Heh, that's funny: "what a rack it was."

Tommy would never tolerate having such uncouth material in his shop.

I would like to just say that I have said nice things about John before the house--just never so he knew. I didnt want that large Mastandrea head any larger or I would be married to an Easter Island Head.

I must report 2 very ridiculous items that I have witnessed since coming here. The first happened the other day when I ventured out of my building at lunch for the first time since beginning work here. (I work in the building that houses Jones, Day--the largest law firm in Cleveland and so as to keep their associates virtual prisoners they make sure the building has every amenity so there is no reason to ever leave the building when you start work.) I was wandering around a food court in one of the buildings near my office when I saw a man in a wheel chair. Normally this would not even register. However, the man was wearing a suit coat and had a beard, but from the waist down he was dressed in a skirt, pantyhose and pumps.

The second happened when I took the monsters to have their haircut. I just randomly picked a barber shop that had a man cutting hair in it. (Tommy the barber in Bronxville has warned against ever letting a woman cut the boys hair.) I walked in and sat down and looked over at the magazine rack, and what a rack it was. It actually had Playboy magazines on it. Luckily the boys were busy with the gumball machine because I really did not want to have to explain that reading material.

So I talked to Jo Maha yesterday and he is still on for the trek cross states to Spumoni. Excellent! We will be waiting in anticipation. Perhaps he will stop in Ohio and pick up Johnny Vermouth. Anything is possible. Hopefully no damage will come from the burning of bills and staements accrued over the last 20 yrs. Perhhaps you will cause snow flurries over Tuckahoe. I was thinking the maybe John should create his own comic book featuring the adventures of mojo and furious. Every so often you and alane be featured but you have to have superhero names. You know something like the incredibles. Only scented differently and in different costumes. John Vermouth with the ability to spoil milk with just a glance. You can have like soppresatta nunchucks. i dont know just drifting.
anyway
I am currently taking the a 4hr driving course online due to a traffic violation. This is almost as boring as awaiting the ticket in your car while other cars speed by you. The website will not allow me to move on till i spent the minimum time alotted.
I was trying to get off the highway to get gas. I was below "E" and saw nothing but red lights ahead. Gosh I love I95. There was 2 exit lanes and 6 cars ahead of me. This trooper stops his car and gets out. Walks up to each car and gave us all tickets for driving in a service lane. Thats 4 points. Wow but the guy next me towing another car with chains at 50 mph is okay. The dump truck dropping dirt and debris all over doesnt get a ticket. The pick up with 26 people in back gets to go on. But i get a ticket. Steve once got a ticket for driving with his hazard lights on because he had a donut spare on his car. How do they decide on who gets a ticket. Must be the color green.
In the immortal words of Jack Burton," (I guess i was) not put on this earth to GET IT! Now this really pisses me off to no end!

So i have 18 more minutes to kill. 40 minute module took me 16 minutes. I have to sit and stare till its over and pay for it.

I'm on a roll now. I pulled about three tons of Pez paraphernalia from the upper shelf of the closet this afternoon, only to uncover a mysterious box. In it was a treasure trove: a long-lost coin collection, a nose-and-glasses set, my sam-brown belt from my high school military uniform, a fully operational steam engine (no shit, really), and most importantly, my Uncle Floyd button.

Okay, so today's document-burn was postponed due to rain. Guido says we'll roast the paperwork next week -- and drink the bottle of lumbrusco that we bought yesterday. I look look forward to it.

In the meantime, I will try to get my Kobler V-Matic shaver to work. Guido mail ordered it from a surplus outlet back in the 1980s. They were ancient even then -- probably manufactured in the 1950s or 60s. He bought one for me and one for himself. I used mine a few times, but not very often -- it had a tendency to tear fiercely at the top few layers of facial skin. Guido was here just now when I unearthed it from the bottom of the mystery box. We both stood in awe of the precision Swiss beard-cutting gear. We plugged it in, switched it on and got -- nothing.

Oh well. It shall live on, if nowhere else, here in the Macaroni Dish.

Okay, cleaning can be fun -- not only am I finding documentary evidence of interesting and ancient purchases (my first hard drive, a spacious 20MB, bought in 1988 for a mere $238), but also evidence of trips I'd long forgotten, meals at restaurants I would never remember visiting, and long-ago-closed bank accounts at financial institutions that are themselves long-ago-closed.

I'll keep a few choice souvenirs... but all the rest is headed for fiery oblivion.

My schedule has gone way off. I woke up a few hours ago, having fallen asleep on the couch sometime before 6 p.m. I'd been out shopping with Guido. We stopped at his place to play with the new kittens Pastina and Farina. Then back here to drink sake. When he left, I ate. And drank more sake. Then it was 1:30 a.m.

I tried to get back to sleep -- no luck. So i got up, unsure where I should drink the rest of the sake or make a pot of coffee and start the day. I opted for the latter.

So now I'm back to sorting through paperwork -- filling the box of old documents that will be torched, hopefully tomorrow. After all, do I really need 20-year-old credit card receipts?

Wow. I am definitley going to bookmark that random lyrics page. I think it should be my backgroung each day at work. Words to live by. So i returned to work after a 3 week hiatus and its has been quite tedious. I apologize for slacking in my entries because Steve is correct. I think it may be Florida though. There really is no end to stupidity. I could blog twice a day about my drive to work. So where did you get that name from?Barea Rose? please not from sabrina kaufman...........

for the record Fat Joe sprayed Passion By Elizabeth Taylor all over his ass. I remember because i just bought the big bottle with no sprayer on it and he poured it everywhere.
Marisa Circle had a wrestling federation. We met a grants house every saturday morning. He had the ring in his front yard when his dad fenced it in.

Mortadella and peanut butter is a little odd but once again you have chosen to spend your life with a mastandrea so it all fits in. My parents had all of our house on marisa circle wallpapered. I noticed that my dad changed all the light switches and was using a ohm /voltage meter to check it. I picked it up one day, i was 12 at the time, and stuck it in the light switch. I accidently touched positive to the metal box in the wall and shorted out the entire house. As geekette described the entire area around the wallplate was blackened. The wallpaper was white and peach with seafoam green stripping. The tester burned up and melted as well. Tomorrow ill tell you how i acci=dently hit my dad in the head with a hammer. I was wondering if you and Jo-maha could email me your address and phone #. I have not chatted with Joe in a while and i had a voicemail from him when we were in the hospital but i did not get the number. Hopefully i may see you guys some time this year.
I am hoping to visit Ohio when the Breae Rose is ready.

Ellexa is growing i wish she would sleep more but we are getting there

Got lunch just now from Empanada Mama on 9th Avenue. I normally don't venture that far to get lunch (I often work through lunch entirely), but I was curious to try this place. I liked the name. I ordered one beef and one chicken, made with corn flour. As I waited I gazed out the shop window to see that this particular stretch of 9th Avenue, up through the 50s, really hasn't changed much over the years. Directly across the street was Afghan Kebab House. I vaguely recalled our law school days when Alane and I walked south from Lincoln Center one evening to get a kebab dinner at a place that was either Afghani or Uzbeki -- I don't recall.

The memory is murky: though it couldn't be more than 10 or 12 years since we did that, and so much of that old Hell's Kitchen neighborhood is frozen in time, it all seems like so many lifetimes ago.

The empanadas were good.

Alane writes (in an e-mail blast that wasn't much of a blast, given that she doesn't keep a very extensive list of people's e-mail addresses -- so at her request I republish it here)

Hey Everyone--

Sorry for the group call out. I will eventually get settled enough to write or e-mail everyone individually. Do know that I have thought of all you for different reasons since the move.

The boys have settled into school nicely. They both just got report cards. John Paul's declared he was "an outstanding kindergarten citizen" (sounds a little Orwellian to me but hey). Joseph's said it seemed like he had been in the class all year and he fit right in. I know John Paul is much happier with school: not once has he told me it's too long. He even told Joseph that he should have Mrs. Talarczyk for kindergarten. Joseph will soon be having an art show and concert with his class. The art show raises money for the Ronald McDonald house, so I will be able to purchase some of his artwork, if no one outbids me.

Amazingly John and I have found a house. I fell in love with it when I walked in. I have to give John much credit, he really wanted new construction, but was willing to go with this house. It's in a beautiful neighborhood and centrally located. I absolutely cannot wait to move in.

My mom and dad have been amazing. They have really been very helpful. Joseph is their little sidekick because he only has pre-school part of the day. I don't know what I would do without all their help. I have been staying with them and they have been so kind. It's so cool because my mom does the laundry -- she's the best. I wonder if I can continue that deal when we move to the new house...

The job is going well. I thought it would be tough getting back to work, but I guess you never forget that. It's busy and the day flies. Best part is I can start as early as 6:00 am and leave pretty much 8 and 1/2 hours after whatever my starting time was. I sometimes am home by 4:00.

I have met some nice people here already. Our realtor has invited herself over to the house when we move in to make toffee with me. I've never made toffee, but she said she would bring all the stuff so why not?

I'm feeling truly blessed right now. I have a great husband, great kids, great parents and a new home. The only thing missing is my brothers -- but I know they are looking down giving me a cheer.

Wish you well--
Alane

Yes, yes, lots of life-altering stuff in there, and every bit of it is true. But did you notice? Alane actually said something nice about me. In the 20+ years that she's known me, she finally said something nice about me.

That house is worth every dime!

Further proof that mundane everyday life is absurd for Mastandreas: you all did get my address correct, and yet all my December mail was returned to sender. During December my mail key chose to cease working, so I turned in a maintenance report to my Housing Association that I would need a new key and lock cylinder for my mailbox. In retrospect, its funny that I believed this would work when they still haven't replaced the window that was blown in October, but I submitted it...and waited for a week. The following week I started gettting a bit concerned so I left a note on my box for my mailman with my cell number asking if he can kindly call me so that I can meet him there, after all I work during his delivery hours and during December early January, every Saturday seemed occupied. I got no response. So another week goes by and I leave a second note more desperate than the last...to "PLEASE HELP ME, Im paying all my bills over the phone and I didn't get a single Christmas card this year." So now I get my neighbors in on the action, as they wait for him to come and accost him. He says "tell the resident I'm going to take care of it for him...he just needs to go to the Post Office to pick up his mail." Indeed, I went to the Post Office the following Saturday, waited on a line to Spain, and of course they tell me the mail carrier issued a request for 290 Cypress Point to "return to sender". I would like to choke that spiteful bastard...although it would be funny if any of those cards passed through Uncle Vito's hands twice. However the situation is officially corrected, I apologize for those who thought I left town for good. Mark my words: I will have my revenge on the USPS of Palm Beach Gardens.

Our Christmas card to Steve bounced back to us as well a couple of weeks ago. . .we received a total of five undeliverable cards this year. . .a first for us. . .

I spent the day in the garden. . .we had a record high temperature. . .unfortunately we also had gusty south wind which helped to further dry out our already parched soil. But I am really looking forward to fresh peas in the spring, so out I went with my rake and turning fork. . .the turning fork wasn't needed today. . .I am slowing down a bit . . .but if I die in my garden I will be happy ---and--- a source of high-grade loam!

You are welcome for the house rotation. PSP can't do home repairs. I, however, have a 2-year construction tech degree that is about worthless as far as employability, but I do know a few things about home repair, i.e., walls that started out plumb when the builders built the house are not remotely straight when you hang wallpaper a decade or ten decades later. When removing outlet covers from the wall to hang wallpaper, do not leave a two-year-old and a screwdriver alone in the room unless you want to meet firemen. Electrical fires make black soot on freshly hung wallpaper.

Hanging wallpaper on the ceiling is a real test of any relationship.

I was bowling that night becaused I was banished from the house when paperhanging activities were going on. . .something about my insisting that the first strip be hung plumb and being an obsessive b***h.

In tonight's mail: Steve's Christmas card. The one we sent to him. We must've gotten his address wrong; it was stamped "undeliverable."

I have to wonder if that stamp was affixed on the sixth floor of a certain facility...

The dentist found two cavities this morning -- so I go back to his office in a week for serious drilling. Why can't they make tooth-fillings with slow-release flavor? I'd get tiramisu. Or lemon-ice. Or Frangelico.

Better yet, why not an MP3-player tooth-filling? Something that'll play Rammstein to wake you up in the morning. Fishbone when you're eating party food. And "Let's-get-ready-to-rumble!" at mealtimes.

One thing I was able to confirm this morning: after a tortuous session of dental cleaning, that first cup of coffee tastes so good.

Here's a little place we call Berea-Rose. Could it become the next Mastandrea homestead? Can its walls contain all the immense ego-driven conversation? Can its kitchen produce a sufficient number of meatballs? Can its pipes withstand the looming onslaught?

Well, it's not ours yet. But it's looking better. We'll keep the Macaroni Dish updated. We'd have to add few things, of course. Like a clothesline to dry Cookie's mutandes. A crop of escarole. And a rooftop antenna so we can get Wometco Home Theater.

BTW: thanks to Geekette for straightening my crooked photo. Can you make interior home repairs using that app?

Legend has it that Little Vito once used a cucumber to accost a couple of mortadella... but that was in Vegas, and what happens there, you know...

Frylock and I chatted today about how this blog covers the highs and the lows of life. Everything from the dirty details of a rip-roaring night of drunken debauchery to the pathetic portrait of a man sitting alone in his kitchen, wearing just boxers and a wife-beater, eating leftover chicken from a pot.

It's not any one anecdote that matters -- it's how we span the gamut!

And I was so pleased to find today that the Morrissey Random Lyric Generator is still up and running. I remember laughing over that thing back in the Law Journal days. Gosh, that was almost 10 years ago. Is the Web really that old?

Wow.

J-omaha is out with college buddies tonight. . .I am home eating a bowl of Cheerios. . .and yeah, it's because I don't want to dirty up all the pots and pans just cooking for me. . . .Your chicken dish sounds good, John, but when it's just me I revert to cold cereal or simple things. . .like mortadella and peanut butter sandwiches (if there is a cucumber in the fridge, I often add that to it as well). . .now if that isn't enough to put you all in to the mood to diet, I don't know what will.

I was looking for a blog and then I found Steve's blog... and heaven knows I'm miserable now.

THIS BLOG NEEDS AN ENEMA!!!

I told John I would begin tonight's entry as a public call to arms: Mastandreas take up they keyboard and blog. We all know that a Mastandrea sees more bizarre sights in an hour than the average man sees in a lifetime...and we have been fortunate to have so many amazing stories passed down orally from our parents and grandparents , but the blog provides a guarantee that our stories never stop being passed down. So lets share our lives, even if your life seems like its uneventful...those who love you want to hear you.

And I hate to bring this up, when you don't blog, John turns into Morrissey..just today I distinctly heard him singing: "I was posting on the blog and then I read the blog...and heaven knows I'm miserable now".

Speaking of Morrissey, did I mention I got the greatest gift of all time today....and I'm serious: a genuine Morrissey watch which made it to me from Hong Kong. Who knew he was such a star there? I seriously can't wait to show it off. Also wanted to mention that this Sunday I'll be going to the WWE Royal Rumble. I'm thinking of taking My Four Horsemen mask and seeing if I can maybe get into the ring. Which brings me to my next topic: those who know me, know along with my desire to drive the Weinermobile, my other lifelong dream is to possess a championship belt. I secretly wish that instead of a diploma, highschool and college graduates were presented a championship belt...that way I'd have more than one that I could alternate on different days of the week. My Uncle Andy has a belt that resembles a championship belt. Anyway, Im at BazzukaJoe's house right now and therefore don't want to hog up his computer for too long. But I'm gonna finish with one last thought...one time back during the wonder years on Marisa Circle, Joe Sarcona (aka Joe Shtrimps) passed some particularly nauseating methane gas in our family rec room and in his infinite wisdom, tried to dull the smell by pouring bottled cologne directly onto his ass. The result? A room that smelled of shit and Cool Water. He apparently thought this would be less embarassing than simply admitting to a fart...luckily with Mark Ward, Chris Grant, BazzukaJoe and I in the room, we helped him recognize his error. I'm outta here. G'nite all.

Cooking for one is blowjhinski. Tonight I stopped at CVS in Bronxville on my way home. Alane left a prescription there... In 2005. They'd already put it back into inventory, so I had to wait for them to refill it. Then I went to Food Emporium to get some basics, then to the wine shop to see if they had any Lusignian -- a dessert wine made in Armenia and bottled in Cyprus. Had some at Andre's on Saturday. It is not to be found in Bronxville. So I got the biggest bottle I could find of the cheapest vermouth on the shelf. And I lugged the whole load to Tuckahoe, one short mile away.

In the refrigerator was chicken that I'd packed last night in the mustard-flavored salad ddressing that was lousy on salad but great as a marinade. I pan-browned the chicken, parked it in the oven for a few minutes, then back to the stovetop to add some spinach leaves for the last minute. I put it all atop white rice from the rice-cooker. Not bad... But it sure makes a lot of commotion (and a lot of dirty dishes) when the only person eating is me.

Should this have gone onto Pugliese Table?

No matter. I'm sitting here now with a rum-and-coke (still trying to polish off the holiday spirits). One of those really annoying Ameriprise commercials is on the TV -- the commercials that pander to baby-boomer nostalgia. I despise baby boomers. And their 60s nonsense. I'm just about ready to pull my investments from Ameriprise. Because I hate their ad campaign. And because they won't insure our new house (maybe they're onto something -- even we are starting to wonder if this house is more of a death-trap than we wanted).

The rum is now gone. Bring on the cheap vermouth!

This afternoon I jogged northward, out past Crestwood and up to the Leewood intersection (going southward toward Bronxville you never know who's going to drive by and mock the color of your sweatshirt). The woods got a real beatin' from last week's windstorm -- lots of fallen branches and downed trees strewn alongside the path. Makes me wish I already had a fireplace... one that didn't require several thousan dollars of repairs... oh, and a pickup truck... and I suppose I'd need a chainsaw too.

Okay, forget it. I'll do like Guido and burn chemical logs. And financial documents -- I got boxes of ancient phone bills and credit card receipts and I really need a shredder. Or a fire.

Also being discarded this weekend is a stack of old VHS tapes. Among them: the infamous tape of the Fishbone concert that was broadcast on HBO some dozen-or-so years ago. Bazzukajoe and Frylock stayed up late that night to tape it for me, and as they watched they wondered... "Why would anyone want a copy of this?"

Alas, the tape had deteriorated over the years -- the video had become too jumpy and unstable for me to capture any of it to computer file (like I did for several other choice clips, heh heh).

Next challenge: convincing Andre to do a DVD conversion of that Betamax tape we made of ourselves having that barbecue in his Queens backyard in February 1984. There's gotta be blackmail-quality footage of somebody in there... someone hopefully not me.

It's been trying to snow here for two days. The only one happy about it is our long-coated Akita, Tarka.

Just got back from the Beefsteak -- what a night. Every year the crowd seems to grow larger. But the class of 1984... what a bunch of deadbeats. Just Ed and Andy and myself. Sure, Mike called to send his regrets. And he passed along the regrets of Rich. And Andre couldn't come because he's gotta prep for Alexa's birthday party -- I understand all that. But c'mon. As for class fo 1982, yeah, we had a few. I got a chance to catch up with Kevin and tell him of my impending move (he knew this would happen). He and I exited the building together when it alll wrapped up. We accosted some X-Squad members who were congregating on the corner of 16th and 5th, and then met up with two grads from the 70s... We struck up conversation with them and followed them to Union Square where we met up with their wives and somehow found our way into a loud downstairs bar. There we drank even more, talking over the loud music, glorying in ancient tradition. I was drinking way too much wine and finally excused myself to go find the subway. On the IRT to Grand Central I caught my reflection in the window of the door -- I remember thinking my head looked very much like a slab of lunchmeat. A mortadella with eyeglasses. I also remember thinking: "Wow, I really need to take a piss." I took care of that on the Metro North train -- you gotta love those little restrooms. The Beefsteak Dinner was surprisingly tame this year. Not a lot of animalistic grunting when the beef was served. And the one woman brought along as a guest this year (there's always at least one) did not seem to lost and frightened. People asked about Joe-maha -- I reported to them the limoncello incident. I owe Kevin even more drinks by now. But all in all a good time was had by all... and I... I need to drink some more water because I'm going to have a huge headache when I wake up in a few hours.

Grammar, schmammar. . .

While I am the first to admit I make grammatical errors both in speech and in written word. . .it struck me as ironic that the Omaha Public Library would have it's volunteers wearing buttons that say, "Can I help you?" I thought libraries existed to promote literacy. That's what I get for thinking.

We got some crazy weather today, boy. Lots of wind and rain to mess up the morning commute.

It was only this week that the news reported Metro North Railroad's excellent on-time record. So it shouldn't have been surprising that the weather would try to louse that up by knocking down a tree in the Bronx.

A tree in the Bronx? Since when are there trees in the Bronx? And how long does it take to haul fallen tree off the tracks so service can be restored?

All I know is this: I got to the train station at a bit after 8 a.m. and noticed an unusally large crowd -- telling me at least one train had already been cancelled. The wind was howling, and the rain had already moistened my clothing (it was the kind of morning when a car drives by and splashes puddle-water onto your pants -- which happened to me on Lake Street, starting the day off right). With no trains rolling, I decided to return home. It was raining harder by then. My $3 umbrella was woefully inadequate.

The television news reported the service suspension. I was annoyed because I'm signed up for MNR's e-mail alert service -- which would've sent a message to my cell-phone. That would've saved me a trip to the station, if only they had sent an actual message.

So I got comfortable. I got online, e-mailed the office, then went to the kitchen to make some turkish coffee and toast. Then back to check on office issues and get more news reports -- service had been restored. I went to the MNR website to learn that the schedule for the rest of the morning had changed -- a new timetable was posted. I read it. There would be a train at 10:20. My pants were mostly dry by then. I packed up my papers (again), put on my coat (again) and left for the station.

There was no train at 10:20. I stood in the mist of the wind-driven rain for about a half-hour before a train arrived. It made every single stop between Tuckahoe and Grand Central.

The final indignity: the train platformed on Grand Central's lower level -- which adds about five minutes to the time it takes to fight your way out of the station.

It's just another reason why I'm glad to be leaving New York. In fact, I expect that will be a recurring theme on the Macaroni Dish over the next few months. Why do I need to get out of here? Let me count that ways.

Oh, and I did ultimately get a service alert e-mail. It was time-stamped 9:51 a.m. -- too late to have been any use. The message got to my mailbox at exactly 3:04 p.m.

Like clockwork.

Today I finally announced to staff and colleagues my impending move, freeing me to talk about the whole more openly on the blog. And now that I'm able to break radio silence I find I don't have anything in particular to say about it. Except to say that everything is moving right along: some parts quickly, other parts in slow motion. It's quiet here without the chimps. Too quiet. I should be drinking right now, but I am out of vermouth.

Guido took me food shopping over the weekend. We did not see any bizarre people. That's rare -- they are usually drawn to us, like flies to shit. Maybe next time we shop. I know this: we won't be shopping for Borsci. Unless I have paintbrushes that need cleaning.

This Friday is the Beefsteak Dinner at Xavier. I'll do my drinking there. I'll do everyone's drinking there. I love Xavier events. They usually start with a Mass that's packed, celebrated by some old Jesuit who forces us to sing hymns -- and we do. Then we traipse through the gym, with a basketball game under way, to get to Larkin Hall because that's where the alcohol is. There we find more Jesuits, already warmed up near the keg(s). We drink. More people congregate. Larkin Hall fills. Eventually there is an announcement: everyone please take a seat. We noisily migrate to tables, stopping to load up with more drinks. More announcements: a prayer (the only portion of the spoken remarks that earns any amount of respectful attention) then welcomes, more announcements, etc., etc. We sit. There is paper placeware and a small wilted salad in a plastic bowl. We push that away. We look around, trying to find the one ass-hole who decided to bring his girlfriend/wife to this decidedly male event. There's at least one such jerk every year. We spot the poor bewildered woman -- and we note how she is surrounded by other alumni busily and sloppily flirting with her. Because Xavier alumni still don't know how to act around women. Then the beef comes out: trays of it, thin slices of london broil perched atop a thin slice of french bread. The caterers carry trays to each table, lower them into the midst of the angry howling mob, and with lots of grunting and jockeying, we take beef and eat it. This process repeats itself, with lots of lunging and grabbing and shouting at caterers who pass one's table on their way to serve another. When the caterers can walk the room with a tray of beef without being assailed, beef-time is declared over. Ice cream and coffee are brought out. Drunk men stand around eating little cups of ice cream as they either bid farewell to their chums or negotiate plans to extend the night's merriment at some neighborhood bar.

And that's how the Beefsteak goes. I missed last year's because my busted spine made it impossible for me to go anywhere and enjoy myself. So this year I'll be trying to make up for lost time. And that can only be bad.

In the run-up to the holidays, Alane picked up a bottle of Borsci, a digestif that I had never heard of but that some old Italian ladies were raving about in the liquor shop. We brought it upstairs on Christmas Eve but forgot to open it after th meal. We dug out the bottle over the weekend and finally had a taste.

The stuff was perfectly awful. It tasted a bit like a benzine eggnog, with a burning-tire finish. I thought perhaps the stuff had gone bad. Or that a cabinet-maker had washed his lacquer-brushes in the solution.

Fortunately, it ate a hole in the side of my paper cup before I had to finish my portion. Which reminded us of Christmas Eve 1987, when Mike Yee and I stopped to see Guido and his mom on our way to Brooklyn. She brought out a bottle of wicked grappa and poured out a small glass for each of us. Mike sipped it, nodded his head as if to say "thank you!" but as soon as she wasn't looking he poured it out into the potted plant.

A few months back we finished off the last of that grappa. Cork and all, it still tasted as bad.

"Mr. Corleone is Johnny's godfather. To the Italian people, that is a very religious, sacred, close relationship."----------------Tom Hagen, "Godfather Pt.1

I was extremely surprised...but absolutely thrilled on Saturday to be asked by BazzukaJoe and Jess to be Ellexa's godfather. I of course, proudly accepted. This is my first time in this role...I am not sure if its kinda like being Joey's underboss...instead I think Tom Hagen's above statement to Wolz pretty much says it best. Congratulations also go out to Jessica's sister Heidi, who will be Ellexa's godmother. Thanks again to Joey and Jess, for bestowing upon me such an amazing honor.

By the way this weekend I went to the South Florida Fair and there was a Magnum PI ride....think about this now, a spinning ride based solely on an 80s TV show with Tom Selleck ( I took a pic, Ill have to post it.) Also saw the world's tiniest woman, luckily for Alane we were not allowed to take a picture. Funny stuff. Catcha you all a litttle later.

We never created any such folklore on 38th Street. Aside from us cousins, I don't remember socializing much with anyone in the area (was there anyone our age in the area?).

It got cold around here today, a real bummer after about a week of mild temperatures. Last night the rain turned to ice, so walking to Mass this morning was a lot like a winter Olympic event (no, probably more exciting than that). There were several times I came close to falling on my ass -- but all was well thanks to my goat-like balance.

My eyes have improved greatly since yesterday: no more goop forming concrete crusties along the edges of my eyelids. All in all, it was two days of nastiness -- followed by a full day (today) of washing all clothing and bedding to try to eliminate the vicious microbes.

Joe, you skipped the best part of infamous Gilly-Hornet Nest debacle. I returned with Vinny Lia to his house afterwards to seek him some medical attention, when he showed his mother (her name was Santa) his sting-covered face she shouted "WHATTAYOODOO??!!" and then slapped him right in the cheek that was smothered in hornet bites. I felt bad...but not bad enough to leave the house hysterically laughing. As for the Colorio-Serafino incident, I'm not sure I considered it "squaring off", as much as an Italian psychopath dragging around a harmless kid by his collar until he was a red shirtless mess. Funniest part of that event was how it began, Paul Serafino's tank-top ripped at the seam, making him look like Tarzan...and it was all of us laughing at him that made him lose his temper and attack poor Joe. Another golden oldie was Mike Lomenzo and his "Ex-Stinkquisher"...the crazy bastard filled a fire extinguisher with eggs, mayo, ketchup, mustard, vinegar, baking soda, pickle juice, and his pee and then let it ferment for a year to spray people with on Halloween. His first victim was Gerard "Ge-head" Holden in front our house...Vito Caravella Sr. coincidentally was present at thae moment of detonation. The smell was so unbelievably vile that Vito Caravella reacted like one of Curtis Sliwa's Guardian Angels....he jumped up and wrestled the extinguisher from Mike's hands and said "You're not spraying that again...you pineapple!" (already he didnt say pineapple but I wish he did) I have about a million more stories, just not enough time or space. Whenever I pick back up the novel I put down to years ago, we'll be able to share them all. Till then we'll have to settle for one or two at a time on our wonderful little blog here. By the way Joe, Im trying to think about the kid with glasses and I'm coming up empty...was it Vinny Carubba? I can give you a list a names: Paul Greco, Sal Linea, the Lia Twins, JJ, Stinky Paul, Vinny "Tits" Imparata, Robert Teetsel (who owns some all time great Marisa stories) "Shicken" Vanderbilt, Mark Ward, Joe Crotch, Chris Grant, The Campagna Bros. (who also own some good stories).....well im outta time....were goin to the Fair now.

Good Luck with the new job. 6am is a bit early. Does that mean you go home really early, because that would be a pay off. I have heard a new domicile may be on the horizon, so we cross our fingers in anticipation. I go back to work monday. I anticipate it not being a good day.

That's intresting that you view your years on Marisa Circle as the wonder years. I do as well. I find myself blocking out 38th street completely from my mind. I remember the "Baio Incident." The Fatone brothers spent many weekends on Marisa Circle. I remember watching this moron Gily throw a brick at an enormous beehive hanging near the 1st base line on the ball field at Sleepy hollow Inn. Neither exist any longer. The beehive split in half and fell next to Vinnie Lia and this other kid whose name escapes me. He wore glasses. Steve? Anyway we all stood in amazement behind the foul wall as the swarm chased both of these guys all over the field. You could see it like in a cartoon. They had stings all over thier faces. That ball field saw many interesting games. Steve, remember Joe Calorio and Paul Serafino squring off during a football game?
Wow.
So we took the baby to the doctor. She recieved her first shot. Jessica cried. She peed all over my clothes. And the doctor said "perfect". She is normal all around except that her head is slightly small for her size but that is also normal. Now i am not a doctor but that is not a mastandrea normal (is that an oxymoron) There are certain standards that we see as understood in our DNA. Perhaps we have been mistaken. Is it a trait only passed on in the male genetic code. We know the thick head and scorching sarcasm is not only passed to the males. That has been witnessed. Does the head only get passed in the male code? Are there mastandrea women with large neanderthal like cranial attributes? I cannot think of any. Can anyone else?

Things here are going pretty well. I have returned to the work force and so far the job is not too bad. Although I have been in training all week and I am quite certain that my trainers think I suffer from narcolepsy as I tend to drift off. This is quite noticeable as I am the only person in training. People around here appparently believe the earlier the better when it comes to work and most people start work at 8:00 am. At my offfice I can start work as earlier as 6:00 a.m. I have been getting in between 7:00 and 7:30 and it is painful.

Ellexa is a most adorable baby. She seems so alert in the pictures. Hope she is sleeping well for you all.

Your mention of Scott Baio instantly transported me back to my "wonder years" back on Marisa Circle. Particularly because Scott's cousin, Jennifer Baio lived on our block...a fact none of us ever realized was of any importance.....except for one person....in an unprecedented twist of irony, Broadway Joe continues to boast how back in 1987 he made out with Jen Baio while Eric Carmen's "Turn The Radio Up" blasted on the radio. (And yes I just called him to confirm the actual song) Today, whenever the song plays on the radio a huge grin develops on his face...and he will proudly recount his day of glory.

I dreamt that Scott Baio gave me pink-eye. So when I woke up and pried open my streusel-encrusted eyelids, I thought "maybe it was just a dream." But after a few hours at the office I finally admitted to myself it was the real deal and came home (stopping first at Rafiqi's halal meat cart outside Grand Central for a tasty gyro platter to eat on the train -- I was hungry). So now I'm using Mojo's meds and hoping to sleep off the sore throat I've been enduring pretty much all week.

Ellexa is one of the prettiest newborns I have ever seen! It is remarkable that she has learned to rollover already. . .I suspect she is as bright as can be, too, and will be both a challenge and a blessing in your lives.
I tried to take the yellow cast off her face that the digital camera put in from the yellow jumpsuit. The first try didn't take enough of it off, so I re-did the image this afternoon and took another hour of sampling and tooling it. . .still not perfect like she is, though. . .sorry. . .it's all my neck and head can take. . .

Ellexa is beautiful. She gazes into the camera with that "bring me ravioli" look on her face and I can tell right away she means business. That's why she taught herself to roll onto her stomach: you can't very well eat broccoli rabe reclined on your back.

WOW. Is bout all there is. It is the only word to describe that suite. I have viewed some of the photography from the Broadway Joe Experience. Quite impressive. I like the bowling alley. Nice touch. Seemed like an action packed trip as most with broadway Joe turn out to be.
So Ellexa has gained over a pound in a week and has actually rolled over on her stomach.
Pretty cool. She cannot wait to meet JohnPaul and Jojo.

Soooooooo.................

This morning AOL had an article on that hotel room Broadway Joe and I stayed in, if you wanna see some pics of it.......click here

Obviously, if the ladies in question were well-endowed, they didn't dribble the ball down the court or they would have blacked their own eyes bouncin'. . .it's why I never took up jogging.

Topless basketball? Can't say I ever saw such sport. I did once watch an all-nude volleyball game on a beach.

Talk about working on your spike...

I got no photos.

Fact 1: Broadway Joe and I took a 3 day sojourn to Las Vegas this past weekend.

I always enjoy how the Broadway Joe vacation transpires, I was informed Thursday afternoon that we would be leaving...tomorrow. He also warned that this trip would most likely be uneventful, just the three of us (his friend Fabio would be joining us) having a few drinks and laughs at the hotel and casino. It sounded perfect to me. That said, I am going to continue listing the facts of the weekend and you can decide if his estimation was accurate.

Fact 2. We had two rooms at the Palms Hotel: one was the $50,000 per night Hardwood Suite, which at 10,000 sq. ft. had five bedrooms and its own basketball court, the other room was the three bedroom penthouse suite....you know just in case there wasn't enough room for the three of us.

Fact 3. George Maloof, the zillionaire owner of the Palms Hotel LOVES my cousin Joe, and therefore chose to accompany us to every club and party we attended. If I ever I was foolish enough to think celebrities get the best royal treatment...actually billionaire hotel magnates get much much more. I never ordered a drink, everywhere we went they simply rolled a liquor cart over to me, and allowed me to pour my own.

Fact 4. Tommy Lee, the Motley Crue drummer was very jealous we had the Hardwood Suite and seemed to also follow us everywhere we went (not because he enjoyed Broadway Joe's company but instead to freeload off of George Maloof, who paid him little mind.) But anyway Tommy did come to our suite one night, with his dirtbag entourage to have a few drinks and shoot a few hoops. In a matter of minutes there were two topless women shooting from the three point line. Broadway Joe and I have never been sports fans, but we both agreed it was the first time in either one of our 29 years that a basketball game had grabbed our attention. You're probably wondering did Frylock grab his camera and take a digital picture? As Big Vin would say..."You betcher ass"

Fact 5. We consumed an unholy amount of alcohol this weekend...and so there remains a few mysteries. Like why I have Derek Jeter's cell number in my phone...I'm not sure when I'll ever use it....or why he decided I should have it. (Although to his credit he was pretty cool dude.) I was actually thinking I should share it with Uncle Vito so he can discuss the future of the organization with the Yankee Captain.

Fact 6. I was at a craps table with Xzibit, Tommy Lee, Broadway Joe, and the twins from Good Charlotte....two hours later I was at a club with Puff Daddy and Derek Jeter (alright so I took a picture of that too, but it wasn't because I was starstruck....I just thought it was ridiculous.)

Fact 7. There is no sleep in Vegas. Talk about efficiency...I felt like I was gone two weeks, when I in fact only missed five hours of work on Friday. Between the five day period of Thursday through Monday I slept a combined total of 7 hours including power naps....before collapsing around eleven on Monday night. Sunday we took a redeye to Orlando, I drove two hours to Jupiter and worked the full eight hour day....with a huge goofy ass smile upon my face.

Fact 8. Needless to say, the public nature of the blog prohibits me from providing details of the more risque events I may...or may not have witnessed. If your curiosity is piqued, feel free to give me a call I'd be more than happy to share...John this especially means you. (I'll preface this with Yes, the Adult Film Awards was held in Vegas this weekend and NO, we did not attend it. But I did see some interesting folks in the hotel and airport)

Fact 9. This weekend could only be described as surreal...and yet flying home instead of reflecting upon it....all I thought about was seeing my baby niece. No vacation could ever be more amazing than that.

Cookie and Mojo have had innumerable adventures now with Sonic and his cohorts. They are quite the experts at running, jumping, grinding, and light-dashing through some wild arrays of traps, monsters, and "crazy gadgets" (as Cookie just described them). Thanks to Santa Claus (all you people), they have a tall stack of game disks -- many of them Sonic. Alane has now taken to warning them about playing too much, specifically the danger of not getting enough exercise.

In response I heard one them say yesterday: "But it's good finger exercise."

Ah, I see these games have not only developed their eye/hand coordination but also their negotiation skills (though perhaps those didn't need any further honing).

That's the best-dressed baby I've seen in a long time. I'm envisioning a new set of casual wear featuring a photo of the Big Kahuna's eyes and the simple statement: "Vin Sees All."

The new photo is so cute! The program I use is Paint Shop Pro by JASC . . .but it was recently purchased by Corel, so I don't know about the new version. Version Nine is not automatic as in 'one step' but it's also the program I use with my Wacom tablet to draw and I find it much easier than when I used Illustrator and Photoshop.

That looks great. Exactly what program did you use. Adobe Photoshop is all manual so it takes much time for perfection. If yours is automatic i would love to know what it is you used. The horsemen picture was taken on a sub standadrd less than a megapixel video camera snapshot. I await the title i think i may need it.

Well John i took a picture just for you...........
What WOULD Vito do?

I am not sure this is much improvement

I like the photo enhancements. You're right -- digital cameras tend to give you uneven results. Your pixel-laundry seems to work great. Now, is there anything you can do to fix the image of the FOUR FRIGGIN' MANIACS depicted in that other photo?

Or maybe it's not the camera's fault that they look so completely insane?

Please forgive me if I have goofed up. . .I took the pictures to an imaging software package I use and adjusted them for color balance, (digital cameras focus on the brightest spot in the picture, darkening everything else) . . .digital noise reduction and all that jazz . . .and here are the results. . .I will immediately remove the post if any one is unhappy with it and beg your forgiveness . . .she is a beautiful little girl! (I am green with envy. . .*smile*)

THE 4 Horsemen
could this be a new dynasty?

Soooooo. If anyone was interested yes i did
go inside the operating room when my daughter was born. i actually was suited up in the get up to the right. It was 1:34am
by the time the OR was ready for us. Apparently trauma hawk patients are more important. A gun shot wounded 16 year old went ahead of us. So we wait. from 6pm till 1:00 am. We finally are going in. i suit up. i wait. no cameras in th operating room? Damn you! i wait some more. They forget i am waiting to come in and begin the surgery. As i enter i see the incision. Wow. When it is all done i walk the baby out to her adoring fans. They created a roadblock forcing them to stop the transfer for a few minutes of photos and love.

Oh, baby! That's quite a Mastandrea head she has there -- which is appropriate because her brain will soon be producing Mastandrea thoughts. Be afraid. And now that Ellexa is home, I repeat the advice I offered when Bazzukajoe when he first told me he had a baby on the way:

Gather together all the nice stuff you own, put it all in the center of the room, and break it all. Breaking all that stuff now simply saves time -- it's going to get broken anyway. And at least you'll have the satisfaction of having done it yourself.

Or maybe it's different with a girl?

We're in Ohio this week -- I was up early this morning listening to AM radio to catch a few waves of Curtis Sliwa starting his morning show on WABC. That'll fade with daybreak (stays dark here until about 7 a.m. this time of year).

I believe it was the bully from Christmas story who said "Say Uncle....SAY UNCLE!"

Well. There are stories to tell. I will begin with:
Ellexa Carin was born at 1:34 am on dec. 29th, 2005
She weighed in at 8lbs 10 ounces. And as you can see
she is very mastandrea in the looks department. She is
home as of today and doing great.