Meeche & Joe

What does this MEEEEAN?

2010-07-22T14:05:00.000-07:00

This started off slow for me, and then there was one moment when I lost it. Now I can't get enough. I may be the last person on the internet to see it, but if you haven't yet, it's only 3 minutes of your life. Double rainbow, all the way.

My Wife is Pretty Funny...in Four Parts

2010-07-19T18:47:00.000-07:00

Part I

So I'm all jazzed up about my new iPhone, and came across this app called Errands or something like that. It's pretty self-explanatory, and so I emailed my Target shopping list to Michelle. She replies with "Fancy." Pretty sure she's being sarcastic.

Then when I get home, I hand my phone to her, and she proceeds to type out her own errand for me to do. It's titled, "Make Michelle Happy," and it goes like this:

Coffee
She can quit her job
Stay home with Murray
Spend lots of money on whatever she wants
Buy her a Range Rover
Hardwood floors
Re-do kitchen
Take her to Hawaii

Priority: Urgent

Part II

She then knocks over the ironing board in the office, which I left open, and then when I try to close it up, and it won't close.

Joe: You broke the ironing board! (angrily)

Michelle: Oh good, you can add it to your list! (cheerfully)

Part III

I'm sitting in traffic at a light, and this blond lady wielding a Blackberry comes flying out of a parking lot, and wedges herself right in front of us, wanting to pull out before we can move. I'm more of a timid driver than Michelle is. When I'm in the passenger seat, I sometimes resemble this guy.

Ok, I'm being dramatic. Michelle is actually one of the best drivers I know. But she's a bit more aggressive than I am. Well when she sees Blondie, she comes out with something like this:

"I would not have let her in if I were driving. If she doesn't move quick enough to my liking, I want you to beep at her."

Part IV

We're driving through the Stop & Shop parking lot, when I spot a juiced up tan man in a wife beater and tattoos all over his arms. He may or may not have had a blowout. Upon seeing this, Michelle says:

"I really wish I knew how to whistle."

Poor Family Health History, and Looking Toward the Future

2010-07-18T13:06:00.001-07:00

I have been blessed with a high metabolism. I was always a chubby little kid, since I loved my meatballs and cheetos and pasta and bread and anything salty. It wasn't until I was in 7th grade that I hit a "growth spurt" where I finally thinned out a bit. I put that in quotation marks, because I only made it to 5'6" and a half.

This high metabolism, however, has also served as a curse. I say it's a curse because at my last doctor's office visit, when I learned that I was only 5'6" and a half and not 5'7", I also learned that I had a very high cholesterol level and an absurd level of triglycerides. At my last visit, my triglycerides were at 373. Should be under 200. So there are two reasons behind this, as far as I can see. The first is my family history. There is not much I can do about this. My dad and I can compare horror stories of foods that cause wicked heartburn, and his triglycerides I think once crossed 900. His doctor couldn't figure out how he was sitting there talking.

The second reason my blood lipids were so bad is that I don't make the best choices when it comes to food. Now I don't go to McDonald's very often, perhaps 4 or 5 times a year. (Filet O' Fish during Lent...sing the commerical to yourself now, I love it.) Every night I eat at least one vegetable. My dinners are always pretty healthy. But I have other problems. I don't eat breakfast on a regular basis. I know this is bad for me, I just can't help it. Sometimes I'm just not hungry at work, and by the time I know it, it's 11:00 AM so I just wait until lunch before I eat again. Then when lunch hits, I scarf down a meatball sub, covered with two pieces of provolone cheese, on a giant sub roll. When I eat pizza, I'll throw down 4 slices. Pie? I can't stop at one piece.

Here is where the curse comes in. It's great that I stay relatively thin (I have a small gut, yes, and was in much better shape in high school), but my insides must be rotting away. It's amazing how I can say, well my outsides look ok, but completely neglect my insides. I've been justifying my inaction by saying it's not my fault, and I'll be on Lipitor before I know it, anyway.

My doctor told me to take fish oil pills everyday, and start exercising. I took the pills for a while, and then sort of fell off the wagon. Not intentionally, I just forget, and get lazy about remembering. I need to start exercising. Even the busiest people in the world exercise. The President of our country exercises, and he has way more important crises going on than I do. I need to stop sitting on my ass, and do it. This may be a futile attempt that fizzles out like other resolutions I've made, but I hope not. It doesn't take a lot of effort to exercise on a regalar basis, and this is what I need to keep in mind.

I just picked up "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch, and only read through the Intoduction and first chapter, and it has already inspired me. This professor was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and was looking at a few months to live, leaving behind a wife and three children under 6. I don't yet have any children, but they are definitely in my future. This poor guy probably didn't do anything to get cancer, but my potential health problems are fixable and potentially avoidable. I want to be more aware. I don't want to be in my 40s, looking at a life or death situation, wishing I did something more about it when I had a chance.

Here's a problem I have. Some people will smoke cigarettes and say, well something will probably give me cancer down the road anyway, so I might as well enjoy myself now. This is what I'm doing. Sure, give me another piece of bread and butter, I can't help my family health history, so who cares? Well if I can do everything I can to try to prevent bad things from happening to me and potentially leaving behind my wife and a young family, what am I waiting for?

2010-07-17T07:58:00.001-07:00

Yes, I am posting from my iPhone. What up.

Testing the Waters with Some Bad TV

2010-07-14T16:29:00.000-07:00

Getting back into it...

I've recommended TV shows in the past. The following is not necessarily a recommendation, but more of a list of shows I should be embarrassed about watching.

"Stop emasculating me!"

If you don't watch the Bachelorette, then you probably missed the most uncomfortable relationship fight in TV history. Jake the Pilot, I'm sure he has a last name but I don't care enough to look it up, is nuts. He was trying to make himself look like the good guy, and he failed. I was rooting for him to keep talking, because every time he did, it got worse. And either his ex-girlfriend is a great actress, or she was genuinely upset, because I really felt for her. That, and I love Chris Harrison (the host...I know his name). The people on this show make his job easy, but I still think he's great. "Ali, gentlemen, your final rose tonight." Regarding the actual season currently going on...Go Chris L.

I also am sucked into Secret Life of an American Teenager. I don't know how it happened, but before I knew it, I knew every plot line and character on the show. Now I'm into it.

I also wish I could go back in time and join glee club in high school. Or at least find a school with a glee club with some nasty singers. But when we're watching Glee and the commercials come on, I scream at Michelle to fast forward the DVR. At which point she whips the clicker at or near my skull. She doesn't take any crap, to put it lightly.

MTV now has an HD channel where I live, and Jersey Shore is back soon. But I'm afraid it will be TOO fake. The first season was so funny because these were regular people living how they do (I think) but I'm afraid the expectations are too high for them to be "real." I hope it doesn't turn into the Hills where it basically becomes a scripted reality show. Although the Hills never did it for me anyway. We'll see. I will watch Jersey Shore either way.

I also watch good television, but this post was dedicated to junk.

I also recently got an iPhone for the first time, and I don't want to keep posting, I want to go play with my phone. I thought I was cool with a qwerty keyboard so I could text fast. Wow, was I missing out...

Stupid Things I've Said or Done

2010-02-25T18:18:00.000-08:00

I'm watching the Olympics, as usual, and they're showing all the Canadians in the stands loudly and proudly singing their national anthem. Then I see the Canadian women's hockey team, also singing. So I say, "They're going to get their ASSES handed to them." Then Michelle says, "This is their gold medal ceremony."

Then one time we were driving through Bridgewater, a suburb about 30 miles southwest of Boston, and we were admiring how great the town was. I was all caught up in the moment, and I go, "Wow, look at the Shaw's (supermarket chain) down here!" Again, Michelle says, "Uh Joe, I think that's Shaw's headquarters."

When I was about 13, my buddy got a new bike. He had it all decked out with new pads. I'm like, Dude, pads are lame. You should take your pads off, like my bike. Well later that week, my friend rode his bike down a hill, and his feet slipped off the pedals. He smashed his teeth on his crossbar. They said if he didn't have braces, he would have lost all his front teeth. He ate through a straw for days, maybe weeks, I forget. I still feel terrible about this. Don't take my advice on how to look cool.

Another friend of mine had an older brother, who had a .22 caliber rifle. We used to shoot rounds off in his back yard, aiming at targets we set up, trees, birds. Well I decided to shoot an aerosol can. From about 5 feet away. In his basement. Let's just say I'm lucky I didn't kill myself, my friend, or stay permanently blind. I couldn't see straight for quite a few hours after rinsing the poison from my eyes.

The same friend with the rifle went off a jump that I made out of plywood. The jump was very, very steep. His bike was very heavy. He went up, held on to the handlebars, and went down. Bit through his tongue and smashed up his face pretty good. My bad, again.

I once had the brilliant idea of walking along a 2 foot wide stone wall. On one side was a main road, with dozens of cars going by. The other side had a 20 foot drop to some shallow water. Not sure what prompted me to do that one. (Mom, if you're reading, it was the narrow bridge on Winter Street.)

The time I googled how to fix a clogged drain, and didn't realize that there was a tube hooked up to the sink which subsequently flooded our house with chewed up food.

The time I was the real slim shady.

There may be a part 2 (or 3) to this, depending on how many stories Michelle can contribute...

The Lead Singer

2010-02-20T21:08:00.001-08:00

So I've decided to start this blog in order to chronicle my...oh wait. I already had a blog. Oops.

So pretending like I haven't missed a beat, here goes.

Murray Man has been neutered. His cajones are gone. He's still got his cash, just no prizes. Or as Michelle says, he still has his lead singer.

Although, he never really had cajones. They were undescended. I didn't like telling a lot of people that fact, I feel like Murray wouldn't appreciate it. But then again, he's had some pretty embarrassing stories plastered on the internet. Michelle was very, very worried. She was afraid he was going to die on the operating table. When she heard that he was fine, you could almost physically see the relief being removed from her shoulders. And he recovered really quickly. Everyone said that the next day he would be acting normal, but I didn't believe it.

Since Murray is constantly jumping on and off our bed, it was decided that I should sleep in the living room with him so he wouldn't rip a stitch. When I say it was decided, I really didn't have a say in the decision. It was more like I was nominated for the job. And then didn't have a choice. So I guess you could say I was forced.

The second night, I convinced Michelle that we should all sleep in the living room. She blew up the air mattress for me, and she ended up on the couch. We had a little camp out. That night, we also rented Couples Retreat on demand. It was ok, but overall, pretty disappointing as far as Vince Vaughn movies go.

In other news, I've been spending every spare minute doing my CFA studying. And I actually enjoy it. So far. I enjoy it a lot more than studying for the GMAT. The GMAT was an odd test, and I honestly didn't like what it tested, or how it was graded. Apparently it's an accurate way to test how people will perform in grad school, but I think that's crap. So far, the CFA encompasses a lot of what I studied in undergrad, but on a deeper level. That, and it will basically be about 8 Finance classes rolled into one giant exam. Taking advice from a friend, I'm taking it one page and one day at a time.

Over the last 9 days, I have been obsessed with the Winter Olympics. I love the sports, the athletes, the venues, the special interest story lines, the announcers, everything. I can't even think about the poor guy from Georgia who died competing in a goddam sport. There's been enough said and shown about his life and death, so I won't get into it all here. I just feel terrible about the whole ordeal.

I've even watched every possible minute of Curling. The sport is great. I'm a huge fan of bowling, and it reminds me of that mentality and atmosphere. I really only like candlepin bowling, which I think is limited to Massachusetts, or at least New England. But I'm going to try and make the US Curling team for the 2014 Olympics in Russia. It's good to have short-term and long-term goals, I think.

Another Olympic thought, I love listening to Scott Hamilton do the play by play of a figure skating routine. I may not understand the technical aspects of the scoring, but I have to respect when someone is that passionate about anything. I was watching Evan Lysdhjfacheck's routine the other night, and he landed a couple jumps in a row, and Hamilton just moaned. Just "Augghhhhhh!" At the time, I didn't understand why, but seeing as how he won gold, I'm guessing it was a good moan. Anyway, the guy kills me. And the lady announcer was brutal. One of the other Americans did a single axle or whatever, instead of a double, and she was all, "Oh it's over." No sugar coating from the figure skating announcers. Which I also can't understand what the difference between a triple axle and a trip toe loop and a triple lutz are. They all look pretty similar to me. I think my favorite part is when they spin. It's crazy impressive. And I love the drama with the Russian kid calling everyone out for not attempting a quadruple jump. It really adds a lot to a sport I never really care about. Another one of my favorite Olympic subplots.

In food news, the Whirley Pop is back in our lives. Michelle's on a kick that microwave popcorn will kill us all, so we've bought a Whirley Pop, and it is the best tasting popcorn ever. Beats the pants off of movie theater popcorn, since we can control the butter/salt ratio. If you haven't tried it, you're missing out. After posting this picture, Michelle just informed me that ours is black. So paint it black in your mind.

Now go and youtube "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones. Or don't. But it's in my head now.

Target Heart Rate = 155

2010-01-31T15:22:00.000-08:00

Right around the start of the year, Michelle wanted to sign up for the gym again, since we haven't had a gym membership together for well over a year now. There have been ads on TV for Planet Fitness, and you could sign up for $1 and then it's $10 per month. And there's no penalty if you cancel. There's also a $39 annual fee in October. Still, that's only around $13 a month. For the gym. Where you can go and exercise. And watch TV on each machine. What a business model. I almost forgot how great they were.

Ten. dollars. a. month.

You know how much I love a bargain. There's a pilates studio in our building which charges $15 per session. If you went 3 days a week, that's around $200 a month.

For $10 a month, how could you go wrong? And it was surprisingly nice. They under promised and over delivered. Words to live by. I didn't even see or hear anyone grunting through their workouts. What is it with these guys? Is the grunting necessary? Anyway, there was none of that.

So this afternoon, we actually went. We got all dolled up, put on our sports bras, (one of us), located our iPods (Michelle used her phone, she has an iPhone, isn't she so cool?), and trekked out to see what this gym was all about. Yes, I understand we're the New Year's Resolution gym people, but believe me when I say that we once were gym people. We went consistently and got in shape. This is the goal, that we can somehow do this again. People with two jobs, three kids, and a dog can manage to go to the gym, I'm sure we can figure this out.

After doing a lap before committing to a location, we landed on the elliptical machines. And we were lucky enough to snag two next to each other against the wall. Michelle took the one which hugged the wall, meaning if someone used the one next to us, I had to share oxygen with them. This happens to me all the time. Like in the movie theater? I have to take the non-aisle seat so if some giant with huge arms sits next to us, I have to share my popcorn with them.

I chose "Cardio." The machine told me I needed to keep my heart rate in the ballpark of 155. Two or three minutes in, I'm on pace. Right around 150. Then, as I get going, the machine adjusts the tension so I'm really starting to have some resistance. Bastard. Sweat is flowing, lungs are working, I'm feeling it. My heart rate approached 160, 170. I think I hit 191. I'm not sure how healthy that is, but obviously the machine didn't think so. It loosened the resistance so I basically didn't have to exert any effort whatsoever. Which, was fine with me. For day 1, going through the motions was enough. If I could sweat a little and change the color of my face, I was going to be happy.

17 minutes later, I'd had enough. There was a strange sensation coming from behind my sternum. Something I haven't felt in quite a while. We cleaned our machines, collected our shit, and went on our merry little way.

Day one. Done. Here's hoping we keep this up. It's almost like when you tell someone your goals, that it's supposed to help you stick to them. Well I'm telling the internet. Guilt trip me, if you must.

GMAT, Fancy Steakhouses, New Suits, and Steam Mops.

2010-01-24T17:18:00.000-08:00

I can officially check an item off my life's list.

GMAT. Finished. Hopefully forever. I hope to never have to take that crap again.

I scored a 620. I was aiming for a 650, but a 620 will have to do. The good news is that it is roughly in line with the average scores for the programs I will be applying to. Higher than some schools, a bit lower than others. To put it in context, I scored in the 71st percentile. So out of 100 people who just took the GMAT, I beat 71 of them. In your face, losers. Anyone who scored higher than me is a nerd. There was this kid in the elevator with me who was taking the GMAT, too. He didn't speak English too well. Half of the test is a Verbal portion. He's like, "This time, just to get used to. Next time, high score."

I guarantee this kid scored higher than me. There is a blog/website/forum (BeatTheGMAT.com) I have been obsessed with over the last few months, and there are a lot of kids like him on there who end up scoring in the top 95%. Kids from India and China who speak English as a second language who are kicking my ass on the verbal portion of the test. What's this about? But seriously, if you happen to be studying for the GMAT or know anyone who is, go there. It is sick. Helped me A TON.

So in celebration of the conclusion of my GMAT experience and a delayed birthday dinner for me and a date night for Meeche & Joe, we went to Fleming's steakhouse last night. It was the perfect end to a long and stressful process. I had my usual crab cakes and a rib eye, and Meeche went with the filet.

Quick story about filet mignon. So I was out to eat with Michelle's family about 9 years ago, and I had never been to a fancy steakhouse before. I had no idea what to order. I'm looking for the chicken parm. So I see filet mignon, and I'm like, I think I heard that in a Missy Elliot song. I'll get that. Well I ate that steak with a spoon, it was so tender. From that moment forward, I could understand why people spend so much money on a nice steak. There is a difference between choice (Stop & Shop) and prime (nice restaurants). I'm convinced.

So we ended the meal with the molten lava chocolate cake (to split) and it was amazing. I usually don't like chocolate that much, but this was ridiculous. And since Michelle told the restaurant it was my birthday, I got a gift of some free chocolate truffles.

She also promised she would buy me a new suit when she got back from her work trip. And oh, did she buy me a new suit. Yumi, who works in the suit section at Macy's, hooked me up. This thing is all black, tailored, sexy. I love it. And it was on sale, then 25% off the sale price. I showed Macy's my "Oh face" today. I needed a new suit badly, too. I've been wearing the same gray pinstriped suit for three years, only because my old charcoal one didn't fit anymore. The pants are a 33 waist, and I don't how that happened, because I don't remember being anything but a 34. I was feeling saucy the other day when I needed to wear a suit to work, so I figured I could fit into my 33s for a day. I tried it on the night before, and I'm like, this isn't too bad. I can handle this. Well I forgot that I have to TUCK my shirt in. And then sit down all day. Which anyone who has worn pants that are too tight knows, is a no no. Lesson learned. If the pants are a bit tight, leave them on the hanger.

Michelle has also been talking about this steam mop crap. Like, multiple times a day. Joe, I can't wait to steam mop. Can you not wait to steam mop? I can't wait. So after hitting a couple stores, we saw a great price on The Shark at BJs. We have tile floors through most of our house, and the grout on these things is nasty. Michelle compares herself to Cinderella cleaning the floors on her hands and knees. Well Cinderella had enough, and she bought herself a steam mop. And although I was skeptical, it worked some magic. Our floors are shining for the first time in a long time.

So one main reason I haven't been blogging is really due to the studying. And I also haven't had anything I thought would be worthy of blogging about. Not that anything really is. Just my thoughts and experiences put into words. But maybe the studying has clouded my brain. I've had Twitter-like thoughts I've wanted to post on here, but really wouldn't be worth a blog post. And since I only have a stupid phone (what Meeche calls anything that's not a smart phone), I don't use Twitter. Maybe I'll start posting these thoughts on here, though. So what if it's short. At least I'd get my thoughts down. I think I will. I actually just decided this as I was writing.

Here's one.

You know what I hate? The guys on the sidelines of an NFL game whose job it is to squirt water into the athlete's mouths. You're telling me the guy can't squeeze the water into his own mouth? Although maybe someday I'll hire someone to do that for me. They can just be there and squirt iced coffee into my mouth when I want it. I take it back, I like it.

Here's another one of my thoughts I wanted to post. Totally useless, but here it is.

Why do I have to buy 38 clementines? Why when they go in season, do I have to buy a crate of them with the orange fishnet over it? I mean, I love them, and usually finish the box. But you also run the risk of getting a tasteless bunch. Then you have 37 clementines you don't want to eat. And they're always so inconsistent with pricing. Sometimes they're $8.99 a box, and then the next week, they're $4.88. So when they're over $5.00, I don't want to buy them. And then next week, they're gone for good. Until next winter.

While I'm ranting about this at the grocery store, Michelle points to a stack of loose clementines. You can buy one clementine. Or 5. Or 38. And I was proven wrong, again.

Figures.

$43 Can Take You to the Middle of Nowhere

2010-01-15T18:12:00.000-08:00

So I pretty much knew I was going to travel to meet my wife while she was away. But I couldn't just throw that out there right away. I did have to consider the alternative, which is stay put without a car. So $43 will take me from Boston to East Deliverance.

Let's backtrack a bit. I'm in the midst of starting my post-undergraduate education. It sounds contradictory to be in the midst of the beginning of anything, but I am. I'm studying for the GMAT, which is like the SAT for graduate business school. In the meantime, I will be studying for the CFA exam in June. CFA stands for Chartered Financial Analyst, and it consists of 3 levels of exams. And you can only take the tests in June of each year. (Level 1 can be taken in December, but 2 and 3 in June only). And the number of people who pass all three the first time around is something like .006%. Well, I've been playing grab-ass long enough, and it's time to go for it. I need to push myself. I've been letting life pull me along, just floating with the current. I've been delaying grad school and the CFA because I'm afraid of failing. But what's going to happen if I don't try? Nothing, that's what. And "nothing" is dumb. There is nothing worse than nothing happening.

So back to the middle of nowhere story. I've been studying on and off all week, and I was planning on using this weekend to do more of the same. So why spend all this time studying at home when I could hop on a train and study there. And then I'll have all day Sunday to watch playoff footb-, er, study some more. So I'm taking the opportunity to study in East Deliverance. And on the 8-hour or so trip to East Deliverance. Hopefully I'll have some short stories about my travels.

Murray and I have been enjoying some male bonding time. I've eaten 2 pounds of chili and a family-size bag of cheese puffs, and not much else. I did eat two clementines on Tuesday. Actually, one. The other one was frozen and inedible. So I had one piece of fruit and 20,000 calories worth of beans and beef.

Murray has also been sleeping on Michelle's pillow. Poor little guy doesn't know what's going on. Every noise he hears in the hallway makes him jump up and bark at the door. He is going to fuh-lip his shit when he sees his momma again. It's going to be a tear-filled family reunion, I know that much. He's going with Grammy and Auntie Lilly this weekend, and I'm sure he'd rather be there than here with me anyway.

I've also caught up on some Joe-only TV shoes taking up space on my DVR. Surprise, surprise, Joe found more TV to watch. Men of a Certain Age with Ray Romano is a new favorite. I'm not sure what night it's on, but it's on TNT. I seriously hope it makes it to a second season. I'm sick of getting attached to new shows which never come back. It's like falling in love on a first date only to never receive a second one. It's torture.

It's just TV, it's not that bad. But still.

So right now, I am procrastinating. I should be packing for my adventure tomorrow. I have two books I want to read/start reading, and I plan on brushing up on my Sentence Correction, Reading Comprehension, and Critical Reasoning skills while on my train ride. I will see the entire state of Massachusetts by rail. I'm starting at the mouth (Boston), and traveling out its butt (Anywhere west of Worcester). Zing! Kidding, kidding. I'm sure the Berkshires are lovely. We'll see if I can make it that far without throwing myself from the train around Springfield.

One more thought. I don't have a small travel bag. Michelle has an entire collection of Vera Bradley bags. She took the only backpack we have. I do have my "messenger bag."

So let's recap. I will be traveling with my man purse on one shoulder and a navy blue Vera Bradley bag on the other. When I get beat up, I'll only have myself to blame.

Guess Who's Got Their Laptop Back?

2010-01-11T16:34:00.000-08:00

That probably was an easy question. But whatever, I am excited.

Michelle worked her magic that she always works, and she got my laptop fixed. I can't explain how pumped I am. I remember starting undergrad and getting my very own laptop, and how amazing that was. I didn't have a giant clunker of a desktop to take up space in my dorm room. I could take my computer to the library with me and bang out a paper. Or sit on my bed and be connected to the world. It's something I can start to take for granted sometimes. But in times when I don't have it, I realize how flipping incredible that whole concept is. I don't even understand how the telephone works. And I'm talking about the telephone that connects with a cord. You're telling me I can talk to someone in California and they can hear what I'm saying when I'm saying it? That's possible? Wireless internet and cell phones blow my mind. Well, I am now untaking it for granted. Or maybe I'm taking it for ungranted. Is there a phrase for that? I'm appreciating it, how's that?

Blogging is like turning a first draft into a final draft without writing anything twice. And being able to put your random thoughts down on paper. Sometimes great moments of clarity come from absolutely nowhere.

I've said this before, but Michelle is a Mac, and I'm a PC. Both in our computer preferences, but also in our personalities. She has a designer brain. I have a mathematical brain. I need to move the furniture around the room to see if I like the feel of it. She already knows before she moves anything. She solves problems outside the box. I didn't even know I was in a box until she pointed it out to me.

So Michelle buys Mac products. She says, "Oh, you'll love Macs, they're the best." Oh yeah? How about no? Maybe not so much. Who makes a mouse with one button when you can have two? Oh I know you can change the settings to have a right click. Big woop. We have a 24" iMac and a Macbook laptop. I had my PC, up until about 18 months ago. Well Michelle arranged to have it fixed when I gave up all hope, and now it is back with a vengence.

One thing Macs do that I love...the two finger scroll. If you don't know what that is, it's hard to describe. Just know that I will miss it. And Macs don't get viruses. I don't know how that's possible, but that's pretty cool, too. Ok maybe Macs aren't ALL bad. I just don't like the way it moves. It jiggles in all the wrong places for me.

But right now, I have to go help Michelle pack for her business trip. She will be leaving Murray and me for a week. Six nights without Michelle? In a row? I haven't done this since my freshman year in college. Almost 8 years ago. And she was just a girlfriend back then. Not that I didn't love her less, that came out wrong. It's just that time has glued us further and further together. And she will miss the Murray man. Possibly more than she misses me. I've taken some time to think about that this week, and have almost come to terms with it. He is really goddam cute. Michelle, you will be missed. But it is almost officially Boy's Week. Michelle and I went to Stop & Shop last night, and I loaded up on bachelor food. Chicken pot pie, cheese puffs, mac n' cheese. My high cholesterol will get higher this week.

So in the mean time, I wanted to say how friggen happy I am to have my laptop back. And thanks to all those who brought my PC back to useful life.

And here's my favorite Meeche quote that she's been throwing around lately...

Joe: "That's a pretty good idea."

Meeche: "Those are the only kind I have."

The Big Two Six

2010-01-03T17:08:00.000-08:00

I am now closer in age to 30 than I am to 20. I've had a couple friends turn 26 before me, and they both said in terms of ages, 26 pretty much sucks. All the upcoming big birthdays will be celebrations of decades. Decades. That sounds crazy to me. Just this weekend, Michelle and I were driving home from the Cape, and "The Sign" by Ace of Base came on 90s on 9 on XM radio.

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but satellite radio has changed my car-radio-listening life. It's one of those things I thought I could do without, since, hey, why would I pay for radio when I can get it for free? Well, we got a three month trial when Michelle got her new car, and we have never looked back. DVR is a must-have on the couch. Sirius XM is a must-have in the driver's seat.

Back to Ace of Base. I remember sitting at the lunch table in fourth grade singing this song with my friends when it first came out. I remember owning the cassette tape of the album.

I can't remember all the words to the song, but Michelle can. It drives me crazy when she knows the words to a song and I don't. If she has a hidden talent, it has to do with song lyrics. She knows every song from 1960-1969 (from her mom's taste), and every song from 1992 - present. Absolutely drives me crazy.

So I glance at the screen, which shows the current song, and it says it came out in 1994. That makes sense, I finished fourth grade in 1994. That was...(quick head math)...16 years ago.

Sixteen.

I exaggerate a lot. I'll say, I haven't seen that movie in 10 years, even though it came out 3 years ago. But I could honestly say I remember singing that song with my friends SIX-TEEN years ago. I know 26 isn't old, but it's the oldest I've ever been.

So back to my birthday. Michelle asked me what I wanted for a birthday dinner, and I was stumped. I thought for days about what I wanted. I finally decided on eggplant parm. Simple, comfortable, and just what I was craving on a snowy weekend. Michelle goes, "What? Really?"

Yeah, really. Is that ok? She said she's never made it before, but she'd give it a try. She ended up making it for me a day early, and we had it last night. It was fantastic. I stuffed myself to the point where I couldn't finish the last bite. Leaving food on a plate is a hard thing for me to do. So today is my actual birthday. A few weeks ago, we had bought a pair of filet mignons. Michelle found a recipe to cook the steaks with a red wine and balsamic vinegar sauce. So I luckily had two amazing birthday dinners. I said it in real life, but I'm thanking you again via the internet.

I also have a latte update. Michelle was home for a few days last week, and didn't have her barista with her when she rolled out of bed at the crack of noon. So she made her own latte. And then she took a picture of it. And then she emailed it to me. And it looked amazing.

One more update. Murray's Land's End coat. He now fits in with the other yuppie dogs in the city. I think he looks like a crossing guard. Or maybe a cop doing detail work.

Officer Murray.

Murray Had a Mommy Day

2009-12-30T15:27:00.000-08:00

Michelle is off from work all this week. I'm jealous. I get picture emails all day. Pictures of Murray sleeping. Pictures of Murray waking her up. At 9:30. I emailed Michelle at 11:00 AM, asking if she was able to fix the internet on the laptop. This was her response:

"I will. I'm getting out of bed soon."

What the what? I'm jealous, yet again. Then a couple hours later, Michelle emailed me saying that Murray has some green goo on his weiner, and she's taking him to the vet at 3:30. By the time I was getting out of work, she was still at the vet's office. I was able to leave earlier than normal, and I hopped on the number 7 bus and headed to Southie. I arrived to find a very happy dog and a very frazzled wife. Michelle filled me on the afternoon.

When she was in the waiting room, Murray got into an altercation with a bullmastiff. Apparently Clementine put Murray into a headlock, and he flipped. Like crazy Cujo growling. And he's never done this before, so Michelle was upset and embarrassed. She's afraid DSS for dogs is going to knock on our door and take Murray away from us because we're raising such a vicious beast. She keeps asking me if she's a good dog mother.

Then Murray peed on a display inside the vet's office. Nailed it. More upsetness and more embarrassment.

It turns out that Murray could have an infection on his thingy. Maybe even a UTI, who knows? They tell Michelle that she needs to get a urine sample from him. I can't even picture what this may have looked like, or how she went about it. I'm not even saying it because I think it's funny, because I know I will have to do it in the near future. How do I know this? Well Michelle managed to get a urine sample. Somehow. But she dropped it on the ground, and likely spilled it on herself. And for those of you not near Boston today, it's in the low teens and windy as hell. So she ends up getting a couple drops, and they can't even use it, because it's not enough. So, her efforts were fruitless.

Then we meet the new vet, and it's a disaster. We start getting lectured on what terrible parents we are. She's trying to get his heartbeat, and Murray is trying to jump off the table and kill himself. He's not a big fan of the dog food we bought him, but he'll eat it when he's hungry. The problem, however, is that we bought such a big bag of it, that it will take him another month to finish it all. The vet then tells us that he IS too skinny. You shouldn't be able to play his ribs like an instrument. Oh, and he threw up this morning. Then we get yelled at for giving him too many treats and that maybe he got into something bad for him. She then starts talking about his neutering and what a mess that's going to be. Because, oh yeah, Murray has undescended testicles.

Yup, that just happened. It's a good thing Murray can't read because, um, he's a dog, but he would be upset.

He's turning into a high maintenance animal. Good news, though, is that his coat came in the mail today from Lands End. Pictures and commentary to follow.

Murray's Snowstorm Recap

2009-12-23T18:22:00.000-08:00

We got about 10 inches of snow in Boston, and I was psyched. Although it was really windy, so it was 2 inches in some places, and 2 feet in others. I was so excited to throw Murray Man into the snow, and we had some good times and some bad times. When we first took him out, he sort of freaked. He started thrashing around and running through the snowbanks. He was Tigger-bouncing around, and he had Michelle and I laughing our asses off.

The he started lifting his legs in the air. First the back legs, then the front legs. It appeared he didn't like the coldness of the snow on his feet. He peed a couple times, and then somehow, ignoring Newton's laws of physics, managed to make a number 2 while standing on one leg. It was a pretty impressive feat. He then lifted all his legs into the air, and fell over into a snowbank like a lumpy mess. It was pathetic and sad. Here he is dropping to the ground.

Later on in the day, I took him to the park with his orange chuck-it ball. He LOVED it. He was running and bouncing and digging, and I was really happy to see he was having so much fun. Please enjoy this video of his adventure. If you're squeamish watching dogs pee on lamp posts, please be warned.

So Michelle, being the excellent dog mother that she is, does her research. It turns out that it's most likely the salt on the sidewalks that is hurting Murray's feet. Which looking back, makes sense, since he curled up in the fetal position while on the sidewalk but ran around on the snow without a problem. Which absolutely breaks my heart, because I really don't have a choice when I take him outside. I have to get him on the sidewalk in one way or another. I'm trying to keep him motivated and moving, but he's limping behind me on three legs. It was so hard to watch.

Michelle's looking for boots. Boots for the dog. It gets worse when I write it and think about it even more. Not only would we look like douche bags, but they would constantly be falling off. And I'd be running through the snow chasing his little booties around as they blow down the street. No boots, please. He'll get over it, right?

Well it didn't get any better. She luckily found another solution. There is a wax or balm that you can put on their paws, and it acts as a buffer and healing solution for their tootsies. It's called Musher's Secret. So now before we take him out, I have lather up his paws with his foot balm. What high maintenance, good Lord. At first he was fighting me when I tried to lather him up. Now, he's like a horse waiting to have his shoes put on. He just stands there, lifting one leg at a time.

And it works. It actually works. I'm shocked and pleasantly surprised. I thought that the little man could tough it out. My thought was that he would get used to it. But if you saw him gimping around like Forrest Gump, you would have bought the foot balm, too. This dog is honestly teaching us a lot about ourselves. I know he's a dog. But I'm definitely finding out what types of parents we are.

Snowface.

Nor'easter is Brewing

2009-12-19T11:55:00.000-08:00

The snow is pounding the East Coast right now, creating a white Christmas for millions of people. And it's coming my way. Right now, they have a snow forecast for anywhere from 7 - 15 inches in Boston. Since Murray is about 18 inches tall (I've never actually measured him), I hope we're in the higher range. I can't wait to see him disappearing in the snow while running through the park. He seemed to enjoy his first few inches of snow, and the cold air really gets him fired up. And I'm excited it's coming on a Saturday night so I can actually enjoy it on Sunday. I used to hate when it snowed on the weekend when it could have potentially cancelled school.

When I look for my company's name on the school closings, it NEVER shows up.

Now that missing work due to snow is out of the question for me, bring on the weekend snow. We have a slow cooker recipe ready to go for Sunday, the Pats are on at 1, we have some cleaning to do, and I think it's going to be fun.

Quick tangent. We defrosted a piece of london broil to cook on Thursday. But we didn't have the ingredients on hand. We needed a can of tomato soup, cream of mushroom soup, and onion soup mix. We made a special trip on Wednesday night to go to the grocery store and picked them up.

Quick tangent off my tangent. We also made a very special, yet unnecessary trip, to Mike's Pastry for the canoli I was craving. And even though Michelle didn't want any Italian cookies, I got her one anyway. Now that I can drive to Mike's in 5 minutes, it is a very dangerous thing. I used to think that Mike's was so good because it was a special-trip destination when I came into the city, but now that I can get here quickly, the allure is all in the taste. And I love the little Italian ladies behind the counter whipping up those blue and white boxes and quickly tying them up with that never-ending string coming from the ceiling. And driving through the North End is always fun, especially around Christmas time. But you shouldn't go on a Saturday night unless you want to ride 2 MPH behind cabs all night.

Back to my "original" tangent. Thursday morning. I'm sitting at work. I'm thinking about my delicious slow cooker london broil cooking all day lo-... CRAP! I forgot to set the slow cooker up before I left for work. Fail. So we're having it on Sunday.

But there's nothing better than being snowed in with nowhere to go. Which reminds me of my favorite Christmas song for this year. "Baby It's Cold Outside." There's no specific version I like more than any other, it's just that I love the lyrics. I actually love the little snip-it in "Elf," but it's not the whole song. It's literally this guy trying to get his girl to stay the night, blaming the weather for his antics. It's genius.

Click play, and then start to read your next blog post while this plays in the background. For your curiosity, I've attached the lyrics to prove that it's some guy trying to get lucky. MAYBE he's just thinking of her health and safety, but if I know anything about the relationship between men and women, I feel like I'm right. Maybe my mind's in the gutter. Wouldn't be the first time.

I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside
This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in
So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice
My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar
So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry
Well Maybe just a half a drink more - Put some music on while I pour

The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there
Say, what's in this drink - No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell - I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell
I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move a little closer
At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride
I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside
This welcome has been - I'm lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm -- Look out the window at that storm
My sister will be suspicious - Man, your lips look so delicious
My brother will be there at the door - Waves upon a tropical shore
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious - Gosh your lips look delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Never such a blizzard before

I've got to go home - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there
Say, lend me your comb - It's up to your knees out there
You've really been grand - Your eyes are like starlight now
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can't stay - Get over that old out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

Baby it's cold outside

Brr its cold...
It's cold out there
Cant you stay awhile longer baby
Well... I really shouldn't... alright

Make it worth your while baby
Ahh, do that again...

My Trip to a Stop & Shop Gas Station

2009-12-17T19:03:00.000-08:00

I've been the deadbeat blogger this week. I have no excuses. I've been lazy. Nothing good has happened. I have nothing to contribute. Ok, I have a few excuses.

But do you know what time it is now?

It's story time.

We go to the local Stop & Shop gas station in Dorchester. The way it works is whenever you go grocery shopping, you scan your Stop & Shop card to get discounts and the company keeps track of your spending habits. It's a win-win, in my mind. The other benefit you get from using this card, is if you live near a Stop & Shop equipped with a gas station, you get to accumulate and use gas points. Oh, how I treasure these gas points.

Let me break it down. For every dollar you spend at Stop & Shop, you earn 1 gas point. For every 100 gas points you accumulate, you save $0.10 per gallon on your gas purchase. We probably average anywhere from $50 - 100 on groceries every week. Not only this, but we also share a Stop & Shop card with Michelle's mom. Although she's only cooking for two, and occasionally 4 when Michelle and I drop by, she manages to manhandle the grocery store. She takes names. And I'm very appreciative of this. There's nothing better than checking my receipt, and realizing that Michelle's mom has done some damage. She conveniently lives nowhere near a Stop & Shop gas station. Which means Michelle and I get to use all the gas points. She does countless things to help us out, and this is another one of those gifts that keeps on giving the whole year. Kind of like the jelly of the month club.

So we'll wait a couple weeks or three before we go to Stop & Shop gas, and by then we can have somewhere around 300 or 400 gas points. 400 points is $0.40 per gallon OFF! I think our record was something like 800 gas points. We ended up paying for gas at a price of, like, $1.67 a gallon. I can't remember the last time I did that legitimately. This is legit, but it feels like stealing.

Ok, now to the original story.

I'm at Stop & Shop gas on Monday. I'm pumping, looking around, pretending to mind my own business. Based on how much gas I've pumped, and how big the tank is, I can tell I'm close to the end. $42. $43. $45! Whoa, slow down. I'm staring at the pump gauge, wondering when this thing is going to stop, and then I hear a trickle. Like a stream. I turn to my right, and see gasoline...POURING down the side of the car. What the fudge? The goddam pump didn't stop. What kind of shit is that?

This has always been one of my fears, but I always assumed that this wouldn't ever happen. Well, it did.

Side note: Another fear I have is sneezing too violently while standing too close to the subway train as it's approaching. "I was pushed!" Ghost reference. Michelle's never seen Ghost. I don't know how that's possible.

Ok, back to the story, again. I go to the kid in the shark tank, who is probably 13 years old. He's like, "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I'll have someone fix it." I'm still staring at him in disbelief. He asks, "Do you want some paper towels or somethin'?"

Uh...ye-ahh.

I am now equipped with wet naps, or wet wipes, or diaper wipes, or whatever this kid handed me, and I had to wipe the side of the car clean, while trying to suppress my fears of causing a spark while driving away and blowing up, Die Hard style. I think I'm discovering too many irrational fears. To me, they're very rational.

The Griswald Faaamily Christmas Tree

2009-12-11T14:30:00.000-08:00

I love getting a Christmas tree. When I was a kid, we would always get Chinese food on the night we picked out our Christmas tree. It became one of our family traditions. And we always got the tree at Higgins. We trekked all the way out there last year and then again this year. It's about 30 miles from where we live now, but we love it. Here's a picture of our tree ready to haul ass down the Mass Pike. It was taken out the moon roof of the Pathfinder.

Murray's checking it out.

And a fun picture, as well.

We've had the tree in our house for 5 minutes, and it's already shedding like it's been up for months. We are screwed when we take this thing out.

Damn, he's strong.

So proud.

Murray: "Dad, it's leaning to the left. Are you blind? Move it to the right. No, YOUR right. YOUR RIGHT! Ugh forget it, you twisted it. Just...get out of the way, let me do it."

Murray: (To Meeche) "I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't it leaning to the left? I knew it was."

Still judging me...

Wa-pow.

Happy Engagement Anniversary to Meeche & Joe

2009-12-08T16:25:00.000-08:00

The congratulations should go to the actual people, not the blog. And we're really not those people who celebrate their first hand holding session, so don't fret.

It was exactly three years ago when I proposed to Michelle. It feels impossible that it's already been three years, but at the same time, it seems like we've done so much. We had been dating for 6 years. I didn't wait so long because I was afraid. (maybe) I waited so long because we started dating when we were 9. (17) It wouldn't have been right for us to be married while attending colleges in different states. So I waited.

Oh, I also had monopoly money as currency, and couldn't get a credit card. I thought college students were prime suspects to fall into severe debt. The credit card companies wouldn't even give me then chance to ruin my credit. What the hell? The good thing about that, however, is that it forced me to pay cash for Michelle's engagement ring.

Woof.

Now came the hard part. How do I ask her? The possibilities are limitless. Jumbotron? Michelle ruled this out beforehand. Restaurant? Stick it in the dessert? Too risky. At a big family function? Too embarrassing. The cliches were out. Although I didn't really come up with anything original.

Michelle had always LOVED Chatham Bars Inn. It was bit out of our price range to getting married there, but since we spend so much time down the Cape, it's always a place we like to drive by and admire. We were going down the Cape the weekend of December 8th to have a family Christmas party. I had dinner reservations at the Impudent Oyster.

Favorite Cape Cod restaurant, by the way. You can safely order anything on the menu, but I always end up with one of the chef's specials because they're so damn good.

Ok, I'm back.

I had another dilemma. Do I ask her father for permission? I posted before that Michelle and her dad (and mom, too) are really close. And she's an only child. And she's adopted. Let's just say they love their daughter very much. So I was at work, telling people my plans. I said I wasn't really planning on asking her parents. I was scolded by everyone. Even the funny guy who seems like a tough guy is like, "Dude, you gotta do it."

Oh....kay. Now what. I'd already bought the ring, and I had basically been living at their house for about 5 years at this point. I think if I thought they wouldn't approve, I would have known by now. So I went over there when Michelle wasn't home, it was kinda awkward, and I let them know I was planning to ask Michelle to marry me. Her mom cried, and her dad said, "Well we've been feeding you for this long..."

Her mom agreed to take the ring down the Cape for me so I wouldn't be carting it around. I picked it up when I got down there, and put the HUGE friggen box it came with in my jacket pocket. So it looked like my left peck had an erection. Sweet.

Michelle is then acting all weird, like giving me odd hugs and everything. This girl KNEW. How the hell did this happen? Granted, she picked out the ring and we knew it was happening soon, but still. I think girls can smell diamonds the way bees and dogs can smell fear. So on the way to the restaurant, I pull over in front of Chatham Bars Inn. It was all lit up with Christmas lights, and it looked awesome. It was about 12 degrees outside, but I made her get out. The whole time, she's freaking out. What are you doing? Why are you pulling over? We can't stop here, keep going.

This is the same girl who will stop in the middle of the road if she can't find a parking space, and hold up a hundred cars in traffic. (One of the reasons I proposed)

I had a speech, man. It was Hollywood good. Like, chick flick happy ending good. Only not cheesy. And Michelle didn't hear a word I said. I could have saved so much stress and worry and done the Charlie Brown grownup voice and she would have been just as happy. She tried to pry the ring out of the box, but I may or may not have slapped her hand away so I could put it on. I'm doing this right, dammit. I even got down on one knee. So one cliche, big deal.

We then called our families, had an amazing dinner, and I got to tell her all the ring stories I had been DYING to tell her throughout the whole process.

Happy Engagemaversay.

Baby Talk

2009-12-06T18:24:00.000-08:00

We got a random phone call from our cousins this afternoon. They were doing some Christmas shopping in the area, and asked if we wanted to join them for lunch. I'd already eaten lunch, but we can't turn down food and friends.

They just had a baby a couple months ago, and the baby had been sleeping the afternoon away. They were still planning on doing some more shopping after lunch, and the baby hadn't eaten yet. Michelle offered our place as a feeding spot, and then offered to babysit.

Michelle changed a couple diapers, given the baby a bottle, and asked me how cute her socks, shoes, jeans, legs, and sweater is.

Very cute, Michelle.

Michelle is great with kids. It's actually one of things which attracted me to her in the first place. She used to always be carting around her nephew when she was in high school, and I just loved the way she interacted with him. She has taught me a lot about babies and kids and patience. I need to work on my patience sometimes. I love kids. I've worked at a daycare and I did a Christian service project in high school working with second graders. But I have to admit that sometimes I focus on the negative instead of the positive.

Murray has been pouting all day. I picked him up at the groomer's, and I think he thought we had a kid in the time he was gone. He sniffed the baby, gave her a nose poke, and has been trying to get our attention the rest of the time.

He's been giving us the stink eye non-stop.

We're going to have kids eventually. We're just not ready yet. We're trying to be in a much better place financially before we welcome children into this world. Like, a lot better financially. Exponentially. But people don't like this excuse.

"Oh you're never ready to pay for a kid. Nobody's ready financially."

No matter what excuse you give people, they have a come back. We try to say, "We're still young, we've got time."

"You're never too young to start a family."

Come on people, how many ways can we say we're not ready for children? Take my answer and let it go. I was talking about this with my father in law recently. He said one time he was so sick of people asking him the same questions when he was younger, and his final response was the following:

"If I had a kid, I'd probably drown it."

He was joking. He's a great father, and he and Michelle have an amazing relationship. But he sure shut that person up quickly. If I get the children guilt any more, I may resort to this type of answer. Although nowadays, if I even thought something like that, I'd probably go to jail for pre-birth child abuse.

Life Lesson From When I was 12

2009-12-04T19:38:00.001-08:00

Everyone has moments in their life which help define them. Moments which you never forget, and which often pop into your head from time to time for various reasons.

When I was 12, I was trying out for the summer travel baseball team. I was always pretty good at baseball, and was definitely good enough to make this team. Not only that, but I had an amazing tryout. I never had good tryouts, but I nailed this one. I made all the right throws, I was ripping line drives into the outfield, I had this locked up. And then came time for the cuts.

We were instructed to line up along the fence. The coach was standing about 20 feet from us. We could feel our parents standing behind us, rooting for us. Then the coach started calling names. Each kid called ran to the pitcher's mound and congratulated the next kid getting called. Everyone was joking and shoving each other around. Then I looked around, and there were about 5 of us left standing against the fence.

I don't remember the words which came out next, but I think it was something like, "And for the rest of you..."

I was crushed. Devastated. Never had I been so brutally rejected. And in front of so many of my friends. And my dad. And everyone else's parents. I'm pretty sure I was crying. I remember other kids crying, so I'm assuming I was.

It sucked that I got cut, but I guess I was right on the edge anyway. But it was the public way in which the coach did it. Even at 12, I could see that this guy was an asshole. Talk to each kid individually. Let them down easy. Let them know personally why you didn't choose them. Don't execute them at close range in front of their friends and family. Dickhead.

What happened next, however, is what taught me a great lesson. The 5 of us which played with the 11 year old team had a blast. We got the opportunity to play every inning of every game, and make friends with kids we normally wouldn't have talked to. If I remember, we won a tournament or two. Which made me realize that even if things don't work out the way you wanted them to, doesn't mean the journey's over. One window closed, but another one opened. It's really corny, but it's true. Who knows what would have happened if I made the A team instead of the B team? What if I rotted on the bench and played 3 innings in right field every game? (Right field is bad in little league, by the way). That could have killed my morale; maybe made me hate baseball. Maybe I would have given it up and missed out on playing in high school.

I'll never forget that day I felt I was humiliated, but I also try to remember the great summer I still had in spite of it. One rejection doesn't mean it's time to give up. Sometimes it means try it again. Other times it means try something else. Shit, maybe it's the world's way of saying you shouldn't do it at all. I used to loath the idea of fate and destiny. God or the universe decides our path for us. I always thought that was bullshit. But now I'm not so sure. I may be turning into a believer.

Yet maybe that's what my destiny wants me to think.

Thanksgiving Weekend

2009-11-29T13:47:00.000-08:00

I took a chance and made a Thanksgiving side dish which I have never made before. Normally I don't like to make something for people if I haven't tried making it for myself. But when I saw this on Tyler's Ultimate Thanksgiving, I knew I would love it.

Whipped Sweet Potatoes with Bananas and Honey

It's a bit unconventional, but I love sweet potatoes, I love bananas, and then the whole thing is covered with brown sugar, butter, and pecans. I feel like it's a no-lose situation. Although the recipe calls for 4 bananas...use one, trust me. One was plenty of banana. But the crumble on top was worth it alone. I even have used it for the days-after-Thanksgiving turkey sandwich. This recipe will be back.

On Thanksgiving night, we traveled down the Cape and spent Thursday night through Sunday morning down there. I love Cape Cod in the winter time. Whenever I go to the beaches in the winter to walk, look around, or run the dogs, I feel like I'm doing something I'm not supposed to do. Maybe this makes it better. Everything seems more crisp and clear than it does in the summer.

Since there's not a whole lot going on down there in the winter, we rented some serious movies. We rented Four Christmases (with Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon, pretty funny), Year One (terrible), The Ugly Truth (chick flick, not bad), 17 Again (Zack Efron, terrible), and Funny People (Adam Sandler, funny and depressing, and about 45 minutes too long).

There was a line in The Ugly Truth which was really funny.

Guy: Did you hear what I just said? I said I loved you.

Chick: Really, you love me? Why?

Guy: Beats the shit out of me.

Joe (in real life, to Meeche): Hey honey, that's how I feel about you.

Meeche: Aww, thanks. That's sweet.

Then when we took the dogs to the park to do some running, Murray had more bathroom problems. If this dog had to wear pants, he would get his thing caught in his zipper on a regular basis. First, he tried to pee on another dog, again, and inadvertently almost peed on a guy. Luckily the guy was understanding. Dog people understand this behavior. I think maybe how parents of human kids understand and sympathize with other parents when the kids are out of their minds.

Murray also likes to smell and lick Lilly's urine after she goes. If they're close to each other after Lilly pees, Murray will drag, drag me over to the puddle to get a good whiff and a lick, and then he feels better. Not only this, but he also likes to run underneath Lilly when she's making a number 2. Well this time at the dog park, Murray was so close to her while she was doing her business, I think he actually got dumped on.

We're so proud of our little man.

BJ's, Super Mario, and Some Trouble at Dunkin Donuts

2009-11-21T20:44:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, Michelle and I did some warehouse club shopping. We had our usual fun at our local BJ's in Framingham. Some things are not great bargains at these big box stores. Sometimes things are more expensive, actually, and you don't always need a 3 gallon tub of pickles. But we go for the meat. We bought 3 london broils for $13.01. 12 pre-packaged chicken breasts for $17.40. 2 whole chickens for $8.78.

A gallon of milk was $1.96!

Ok, I've calmed down. It's friggen milk, Joe, relax. But seriously, that's a deal.

Then when we were splitting up the meat and putting it in freezer bags and saran wrap for future meals, Michelle looks at me and says, "How many people our age do this?"

Not too many I know, personally. We're old souls. We're wise shoppers. We're sophisticated. Or we're losers. Could very well be the last one.

Later that night, Michelle and her mom went to the mall to do some Christmas shopping, so I stayed back. I was bored, had no computer to waste time on, so I flipped on Super Nintendo. Which brought back too many memories. I realized I could still remember every level I played on Super Mario Bros. Which, by the way, could be the best Mario of them all. Although you can make a strong case for Super Mario 3 for regular old, blow-in-the-cartridge Nintendo, and also for Mario 64 for Nintendo 64. I felt proud that I could recall when each bad guy was approaching and that I remembered which tubes to go down. But it was also a little upsetting. How many times did I play this game that I remembered it so well?

About an hour in, I realized it was obviously not enough times, because I had a ball.

Remember how great it was to get a mushroom when you were small? And you grew to be twice your size?

Which got me thinking about being 5'6" and a half again. Even this video game is telling me that I'm too short. Or that being short sucks. And that you need to be tall to be able to walk into a ghost and not die. If you're short and you walk into the same ghost? You're dead, my friends. Why not give him a different colored shirt? Let's say you're normally red, then if you're blue, it gives you extra protection. But then that's racist. I guess being short works. Bastards. I'm not bitter.

On the way home that same night, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts to grab a latte. It's a drive thru, and I pull up to the box and say, "Can I please have a medium hot latte with skim milk?"

::Long pause::

Then the box says back to me:

"That's a medium hot coffee with extra skim milk and 2 splendas?"

Elf Yourself

2009-11-21T19:25:00.000-08:00

Office Max has had this thing on their website for a few years now. If you haven't seen it, I recommend you Elf Yourself. It's a blasty blast. Here is Michelle's rendition of our little family as a trio of elves. Thanks for the flattering picture, Meeche.

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

How to Make a Latte

2009-11-18T18:48:00.000-08:00

One common theme in my life lately, in case you haven't noticed, is that I am in the business of saving money. Since lattes cost about $4 at Starbucks and most other places I see, we've resorted to making them at home. And when I say we, I mean me. I am the house barista. The problem with doing something well, however, is that it then becomes your primary job to do it. Every time. What the hell?

A couple years ago, we bought a Bialetti 6 cup Moka Express.

It goes for about $25 on amazon.com. We also bought a milk frother. It's not a milk steamer, but it does the job.

This guy goes for about $15 on amazon.com. So if you're doing the math at home, that's roughly $40 - $50 for the equipment once shipping is added in. At $4 per latte at a cafe, you'd only get around a dozen lattes for this price. At the rate I'm whipping these things up, I figure Michelle owes me about $564 by now. (That's 141 lattes. I've been studying for the GMAT lately, so the math is flowing).

We tried buying espresso beans the first time we started making lattes 2 years ago, but the espresso coffee makes some serious hair-on-your-chest lattes. We stick to the standard coffee beans. I recommend it this way.

So to make the latte (Meeche, pay attention, I'm basically talking to you right now), you unscrew the top of the coffee maker from the bottom. Remove the metal filter basket. Fill the bottom portion of the contraption with water, up to the little screw thingy that sticks out the side. Then fill the filter basket with ground coffee beans to a level where the grounds poke out over the top of the basket just a bit. Place the basket back into the bottom portion. Screw on the top half. Heat on the stove until all the water magically transplants itself into the top half, and now resembles coffee.

In the meantime, heat up some milk in a glass (fill the glass halfway) in the microwave for 75 seconds. 60 is not enough, 90 is too much. 75 is perfect. When the milk is done, use the vibrat- uh, I mean, milk frother thing to froth the crap out of your milk.

Pour a small amount of the coffee into a mug, about the size of an espresso shot. Ok, ok, about the amount of a shot glass. I think that's easier to remember. Pour some milk into the mug. Use about 2 or 3 vodka shots worth. Scoop some foam on top to help keep it warm, and make it pretty. Serve to your significant other with a smile.

Ensure that the smile is NOT sarcastic.

Marriage is Like Everybody Loves Raymond

2009-11-14T11:32:00.000-08:00

I don't really feel this way. It's just when I see scenes like this, there are obviously funny parallels.

Aaaand...it's story time.

A couple weeks ago at about 10:30 PM, we were getting ready to go to bed. I was exhausted, and was more than ready to go to sleep. Michelle, on the other hand, was not. She wanted to watch The Good Wife, a new show we’ve been watching.

Meeche: Do you want to watch The Good Wife?

Joe: Not really, I’m tired as hell.

Meeche: Well I’m not.

Joe: Ugh, do you want to just watch it then?

Meeche: No, it’s fine.

Joe: We can.

Meeche: No, just forget it.

Joe: (Thinking really hard) Ok.

Meeche: (Walks away)

Oh boy.

40 minutes later, lying in bed, both still awake.

Meeche: You know, we could have watched the show by now.

Joe: I said we could have watched it.

Meeche: If you really wanted to watch it, you would have put it on in the first place.

Joe: (Still thinking, to no avail)

Now I like to think of this as a teaching point. I feel like writing these things down and thinking about them…still…that maybe I’ll figure out how to avoid these situations in the future. I’m trying here. At some point in this lifetime, I will figure it out.

But there is another thing going on here, and I think the two are related. Another one of my problems, besides not getting hints, is that I don’t hear things that Michelle says to me. I don’t intentionally not listen. We’re having a full blown conversation, and we’re both saying things back and forth, and then when I ask Michelle something later in the day, she says she already told me the answer. And she’s mad.

I think that I would have remembered her telling me something. Not only do I not remember her telling me this in the first place, but I don’t even remember asking the question. I have a serious problem on my hands. Either I’m crazy, she thinks she told me something and she’s crazy, or I have severe memory loss at 25.

As much as it sucks to fight over stupid crap, this is my attempt to laugh at it later.

Too soon, Meeche?

Sitcom Stamp of Approval

2009-11-10T19:57:00.001-08:00

Since I've been stowed away at home for the last few months due to financial paralysis, I've been watching a lot of television. My DVR is burning up. I absolutely love coming home from work, and checking the DVR for what I "missed" last night on standard TV scheduling. I have been keeping up with my old favorites, such as The Office, Two and a Half Men, and Gary Unmarried. I have also developed new love for some comedy shows which are making it to the can't miss, have to watch, will call Comcast and swear at customer service if the DVR doesn't record this show correctly status.

Parks and Recreation. I started watching the show last year because it was pushed so heavily on NBC that I felt like I was a trader to the station if I didn't tune in. At first, I didn't like it. At all. It was The Office wannabe. It had the same type of characters, the same concept (mock documentary), and the same filming style. Then something happened this year that I can't really pin point as to the reason why I love it so much. The only thing I can come up with, is that even though it is so similar to The Office in its structure, it still has a great cast of characters to pull off the show in its own right.

Ron Swanson line #1: So you talked to my ex-wife? What was it like to look into the devil's butthole?

Ron Swanson line #2: Every time she laughs, an angel dies.

Modern Family. This show hit me right away from the very first episode that it was going to be a hit. If this show doesn't make it to season 2, then I'm not sure I know anything about TV. I love the way the show started, where they showed each family separately, and then revealed that they were all related. I feel like the writers took some serious care, and came up with something a bit different from every other comedy show. Ed O'Neill (Al Bundy) is back, and I can't be happier. The gay couple is hysterical. I really can't say anything bad about it. Instant classic.

I used to watch Married With Children when it was on TV, and it was one of my favorite shows. I also think I was the only one of my friends who was allowed to watch it, which maybe made me love it more. Even though Ed O'Neill is just one of the actors who make up this show, he is so far from being Al Bundy, being miserable selling women's shoes. He's actually rich and is married to a young, hot wife. Who doesn't hate him.

Cougar Town. This show, after one episode, fell under the "Might Suck" category. Somehow, it has made it so far out of that category, that I'm almost embarrassed to tell it to the Internet. Almost, but not quite, because it is damn good. It's moved away from focusing on Courtney Cox's aging body, and developed her friends and relatives into a semi-dysfunctional family. Her ex-husband used to be the man in high school, reached his peak potential at 18, and is living in a boat in a parking lot. Much of the comedy stems out of this scenario, and it works. Perhaps because we all know people where this happened to them, or are witnessing this happening currently to someone else. But to watch it happen to a fake person on TV is just funny.

If you haven't watched any of these shows and you're complaining that "There is NOTHING on TV," I suggest to you go to NBC.com or ABC.com or Hulu.com or iTunes, or whatever your choice of internet TV is, and enjoy. If you want to escape and watch some funny shows, it will be worth the 20-25 minutes per episode. You have Joe's Sitcom Stamp of Approval.

Rants and complaints, then something funny

2009-11-07T18:21:00.000-08:00

I've hit the real world, hard. I remember watching the Real World on MTV, and I used to say...Make them get jobs, then see what the real world is all about. I was in high school when I said that. If you asked Joe now? Let them live there for free. Good lord, what was I thinking, being all high and mighty? I had no idea what I was talking about. Let the kids live there and do nothing, what do I care? I wish someone would let me live in a sick house for free and start getting real.

I'm going to say that this could turn into a ranting post.

One thing that I figured out somewhere around my freshman year in college, is that there are always going to be people who bug the shit out of you. From the time you're in kindergarten and there's a kid swiping your blue crayon to when you're at work and there's a guy who likes to throw his food in your trash bin, it just never ends. I haven't figured how to avoid these people all together, but I'm still young. If someone's hanging around your cube too long and you don't know how to get them to leave? Try telling them you were just on the way to the kitchen/bathroom/copy machine and you can walk and talk. The chances are good that you'll lose them somewhere along the way. The bathroom one works really well with members of the opposite sex.

When someone tells you that you should buy a house while the market's good for buyers, mortgages still hurt. To say that I owe some institution hundreds of thousands of dollars over the course of the next thirty years of my life is daunting. It's like trying to envision a million people in one place. Or thinking about how sound doesn't travel in outer space. Just pay the bill and keep plugging away. Right now? Renting sounds amazing. Yeah, I'm building equity, that's terrific. But I miss having a more active social life and eating food prepared by a restaurant. It's going to get easier? We'll see. We haven't given up hope yet.

Grown ups are wicked judgmental. I thought kids were bad. I think those same people who were so brutally honest back then have gotten much worse as contributing members of society. Keep it to yourself. Don't tell me why I'm doing something wrong and why your way is best. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. I hate when people tell me that this is the way it is. No it's not. That's your way that it is.

Ok, last one. This is not so much something that pisses me off, because I like it at the same time. The one-upper. I like the one-uppers when I'm in the right mood, because I can play the game, too. It's fun to see them struggle to come up with something better. It starts off very innocently, where you're both exchanging stories about your weekend, and then before you know it, you're hearing a story about their best friend from college who did that same road trip, but they did it in 6 hours instead of 12, and met Vince Vaughn when they got there, and oh my God, it was so funny. Yeah, thanks for crapping on my story.

Now that I got all that out of the way, check this kid out. If you've seen it, watch it again. If not, you'll love it.

Mmm, I Love Delicious Fish Oil Pills

2009-11-04T16:55:00.000-08:00

After shrinking half an inch at the doctor's office last week, I also found out I have high triglycerides. How high could my triglycerides be at 25? Well the healthy range, apparently, is under 200, but ideally, they say to remain below 150.

I'm at 373.

Which, I understand, is too high. Too high for anyone, let alone someone my age. What's going to happen in the future? My mother-in-law told Michelle to take out a good life insurance policy on me. She was kidding (I think), but seriously, this is not good. I've been told I need to exercise more. Which at my current pace of zero times per week, I think I can manage to do something. Maybe in the spring. It's getting cold outside.

I've also been instructed to change my diet to more triglyceride friendly foods. I've done extensive peer-reviewed research in medical journals, meaning I googled high triglycerides, and there are a lot of things I shouldn't eat. White flour (bread, pasta, rice or my favorite food group), eggs (my weekend breakfast), sugar (my morning coffee), cheese (everything but my morning coffee), butter (every good recipe ever), and anything else delicious which I eat on a regular basis. Which leaves me eating fruit, vegetables, and wheat flour.

Holy crap, the fiber.

My body is not used to these levels of fiber. This has to be unhealthy. The best is when I read a package label, and it lists say, oh, 6 grams of fiber. Then below that, it list 4 grams of insoluble fiber. To me, that phrase just sounds unhealthy. This special kind of fiber, which the food processor feels necessary to list on the ingredients as a different kind of fiber than the traditional, is not soluble. I'm not sure what soluble means. I think it has something to do with being absorbed by, or into water, but whatever soluble means, there's another definition listed on dictionary.com. Extreme intestinal pain.

On top of my new exercise regimen (starting in March, er, April) and my new diet, I am now the proud owner of a bottle of fish oil pills. Michelle was so happy when she came home from Target with a nice big bottle of fish oil pills. I was happy to have a wife kind enough to care about my health and buy these types of things for me. She was even happier, however, when she told me she didn't buy the kind which are flavorless, because they cost more. I guess I'll settle for the non-flavorless kind. Sounds yum. This melted down oil of sardines and anchovies turned into a pill form must be taken 2 to 3 times per day with food. Supposedly it can help lower triglyceride levels. I'm guessing they suggest eating it with fiber. At least I hope so, because that's what I do with them.

Never Say Never

2009-10-31T12:01:00.000-07:00

Halloween is losing some of its luster for me. I'm in an in-between-fun-Halloweens stages right now. I no longer go trick or treating and egging cars with my friends. (I feel bad about the egging at this point in my life, I swear.) I'm not really feeling the Halloween parties where I get all dolled up and play drinking games with slutty-clad girls until I puke or pass out, and I don't yet have any children to watch enjoy this chocolate covered holiday.

I've actually come to the point in my life where I enjoy the trick or treaters coming to my house. Last year, living in the 'burbs, we must have had at least 50 kids come to our apartment, which is one of the highest totals I can ever remember. Now that we live in the city in a big condo building, we've decided to come back out to the sticks this year so we can at least see the kids running around, and hopefully catch our nephews in their costumes.

Although Murray did get some trick or treating done this morning. I walked him down to the vet's office to pick up his heart worm pill and advantix tick & flee juice. The vet was so pumped to see all the dogs coming in on Halloween that she had little goodie bags made for all the pets coming in. (The vet's dog was dressed as a bumble bee, but was too embarrassed to come out and greet everyone. I don't blame him.) Michelle tried to get me to put Murray in his pumkin costume to bring him down there, but I refused. If she were coming with me, maybe I would have, but I was not going to be caught walking a furry pumpkin down Broadway in South Boston. It's just not something I recommend a man doing by himself.

Honestly though, as much as I think it's stupid to dress up your dog in clothes, when it's your own pet? It is friggen hilarious. I am learning to love the taste of eating my own words as I grow older. What I can safely say, is that you should never say never. Because chances are as a man, if you have a wife or girlfriend or cute friend who happens to be a girl, you will do things you said you would never do. And then you look and feel like a jack ass. Here is my physical proof...

I realize this will be a human being at some point, but here is our interim son, Murray the Pumpkin.

I am Not 5'6" and a Half

2009-10-28T16:39:00.000-07:00

At the doctor's office today, I got measured at 5'6" and a half. Now, I am short, I get it. But please give me 5'7". I've been 5'7" since I was about 9. I thought I was going to keep growing, and God said no. I've accepted it, and I feel like I grieved my lack of height, going through the normal grieving process. It's something like sadness, anger, acceptance, etc. But 5'6" is bad. I tell the girl, "I think I shrunk." She responds with, "Everyone says the same thing."

Really? Every single person? Maybe your stupid machine is goddam broken? Did you ever think of that? How could everyone come in here, and you measure them shorter than they thought they were? How is that possible? HOW?

But I do know math. And 66.5 inches gets rounded UP to 67. 67 inches = 5'7".

I think Jerry Seinfeld once touched on the issue of going to the doctor. It's pretty odd that you have this serious conversation with someone advising you on your health, and in the mean time, you're wearing next to nothing. Today I had my annual physical, and after the nurse (sucky height lady) brought me to the exam room, she said, "There's a gown on the table, take off all your clothes."

Either I was a part of some weird social experiment to see what would happen, or I've just never been asked to strip down before. I've been told to strip down to my skivvies. Whatever, I'm at the doctor's office. If you want me naked, I'll get naked. Then when I put the gown on, it fit like a leotard. Or what I imagine a leotard fitting like. Just to make things a little more uncomfortable.

The doctor comes in, and we're talking health stuff, and then I have to lay down flat. In my leotard, which opens in the front. And I think that the doctor sensed my discomfort, because she addressed the issue. "I think these gowns make you feel more naked than if I simply said, sit here naked." I appreciate that she brought it up, actually. Broke the ice a little bit.

I also paid the $20 copay, but according to my wife, our insurance covers it. She seemed extremely disappointed in me that I didn't know this. Why would I know this? I show up, the lady says, please give me $20, what am I supposed to do? Tell her to shut up? No, I paid the $20. So I had to call back and ask for a refund. I mean, $20 is 5 venti nonfat lattes. Which are a hot commodity in this house. Which reminded me of another time when I was oblivious that I was an idiot.

At the train station where I have to buy train tickets to ride out to Framingham, there is an automated teller. You push the buttons on the screen, put in your credit card, and out pops the ticket. It's great. There's no inconveniences of speaking to another human being. But 9 times out of 10, this machine doesn't work. And it always pisses me off. I always have to end up going to the teller. Then one time last week, I paid extra special attention to the little diagram that shows you how to slide your card in. I have been doing it wrong this whole time. Well, except for that 1 time out of 10 when I happened to get it right by accident. Interesting. I have not had a problem with this machine since then. Honestly though, aren't those little pictures always kind of tricky? Every time you mess up at the grocery store, doesn't the clerk sound suicidal when they tell you you're doing it wrong? Like you are the 5,000th person today who has done it the wrong way? Why don't they make these machines to work no matter which direction you slide your card? Would that be hard?

Living on the Cheap

2009-10-26T16:15:00.000-07:00

When we started looking to purchase our first home last September, we were trying to take advantage of a bottoming real estate market. We were not anticipating the overall financial meltdown which came next. We were unprepared to deal with an economy where everyday had become a fearful day, hoping that we would be spared. Hoping that we would be part of the 90% of our companies who got to keep their jobs. The stress and fear of the unknown were tough to handle. Somehow, by some act of God, (or the budgeting departments), we were spared. We were given another chance at working life. And we were happy and grateful and relieved.

And then we got hit with some serious unknown expenses. Because our condo association wanted to increase our reserves (like the condo bank account), they decided to double our condo fees for 5 months. We had spent a considerable amount of time planning and budgeting our income and expenses, making sure we could afford our mortgage, taxes, and condo fees. This plan, of course, was working just fine until the condo fees DOUBLED. Sorry, caps lock.

So these 5 months are almost up, and we're seeing light at the end of the tunnel, and we are in the clear. Wait. We need to re-pave our parking lot. Just before Christmas. And just before the winter. In New England. Before the parking lot will be plowed 2 dozen times in 4 months. This is like stopping at McDonalds for a Big Mac on your way to a nice steak dinner. You're going to ruin your appetite, condo association.

$400.75 due November 1, and $400.75 due December 1. Please pay at the first window, and there will be no prize at the second window.

Michelle has informed our family that this year, for Christmas, everyone is receiving a nice, newly paved parking lot.

In the mean time, here's how we are...getting by.

We got a dog. He was a tough up-front cost, but he provides us with hours of entertainment and unconditional love. He makes us laugh so hard that it hurts, and he is there for moral support when we don't think we can make it. He has made us a family of three, and brings us an amount of comfort and happiness I didn't know were possible coming from an animal.

We kept our DVR. We've trimmed every other possible expense that we could. We've negotiated our credit card rates, changed car insurance companies (Traveler's, not Geico), got rid of Netflix, erased our out-to-eat budget altogether (that is the most painful), changed the way we grocery shopped, and make as much coffee at home as we can. We limit our out-to-coffee to the weekends, if at all. We don't hang by bars or go to clubs or whatever it is that kids these days do. We are coffee junkies. It's what we do. I have been threatened with my life for a venti non-fat latte. Sometimes you need those extra quarters you stash away for a life or death situation.

We play Uno. Yes, that card game with the colors and numbers and God-awful Draw 2's. Michelle and I were on vacation together about 7 or 8 years ago, and we were in a toy store, and Uno was hanging on the wall. I was like, "Oh man, I love Uno."

Michelle goes, "I've never played it."

"Whaaaaaat? We are buying Uno and I am teaching you how to play."

One of the biggest mistakes of my life. This girl was either hustling me, or she is the most naturally talented Uno player on the face of the earth. I am about to google national Uno tournaments to see if she can win us some money. She's ridiculous. She even refers to herself as the Uno Master, and sadly, there is nothing I can say to refute it, because...it's true.

I will now go light our Uno cards on fire, because this post will make her want to play right now, and kick my Uno-loving ass.

Funny Crap of the Week

2009-10-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

This is from a random email I got a few weeks back. I just got another terrible financial situation thrown my way, and rather than rant about it (I might later), I'd rather post this. Enjoy, and claim them as your own:

I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think

about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own

story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize

you're wrong.

I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to have

fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when

they've invented the lighter?

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going

in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going?

But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from

which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or

phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no

one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching

directions on the sidewalk.

That's enough, Nickelback.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was

younger.

The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This

recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be

ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again.

Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the "people you may know"

feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not

to be friends with?

Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't

work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix

the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to

fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just

figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

There is a great need for sarcasm font.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and

suddenly realize I had no idea what the f * ck was going on when I first saw

it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes

stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes

shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right

parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a

millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really,

really gets it.

The other night I hit a new low at an open bar. I had already hopped on

highway blackout when, inevitably I had to find a bathroom. Eventually I

decided it was probably on the other side of the bar so I tried to walk

over there, but ran into a guy coming the other way. We played that, Both

go left, Both go right game to no avail, so I finally put out my hand to

guide myself past and that's is when I realized, yup, that's a mirror I

just tried to walk through. And the guy on the other side is me. Even cats

can recognize their own image.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take

2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your

computer history if you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a

text.

A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread

of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

Was learning cursive really necessary?

Lol has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to

say".

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test

is absolutely petrifying.

Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I

hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and

smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to

prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I

will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had

to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as

in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"

What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each

other?

While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively

swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.

MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know

how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person

died.

I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower

first and THEN turn on the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and

you can wear them forever.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile

is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red

Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would

probably just be completely invisible.

Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around

and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous?

Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a

problem....

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when

you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive

for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to

have to restart my collection.

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going

to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I

want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did

not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV.

There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I

keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only

a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still

be friends after this?'

I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!),

but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to

voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run

away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing

anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't

already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I

like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed

for pedophiles...

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no

matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not

know what time it is.

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to

answer when they call.

I think that if, years down the road when I'm trying to have a kid, I find

out that I'm sterile, most of my disappointment will stem from the fact

that I was not aware of my condition in college.

Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn't know what do to

with it.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in

a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd

bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away,

in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time...

My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen

if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?

It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the

link takes me to a video instead of text.

I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive

behind obeys the speed limit.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday

night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they

had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at

the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then

estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such

a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing

like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.

Joe Gets Kinda Creative

2009-10-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

So I stole this idea from Kapachino. A couple weeks ago, she posted a slideshow of her wedding pictures put to music, and I thought, that was sick. I will now insert people I know into this same schtick.

I don't design anything, so this was my first foray into anything creative. Luckily Meeche only buys Apple products, and they are pretty damn user-friendly, so I held her iMac hostage and threw this together using iMovie. The song is "You and Me" by Dave Matthews Band off their latest album, "Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King."

12 Pack of Ramen Noodles

2009-10-17T07:45:00.000-07:00

We had dinner at my parents' house on Tuesday to celebrate my sister's birthday, found out she had the flu, and Michelle woke up on Friday feeling like death. I have been turned into a nurse-slave-bitch for the last 48 hours. Michelle's temperature maxed out at about 101 point something, but luckily, she didn't hurl. And now this morning her fever is down and she's feeling better than she did yesterday. Hopefully it was a quick bug and it's on its way out.

I had to stop at the grocery store on my way home from work yesterday, and I had to buy two things, Pastina and Pepsi. I'm a Coke guy, but she's sick. When I got to the store, Barilla pasta was on sale, 10 for $10, and I couldn't resist. I bought 4 pounds. Then I hit up the soda aisle, and got 2-2 liters of Pepsi. It, too, was on sale. Then I knew I needed chicken stock to cook the Pastina, so I bought 4 cans. Also on sale. But then I pictured myself getting sick, because that's what happens.

What do I want when I'm sick? The same thing I want when I've had too much to drink.

Ramen noodles. Chicken flavor.

I was going to buy a 6 pack, but they were all out. Or maybe I'll just buy a few singles. I think they're 43 for a dollar. They're all out. All they have is shrimp flavor. Who the hell would buy shrimp flavored Ramen? Not this guy.

So I get the next best thing. The 12 Pack. 12 beautiful, delicious, fatty, salty, unhealthy, comforting chicken flavored Ramens. I don't have any room for 12 Ramens, but I will make it work, I think to myself. In the mean time, I'm walking around with a plastic basket filled with 4 pounds of pasta, 2-2 liters of Pepsi, 4 cans of chicken broth, and no room for my 12 Ramens. I refuse to get a cart at this point. I can do this. So I'm standing in line, ready to check out, looking at my bounty, and I realize I don't have any Pastina. Which, if you were paying attention, was half the reason I was here in the first place.

I run back, grab a box, jam it into my basket, and when I get to the conveyor belt, I realize I ripped the thing open, and now there are thousands of little star-shaped pasta dots flying all over the place. I tell the poor girl behind the register that the box broke, and that I'm really sorry. She says, "It's ok, it will give me something to do." It was funny and depressing at the same time.

Final bill, $12.73. Hell yes. That's like 12 dinners, 4 lunches, and a whole butt load of drinks. The Ramen rule Meeche and I live by is this: 1 Ramen for lunch, 2 Ramens for dinner. I had 2 Ramens for dinner, and I was a happy boy. Even after I learned that one serving is 190 calories. But wait, there are two servings per packet. Whoa. 190 times 4...760. 760 calories? Who again. But it's so, so very good.

Having a mortgage sucks. I love 12 packs of Ramen.

In Sickness and in Health

2009-10-15T18:24:00.000-07:00

I was recently reading one of my favorite blogs to read, Lauren From Texas, and she's recovering from having her wisdom teeth out, and it sounds like a disaster. But she was giving props to her husband, saying how great he has been through the whole process. I had a rough time with my wisdom teeth, too, and Michelle was awesome. She was there with me when I got out of surgery. I came out of the room, and my teeth were all covered with blood. She got upset and started crying. I was so drugged up and confused, that I started crying because she was crying. (Ok I may have started crying anyway). So we were a blubbering mess. But then even after that, she was with me every day during my recovery, babying me when I needed it, and then telling me to man up when it was time to man up.

It made me think about one of the greatest wedding vows commonly used in many weddings. At least in many Christian weddings and those used on TV. Good times and bad, richer or poorer, they're all good. But you never what kind of person you have by your side until you're sick. When your significant other is sick on a Saturday night and there are dozens of ways to go out and have fun, it's easy to say, take some Nyquil, watch some TV, and I'll see you tomorrow. But when you find that someone who's just going to stay with you and take care of you and not even think of going out? That's special.

Since Michelle and I got home from our friends' wedding on Saturday, Michelle has had a 48 hour headache and is now having coughing fits. My sister, Gina, who was also at the wedding, now has the flu. The regular old flu. Not the swine flu or the bird flu. The classic flu. Michelle is now convinced she has the flu. She's googling swine flu symptoms. She takes her own temperature every hour on the hour. She claims it was 2 hours ago, but I don't think so. Just to update, her temperature has risen from 97 to 99 point something. So it's rising. We'll see what happens tomorrow. Hopefully it's nothing major.

In the mean time, I have been whipping up comfort food. Spaghetti and meatballs followed by oatmeal cookies. And these aren't your grandmother's oatmeal cookies. They're basically a souped up sugar cookie that happens to have oatmeal in it. I've eaten a cookie or two in my life, and these are the best. And we're burning through our DVR watching all our recently recorded shows.

So only time will tell what happens with this illness. Sometimes I'm skeptical as to whether or not Michelle is actually sick. When I doubt her, however, she always brings up this one story...

She woke up one morning and said she was nauseous. I'm like, yeah, ok, let's go get some coffee. She wouldn't get up, and I was trying to pry her out of bed. I made her a piece of toast, trying to settle her stomach, and she puked for about 6 hours. Then I gave her a popsicle so she could have some fluid, puked some more. She will never, ever, let me forget that I doubted her once and I was wrong. It doesn't matter if I have ever doubted her and was right. That just doesn't make sense.

I Puffy Heart Fantasy Football

2009-10-13T19:16:00.001-07:00

After all the great things I've mentioned about why I love the fall season, I forgot about one very important thing. I've mentioned the weather and new fall TV shows, but I forgot about...Fantasy Football. There's no way to describe how much joy and intensity that fantasy football brings to my weekend. I've always loved watching football over any other sport, and I've always been able to watch almost any game on TV even when the Patriots aren't playing. But to involve fantasy football in the mix just pushes it to a whole new level. Unless you do it, there's no way to explain it. For $40, it buys me hundreds of hours of entertainment for over 4 months of the year. I challenge you to find a better value than that. Plus I told Michelle that I would buy her something with the prize money if I win my league. This way, at least she's on board, somewhat.

I'll never forget two years ago when I had Tom Brady as my quarterback when he was tearing through records left and right. Then in the first week of the fantasy playoffs, he played the Jets in a Nor'easter with 200 mph winds and pouring rain, rendering him useless. Michelle couldn't understand why I was screaming out of my mind at the television every time the Pats ran the ball. Especially since the Pats still won, 20-10. It didn't matter. It cost me the friggen season. $200 prize, gone.

Ok, ok, I took a deep breath. I'm still pissed, though.

Now every time I get on the computer, I go right to CBSSports.com. I need to check on my team, see how everyone's doing. Make sure nobody has the little red cross (injury) next to their name. Make sure everyone has what they need to succeed. Check on trades. Check match ups. Check the free agents. It's non-stop. I love it. Even though the Patriots lost a HEARTBREAKER to the Broncos in OT, I won my fantasy week. It's actually a consolation.

So Michelle has been walking by the office, and in a sarcastic voice yells out, "You checking your fantasy footbaaaaaaall?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Loser."

So this is why my posts have been less frequent than normal. I puffy heart fantasy football.

I Love Weddings Now

2009-10-10T05:36:00.000-07:00

I was never a huge fan of weddings as I was growing up. You have to get dressed up, do the chit chat thing with family members you hardly ever see. It felt like a waste of a perfectly good Saturday. And the weather was always nice because it was usually between April and October, which are the times when all I wanted to do was be outside. From the time I was 11, I was out of my house early in the morning, and my friends and I would play sports and get into trouble until our parents made us come in. And it always seemed like whenever someone had to go to a forced family function, that so many great things happened between all your friends while you were gone.

Then after college graduation, I proposed to my girlfriend of 6 years. All we had talked about during school was that we couldn't wait to graduate so we could get married. And then the wedding planning commenced. We got engaged in December of 2006 and planned a wedding for June 2008. We were planning on getting married on Cape Cod at Wychmere Harbor Club, so the wait list was crazy long. That, and the planning process took a lot of work and a lot of time.

I know way too much about wedding planning. I didn't ask to know the details that go into this, but I do. And because of that fact, I appreciate the work that goes into a wedding. I notice the fonts used on invitations. I love when people include a map with directions from the church to the reception. I absolutely love the party bus when people hire a coach bus to bring people from the hotel to all the festivities. I thoroughly enjoy myself because I know what the couple went through.

With this in mind, I am attending a wedding tonight in Downtown Boston, and I am pumped. I probably know about 50 kids, er grown-ups?, going to this shindig. I already heard that the food will be fantastic and line dances are prohibited. No electric slide, chicken dance, or Macarena tonight. I will leave you with a picture from my wedding to get myself all jazzed up. Ok, maybe a few pictures...

Taken on the beach in Harwich Port, MA

Michelle and I screaming at someone break dancing, I think it was one of Michelle's nephews.

Aww, aren't we sickening? We turned into wicked camera whores after this ordeal. I fear what we now look like on other people's wedding videos and photo albums. We're probably that couple who is somehow in the background of every shot. I am apologizing in advance if this happens tonight.

Murray Pees on Dunkin'

2009-10-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

I'm not actually sure if it's Duncan like Toy Chest, or Dunkin' like Donuts.

Michelle told me that one time when he and Auntie Lilly (my in-laws' dog), were wrestling, that Murray was standing over Lilly's head, and then lifted his leg to pee on her face. I didn't really believe her, I figured it was just a pose he struck while they were rumbling around. He has been known to step on her face with his hind legs. We call it his "Back In Move."

As Murray and I were on an evening stroll tonight, I decided to deposit his dookie in the trash can by the park, which is a normal course of action for us. Normally at 7:30 PM, there aren't any dogs running around the park. It's mainly punk teenagers or homeless people scouting out their beds for the night. After dark, it's not really a place I like to hang out. I do have my attack dog with me, but he looks like a muppet and weighs 22 pounds, so I don't think he would be much help if I were ever attacked.

Side note #1: Michelle is looking over my shoulder and says, dookie is such a dumb word. Well this is my blog, and I say dookie works.

Side note #2: How much does it suck that it's getting dark so early now? I love the fall, but I am also a fan of the sun.

When we arrive at the park and there are 4 dogs running around, I decide to let Murray get some energy out and run around for a few minutes. I don't think any harm can come from this. Three of the dogs are bigger than Murray, and for the most part, he doesn't have a problem with bigger dogs. The fourth dog is a 3 month old, 5 pound, miniature dachshund named Duncan (or Dunkin').

Side note #3: I hate when people call Dunkin' Donuts, "Dunks."

Murray goes right for Duncan, and starts batting him around like one of his squeak toys. His parents/owners don't mind, as Duncan seems to like it, and he's running around and fighting back. Murray then proceeds to proudly stand over poor little Duncan's head, lift his right hind leg, and oh my God please don't do it.

I screamed loud enough to scare Murray, and proceeded to push him away from the crime scene. I was stunned. What the hell do I do now? I checked Duncan, and thank God, he was clean and dry. I'm apologizing like I just ran Duncan over with a car, because I don't know what else to do. I went through a range of emotions like anger, shock, embarrassment, and amusement. Besides the fact that I felt like an asshole with my pissing dog, it was pretty damn funny. There was another girl there who said her dog went through a phase like this, too, where her dog would piss on other dogs at doggie day care. Apparently it's a dominance thing.

Michelle and I were so psyched that we had a male dog that wasn't a humper, but I don't know what's worse. Because honestly, no one likes a humper. It's awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved when a random dog starts humping a leg, another dog, or just mid air. They get all excited, they arch their back, and just start pounding away.

But a dog that pisses on other dogs is bad news.

Used Shower Water Leaking Into Our House

2009-09-28T19:15:00.001-07:00

We seem to have had a few plumbing issues so far in this condo. I have a feeling we're not through, yet.

We were spending our Sunday morning going through our loft (think basement/attic for you folks with a house) and getting all our, er, Michelle's winter clothes out. I'd say we took down 6ish plastic bins filled with clothes and shoes. One half of one bin, containing like, 5 sweaters, was mine. We have a walk in closet, and it started out 50:50. We're down to like 30:70, and Meeche is closing in fast.

So we were up there a few weeks ago, and we noticed that one of the bins had some watery crap stains on it. We thought about looking into it, and then became lazy and decided not to. Well this time, Michelle saw water, and she saw water dripping. It's coming from where our neighbor's bathroom is. Which is not good. No good water comes from a bathroom. It's coming from one of 3 places. 1) The toilet. I don't think I have to go into this in more detail. 2) The sink. Toothpaste spit, shaved facial hair, etc. Or 3) The shower. Washed-off filth.

So the first thing that comes to mind, is "Shit." Because this is a problem, and problems cost money. Money is something we don't have right now. We know what money is, we know what's it's used for, and we even used to have a little extra. We now give all our money to Bank of America, American Express, and Nissan Motor Acceptance Corporation, among a few dozen others. So we immediately turn into plumbers, and we try to make sure that we will not be responsible for this.

Michelle calls our management company, and they send out the Ghostbusters plumbing team. I think they were driving the original car from Ghostbusters, I swear. So, two kids bust into our house, and are like, "Where's the leak?" I'm like, "Hi, what's up?" He's like, "Is it in the bathroom?" Ok. So we stopped talking to each other after that exchange.

The kid says it's coming from the shower upstairs and it's going to take 2 or 3 hours, and they have to come back. Michelle had to go upstairs and break the news to our neighbors, and when she came down, she felt really bad. They are so freaking nice. Like, How did this couple end up in Boston? nice. And how did we luck out and have really nice, and really quiet neighbors?

They gave an estimate of who would pay for it, and how much it would cost.

Upstairs neighbors.

$750.

Dodged a bullet. Someone was smiling on us on this day.

Great Day...Fall TV, Old Navy, and JP Licks

2009-09-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

Can I just tell you how happy I am about fall TV?

I am a TV junkie, straight up. Always have been, for as long as I can remember. I can't be in the house without a TV on. It drives me crazy if I have to be in the house in silence. I remember watching Mr. Wizard at like, 5 AM on Saturday mornings back in the day. I think it was one of the earliest obsessions I had, in terms of TV shows. My modern day Mr. Wizard is Good Eats with Alton Brown. I'm a nerd, I know this.

So in preparation for fall TV, Michelle and I have been watching old DVR'ed shows like crazy. We got the memory down to 18%, which is the lowest we've had it since we got it. So all week, we've been setting up recordings for shows coming back, and new shows which we're trying out.

Great comebacks: The Office, Parks and Recreation (sorta decent), Two and a Half Men (funniest show on television, in case you were wondering), Grey's Anatomy (a Meeche fav), and Gary Unmarried (underrated comedy).

New promising shows: Modern Family and The Good Wife (I'm surprised by how much we both liked The Good Wife). Although I tried to change the channel during commercials, Michelle told me to stop, I threw a hissy fit, and we ended up watching the second half of the show in separate rooms.

Might suck but we'll give it another chance: Community, Cougar Town (Courtney Cox is flippin' hot...still).

To be determined: Mercy (another friggen doctor show I will be subjected to).

Missing like crazy: ER. Goddam I loved that show to the very end.

Cannot wait another day for the new season to start even though I don't know when it's starting: Lost. Where you can die on the show and never be written off the script.

So the other day, Michelle went shopping online, and went bananas at OldNavy.com. She sends me an email and goes, Can I get this? She shows me a shopping cart with like $853 to Old Navy. Ok it was more like $190. I'm like, uh, $200 to Old Navy? Are you buying a stake in the Gap? She sends me an email back and now it's $143. She googled Old Navy coupons and saved almost $50. So she orders them, finds out they're getting delivered today, and then stalks the UPS man until it says the package has been delivered. In the mean time, she has the window open so she can hear the UPS truck pull up to our building so she can make out with the delivery guy when he arrives.

When the clothes finally arrive, I offer Michelle some chapstick, and now comes the only good part for me. The fashion show. It's like, the happiest I've seen Michelle in days. And I'm pretty sure that's a poor reflection on me.

In the middle of watching Chefs vs. City, they have to eat a shitload of ice cream. I am DYING for ice cream like I'm pregnant with triplets. So we go for a ride toward the North End, I'm thinking gelato, but somehow we end up on Newbury Street, and right at the end, calling to me, is JP Licks. Oh. Man. I order Oreo in a sugar cone. No jimmies. Oh. Man. Again.

It was like the actual ice cream was made out of pure Oreo cookies. Usually Oreo ice cream is mainly white with black spots, but this looked like chocolate ice cream, and it was awesome. Like, way better than I had ever expected ice cream to taste. The girl's like, do you want the yogurt or the ice cream. Oh kay. Ice cream please. Michelle just wanted a bite since she was driving home, and she ended up eating some at every red light. We hit a lot of red lights on the way home, and I was more than a little upset.

Yard Sale Part 2 ($173?)

2009-09-20T07:04:00.000-07:00

Dude, $173? What the hell did we sell?

Well, Michelle sold a ton of coats for anywhere from 3-15 bucks each. Dance dance revolution WITH the mat and game for PS2, $10. That was a dumb purchase, used it like twice. A George Forman grill for $4, a bargain. Sopranos seasons 1 and 3 on VHS, $15. And the best thing all day...Michelle's skis AND boots sold for $10 to a nice, little man. He reminded me of the Asian guy in the Hangover that jumps out of the trunk naked and kicks everyone's ass.

We were selling things from 3 sources. Our house, Michelle's parents', and Michelle's cousin. So we actually kept track of what sold, from who, and for how much. When we finally reconciled the books and counted the money, we had sold $364 worth of stuff. And at the same time, cleaned out so much crap from our houses. The rule was that if it didn't sell, it was getting thrown away, or donated to the Salvation Army. NOTHING was allowed back in the house. So throughout the day, we were giving extra things away as "Free Gifts With Purchase." Michelle's mom was giving away dolls and toys to little kids as they walked out. It was actually really nice to see the looks on some kids' faces when they got a free toy. All in all, it was a successful and rewarding experience.

There was one couple who showed up around noon. The guy couldn't speak English too well, and he was looking for tapes. I'm like movies? He gestured what I guessed was a yes, and he was extremely happy when I showed him the 60 or so VHS tapes we had for sale. Michelle's mom asked if he had kids, because many of the movies were children's movies. He said he didn't care, he doesn't have cable, so he likes to watch a lot of movies.

No cable. Almost broke my heart. I'm so spoiled by the world we live in, that I make fun of people who don't have DVR. Slaves to regular programming. Pssh. I felt like such an ass at that moment. This guy is going around snatching up VHS tapes at yard sales because he doesn't have cable. When we delivered the things to his car, we saw that he had dishes and pots and pans in his car, so it was evident he must have been outfitting his home. And what was nice about the guy, is that he paid what we were asking. We had the tapes listed at 3 for $1. He goes, how much for the whole box? There were like 30 tapes in there, so I said, ok $5. He whipped out the money, no questions.

I got haggled so much by some people, it was really obnoxious. I know that's what you do at a yard sale. I don't have a problem with it. But I got haggled over a 3-ring binder at one point. It was priced at $.50. She goes "50???" Yeah, 50. Ok fine, 25. "25??? Two five???" I was like, uhhh yeah, you know, a quarter? I took one out of my pocket and showed it to her like an asshole. She goes, "10 cents." I go, lady, I don't have change for a quarter, just take the thing. But she was insistent on paying me that dime. So I took it. Dimes are money, too, I guess.

So back to the Cable Guy. We really liked this guy, so we started finding other things he might want. We gave him a platter, a pitcher, offered him some lamps. The was filling his car up, and it was really nice to see, and we were happy to help him out. I thought he was going to make his wife walk home so he could fit more stuff in his car. But it was moments like this that really made the yard sale worthwhile. It was a shit load of work leading up to it, and all throughout the day, and even after it. But we cleaned out so much junk, made some people happy, and made a little money in the process. I feel like rummaging all over again and having another one. In the spring, maybe.

Life Soundtracks

2009-09-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

I feel like people would be a lot happier sometimes, if they only were listening to what I was listening to at that particular moment. There is something about that perfect song for the moment, for that situation, for that weather, that makes everything right.

I can remember the first 2 albums I ever received. Simultaneously, I got Dookie by Green Day, and Licensed to Ill by the Beastie Boys. From that moment forward, I was hooked. Judging by the fact that Dookie was released on February 1, 1994, and I got the tapes for Christmas, I can confidently say that day was December 25, 1994.

I'm just realizing that it's kind of crazy that my parents bought me a Beastie Boys album when I was 10. Maybe that's why I loved them so much.

I can still picture the Dookie tape in my hands, with that blue plastic covering. I distinctly remember the cover art, and the lyrics, and how they were written and crossed out and written again. I spent HOURS staring at that cover art. It's amazing how I could spend so much time doing things like that, and still had time to do anything else. Now, I barely scrape my body off the sheets in the morning, go to work, and barely have time for anything at night. I miss spending hours listening to the same album over and over, and doing nothing else. If I listen to music now, I have to be doing something else, because who has time to listen to music and do nothing else?

My original thought for this post was about having a soundtrack to my life. It always hits me when I'm in a subway station. I see all these people mumbling to themselves, getting pissed at absolutely nothing. And I'm doing everything in my power to keep from dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. And I wonder, do you think everyone else would be happier if they were listening to Santa Monica by Everclear right now? Or Carousel by Blink182? Or Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd?

I think they would be.

But then I think, well what makes me be lucky enough to play DJ and pick the music? Wouldn't everyone else's music be playing together at the same time and sound like shit? An eclectic mix of my mid 90's rock mixed with Lady Gaga, Bruce Hornsby, Jay Z and a touch of Shania Twain? And then I think, no. Because this is my game, and you're going to listen to my soundtrack, because my soundtrack kicks a lot of ass.

By the way, I had to look up how to spell Shania. That is messed up.

Music gives me chills. A certain note, a great riff, an amazing ending. All these things can hit my ear just right, and before I know it, I'm squirming like I have a shiver. Thanks to Fenway Park, I can't help but scream the words to Sweet Caroline whenever I hear it. How else can you get that reaction from a Neil Diamond song, other than having 35,000 drunken fans screaming it during the 8th inning of every home Red Sox game? It's all about experiences and memories with music. A song will come on the radio that I haven't heard in 10 years, but I can remember exactly where I was when that song came on a certain mix tape as I was rollerblading to my buddy's house.

Rollerblading was ok in 1997 if you were 13, I swear. I took the breaks off so I looked cooler.

Someday I think I may just carry a boom box on my shoulder like the Fresh Prince, and let everyone else know what I'm listening to. I think I'm really on to something here. I can make people happy with my music choices.

Music doesn't make everyone happy. But I think everyone else just doesn't have my soundtrack yet.

Yard Sale and Other Stuff

2009-09-15T15:53:00.000-07:00

We're getting ready to have a yard sale on Saturday, so we've been going through every nook and cranny of our condo, and we're also going through Michelle's parents' house. I've always been a bit of a hoarder, where I find it hard to throw things away, but Michelle has been working hard to get me away from that. I used to save movie ticket stubs and receipts for Starbucks like I would need them for the IRS someday. Or maybe I thought I could use the ticket stubs as an alibi? I'm not sure why I kept them. Michelle is going to find my hidden stash someday.

We came across about 50 VCR tapes which we haven't touched in 2 years. We have a VCR, but I honestly couldn't tell you where it is. Apparently Michelle knows where it is. I felt really old going through these. This means that my kid(s) will grow up in a house without a VCR hooked up to the TV? How crazy is that? Remember having to rewind a movie before you returned it to the video store? I can't wait to talk about this 20 years from now. It sounds so stupid now, never mind in the future. And some VCRs were slow as hell, so you spent like 5 minutes waiting for the thing to rewind all the way. Oh, and there was always one person in the house who never rewound the movies, so when you went to watch something, you got all pissed because the credits were rolling. Oh man, I hated that. It's like grabbing the OJ container and there's half a sip left.

Anyway.

On Sunday, we were at the in-laws house, and and Michelle and her mom were cleaning out the basement. I was the muscle, carrying all sorts of crap outside. So Michelle calls me downstairs, and I figure there's more to carry up. Oh no. Michelle throws this giant exercise ball into the air, and the in-laws' dog, Lilly, comes flying in and fires the thing around with her nose, like a seal would do. Not a regular seal, you know, one of those Aquarium seals.

Michelle's mom is sweating her ass off, her hair is all messed up, and she has a look of utter confusion on her face. In the mean time, Michelle is trotting around wearing a pair of black high heals and some old jacket which her grandmother wore like 80 years ago. She asks me how cute the shoes are, and tells me this jacket is back in style.

Mmm nice.

Later on in the day, we ended up finding our way to Trader Joe's, and man, do I miss this place. We walk out with all sorts of frozen meals, snacks, chips, pirate's booty, 2 bottles of wine, and a 6 pack of Trader Joe's beer for like, 52 bucks.

Then some lady at Trader Joe's asked Michelle if they had crackers. Michelle's like, uh, "I would think so." If you knew Michelle, you would know what she really wanted to say, and it was probably something like, "Lady, why the eff would you ask me that? Do I look like I work at Trader Joe's?? Do you see me wearing a giant ass Hawaiian shirt? No. Now go away." But she was very polite. Michelle has this thing where EVERYONE talks to her. No matter where we are, it's like she's a friggen tour guide. People comment on her clothes and ask her for directions.

I can honestly say I have never had a stranger comment on my clothes. Maybe I'm a little jealous they haven't.

Some Sad Stuff

2009-09-12T06:08:00.000-07:00

I had a brother, Frankie, who died in a car accident 12 years ago. He was 19 at the time, and living in North Carolina while I was home in Massachusetts. I was 13 when he died, so even though it's been 12 years, he was around long enough to have a strong, lasting impact on my life.

Last night, my mom put together a party involving many of Frankie's friends. She does this every once in a while to keep in touch with all of them. For me, it's probably been the full 12 years since I've seen some of them. It's almost like time traveling, where as soon as you see someone like that, it brings you right back to the place you last saw them. Or it takes you to the place you remember them most often. It was a very difficult night for everyone, I think, and it was especially difficult for my mom when she saw certain people.

It's like time has definitely healed a lot of the wounds, but when something triggers it, it all can come flooding back to the surface. It could be a movie, a song, or in this case, a familiar face. I think the hardest part isn't missing him being around, but realizing what he missed out in his own life. I see all his friends married with kids, jobs, and houses, and I find myself feeling bad for my brother for not being able to experience it.

But it wasn't just a big, depressing mess. It was a little more awkward than anything I think. Because I wasn't really thinking these things while I was there, it wasn't until the drive home, and then when I woke up this morning that I started thinking about this. After 12 years, it's like we needed an ice breaker to get a conversation going. I can feel people looking at me, and seeing nothing but my brother, and neither one of us knowing what to say or to talk about.

It's really amazing for me to see what an impact one person can have on so many people's lives. He only lived 19 years, but when you see all the people he affected, it's impressive. And that's just one person. I can't even imagine all the families grieving around the world right now with people who were killed in this war in Iraq and Afghanistan. I have friends who have been over seas, and some who are now, and I feel lucky that everyone has been okay so far.

I also think it was odd that the party took place on the anniversary of 9/11. About a year after the 9/11 attacks, I went through a phase where I would think about it everyday. I had no personal connection to anyone who was killed, but there was a relationship between my family's experience with losing my brother and with those families dealing with 9/11. If I hadn't gone through it myself, I would never have understood the magnitude of each individual person's life and death.

Okay, that's enough depressing stuff for now.

I recently told my sister Gina about my blog. I hadn't for a while, because I didn't know how I would feel about it, and I didn't know if I would be consistent with it. But so far it's been both addicting and therapeutic. So I told her about it, and last night I finally got to ask her what she thought. She said she read through every post and said it was addicting for her to read it. And she said when I mentioned her in one the posts, she felt like she was famous. To be honest, when people write comments, I'm like, holy crap, someone is actually reading and responding. So I told her she needs to comment, too. Gina, I'm calling you out.

Do it.

They're Like Small Children, Only Fluffy.

2009-09-09T16:39:00.000-07:00

I can't resist, I'm sorry. I know he's a dog, I'm well aware of this. But his face is ridiculous. I am becoming one of those dog people. I used to wonder why people went up to random strangers' dogs and asked what their name was, how old they were, and what type of dog they were. Now I'm all, "Oh wow, Freddie the 4 year old Irish German Settler Retriever Poodle mix is an awesome color." Like I'm going to use this information later.

Before I get into posting 27 pictures of my dog, I just took him for a walk, and I wanted to document what I heard while I was out. I caught about 8 seconds of someone's conversation about their own reality show. It's going to be called, "The Sean and Ryan Show." Wait, that's not the good part. Here is the tagline.

"We will mount everything in sight."

I'm not sure why, but I feel like I would watch this show. I'm pretty sure Fox would pick it up. I know MTV would. I would fill up my DVR with two kids from South Boston mounting everything in sight, or at least trying to.

Ok, back to Murray. I know everyone thinks their own dog is the cutest dog ever, so here is the cutest dog ever.

Last night, Michelle went on dog.com and entered Murray in the Cutest Dog Competition. Murray will be earning us $1 million. I can't wait, I have big plans for that money. If you wish to support our quest for the Cutest Dog, go here, search for Murray, and vote for this guy.

Oh man.

Wait.

Mmhmm.

Sexy.

I feel like I should photoshop a briefcase next to him in that last one.

One more.

I rest my case.

The Graying of a New Generation

2009-09-03T09:06:00.001-07:00

Every time I get a haircut, I check my hairline as if I'm a surgeon in the operating room. And no matter what, I ALWAYS think it's receded. Michelle keeps telling me it's not, but I don't know if I trust her. I think she just doesn't want to listen to me bitch about it anymore. I'm 25. I know people who have started going bald earlier than 25. Ok, I'm paranoid, whatever. I've had this conversation with my friends and with Michelle, and there's something about being 25. It feels like it's the official age where you go from being "I saw this kid on the subway" to "I saw this guy on the subway."

One fun thing to do is to ask a little kid how old they think I am. If you ever ask a 7 year old kid how old you are, they will always say 10 years older than you really are. It's funny, because at first, you're like, Haha, no DUMMY, I'm not 35, hahaha. But then later on, you start questioning the kid's judgment. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do look 35. I need to start exercising again. Maybe their innocent view on life and old people is correct.

I've thought it was pretty damn funny that Michelle has pulled gray hairs out of her head and eyebrows for a while now. And what makes it better is that I didn't have any. Not one. Until now. I spotted a little gray bastard on my face. Not even in the beard region, he was outside the lines. But still, it was blatant.

When I brought it to Michelle's attention, her reaction was, "Yesssss!" Then, *plink*, she yanks it right out of my face. Which I think made it even better for her. Now, both of us, at 25, have had gray hairs. I blame it on being married. She blamed hers on planning a wedding. While we were planning our wedding, Michelle was so stressed that her hair was actually falling out. We have Meeche Tumbleweeds every once in a while, but this was like pulling hampsters out of the lint trap.

THEN...I was laying bed on Saturday morning and she was trying to drag me up to go get coffee, and she gasps. "Uhhhhhh!" Kind of like that loud inhale noise you make right before you rear end somebody on the highway. She goes, "Is that, is that a gray hair?" There was such excitement in her voice, it was sickening. She has to run and tell her parents, so I get laughed at by them.

Then I'm getting out of the shower, and Michelle is drying her hair. She says, "Do you want me to dry your gray?" Yes, Michelle, please dry my gray. That will make me happy.

I also can't sit cross legged anymore. Actually, my nephews call it criss cross applesauce. Maybe that's what they're teaching them in school these days. So I can't sit criss cross applesauce for more than 5 minutes. I try to get up and it's like my leg muscles have forgotten how to work. I played wiffleball with them a few weekends ago, for about an hour. I had a sore shoulder for the next two days from throwing a wiffleball to a 7 and 11 year old.

Another thing I can't do anymore is stay up for Late Night. I can't tell you how excited I was when Conan O'Brien finally got the Tonight Show. I can't remember the last time I saw Conan's show. I just recently realized that Jimmy Fallon was the new host of Late Night.

I think having a job, a mortgage, a wife, and a dog have really turned me into a grown up. I'm very afraid what will happen when we throw children into the mix.

I Can't Read Lips, or Minds

2009-09-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

Communication between the sexes is a funny thing. We'll be at a restaurant, and Michelle gives me the look, like, listen close. Then she proceeds to speak silently, mouthing what she wants me to know. Her eyes get really wide, and she starts pointing her head in various directions, trying to tell me something funny or weird. I squint and furrow my brow and this is what I say.

WHO??

or...

WHERE??

I can't understand what the hell she's trying to say to me. But it's my instinct to blurt something out, not realizing that she's probably talking about someone right behind me. So now everyone around us knows that she's talking about them, and I feel like a jackass. Her nostrils flair and her eyes roll back, but I'm sorry, how am I supposed to read your lips? I'd rather receive a text message from across the table, this would make it much easier on everyone.

But then we'll be out with one of her friends, or one of my buddies' girlfriends, and she pulls the same move. And the other girl is carrying on, like she knows exactly what Michelle is saying. It's baffling. They start doing it back and forth, neither one missing a beat. And they go in and out of the mouthing. They'll read lips for a second, then be like, "Oh I know, how stupid." Then go back to reading lips.

On a similar, yet different topic, we had another interesting conversation last night. I'm sitting on the laptop, doing nothing of importance. This is what happens:

Michelle: Joe, it's already 9:30.

Joe: Yeah, I know, it's getting late, huh?

Michelle: I need to do that thing on the laptop.

Joe: Ok. (Doesn't move)

Michelle: OK.

Joe: What??

Michelle: Were you not listening?

Joe: You can't do it tomorrow?? (Annoyed tone of voice)

Michelle: Ugh. You KNOW I have to do it tonight.

Joe: I did NOT know that.

Michelle: Obviously you knew that. I didn't think I needed to specify.

We've been together for more than 8 years, we talk all day and all night, yet sometimes, we have no idea what the other one is talking about. I need specification. I need details. I suck at assuming. Maybe it's a fault that I have, but I'm pretty sure that the Y chromosome is oblivious when it comes to picking up hints. After 3,143 days, I still can't figure it all out.

Yes, I just calculated out the number of days since we started "going steady." I am a nerd. I puffy heart Excel.

But the thing is, even if we sit and talk about something, I forget anyway. I understand it's probably frustrating being married to me sometimes. Maybe I'm making excuses by saying it's a male/female thing, but hell, it can't be my fault, can it?

Right?

The Things I Hate and Love About Being the Guy

2009-09-01T19:56:00.000-07:00

Hate: Cleaning the toilet, or dog crap, or vomit.
Love: Controlling the clicker.

Hate: Killing spiders, bugs, and any other intruders in our home.
Love: Getting the last bite of a shared dessert.

Hate: Taking out an old mouse trap left behind by the previous owner. (This happened last week)
Love: Grossing her out by telling her there was a dead mouse in there, even though there wasn't.

Hate: Carrying all the heaviest stuff.
Love: Feeling buff and strong while carrying the heaviest stuff.

Hate: "Joe, will you squeeze my feet?"
Love: Getting a back massage in return.

Hate: Always being wrong.
Love: When I'm actually right.

Hate: When I get two different responses from my wife regarding the same EXACT situation.
Love: The moment we make up.

Hate: Being subjected to watching The Secret Life of an American Teenager.
Love: Ok I actually like that one. (Ricky is always so mad)

Hate: Being the one to take the dog out before bed so my wife doesn't get kidnapped on the street.
Love: Waking up to Murray's face at 6:00 AM, because he knows I'm the one who takes him out.

Hate: When I tell a joke and all I get is crickets.
Love: When I make her laugh so hard soda comes out of her nose.

Michelle Put on a Chicken

2009-08-31T17:38:00.000-07:00

I had to go into work on a Sunday. I know, I'm such an ass for leaving my family on a Sunday afternoon. But it had to be done, and Michelle understood. The best part about it is that when I got home, Michelle was roasting a chicken in the oven, with mashed potatoes and lima beans cooking on the stove top. It smelled amazing in our house.

Only the chicken was roasted upside down. If you can tell from the picture below, the bird was on his stomach. It was partly my fault, because I was helping prep it, but it was still funny. I started to carve it, and all I got was bones. I couldn't figure it out. Once I realized what was going on, I saved the crispy skin (yes, I eat chicken skin straight up), flipped the thing over, and carved. I think we may be on to something here, because the breast meat was actually really juicy and tender. Usually I only eat the dark meat, but even this white meat was really good.

I saw this recipe by Ina Garten, and it looked really easy and good, so we tried it. We altered it a little bit, because Ina wanted us to lather the chicken in butter and cover it with bacon slices, so we left those out. A roasted chicken is one of those meals where we never think to cook it, and then when we do, we wonder why we don't cook it as often.

To make the chicken, we quartered one lemon, and put half inside the cavity and the other half around the pan. Then we took a few cloves of garlic, chopped each in half, and again stuck some inside the chicken, and the rest around the outside. Instead of the butter, we coated the chicken with olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic powder, and baked it for 90 minutes at 400 degrees. Best roasted chicken I've ever had. I think it was because Michelle made it, things often taste better when she makes it.

Quick tangent about Ina Garten. I find it really hard to watch her show, but I love her recipes. They always look and sound so damn good, but there's something about her relationship with her Jeffrey that really skeeves me out. It's something with food and sex and Ina and Jeffrey, and I just can't do it.

These are Michelle's lima beans. We're not quite sure what happened with these. She had an aching for some lima beans, and this is what happened. We will be trying a different lima bean recipe next time. It was a valiant effort.

Tonight, however, Michelle really kicked ass with her spaghetti squash recipe. Check this out and try it, it was excellent.

IKEA is the Bee's Knees

2009-08-29T19:50:00.000-07:00

There are a few reasons why we shouldn't have gone to IKEA today. Maybe because it was a Saturday at 1:00 PM. The weekend before college starts. On a day when the President of the United States, the First Lady, the Vice President, three former Presidents, and every living member of Congress and the Senate were in Boston. But we decided to go before we realized any of these things.

IKEA is a labyrinth. I know they do it on purpose. It's genius, I love it. I absolutely love a perfectly executed plan of operational efficiency. Chacarero is the perfect example. It's also the greatest sandwich ever made, but that's not what this post is about. I'm sure I'll dive into this at some point in my life. But back to IKEA. We walked out of there with a small metal trash can with a moving lid (we've been looking for one for months), a magnetic knife rack (which I already put up and then quickly was told to take down), two dish towels, a dish brush, and a cutting board for under $42. It was wicked sick.

THEN! My favorite part. IKEA makes us tired and thirsty. I think it's just exhausting maneuvering the store and the people, so we stopped to get a drink for the ride home. And I grabbed a bag of chips. The guy goes, "That's $1.75." Which is a bargain already. The he looks right into my soul and says, "You know, for an extra $0.25 you can get two hot dogs." A lot of thoughts went through my head, like, it's not good for you. They're IKEA hot dogs. You don't need them right now, you can eat when you get back to Boston. They're IKEA hot dogs. But all that came out of my mouth was, "Yes. I will take those two hot dogs for $0.25." Twelve and half cents per hot dog?? There is not a better deal on Earth. But seriously, they're IKEA hot dogs. I ate them purely to say I could get 2 hot dogs for a quarter. One with mustard, one with ketchup, and I ate them both on the walk back to the car. I consider this a successful trip.

One more thing. We went to Yankee Fish and Lobster to pick up some fish for dinner, and I think the girl behind the counter was flirting with me. Michelle waited with Murray in the car. When I got in the car and told her, this was her reply. I'm not 100% sure what it meant, because it can be interpreted different ways, but I'm pretty sure she was making fun of me.

"She was flirting, huh? I'm surprised you recognized what that looks like."

I've Realized That I'm Not as Handy as I Thought

2009-08-28T19:37:00.000-07:00

So I like to pride myself on how well I can load dirty dishes into a dishwasher. Not only that, but Michelle and I refuse to wash dishes by hand. I don't understand how people can live without a dishwasher. I will load the dishwasher, and have one plate left that won't fit, and I will just leave it dirty until the next load is ready to go. I think it's the thought of having to rinse, soap, rinse, and dry all in one trip that really bothers me.

I think it's a pride thing, where I like to look at 100 dirty things, and cram them into the dishwasher to clean everything at once. I also think it goes back to my mother, who has to be the world champion at dishwasher loading. I get yelled at for this, and I don't understand why. Michelle will load the dishwasher except for one pan. I'm like, dude, move this crap around, it will fit right here. She's like, no dumb ass, that plate is touching this fork.

One night, I'm doing my fantastic job of over loading the dishwasher, and I decide to stack two lids to our pots and pans next to each other. The lids are made of glass with a metal rim around the outside. I didn't think anything of it, it looked fine to me. So the next day when I open it (our dishwasher takes a solid 3 hours to run), I hear this grinding noise when I roll out the bottom rack. Well one of the lids is just a metal ring. The glass has shattered into thousands of little pieces and scattered throughout the unit. If you've never seen tempered glass shatter, hope that you never do. I think it's designed so that if it breaks, the pieces aren't huge and jagged so you don't impale yourself. I rather would have done that than deal with this mess.

So for the second time in 6 months, we find ourselves needing a wet vac. But I only have a regular vacuum. When I think everything is dry, I start to vacuum up the pieces of glass, makes sense to me. Well, there's still like an inch of water under all the glass, and I realize the inside of the vacuum is SOAKED with water. So I let it dry, and I have to clean this mess by hand. I ended up borrowing a wet vac from my father in law, so I got most of the glass out. Every once in a while, we'll hear little shards of glass flying around the inside of the dishwasher while it's running. A few days later, I busted out the vacuum (the regular one), and when I started to vacuum the living room, Michelle walks in and is like, "What the hell is that moldy smell?" The hose to the vacuum is filled, like clogged, with mold. There is no cleaning this thing.

So one of the joys of living in Boston, is that if you want to get rid of something that is hard to fit into a trash can, you can just leave it on the side of the road on trash day, and the City will pick it up. Out in the 'burbs, you had to arrange for certain items, pay extra for others, it was a bitch. There are restrictions to this, like refrigerators and such, but that's understandable. But the worst part about this, is that the vacuum was gone the next morning before the trash guys came. So I think someone picked it up and took it home, which pretty much sucks for them, and I feel bad I didn't leave a note on it. But then again, it's a vacuum on the side of the road, it had to have been there for a reason. It could have been worse, I could have sold it on craigslist.

Interesting Conversation Between Husband and Wife

2009-08-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

We were on our way to the Cape last weekend, and we were packing up all our stuff around our condo on Friday afternoon. Michelle said that she wanted to grab a coffee on our way down. We typically go to Starbucks, but we have also ON OCCASION gone to Dunkin Donuts. There are literally 17 ways to get on the highway from our house, and I happen to choose one which doesn't go anywhere near Starbucks. Here's what ensued.

Michelle: So, I guess we're not getting coffee.

Joe: Oh crap, I forgot. (Joe starts to take a right)

Michelle: What are you doing?

Joe: I'm going to Dunkin Donuts.

Michelle: WHY would I want to go to Dunkin Donuts? When was the last time we went to Dunkin Donuts?

Joe: (Thinking really hard) What?? You honestly want me to go all the way back to Starbucks?

Michelle: No, just forget it, let's just go.

Joe: No, this is not a big deal, I'll just go to Starbucks.

Michelle: NO. I don't want it anymore. Let's just get on the highway and go, just forget about it.

Joe: (Curse, curse, curse) OH MY GOD! It's 10 minutes out of the way, relax.

Michelle: No, I said forget it, let's just GO.

Joe: (Pulling into the left lane to get on the highway)

Michelle: What are you doing now??

Joe: You said to get on the highway, what the hell do you want from me?

Michelle: (Violently stares in Joe's direction)

Joe: What?

Michelle: I honestly think you do these things on purpose.

Joe: I forgot, I'm sorry, good God.

Michelle: Well it's so convenient that you forgot.

Joe: What, I forget things on purpose so I don't have to do them?

Michelle: Yes, I think you forget on purpose.

Let's recap.

Joe FORGETS to do things ON PURPOSE. Yep. I do. I forget on purpose.

Meatballs

2009-08-26T18:25:00.001-07:00

All I can think about is meatballs. I’m sorry to every member of my family and every restaurant I’ve ever eaten at, but seriously, I love the meatballs that I make. I must have eaten 10,000 of these things in my life, and it wasn’t until an Emeril show that I watched a few years ago that I discovered what I was missing. Garlic. And then I added my own extra ingredient, crushed red pepper. I put CRP on just about everything. I think scrambled eggs could be the best thing with CRP. That’s all thanks to my dad. No matter what he was cooking, he put a ton of CRP into the pan/pot/skillet. Michelle actually banned me from using CRP for a while. She’s all, “Good lord, crushed red pepper again? I am so SICK of crushed red pepper.” And I'm all, "Whatever, it's my recipe." I eventually slowly started bringing it back into my food, and I know she loves it. She just needed to go on strike for a while. Maybe I went a little overboard. Probably.

I grew up in an Italian home, where my mom was always baking or my dad was cooking something up. My grandparents on my dad’s side lived next door, and although my grandmother made some of the best Italian food, I was too young to appreciate it because I didn’t eat red sauce when I was little. Unfortunately she passed away before I acquired the taste for tomato sauce, and it’s really a shame, because all I have is the stories about her food. It's one of those situations where nobody can recreate it exactly the way she did. It seems like even if you follow a recipe exactly, it's never quite the same.

My obsession with food and cooking goes back as long as I can remember, when my dad and I would watch Chef Jeff Smith on TV. I never watched Julia Child, so although I didn’t have the personal connection with her like in the movie Julie & Julia, I can definitely relate to the experience. I love a good chick flick anyway, and then this one had to do with cooking and the obsession with food? I loved it. Great flick. When Julie made that bruschetta covered with the oil, garlic, and tomatoes, holy crap. I was dying.

So my parents and my little sister came in for dinner tonight, and my meatballs got some pretty good reviews, but I could serve anything to my mom, and she would love it. It's hard to tell how good something really is that you made when you're sitting there eating it with people. It's not until after they leave that they would ever say anything bad. I don't think they would, I'm just saying. But I think my dad's favorite part of the night was when he got to use my trash chute. Living in a condo building, I think it's pretty standard. Personally, I was pumped when they opened it up a few weeks ago. Then when I told my dad, he demanded that he would take out the next round of trash. So we trekked down the hall, opened the chute, chucked the trash down, and waited for the crash. He loved it. It's these types of things that he'll remember 20 years down the road, when we're no longer living here. This place is probably going to be our home for the next 5 years or so. I think my mom (who lives in the 'burbs), asked at least 3 times how long we were going to be living in here. I think she's just anxious for some grandkids, but we needed to do this city living thing at least once in our lives. Since we started dating at 17, we felt this would be a good thing for Michelle and I to experience. So here we'll be in the meantime, until life throws us something else...

Murray Man

2009-08-25T17:17:00.001-07:00

This is Murray Man, the Golden Doodle. He's actually a mini Golden Doodle, so he's only going to max out around 30 pounds. This was one of the first pictures we took of him when he was 8 weeks old and weighed in at a solid 6 pounds. The look he is giving is called The Stink Eye.

And here he is deciding that his pink kong (we thought it was blue) is a threat to his existence. We got it at dog.com, which is where we end up getting 90% of his toys as he slowly destroys them. The place is ridiculous. Everything is about 50% cheaper than you will find at PetSmart or Petco.

This is a more recent picture of the stud.

Auntie Lilly

Lilly is a standard Golden Doodle, and she was the reason we tried to find a Golden Doodle as well. She has a very human face and human personality. She is absolutely hysterical. She is my in-laws dog, which makes her my wife's sister, and therefore, Murray's aunt. This face pretty much sums up how she has felt since we brought Murray into her life. I don't think she realized he was here to stay. Lilly's weekends consist of Murray constantly hanging from her ears, trying to eat her food, and stealing her thunder.

I'm speechless.

The Start

2009-08-24T17:42:00.000-07:00

Ok so there's no real reason I can find that makes me want to start a blog, other than I have recently become addicted to reading other people's blogs, and I feel like I would enjoy having my own. It's sort of like going on Facebook to look at other people's pictures without putting pictures of yourself out there. It's only fair.

I'm not quite into the whole, telling the details of my day just yet, so I'll start with a story which I always envisioned showing up on a blog.

My wife and I bought our first home together in November 2008. We got married in June of 2008, and decided to put the money we received for our wedding toward the purchase of a condo in South Boston. We found a condo building with deeded parking, which is key living in South Boston, especially during the winter.

Without going into detail of the home buying process, I'll skip to the fun parts. It's now about a week before we're scheduled to close and move in, and we get a call from our realtor, saying that the seller has a question for us. The seller had an entertainment unit in the living room which was about 11 feet tall and 38 feet wide, and apparently was custom made for this room. (She wanted us to buy it for $2,000. No thanks.) So when the seller was moving the remaining furniture from the unit, she realized, "Oh look at that. I forgot to paint behind the monstrous TV stand. I wonder if the new owners would like me to paint it to match the rest of the white wall, or maybe they would enjoy this nice blue. Maybe they won't even notice." Let me see, uh, yeah, please paint it white.

So we do a final walkthrough with our realtor to make sure that it actually was painted, and we were happy to see that it was. We were sad, however, when we saw that only the giant block of blue was painted, not the entire wall. So what we have is a slightly rectangular, light blue blob on one wall of our living room. Sweet. Thanks again. This has happened in other places in our condo, too. When I moved the refrigerator to clean behind it, we found another blue blob on the wall. And the tops of the doors are also blue. And behind the stove. Basically anything that would have required 12 seconds to move, was not moved in the painting process. We're lucky she didn't have artwork hanging on the walls.

After living in our condo for a few months, we started to realize that even though everything looked fairly new and nice, some things were older than their image suggested. One such thing was our garbage disposal. It had years of black scum coated to every inch of it, that it barely ground up food, and had a nasty smell. It was only a matter of time before we replaced it. The garbage disposal decided that day was today.

I'm cleaning some dishes, dumping pieces of food down the sink, and grinding everything up, no big deal. But then the water doesn't go down. It sort of just starts to get milky white and swirl like a cyclone. Ok. This has happened before, and I just let it run for a minute, and eventually it all went down. This thing was stubborn, and wouldn't budge. It started to smell, and no matter what I did, it wouldn't unclog. So I do what everyone (who's not handy) does when something like this happens, I google the problem. So I find a potential solution that I like, and it involves a plunger. One caveat, it says if you have double sinks, make sure you plug the other one so you can create suction. We don't have a second sink so I figure I'm all set. But wait, this fact comes into play later.

Since even after all this, it still isn't working, Michelle convinces me that we need a new garbage disposal, since the thing has always sucked, and I have to agree. So we suck it up, haul ourselves to Sears, and buy a garbage disposal. Not an industrial size one, but not a piece either. And since the installation fee was something like $100, I decided to install it myself. I've seen how pipes work, it's all common sense, right? I know how to turn the power off and re-connect wiring. I figure this won't be a problem.

The whole thing took me about 2 and half hours, but seriously, $100 to install it? I still see this time as money saved. I turn the thing on, and it's actually running. To be honest, I shocked myself. I had my father in law's voice in my head, laughing at me trying to think I could install a garbage disposal. I showed him. ... Only the water wasn't going down. Just spinning like crazy. This was a clog. A clog about 30 feet deep in the pipes. And even though we didn't have another sink, there was this tube to nowhere.

When we were moving in our stuff, Michelle shows me this tube. It's underneath a cabinet in the kitchen, and it's attached to the sink about 6 feet away. Come to find out, it apparently is a drain for a washing machine, if we ever wanted one in our unit, even though I don't think it's allowed. Whatever, we'll just leave it there, it's not hurting anyone. Only my common sense brain who knew all there was to know about plumbing forgot about this tube to nowhere. As I was plunging our kitchen sink (this gets dumber and dumber as I type) I was inadvertently sucking up days of crappy, food-filled filth back up that tube to nowhere. So when I turned off the newly installed garbage disposal, the suction pumped out GALLONS of this sewer-like water into our bottom cabinet, and started to flood our kitchen. I froze, as I often do in moments like this. Michelle is cool under pressure, and starts grabbing towels and mopping everything up, until she realizes what it is she's touching and what it smells like, and as she tries not to vomit and add to the mess, it's all my problem now. Michelle never gets within 40 feet of this disaster for the rest of the night.

So I think it's now after 10 PM, I'm cleaning this mess with anything absorbent I can find, throwing them into trash bags, while Michelle is on the phone trying to find an emergency plumber to pay us a visit. (We don't have a wet vac, and this becomes a problem again another day). After many calls to no avail, they might be able to show up tomorrow. Michelle takes the day off to try and deal with all this, only the guy is never able to show up. Through a little help from yelp.com, we find a local guy, and he comes by the following day (so that's 48 hours living with this stench), and he starts to snake the pipe. He gets to the end of his line, and still nothing. He tells me I may need to call the big guys, which will likely costs hundreds of dollars. When he pulls up the last of his machinery from my kitchen sink, there is this big gurgle of black muck, and unbelievably, the clog is gone. Although the original sink problems were probably due to the underlying clog rather than the old disposal, I like to think that I added value to our home.