I Need An Old Priest And A New Priest

or mixing it up with Mephistopheles

Okay, so on my way back from the odyssey that is grocery shopping, I pulled into the gas station to fuel up because I was basically driving on fumes and borrowed time. The store in which I shop has this discount fuel perks thing going on where you save so much off a gallon of gasoline with every $10 you spend on food, non-perishables, Phillipino house boys...

Anywho, my afternoon visit netted me a whopping $.62 off each gallon, and I was primed to cash in on that baby. So I pull up to the pump, open the gas cap and turn to punch the numbers from my card into the pump in order to get my discount...only the prompt read "swipe payment card or fuel discount card".

I don't have a discount card with a magnetic strip. Instead I have one of those ubiquitous key fob tabs with a UPC code. However I have to punch the numbers in because none of the genius station owners bothered to install a UPC reader on their pumps. Which leads to the question, what the hell am I supposed to do now to cash in on my discount?

Then I noticed a small square box with the word "yes" next to it at the bottom of the screen. Okay. I'll bite. What could it hurt, right? I tapped the yes box. Up pops a prompt reading "swipe your discount card". So I start typing the numbers from the back of my key fob and hit enter.

"authorizing"

I wait... and wait... and wait.

Finally the screen spits out the phrase, "InvalidentryYoumustreenternumberorconsu..."

What the ef? It didn't even finish its own thought. So, thinking I punched in an incorrect number, I try again. Same result. Nada. So I try one more time because clearly, I am a slow learner. This time I get:

"Invalid entry, Loser! Did I ask you to punch in the numbers? NO! I asked you to swipe your damn card, Monkey Girl!"

Hey! Hey! Hey! There's no need to get snarky with me. Fine! I'll just swipe my credit card and only buy a few gallons of gas. I'll show you.

So I swipe my credit card and lo and behold, up pops the prompt "would you like to use your fuel perks, hmmmm? yes or no"

Hellz yeah! But just as I was reaching to hit the "you bet your ass" button, the screen cleared leaving me with a "Psyche! Too late! Choose your octane & get moving, lard ass."

That's when I started to suspect this particular pump was possessed. Beelzebub was slumming at the Sunoco and dicking with me.

Thinking I was onto this demon's evil game, I cleared the screen, swiped my card and waited--finger poised ready to strike the "yes" option with break-neck speed.

Swipe...prompt...pounce!

AHA!! I've got you this time, you son of a biscuit eating bulldog!

"HaHaHa!! Don't make me laugh! I can't believe you fell for that AGAIN!? This is just too easy. You really are dumber than a box of hammers, aren't you? Get a move on, asshat. Pump your stupid gas and get out of here. I grow tired of your slow-witted nature."

Shut up! You are so mean. Gaaaaawd! Did you not eat lunch, or what?

Feeling like a total loser, I pump my 3 gallons and replace the nozzle. Then in its sweetest Southern drawl Lucifer's screen asks:

"Would you like a receipt? Yes or No"

*Sigh*

I paused, thinking "Pfft! Like I should believe a word you say." But, of course being the complete stoopid jerk I am, I bit once again. There were printing sounds emanating from the machine. Seemed hopeful. Then out spits this receipt:

That's right... Blank. Completely blank. Oh give me a freaking break! Of course! That is just perfect! Seriously?

Evil laughter echoed around me. I had been pwned once again by the Spawn of Satan inhabiting the gas pump. It was so absurd, even I had to laugh.

You won this round, you Devil in douche bag.

And There Is No Joy In Blitzburgh

or an all-too-soon farewell to a hockey season and beloved arena

Okay, so last night was the seventh game in the second round of the Stanley Cup finals. Being the higher ranked hockey club, the Pens had the so-called home ice advantage. Generally, that's a huge plus, providing priceless momentum for a team.

Last night...not so much.

My beloved Boys of Winter, lead by the quintessential White Knight that is young Sidney Crosby, fell to the Montreal Canadiens by a crushing score of 5-2. It was a hard-fought contest. Our lads battled back with every fiber of their being, but alas...it was not in the cards for them to prevail. So closes another chapter in the Penguin franchise...

And with a long linger at center ice, sticks raised in recognition and appreciation to the fans for their never-ending love and support, the Pens said a teary goodbye and closed the door to their silver-domed home for the last time.

Ironically the Pens ended their tenure at the Igloo the same way it began decades ago... dropping one to the Habs. Poetic don't ya think? Yeah. Sometimes poetry stings a little.

What will happen to this unique retractable-roofed residence is still anyone's guess. All that's for certain is next year the Penguins will be the proud owners of a brand-spanking new, state-of-the-art facility built a stone's throw from the grand dame... close enough to mockingly shake its shiny, nubile TaTas at the old gal.

Bitch.

I know. It's just a building, but it is so cool. The roof OPENED revealing this treat, for Pete's sake!

It makes me sad to see it relegated to the scrap heap. Besides, it's 50. I'm 50. I think I'm taking it personally. We both have a lot of life left in us, dammit!!?!

Au Revoir, Civic Arena (yes. I prefer to use its maiden name). It's been a fun run. You have served us well and your grooviness will forever be in our hearts.

In the words of James Cromwell, "That'll do, Pig."

Come Again?

or apparently I'm being chased by dingos. for realz.

Okay, so five nights a week I head up to bed hours before Geo, because, you know I had the misguided notion long ago that I just had to work in television for a living, which as you also know is a 24/7 bidnez and I drew the not-so-short straw to toil at the hours-before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn shift of 4:15am. Ergo I even have to go to sleep before the tiny tots in the neighborhood are forced to slumber, which is kinda humiliating because those tykes taunt me, mockingly shake their pacifiers and diapered bottoms at me and call me a pussy.

Them toddlers are mean SOBs, y'all.

Anywho, I have been known to snore a bit, chuckle and occasionally utter a non-sequitor or two when Geo finally crawls beneath the sheets. Once I looked him square in the eye and said matter of factly, "but you have green beans coming out of your nose." HaHa!

Forthwith is last night's comatose conversation:

Me: (mumble mumble chuckle)....the dogs

Geo: Which dogs?

Me: The ones with the legal wallpaper in their hands...

Soooo...yeah. Apparently my subconscious is being chased by dingos with a penchant for redecorating poorly.

At least I'm not as off color as this British Sleep Talking Man. Next to this guy, I'm a nun.

In Which Time Flies Faster Than I Can Process

Today my niece Regi graduates from college. She has crammed an unfathomable amount of studies into the past four years. She's been living at a sort of hyper speed for the last three trips around the sun, splitting her attentions between several varied departments of study. In the end she has earned a Bachelor's of the Arts and Bachelor's of Philosophy along with a handful of certificates in Japanese/Japanese studies. Whew!

I could not be more proud of her.

Not so long ago, when Reg was 10 months old her mother (my sister) had to go out of town for work. Geo and I got to watch this smiling bundle of absolute heaven for three days. One night while I was feeding her her nightly bottle, she looked up at me with her enormous deep blue eyes, gave me a big ole toothless smile and let fly with a huge, full-on belly laugh. You know the one I'm talking about, it emanates from a cherub's adorable little toes and rocks her entire tiny baby body with pure unmitigated joy. It's completely irresistible! We spurred each other on, laughing about nothing for about 20 minutes until tears were flowing from both of our eyes.

And that's when I fell completely in love with her.

Seriously. Look at that smile. How could that face not melt your heart and make you want to shower her with love and kisses and ponies?

These are some of my favorite pictures of her as a tot. They make me laugh out loud and warm me to the bone.

I don't think I could care for her more if she was my own kid. She was always a happy child, full of life, laughter and elan. She has maintained these qualities throughout her young adult life. We bonded that evening, and she has been a constant ray of sunshine in my world from that day forth.

Now she's all grown up and starting her life's journey. Sure she doesn't know exactly what she's going to do, but she's smart--really smart and courageous and willing to take a chance to follow her dream--whatever that turns out to be. She'll figure it out. I believe Regi can achieve anything she sets her mind to. I have no doubt she will succeed beautifully.

So one chapter ends, turning the page for the next. This is a bittersweet day for me. Reg is young, beautiful, hopeful, unafraid and unattached. She can cast her net wide and spread her wings to freely explore the numerous opportunities this crazy blue planet holds for her. I'm excited for the little girl who stole my heart, but sad for us. She'll be moving to Japan in July to teach English with the chance to apply for a business position that will make her stay long term. When she leaves this time... she'll be gone for good. We likely won't see her again for a very, very long time. Thank God for skype, right? At least we'll get to see her vibrant face over the interweb.

*sniffle*

So here's to you Reg. Go forth and knock the socks off of this effing world! Remember: be safe, be smart, be kind, be brave, be happy, be true to yourself... and wear sunscreen. And most importantly, don't forget you are loved and always, ALWAYS have a home to return to even if it's just to recharge between adventures.

I love you with every fiber of my beating heart. Miss you already...

Staying In with Quiet Company

or baby's first album review

Okay, so I was invited to download and review the latest EP from an Austin-based band, Quiet Company. Okay... so it was via Twitter and literally EVERYONE was invited to review their work, but I like to think of it as a special invitation because my musical taste is so spectacular and they trust my opinion and its power to sway thousands...hundreds...tens...a couple readers.

Whatever.

Anywho, I've never reviewed music in print before, and I don't know all the buzz phrases like "...the surging two-track riffs supply a dazed patter of blistering chords snuggled between cuts that lead the listener to a hodge-podge of clashing styles pairing a full-bodied finish of cherry & spicy wood notes that tickle the palate as the tanins explode in a rich bouquet.." Oh wait. I'm mashing up Fa-Fa Wine Speak with Music Review Bullshite. My bad.

In any case, I may not know how to talk the talk, but I do know what I like. And I like this EP. A lot. For realz. It makes me happy. I just might lick its face.

Quiet Company's latest is a six song effort entitled "Songs for Staying In" and it is absolutely terrific! Pop music at its finest. No elusive meanings, no drama, no crazy veiled references that have you scratching your head wondering what the hell the point is... just straight-up, unadulterated pop songs about love, longing and loss set to irresistibly buoyant, upbeat melodies.

From the sweetness of everlasting love in the delightful Hold My Head Above the Water to the pain of yearning for the love of an unworthy Puta in Jezebel to the suggestion of an evening home alone with the playful promise of more than a night of TV viewing-- if you know what I mean, and I think you do--in If You Want, this EP delivers. Who could resist the argument to stay in when it's wrapped in such a charming pop package.

"Songs For Staying In" is a fabulous disc worthy of your hard earned cash, and a perfect follow up to their prior outstanding offering "Everyone You Love Will Be Happy Soon".

So come on. Support some fantastic local musicians on the ground level. You never know. They could turn out to be the next Spoon. They're already kind of a big-ish deal in Austin. Maybe your support can convince them to tour the rest of the country. Plus they give free hugs. Bonus.

You can pre-order/purchase both of these dynamite discs at their website www.quietcompanymusic.com. They've been putting up videos of each song for all to enjoy--one per week--prior to the official release date & swinging soiree of May 11th.

So what are you waiting for? Get off your collective asses, jump on the link above and order their EP already. You know I'm just going to sit here and badger you until you at least give them a listen. Seriously. You know I will. I have no life so I have all the time in the world to pester you. Yep.

Did you do it yet? How about now. Come on. You know you want to. *poke* *poke*

Friday Photo #39

(but who's counting.. obviously you, moron)

Oookay. Sure.

I spotted this sign in Penn Station last December when we were waiting for our train back to New Jersey. I don't even really know what this means, but it sounded kind of dirty so naturally I took a picture of it. Because as you all know, that's how I roll... or wrap as the taco goes.

Some People's Kids

or some hilarious tales of the tots

Okay, so George and I weren't able to have our own kids. As you may know, it's absolutely the only thing in my life I regret.

It sucks.

You can read all about my whining, belly aching and crying in my proverbial beer here. (P.S.: Isabel is pregnant again! Here's hoping she carries to term. And Jimmy MacParkway...you are the sweetest thing, my friend. Thank you. Same for you Jenna.)

That said, I love hearing other parent's tales of their tots and stealing ...er, BORROWING those charming chestnuts for blogger fodder. Two such anecdotes come from our morning anchor team who have eight children between them.

Yes. Eight. Children.

How lucky are they. Anywho, they've related a couple of gems surrounding their kids which I'd like to share here.

Boogie Down, BABY!!

So one day Jen, who has four boys and a lone girl ranging from 12-5 years of age, finally found a proper fitting bra and gutchies. For a girl this is HUGE. Am I right, ladies? Seriously. It's humiliating to try on bra after bra after bra in a cramped room under the sickly, greenish glow of a half-lit florescent light in front of a fun-house-fatty mirror where every bulge, blemish and Crypt-Keeper crease slaps you in the face like a cartoon iron skillet. It's a harsh world in the Devil's dressing room. So, you know, it's damned exciting when you find a perfect fit. It's like winning the lottery. A cottony soft to the touch lottery.

Moving on...

Jen was so excited about her purchase, she wanted to share her excitement with her seven year old daughter, Grace. Dressed in only her lovely lingerie, she ran to model for her baby girl, to which Grace in not-so-mock revolt exclaimed, "Oh, Mom! Stop it. You're making me sick!!"

Not to be deterred, Jen decided to gauge the other kiddoes reactions. Why, you may ask. Why parade around in your panties before the males of the household? ...Why not?

Next, #3 son gagged in horror, #2 son gasped-then paused and gave her a big thumbs up "Hey, you're looking good, Mom." (#2 son is totally destined to be the lady-killer of the family) #1 son demanded an air gun as restitution for being permanently scarred by her scantily clad presence.

Finally, she reached the living room where her husband and youngest son (a five year old) were sorting laundry. She burst into the room, dancing in her brand-spanking-new unmentionables. Her husband groaned and shook his head. The little nipper looked up, blinked, jumped to his feet, whipped off his pants revealing his uber stylin' Sponge Bob BVDs and started to dance right alongside her!!

Woooo Hooo! Underoo Dance Par-tay!

HaHaHAHAHA!!

I LOVE this kid!! He is so going to be the toga wearing, table dancing, life of the party in college. Just sayin'.

Pants On The Ground

This one comes from our Morning Male Man, Rick. He and his family--he has three boys--were eating dinner out when the youngest, who was two at the time, needed to use the restroom. His six year old brother offered to do the honors.

So off they go to the men's room. A little while later the six year old returns to the table...sans two year old. Before they could question the youngster, the toddler emerges doing the penguin walk with his pants on the ground, Mr. Happy waving to the waitstaff, arms outstretched, declaring "HEY! A little help here!?!"

HAHA! You gotta love two-year-olds. They are completely unfiltered... and adorable.

Stories like these just warm my cold, crusty heart and make me snort. Some people's kids are hilarious!