Where’s my glass?”

“Oh we stopped those a couple of months ago,” said the manager as I beckoned her over with concern on my face. “I sold the display for $50 and gave the money to the Ronald McDonald house.” Well that was a very honourable thing but where the hell was my glass?

Sigh.

I am still obsessed with these glasses.

Earl managed to pick up a blue glass in his travels and after a little investigating I found that we had one other green one but I still need pink, purple and some other shade of blue.

Sacré bleu!

I am resisting the temptation to go to other stores to find these glasses. However, I am considering purchasing a set on ebay.

If anyone wants to share a glass with me that they don’t want, I’ll pay for shipping and I’ll give you a shout out on the blog.

A couple of weeks ago the Cubster’s van died. The motor is seized and in need of replacement. We have been waiting for the car dealer to find a suitable motor so he can get back on the road. In the meantime, we have looked at a few vehicles to be considered for replacement.

Last night we drove up to my hometown to the used car lot where I bought my second car way back in 1985. The first car being a ’74 Chevy Vega where the frame eventually broke in half, my second car was a 1976 Pontiac Astre that was nicknamed “the Disastre”. It was basically a Vega with a Pontiac nameplate, but it was $200 and a steal for a senior in high school. The car served me well and as an added bonus, when I wore my red snowsuit it looked like an olive with me as the pimento. This garnered laughs from family and friends.

Anyways, we drove up to the car lot where I bought the Disastre and took a look at a 1994 Honda Accord. Earl has little experience in buying a used car and Jamie wasn’t really feeling the Honda in any way but I talked with the guy that my family has known for a couple of decades. After asking important questions like how the brakes and the tires were, the history of the car and if he would feel comfortable driving the car cross country (not that anyone planned on doing that, but it’s a good question to ask), I decided to take the Honda out for a test drive. Just like I did 25 years ago, I drove through the village and through the neighboring village, ending up on back country roads where I could “open ‘er up” and see how she handled at around 65 or 70.

She handled pretty good for a ’94 with 130K miles. There was no shimmy at all and all the lights worked. I deemed the car safe after slamming on the brakes a few times to make sure they worked and listening for the telltale pings of an oil starved engine (it didn’t have the pings). One slamming of the brakes was mandatory; there’s a lot of deer running across the roads up in those parts.

It’s been a long while since I’ve test driven a used car and surprisingly it’s something that I miss. My last used car was the ’86 Hyundai Excel (the first year Hyundai sold cars in the U.S.) which I bought in 1989. The Honda was holding together much better than the Hyundai did, despite it’s bit of rust around the wheel wells. It felt pretty good to going bombing up the Ridge Road and it made me feel young again.

Jamie ended up not buying the car but the trip was well worth it. It’s little things like this that keeps me grounded. And as I mentioned before, I feel a little younger again.

Originally posted on 16 December 2001, this blog entry is one of my first.

This Christmas marks the sixth festive holiday season that Earl and I have been together. Let’s see… 1996 was 1, 1997 was 2, 1998 was 3, 9, 00, 01, yep it’s the sixth holiday season together. I always lose track, because our fifth anniversary is the day after Christmas, so that makes six.

Where were we now. Oh yes, it’s the holiday season once again in our merry little household. The tree is decorated so festively. The outside lights have been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving, and are now blowing fuses left and right. (I don’t know whose idea it was to decorate the 25 foot pine tree in the middle of our yard, but why did we put the connecting plugs at the top?) The tinny little caroling voices are screaming through Mr. High Fidelity and No Bass Speaker in the mall. Jingle BELLS Jingle BELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WAY. All of these are wonderful clues that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. But the real cincher on the arrival of holiday spirit is my partner Earl. God love him, his body just falls apart at the thought of the holidays. It’s like his warranty has expired or something.

Our first Christmas together, he warned me. “I always get sick around the holidays. Actually Rick (his youngest brother) and I take turns, he gets sick one year, I get sick the next.” And to think I was marrying into this festive little family the day after Christmas! The giddiness of it all! Because the way the holidays fell that year and because our families weren’t quite adjusted to their newest couple, Earl went to Pennsylvania for his family’s Christmas, I went up north to my folks and then met up with him Christmas afternoon. “I was sick yesterday, but I feel great today, since you’re here sweetheart.”

So I made it through a holiday season without actually witnessing “The Near Death holiday experience”.

The following year he was just stopped up in the sinuses a little bit. I reminded him, “Isn’t it Rick’s turn?”

“Aren’t you cute,” he replied, and proceeded to suck up the entire boxes of Kleenex into his nose. Had I not been holding his baby niece, she probably would have followed the Kleenex. The honk was heard as far away as Peoria, Illinois.

I don’t even want to mention the holiday season of 1999. Let’s just say I should have decorated the toilet seat instead of the bay window.

Last year, as we were getting ready for a Christmas party at my father’s, he broke the news to me.

“I’m having a stroke”.

“So soon? We haven’t even gotten the Christmas shopping done yet and the bills won’t be here for a month, how could you be having a stroke already?”

“You know, you’re going to feel really rotten when I drop dead into this wretched egg nog.”

“How do you know you’re having a stroke? Do you feel like Grandma Walton in that 1960s version of the Waltons movie?” I asked, trying to sound sincere.

“You know, you could show a little more compassion for a man who’s having a stroke. My left arm is numb.”

“Well then, it can’t be a stroke if it’s your left side. It’s got to be a heart attack”, I said, with all the wisdom of Nurse Needles.

“No, I’m not having a heart attack”, he nearly hissed back at me. I didn’t even know he could hiss. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

So I didn’t.

I don’t like to sound insincere or uncaring, but I think that the inner child in him gets so worked up with excitement about the holidays that his body can’t take it or something. Maybe it’s because I have a somewhat twisted philosophy on sickness. I simply refuse to be sick. I won’t do it. I won’t catch a cold, I won’t harbor pneumonia and I refuse to take part in a flu epidemic. I am going to trudge through life healthy and that’s just the way it is. I try to introduce him to my philosophies on the matter, but he’s not having any of it.

This morning I noticed he started sniffling, so I suggested “Try some of the Echinacea. It suppose to boost your immune system. Or maybe you want to start building up on Cold-Ezze”.

“I hate that stuff. It tastes awful.”

“Yes, but sweetheart, maybe it’ll herd off this cold that you seem to be catching.”, I replied, trying my best to be the doting lover.

“No, I’m going to have a cold. It’s because of the holidays.”

Tonight we went on one of our annual “Ride Through The Snobby Section of Town and See The Lights” rides. Since today was such a beautiful, mild day, I took the opportunity to vacuum and clean the car, and I put an air freshener in it.

“That air freshener is a bit over powering, isn’t it?”, he nearly snarled.

“Why don’t you wrap it up in a napkin and put it in the glove compartment?”

He wrapped it up like a dead minnow and shoved it in the glove compartment, underneath all the manuals and everything. He then rolled down the car window and hung his head out like a sick dog. Since we live in Upstate New York, and it’s winter, I needn’t point out that it was 30 degrees. “You are going to get sick if you keep up the dog routine. Shut the window!”

As we held hands and enjoyed the beautiful Christmas displays, I noticed he was sniffling more and more. So we headed home, had a mug of hot chocolate each, and then I announced I was going upstairs to update the website.

“I’m going to watch a little television”.

I had just started up the internet connection when he dropped the news.

“My leg is numb.”

Always the concerned lover, I went downstairs and dug my fingernails into his leg.

“Ouch! What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

“I thought your leg was numb. I wanted to be sure.”, I replied, trying to sound as authorative as Marcus Welby, M.D. “If you don’t feel good, why don’t you lie down?”

“People lie down when they’re tired. I’m not tired. I’m numb.” he said, a little exasperated.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, maybe you need some rest.” I suggested.

And so he did. He actually took my advice. I just went and checked on him… he’s snoring away, once again making the cows down the road restless with all that noise. I just know he’s going to be all sniffly this week. And being the loving lover, I’ll be there pushing the Echinacea and Cold-Ezze… after all, what are lovers for? But isn’t it Rick’s turn this year?

Holiday parties are in full swing. Last night I joined my co-workers at a local pub for some after work brewskis. It was noted by several people that I was drinking diet pop. No worries, I still made an ass of myself even though I was stone cold sober. Save for a taste test of a half of glass of wine last month, I have been alcohol free since mid August or so (and honestly, the wine was good but I didn’t really enjoy it.) Some still ask why I stopped drinking and I always give the same answer: “I had too much fun driving my expensive sports car with one too many beers in me.” Is this the total story? It is not, but it’s a major component of it. I didn’t hit anything or anyone and I didn’t get stopped but I am proud to say that I knew when to stop before something bad did happen. I was acting irresponsibly and I was endangering people that I didn’t even know. That’s not a very good contribution to the world. Plus, I liked the buzz way too much. It’s why I never started smoking or doing drugs; nothing productive comes from it and I know that I would get addicted to it, therefore why start it at all? If I’m going to get through this life I’m going to do it without a buzz assist and see what my senses have to offer me on their own.

Some think that something much more scandalous happened while was I drunk and that’s why I stopped drinking. Please, I don’t need alcohol to do something scandalous. I’ve done many things that would make many people blush whilst I was completely sober. Inhibition is not a problem of mine.

Nevertheless, holiday parties are in full swing and I am occasionally offered a drink by well meaning hosts and friends. You know what, I’d be offended if they didn’t offer me anything! I am honoured but I decline and I mean no offense by it and my decision to not drink shouldn’t impact anyone else’s desire to drink. If you want to have a beer or a twelve-pack then drink up, that’s your business.

Just don’t hurt or kill anyone in the process and allow me to decline gracefully.

I am currently sitting in the back seat of the Durango. Earl and Jamie are up front. We are on the Thruway on our way to dinner in Syracuse with my family. It is snowing.

Here’s the thing. It’s December. We are in Central New York. We live near a very big lake, so big that they call it a “great lake” and Mother Nature conspires with that lake and makes what is called lake effect snow. Rumor has it we get the most snow east of the Mississippi. It’s been this way for a very long time.

One of the scary thing about driving on the Thruway at this time of year is that people that don’t fully comprehend this weather try to vacation up here. “Oh the snow is so pretty!” These vacationers are frequently seen with downstate and New Jersey plates. For some reason there is a belief that when it’s snowing outside, regardless of the time of day, wearing sunglasses will help you see better.

That’s wrong.

Here’s another thing: your windows shouldn’t fog up on the inside. If your windows fog up it’s because you don’t know how to work your heater. If you take the heater off of “recirculate” and put it on “fresh” your windows won’t fog up.

“Why don’t they take care of the roads up here?” Uh, we do, but when snow is falling at a ridiculous pace and the governor cuts maintenance funding, it sometimes takes a little while to get the job done.

I take pride in the fact that I am native to this area and am not bothered by this weather. I’m a proud country boy that loves all aspects of this winter wonderland Snow doesn’t slow me down, it’s just part of the game for six months of the year.

If you can’t figure out how to live in it, play in it and survive in it, then perhaps a winter wonderland is not the place for you.

317.365, originally uploaded by iMachias.

I’m still alive. Work has kept me busy this week but I have had time for holiday merriment along the way.

I’ve been a big geek too.