I apologize for the long absence, things been a little batty the last few weeks, but Alane's entry inspired me to make time. I welcome with open arms Brandi to the blog. I'll refrain from singing "the sailors say Brandi, youre a fine girl..." because I've been informed Alane and Vito find it annoying. I once met Alane's cousin Rick in Manhattan in a moment that will remain etched in my mind forever. We were talking in front of the Museum of Natural History and he was about the throw away an empty soda can, and instead politely handed it to a homeless man who was collecting cans out of some nearby trash. Instead of continuing on as he had been, the can collector just froze inches from Rick's face. He then proceeded to stare in his face smiling for a good ten seconds before slowly but LOUDLY exclaiming two words to him:

"HAPPY... DAY!"

Picturing Rick's confused face is making me laugh right now, but his response is downright legendary. He said very dryly: "I thought our relationship ended when I gave him the can."

So with that kind of pedigree, all of Alane's cousins have a free pass to the blog. Anyway, I have a lotta things to get off my chest today so Im gonna jump right in.

1. John, I been thinking about putting together a mix-tape for Uncle Vito with songs that he can relate to. So I challenge you to think of some titles that are appropriate for his unique angle on life. I'll get you started:

• "I Wont Share You" by The Smiths (dedicated to the many relatives he'd rather not visit than let his wife enjoy)
  
• "The Old Apartment" by the Barenaked Ladies (self explanatory)
  
• "I Can't Stand The Rain" by Missy Elliot (or any other weather for that matter)
  
• "I Hate Everything About You" by Ugly Kid Joe (again this kinda sums it up)
  
• "Black Velvet" by Alana Myles ("don't really know song, but shes got the same first name as my daughter-in-law")

2. In response to the last question addressed to me: Uncle Vito pronounces it "Alana" because the correct pronunciation is annoying. As is the pronunciation of every name, except "Yankees."

3. I'm willing to accept Alane's conclusion that my brother and I are destined for the depths of hell, but I openly challenge anyone not to laugh when a handicapped preacher pronounces the name Jesus as "Chee-tits." Or when a perfectly healthy priest performing a marriage says that "you must give your fart... excuse me heart..." Or when a man gets foul-tipped in the scrotum by a 80-mile-an-hour pitch that his cousins dared him to swing at, causing a future injury that would require surgery and make his gonads resemble a spinach pizza.

Shit, I really am going to hell.

4. My brother left out another detail from the South Florida Fair which I believe is worthy of mention. Just adjacent to the pig race track lied a row of disgusting public toilets, one of which had an open door and a patron devouring his soggy rain drenched dinner inside. We stared in astonishment, even took a picture. All I could say was "that's a small cafeteria".

Well, I got more to unleash but I gotta get running back to work.