Fire Drill Rant

So we had a stupid f*cking fire drill this morning @ 9:00.

We all got to march outside to the "Rally Point" which is out in the far outer reaches of the parking lot at one point I thought we were in Methuen.

So, fortunately I was able to grab my coat and phone, but still I'm a bitch-pussy and I don't like standing out in the cold while all these fireman wannabees walk around with their roster boards and walkie talkies pretending their calling in a ladder truck or Medi-vac chopper to save humanity. Go play fireman on your own time Skippy, my feet are cold.

It's 22 degrees with a 10mph windchill that makes it feel like, oh I don't know, the bottom of a penguin's ass after its been sitting on a glacier for 4 weeks waiting for the great annual sardine run. Can we not prove our exit and egress prowess in the middle of April when the sweet smell of daffodils file the temperate spring air?

Do we really need to have a drill to show that we're capable of walking out in the parking lot in an orderly fashion? Is this really necessary? In February? Really?

And if that weren't enough, I get the privilege of sitting near the only entry point of the building which means I get to enjoy a solid 10 minutes of the door being open while about 600 people file back into the building. So now it's about 48 degrees in my office and I'm sitting with my jacket on and my toes are frozen like little toe-sicles.

And for my "cherry on top" they have the cleaning crew over here now vacuuming all the sh*t that got dragged in from the trampling of 1200 feet coming back in en masse. Leaves, sand, rock salt, butts, oh yeah they're all there and this doofus is out there with his vacuum trying to clean up.

Are you sh*tting me with this?

Welcome to 2010

So here's another year and another round of resolutions. I think I like resolutions but I'm not too sure. I'd like to think that if something is truly important enough I'd incorporate it into my daily routine automatically but I know that I'm not always strong enough to do that.

And doesn't that sound weak.

But I guess I think about all the things that I'd like to do (like taking a weekly photo walk by myself just to take some shots, reflect, and get a little excersise -gasp-) and somehow I haven't been able to commit to the time. That's frustrating.

I'm still stunned (happily) by the arrival of Connor. There are times where I sit and hold him and I look around at where I am in life and it takes me a minute to catch my breath and take it all in.

It's funny because I'd be the first one to tell you that I want life to be the equivalent of a roller coaster ride. Always changing and on the edge. But at the same time I find this incongruity in that I sometimes wish for the "normalcy" that I should have by now. It's weird.

It's hard to describe really. Sometimes I feel that I'm looking through the viewfinder of someone else's camera and it takes me a minute to realize that the pictures that I'm looking at are actually mine.

Anyway, welcome to 2010. I hope that whatever challenges, resolutions, and promises that I make during this year I succeed.

I also hope that my 3 babies all have a wonderful, healthy, and exciting year.

Brushing Your Teeth at Work

That impresses me. I'm always impressed by people who have the foresight and wherewithal to do this. For me, I get a charge if I remember to bring my lunch, so for me to try to be so organized that I'd remember to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste and then actually remember to use it daily.

That's dedication.

Of course I don't know if I could pull it off even if I did remember to do it. I mean, not unless I had a private bathroom. There's something about going into the public shitter, spreading out your brush, floss, and paste and having at it.

How in the hell would I rinse?

Have you seen some of the people that you're sharing your bathroom with lately? I mean really.

But, at the end of the day I'm still impressed.

Why I Hate Facebook

I realize that Facebook and all the other social networking sites of today are not going away soon and that I'm truly a dinosaur when I say it, but I hate Facebook. Now this is not to say that I don't understand the allure and even the usefulness of social networking sites like Facebook.

I get it.

Posting pictures or videos for far away loved ones has its place. Keeping folks updated with your goings-on has its place too. It's cheaper, easier, and more efficient to post a couple of "Tweets" to bring everyone up to speed than it is to sit and write a bunch of notes or make a bunch of calls.

I get it.

But what about all those folks that use all this social networking as a surrogate to reality?

You know the ones. The ones that somehow "re-connect" to old flames. Or how about the ones that spiral into the charade of being someone they're not. You know who I'm talking about...

The 41 year old mother of two that has an extra 25 pounds on her hips somehow becomes a 23 year old swinger that's into leather and 3 ways. Or how about the 38 year old t-ball coach with a beer gut and receding hairline that's pretending to be the 26 year old internet millionaire that has a summer home in Nice, winter condo in Vail and spends his down time in SoHo?

The tangible means nothing to them. All the energy they should be expending on cherishing and relishing what they have is instead wasted on something they don't.

But who's to say they can't have it? Too fat? Go get yourself on a treadmill and lay off the Dove bars. No spark in your marriage? Go plan a get-a-way weekend for your spouse. Take some initiative and plan the weekend, pack her bags, make a reservation and drop the kids off with Grandma for a couple of days. I guarantee if you "kidnap" her, sweep her away somewhere nice you'll remember why you fell in love in the first place.

Instead people go the easy way out and play the victim. Instead of blaming your partner because they do or don't act a way they once did why don't you sit down and figure out why? Instead of poring your imagination out into a MySpace profile why don't you pursue the things that you think would make you interesting?

I just don't get it.


Whatever you do, make it happen. Take the initiative.

All too often I see people wile the hours away at a keyboard wishing and wanting instead of taking an active role in their own life. It's sad.

PART I. Childhood Deliquency - We Really Weren't Bad Kids. Really.

So a bunch of us are sitting around today talking about our formative years and how life experiences may or may not have formed our personalities in a particular way.

And by formative years, I'm talking about the time when you were old enough to know better but still young enough to be stupid and turn a blind eye to what you should or shouldn't be doing. For me those years were right around 10-14 years old.

This was the age that dawned a new level of freedom and personal responsibility. I was old enough -at least in theory- where I didn't have to be under the constant watchful eye of my Mom or Grandmother. That age where it was OK to walk home from school, let yourself in the house and hang out until 5 o'clock when Mom got home. That was the theory anyway.

And in truth the theory worked. Most of the time anyway. But, there were times when my youthful stupidity got the best of me and something was almost guaranteed to happen.

Of course, I wasn't alone in this odyssey, I had two companions squarely at my side stumbling down this road of discovery almost every step of the way.

My buddy Nate was a small toe-headed kid that, like me, was being raised by his divorced Mom. They lived about a 15 minute walk away from my house, and even though Nate had a brother and sister they were much older and had long since moved out of the house. For all practical purposes he was an only child being raised by his Mom.

Nate and I shared a lot of the same interests. We liked sports, but we were average athletes at best. We liked to read, make plastic model kits, and were just being introduced to the wonders of Atari video games. We shared the same sense of humor often times finding comedy in others mishaps and misfortunes. Nate was the cerebral one of the group, and quickly established himself as the thinker of our group.

My other buddy Magoo was about as opposite from Nate as you could get. Tall, lanky with a dark head of hair Magoo had eight brothers and sisters. He shared a room with two other siblings and as the "baby" he often slipped under the radar with his parents. As long as Magoo didn't commit random acts of arson or felonious assault he was pretty much free to do as he pleased.

Unlike Nate and me, Magoo was a pretty good athlete. He was fast, had a good jump shot and played a mean first base on our little league baseball team. He lived about five minutes away from my house and was kind of in the opposite direction of Nate's house. Magoo was a man of action, he didn't want to get too caught up in the details, he was more interested in making things happen. A well thought out plan was a nicety not a necessity for him.

My house was more or less our ground zero simply by the fact that I was centrally located. My house was the epicenter from which most activities sprang. I had my own room and a swimming pool in the back yard and the best part of my houses location was the vast expanse of undeveloped land that laid directly across the street. It was a city address with a bit of a country feel. Of the three of us, I was the catalyst. I was after adventure and I made sure that both Nate and Magoo were focused on finding it. Sitting around doing the same thing day after day did not appeal to me.

As the only child, it was easy to say I was spoiled in that I had just about anything a kid could want. That said, my folks did a good job of keeping me grounded which prevented me from developing a truly spoiled attitude and demeanor. My Dad was very good at making me work for what I wanted so I'd develop an appreciation for what I had. For the most part I think it worked.

So it was with these two friends that I tackled most of my pre-adolescent days. Each of us brought something different to the table and somehow we managed to get into enough trouble to make things interesting, but not so much that we ended up at Juvenile Hall.

A guilty pleasure

"She" was an avid reader. There were books all over the house. Upstairs. Downstairs. In the car. Under the sofa. It didn't matter they were everywhere. Boxes of books. Old. New. Fiction. Non-fiction.

It didn't matter.

There were books that were in pristine condition and some that had the first 40 or so pages missing. It just didn't matter. They were everywhere and "she" bought them all the time.

As it was, I should have had a portion of my paycheck forwarded directly to Amazon.com because trust me when I tell you they were getting plenty of business thrown their way.

So here we are, almost 3 years removed from that episode and while most of the books have departed from my ownership I still have some. And when you have "some" from a collection like hers you still have a lot.

So, as they say; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Just as we return to the earth so to shall the books that came in from Amazon.com. Every one that I have of "hers" is up for sale. And every time I sell one, even if it's only for $3 bucks I get a big sh*t eating grin on my face.

Childish? You bet.
Vindictive? As all hell.
Satisfying? More than words can say.

The Grill & The Magic of WD40.

We recently moved to a new condo (literally right across the parking lot from our old place), but as short a distance as it was it was like moving into a different world.

3 floors. Everyone gets a room. Riverfront complete with a small waterfall. Two decks, one up and one down and all right there on the river. Windows everywhere to soak in the view, sound, and breeze of the river. I finally got some outdoor living back and oh my God how I missed it.

So it was a week of packing, moving, unpacking, cleaning and we took advantage of the deck by eating dinner on it nightly. But there's something amiss when you're sitting on the deck eating take-out pizza. Sure you get the whole great outdoors thing going, but the missing element was clearly the grill.

So Monday night I finally get to the point where I'm going to fire up the charcoal and grill a couple of hamburgers. After I wheel the grill in from the garage (only to have the wheel and lid fall off three times because of a loose nut) I get the thing settled on the deck right next to the patio furniture.

Now we're talking.

That was until I realized that while I had plenty of charcoal, I had precious little lighter fluid to get the party started. I tried everything. Wadded paper. Cardboard. Paper towel soaked in cooking oil (just like the environmentally friendly bag of charcoal told me to do). Nothing.

Well I shouldn't say nothing, because I had plenty of smoke. I even went so far as to pour a 1/4 cup of rum on some of the coals to no avail. Oh, and we won't be doing that again because that's just an abuse of rum.

The hour was getting late and my wife was taking a great amount of perverse enjoyment from this. Then it hit me, what if I shot a little WD40 on a paper towel and built a little charcoal pyramid around it would that work?

Your DAMN right it would.

Two quick squirts, a little charcoal and P-O-O-F we got fire.

And damn those burgers were good. I don't know what it is about an outdoor grill but wholly cow it was like heaven on a bun.