Friday Photo #28

Ummmmm.....Thanks?

And Then There Was One...

My Father's sister passed away over the weekend. Aunt Helen was infirm and had been in a combination of retirement homes and nursing homes over the last four years. She was wheelchair bound, mainly because she refused to get out of it and walk around. In the end, I believe she had had enough, stopped eating and set her sites on dying. 

She married, but never had children. She was close to her younger sister, Rita and her children. She used to be close with all of us, but that was a longer time ago. Aunt Helen was always a lot of fun when we were growing up. She always had the snazziest cars--one of her big ole Chryslers had that classic, thin chrome steering wheel and a push-button transmission on the dash. One of her cars was Pepto Bismal pink. She was Cool.

And she always made the best cookies for holidays or events. Hundreds of them. The delicious, tedious ones which had to be patiently rolled or wrapped. Yum!

She was full of piss and vinegar, as the saying goes. She was lively and loud. She'd bust into our house unannounced all the time and stir things up...mostly in a good way. I loved it. I'm a huge fan of the drop in still. Sometimes she'd get in a "spirited debate" with my Dad, but mostly she brought life and laughter. 

A couple of summers I stayed with her for a week or so when I was 12 and 13. We'd go shopping, get ice cream, drive around. For some reason she had no eyebrows. I was fascinated watching her draw on her arcs one at a time every morning. (Weird what sticks with you) At night she'd tell me stories about the family. I really enjoyed the one-on-one time.

Then something, unknown to us to this day, changed for her. She became sour, angry and unable to reconcile the demons in her past. She became very difficult to be around. The negativity ate away at her. Maybe that's what happens when you get older. You dwell on the regrets and not the positives. I hope not. Judging by Aunt Helen's later life, it's a horrible way to live. 

I hope she's happier now. 

There were seven siblings...now there's just one. 

There will always only be one Aunt Helen. I will forever remember her the way she is in this photo. All duded up. A cocktail in one hand. Cigarette in the other. Full of life and spirited. 

May she rest in peace.

WTF?!?! 

or Holy Crap! Is that a Giant Squid?

Seriously. That's a giant squid. A cephalopod the size of a pre-teen. Multitudes of them. Off the coast of San Diego. Attacking divers. Check out these teeth! They have teeth. Did you know they had teeth? I didn't know they had teeth. 

Ouch!! Them choppers are U-G-L-Y. 

Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Squid. Did I say ugly...I meant utterly sharp and pointy and...a lovely shade of yellow. ha ha ha. Please don't eat me or bitch slap me with those bad-ass tentacles. *whimper*

No, this is not a newly penned, hideous, low-ball "When Calamari Attack" reality-type show on Fox either. Apparently massive numbers of the Humboldt sea monster traveled north from Mexico to dick with divers off the sandy shores of San Diego. 

Some marine biologists believe they headed north due to a recent earthquake screwing with their sonar. Others think the surly cephalopods were just chasing a food trail. Or maybe they heard so many good things about this week's Comic-Con, they decided to see for themselves.

But, Dude, fair warning. If the Chuck panel is full, for the love of all that is holy, let them have your seat. You don't want to get between them and their favorite characters. Things get nasty when they get cranky.

Here's a video of some crazy chick who got manhandled by one of the beasts...and is heading out for more. Clearly, she's a slow learner.

Bastardized Friday Photo #27

in which I realize the origins of my 10-year-old boy humor 

Okay, so growing up my Dad LOVED Dean Martin. He claimed there was some sort of family connection with Dino...he was a Godfather or cousin or ... whatever. I can't really remember. Whether their was truth to this claim, I have no idea. But my Dad believed it to be so and told whoever would listen that Dino was part of our family.

My Dad never missed an episode of Matt Helm or Dean's weekly variety show. I have to admit, I dig Dino, too. Always have. Who could resist his cooler than cool charm...smoldering cigarette in one hand, ice cubes in his glass of amber colored liquor musically tinkling in the other while he crooned a tune in his silky-smooth, velvety voice. And he didn't take himself seriously.

So I'm over at my friends' house today and lo and behold, they have 10 episodes of the Dean Martin Show. We popped one in to view. Supposedly pretty much everything was off the cuff. No rehearsal. Dean would just show up, be fed a couple lines to use during his bits with the guests (Jimmy Stewart, Dom DeLuise, Orson Wells, George Gobel) and then he'd just wing it. 

As Seinfeld's Banya would say, "That's Gold, Jerry. Gold!!" 

It was hilarious! You can tell the unscripted bits, because they cracked each other up. Few things are as infectious as performers sincerely laughing at one anothers unexpected come backs. Plus, the double entendres were flying left and right. 

And that's when it hit me. This is where I got my bawdy, off-color, 10-year-old boy sense of humor. From Dino and his pals. I was weaned on this banter. It has served me well. I don't know how much those around me appreciate it... But if they're truly my buds, they get it, too. Right?

Thanks Dino!

Some Friendships Last A Lifetime 

or happy anniversary old chum

Thirty years ago today, on a steamy July morning I stood in a long line for Freshman orientation at a small city college. I was 19, was recently fired from my job and had enrolled in this particular institute of higher learning as a last resort. I knew no one. I was chatting with the girl in front of me when a short, dark-haired, brown-eyed boy named Dennis chimed in on our conversation.

The three of us hung out together throughout the long wait, the mind-numbing orientation in the auditorium and the flavorless institution provided lunch. Honestly, I don't remember the girl, but the boy...he continually made me laugh. He was witty, wry and full of useless little factoids. I would not forget him.

He became my best friend.

At the end of the day, he drove north back to his hometown, but we wrote to each other several times a week. Actual letters. You remember them? Ink on stationery. Envelopes. Stamps. Time lag between the writing of sender and reading by recipient. The anticipation of what treasure may linger behind the rusty metal flap of the mailbox.

By the time we met up again in September, Dennis was tall enough to look me in the eye. Seriously. He grew like... six inches! His parents must have fed him Miracle Gro or some such thing.

In a matter of minutes, we were inseparable.

We've been through a lot wacky antics...student films, plays, road trips, apartment raids (our doing--not the law's), getting busted sneaking into the theater, trolling through burned out buildings, an ill-conceived vintage clothing craze (translation: old crap from the remains of a closed resale shop)...and much more I've forgotten.

My student film acting career is unmercifully preserved on 16mm & video tape. And, no you can't see it. That painful viewing is reserved for close friends only, on a dark summer eve, preferably on a bender.

My roommates and I used to torture poor Denny by turning off the lights and hiding when he went to the bathroom. We'd jump out at him, scaring the figurative crap out of him. He'd end up flailing and screeching much to our twisted, sadistic delight. Ha Ha! Time and time again, he fell for it. We're old now, so I don't think it's wise to leap out of the darkness at him. That would be an awkward 911 call.

Operator: 911. What is your emergency?
Me: Ummm...our friend is passed out.
Operator: How did this happen?
Me: Uh..yeah, funny story. When he went to the bathroom, we sort of hid from him and then jumped out of the dark, yelling tribal screams. His eyes kinda rolled back in his head and he.. crumpled to the floor. (nervous chuckle)
Operator: *silence* What the f*ck is wrong with you people?

See what I mean. Awkward.

Throughout our long history, we supported each other through several misguided relationships, including one ill-fated attempt of our own. Fortunately, we managed to remain the best of friends. No small feat there. We even survived the challenge of distance--Los Angeles and more recently New Zealand. I'm happy to report he and his lovely family are planted a mere mile away.

Through it all Dennis has remained my confidant, my sounding board, my defender, my supporter... my best friend. Always accepting. Never passing judgement. Having Dennis in my life has been a blessing. And not just because he's the only one of my buds sweet enough to come over to my apartment late at night to bake a cake for me to take to my temp job the next morning, all because I was too drunk to function.

He has filled my life with unconditional joy and elan and love and laughter.

And he does silly-ass shit like this in public. How could I not love his company?

Thirty years...

That sounds like such a looooong time. Hell, that's longer than most marriages. But with the right people in your life, years shoot by faster than a gang banger on a drive-by...only with a lot less bloodshed.

So here's to you my long-time compadre. May we be blessed to share thirty more circles around the sun.

I love you, man.

Some Things I Love About Summer

The sun stays out to play for the majority of the day

I have three weeks of vacation in which to enjoy the glorious weather whilst lounging on the deck and socializing

Cooking and eating outside

No socks!!!

Tan lines

Cruising with the top down, tunes cranked to 11, wind in my hair (now if I would only but a convertible-tee hee)

Reruns on TV = freedom to actually watch movies or better yet, hang out with friends

Free concerts (see Rhett Fest)

Summer clothes

Farmers' Market (Helloooooo King Boys! See what I mean here)

Home grown tomatoes

Gobs of backyard mint for fresh-made Mojitos

Girls' weekend at Lake Erie (what happens in Erie, stays in Erie)

Backyard Barbecues

kayaking on the river

Lighter than normal traffic

Listening to the neighbor's kids enjoying themselves playing

Crazy Carnie Ice Cream Truck Man

Using the nice weather and gardening as yet another excuse not to do housework 

Things I Don't Like About Summer...

Absolutely NOTHING 

Okay, so it's not at all funny or illuminating. I did see a great new off-color name in the credits for "Gone Baby Gone"... 

Izzy Straddlin

For real. And there was a guest on our show named Rachelle Rak. So if Rachelle Rak married Izzy Straddlin, she'd be Rachelle Rak Straddlin. 

Alright not the best effort, but worth a chuckle. You can't expect much, cause, you know...it's summer and I'm obviously out on the deck, cranking tunes, chugging home made Mojitos. 

Friday Photo #26

Another sad farewell to one of the good guys 

*Sigh*

Back in the winter when my buddy KJo (whom I still miss every day) left for warmer climates, I wrote how many people have come and gone through the station, but there have been only four whose absence I truly missed. 

Today there are five.

Sonya walked through our doors as a mere pup. She was fresh out of college. She was so young she still had baby fat for God's sake! But from the start there was something special about her. She was vibrant. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was smart, scary SMART! She has always been a quick study, able to adapt her delivery and mannerisms to match the old pros around her while developing a style of her own. She's got it all.

I should hate her.

But that's impossible. Here's why...like my friend Beets and I, she's one of the guys. She's bawdy, belches and has a finely honed 12-year-old boy sense of humor. How could I not love her. She's one of the most down to earth people with whom I've ever had the pleasure to work. And she's just a kick to be around. Always upbeat even when situations are maddening, she can lift the mood with that big, goofy, lovable laugh of hers.

She brings a positive, youthful energy that's contagious. The newsroom is dimmer when she's on vacation. It's going to be absolutely black now that she's leaving. 

Sonya is heading South for an opportunity which should have been afforded her here...afternoon and evening anchor. I've told her before she's too good for us. Seriously. She's talented enough to be on Network. She's waaaaaay better than any of the chippies on the Early Show. It's great to see a news director finally believes she's ready to run with the big dogs. I just wish it would have been someone here at the Special K. 

Her empty cubicle, like KJo's, will be a sad, daily reminder of the two pieces of our heart lost by short-sighted thinking. But I can't help but be thrilled for her. She'll be living in a happening city, near her sister with her brand-spanking-new niece and finally in the same city as her equally drop-dead gorgeous beau. 

She has the world by the short hairs. This is her time to shine. I have no doubt she will beam brighter than the white-hot Florida summer sun. 

So here's to you, my lovely friend. It has been an absolute pleasure and privilege to work with you and watch you grow professionally as well as personally. May your new life be bursting with elan, love and all the goodness you could ever imagine. You will forever hold a special spot in my heart. 

I miss you already.