Is Cookie destined to be a geneticist?

Has Joe-maha ever gotten his complimentary Play-Doh to stand at attention?

Will Frylock ever get that spatula pried from his grasping fist?

There was a thunderstorm this afternoon that knocked out power for more than two hours, giving Dr. Sfingi some time away from work. I read the newspaper. And listened to the boys fight.

I'm attempting to refinish our 40-something-year-old dining room table -- it is in the basement broken down into its component parts. I applied caustic stripping solution to its surface over the weekend with limited success. Tonight I bought wood chisels at K-Mart (sucks) and spent a good part of the evening giving the table's claw-feet a much-needed pedicure. I've reached the bare wood of one claw foot -- which started out a size 9 EEE and is now more like a 7 narrow-width. This project should only take me a few years. We'll eat off milk crates until then.

Ree speaks the truth, this weekend I spearheaded Operation Kahuna-Grill with the same determination and unbridled tenacity that fueled General Patton . Indeed, without fear I faced my worthy opponents: spareribs, steaks, chicken breast, Boars Head franks, burgers and even Portabello mushrooms (a welcome contribution made by Al-Molly-Gwenya) and emerged victorious. While at the helm of the Starship Char-Broil, my tone was so solemn that it led Peech un' Molly to comment "Wow, you're really serious when you do this". My reply" "its a duty that cannot be taken lightly" You see when one is called to the grill in our family its like receiving Holy Orders...you answer to a higher power...in this case, the Mastandrea Digestive System.

Anyway, I'm surprised Ree didn't mention my vegetable choice. My mother asked me to bring some type of green veggie, and as I scanned the produce section came across that strange mutant hybrid known as "Broccoflower". It was delicious. It was so good, that believe they should add a mutant hero to the new X-men movie and name him Broccoflower.

Wow!I almost forgot it was a holiday weekend. Thanks for the reminder everyone of what families do on holidays.

Joe was home sick from Friday through Monday. He still is sick, but he went to work and to spread the bug around so that his misery has miserable company.

I alternately worked outside in our tick-infested yard and laid about watching Buffy the Vampire DVDs. After breaking the lawnmower that was just returned from the shop, I decided my day wouldn't be complete without getting tick bites weeding the three poor sad blueberries that are struggling to remain alive after the other eight died.

I am only about five years or so behind on TV pop culture, (I can pause them and go do something else, come back and finish an episode later.)

I am up-to-date with the Dresden Files books which have just been picked up by the Sci-Fi channel for several episodes. Joe calls the author 'the butcher.' I only read him one gory scene and he now thinks that I read them for the raunchy stuff.

I have to admit I do watch all kinds of DVDs and critique the moulage/FX. I interrupted Joe's computer reading yesterday saying, 'come see this' or 'we could do that better' or 'look at the mottling of that bruise' or wow, 'they mixed 24-48 hour old bruises with fresh bruises' or 'man, I wish I could get shock stick to work like that on lips' or 'great moulage but they missed his ear. . .it's a corpse with half a pink ear.'
Sick and twisted. But he likes me just the same and even once came out of his computer room to look at one of the dead guys a demon slayed.

Uh, I guess I am weird, but I have never considered rubbing supprasatta skin between someones toes. That's a whole new kind of wild fun.

Give our best to the family where ever they are. We loved our visit 'home' to Spumoni South. We missed those who were unable to make the trip. Someday, perhaps we will all get there at the same time. Wow, I am getting all choked up blogging that.

Ree has returned to the Macaroni Dish, causing happiness to erupt across the countryside. Did she mention that her Memorial Day involved meats grilled over an open flame? During a brief conversation with Big Kahuna last night I was led to believe that Frylock has somehow become one with the Weber grill that sits poolside at Spumoni South. His belly a firepit, his teeth a grill. His left hand has become a set of extended tongs; his right arm has flattened into a spatula. He now communicates only through smoke signals... and a rudimentary version of Morse Code that substitutes roasted peppers and grills zucchini for the dots and dashes.

Thank you all for starting my morning with laughs.

Now I'll be thinking about Scott Gordon's garage sale all day. I'm glad it didn't all end at WHT.

I don't know where I heard it but rubbing supprasatta skin between someones toes is one of the funniest things I've ever heard. My mind immediately went to Frylock's presentation of an old fashioned home remedy to break a fever. Speaking of that post, I'll never forget the summary judgement of the "garbage water canoe trip" as rendered at Steve's surprise party - Boat 1, Balls 0. Thanks for blogging, Ree, and reminding me that as sick as I was this weekend, at least I got better without a suppository!

Alane, I don't know if it's the "big heads" genes but that sounds like a pretty normal night to me

Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust. Mugsy from the Uncle Floyd Show seemed to be saying that too, albeit a couple of years after the Clash.

It sure got hot today at Berea-Rose. After the parade at the town square I set up the sprinkler for the boys on the back lawn. I made perdiodic trips to the basement to start the project of refinishing the dining room table -- at least it was cooler down there.

By phone, Guido informed me that it is hot in New York too. "NASA hot," he said. At least he's getting thunderstorms to cool things off. We gave in a short while ago and turned on the A/C.

It's about time.
I've been wondering why my stomach has been feeling so uneasy. Was it the delicious barbeque food Frylock and Molly Goldberg made today or was it because I haven't dropped a blog in a while?

Before I forget, I'd like to blow kisses to the families living in Nebraska and Ohio. I miss you all so much!

Now for the blog...

Let me start off by saying Happy Memorial Day!
I hope all of you have been enjoying your grilled Bell Peppers, Steak, Cervalatta (according to the Vincenzo Chapter of the Encyclopedia Mastandrea) and Vermouth. I personally spent my Memorial Day doing one of the best things one can do ... watching Ellexa. No offense to those who were in the armed forces, but this year I feel incredibly honored to have, by sheer luck, supported the women who raised the children during the war for most of the day. Lord knows later on a toast when to the VinMan for his infallible cooking and baking skills in Germany during the Vietnam War. I felt very complete afterwards. Later on, we decided to play the Music Scene It? DVD Game. Pretty impressive I must say. I would like the let Frylock know that I bought that for him so that I can witness a ringing performance on his part against the evil Mr. Morbidity (is that Irish?). I know he won't let me down.
So all in all it was a pretty good day! Better than spending hours watching a marathon of the Pet Psychic. That old hag needs to be beaten by Bea Arthur while Tony Danza rubs supprasatta skin in between her toes. But you didn't hear that from me. " Mr. El Slabrador doesn't like it when you add dryer sheets when his green cardigan goes through the permanent press ..." Gimme a break. What happened to the rugged awesome pets? Speaking of which ... I wish to give a nice blogging kiss to Tarka, that amazing pup!

Wow! This blogging stuff really works. I feel better now. I was afraid that if I didn't post soon, there would be a suppository involved.

Belated Birthday wishes to Joe and Steve! I am once again very jealous to have missed such festivities. While you all were having a good time, I was tending the chimpz as John attempted to return the Tuckahoe apartment to normal. An impossible task if ever there was one.

For a couple of nights while John was away, we stayed at my folks. Whenever this happens the boys insist on staying in the same room as me and usually on the same bed. This night Mojo had decided to stay awake later than Cookie and I because he did not have school or work like Cookie and I. I informed the beast boy that when he came to bed he should be quiet. About 20 minutes after going to sleep, Mojo comes in. He lies down and immediately Cookie is saying stop it, I'm trying to sleep. I ask what's going on and Mojo is bothering Cookie by touching his head. I tell Mojo to cease and desist. Mojo says that he must touch someone to sleep. I say fine--touch me. Then Mojo says, No I need to touch a little person. To which I answered, If you dont stop, I will have to touch your butt. So, then Mojo starts singing Lala la, because he needs to do that to sleep. Finally, he stops. Then Cookie looses the important book mark that says, He is risen! and insists he cant sleep without it. So he goes under the bed and manages to get his head wedged. He starts screaming like a maniac and kicking his little feet like mad. I have to lift the bed of his head. It was insane. I must go now the chimpz are here bothering me.

I have arrived safely at Berea-Rose, getting here in the early evening, unloading the car, playing with Da Chimpz, munching some pizza, then putting said Chimpz to bed.

Now I'm outside on my back patio checking the web. Now that I only have one address (having turned in my Tuckahoe keys in a sad and dougnut-heavy ceremony this morning) I hope to have more time for blogging.

Oh, and BTW -- the cops were out in force today all along Interstate 80. Never saw so many pulled-over vehicles on one trip. Good thing I "drive like a grandma" as Guido would mockingly say. Before screaming out the window. And hitting me on the side of the head with a summer-sausage.

A bolt of lightening struck our house last night. Was that ever a creep-fest! The whole place smelled of ozone and Tarka was literally scared sh!tless and we had to clean the carpet. The lights went off, the server re-booted (and it runs Linux, so you know it took a powerful hit) and all the uninterruptable power supplies in the house beeped at once.

I hope that we get enough rain out of the front moving through that it takes us out of the Palmer Drought Survey. Even a designation of D0 is no fun when it comes to gardening and water use. The one thing I don't understand is how a 75 year graph works (well, yes, I do, but read on.) If NE 6 (us) is only normal 30% of the time, how does that remain "normal?" Doesn't that mean a new normal baseline should be in effect?

And yes, I am not only a computer geek, but also a weather geek and the weather channel is the one watched most often on the TV here. I can't watch TV for any length of time because of the head/neck injury but I do watch it for the weather.

I used to leave the TV on the Animal Planet thinking that it would be good company for Tarka when I was leaving the house. The plan back-fired on me when it became a discriminative cue. Now when I turn on the Animal planet she blocks the door so I can't leave without taking her or making a fast turn around and running for the front door that we seldom use because the porch is unstable and in need of repair.

Now I just leave the stereo on classical music when I leave the house. Dogs are more relaxed and well-behaved when listening to classical music. I listen to pretty much all types of music, but apparently Tarka, if she is like the test group, would prefer I listen to Bach.

I may not be the best lawyer on this blog, but I think it's good advice to a murder defendant to not try to murder his defense counsel in open court. Or is that advice self-serving?

Still not as dangerous as practicing family law.

There is nothing wrong with the Buckeyed State, I live in the Cockeyed State. Joey's birthday was a blast, some of his presents included bright red Nikes, a cat mask so he can play with Gracie, a box cutter which he used to open up his new IPOD, the knife read: cutter knif, a set of breakfast food magnets, a whisk magnet, a creepy notebook with a little boy with glittery angel wings, Deception Point, a Barnes&Noble gc, and some dough. Oh, and a nice size knish. I'm still partial to the square pillow knishes versus the the pin cushion knishes, but they were devoured at any rate. The entire staff and clientele at TooJay's detested us. I can't blame them there was hours worth of toilet humor at an unreasonable volume.

"Cleveland? You don't move to Cleveland; you get traded to Cleveland."

That keen observation was made by the long-lost friend I ran into on 52nd Street this morning. I was telling him of my pending relocation -- news that I never really disseminated in any methodical way. So I'll use this blog post as a start. Here goes:

We're moving. Or, to be more accurate, we've moved. To a nice quiet suburb of the City of the Burning River. We got ourselves a house with enough room to contain Cookie and Mojo and we're all very happy.

The move itself took about six months to complete, and since I'm still cleaning the floors and appliances of the apartment in Tuckahoe, you might say the move is not even complete yet.

In any event -- I'm staying on at my old job so I'll still have work ties to NYC. And we still have the family in Brooklyn and the friends all over the region, so we'll be breezing through the area somewhat regularly.

The last few years have been rather busy for Alane and I and I've always felt bad about losing touch with so many of our friends. I'm a bum. But I can reform! I will make amends! And you can help: forward my info to anyone I may have missed on my e-mail blast -- I've been criminally negligent when it comes to updating my contact list, so any assistance is greatly appreciated.

As for me, I'll be turning in my NY keys this weekend and making that eight-hour drive to the Buckeye state. The Internet is very cool -- it keeps me employed, it keeps me informed, and I intend to use it from now on to keep in touch with all of you.

Happy Birthday Bazzukajoe! I hoist an adult beverage to your health and happiness.

Births involving large, dense heads are always newsworthy. It makes you wonder how so many large and dense heads, packed so closely on 38th St at one point in history, didn't cause the Earth to wobble off it's orbit. That's quite an impressive "broken" list. I don't want to think about the destruction that Dr Sfingi and I left behind.

While you're at the deli try some of that hot sauce on the knish, it's better than mustard on potatoes. Marie and the Big Kahuna's eyes were both smiling which was a delight to see.

Remember, a warm o-ring is a happy o-ring!

Let us add to the birthday wishes, Joey! Congratulations on the 33rd birthday. We wish you health, happiness and a whole lot more for many many decades to come.

Thirty three years ago today there was a small disturbance in the earth's gravity field that astrophysicists refer to as a "Male Mastandrea Birth". This phenomena even affects the stock market, on this day in 1973 as my brother Joe's birth was announced, the price of shares in Cinzano Vermouth and Felippo Berio Olive Oil nearly doubled. (And they say this blog doesn't have a big impact on the world.)

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAZZUKAJOE!!

We may be getting old, but at least we don't look...or act it. You know, as we approach 30 and 33 respectively was thinking of all the items you and I have broken in our lifetime. Most of which didn't exactly belong to us.
1. Basement windows ( both)
2. Mercury Sable rear windshield
3. Rear screens.
4. Basement banister.
5. Decimated the jade carpet. (unseamed on every stair and bleached)
6. The benches in the kitchen.
7. The trees in front of Paradiso's house.
8. The front teeth of Chris Grant, Billy Noonan and Broadway Joe.
9. The knob on Grandpa's old ass Zenith.
10. The garage door.
11. The Slip n Slide. (how many times was I told shorts without zippers?)
12. The statue.
13. My first record player and my first cassette player.

Theres millions more, but I gotta lock up. Then I'm gonna go watch Joe blow out 33 candles on a Kosher birthday cake.

After work this evening I will venture to Brooklyn to visit the Castle 1526 (which, as I told Steve, is a bit like the Tower of London -- without the scenic vistas... or the solid architcture... or the rich history). After that, I will journey back to Tuckahoe to tackle the next stage of oven-cleaning -- yes, the same oven that has been cleaned exactly zero times in the last eight years.

I went out jogging this morning. Did I ever mention how much I hate jogging?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOE!!!!!!!
WE'LL MEET YOU AT TOOJAYS JEWISH DELI TONIGHT, WITH A PRESENT IN ONE HAND AND A KNISH IN THE OTHER!!!
LOVE,
MARLENA, MARIAROSE & KRISTIE

Wow, instead of saying your welcomes, I think it's more proper to say THANK YOU, for everyone who came, most importantly the Sarpy County Branch, it was better than great, it was grand. Steve was so surprised...along with my mother...(?) Her face was priceless, it was like she forgot the party was for her son for a second. In most ways, this party was for all of us, we all needed a break, a few laughs, and to see each other again.
'Til next time, ah, ya know, the Big Kahuna will be turning 60 this December! (hehe)
PS---Joe, thanks for the bottle of Chipotle Hot Sauce, when I came home from work on Tues., a third of the bottle was gone. Apparently Jenia went to town on his rotisserie chicken that night.
If I had to guess, I'd say his O-Ring is still ringing.

Thanks for a warm (and I don't just mean temperature) and wild weekend, everyone. It was a blast even though Broadway Joe didn't have any acetone for the kite.

I had never been to a surprise party before but the look on Steve's face "at the moment" was priceless. I couldn't help but notice Steve mouth a word that would now result in a large fine if uttered on TV or radio. I kind of remember the gift shirt in question reading "You can't beat this meat" but I could be wrong. Kudos to Joey the Head for his Sunday shirts - one stating "Be glad I'm not your kid" and the other with the drawing of a table fan captioned "This blows."

I'll never forget the goodie bags from the Groucho glasses to biting open the Nik-L-Nip wax juice container for a birthday toast. Have any of the photos of all of us wearing the Groucho glasses surfaced? And did only our corner of the room see Joe Fatone, Sr. open his container of Play-doh and, in less than 15 seconds, create a limp pishy? Priceless.

Please post the "Wish you were here" photo of Steph, Nick and Kristie (or e-mail it if you think that would be wiser). That photo is ripe for a caption contest. Maybe a better caption would be, "What did you do on your summer vacation?"

Everybody:
Even after a day of reflection, I'm still entirely overwhelmed by the events of this weekend. I keep attempting to express how grateful in words....but just end up crying like a baby. I'm not sure what I did in my life that led God to bless me with such unbelievably loving family and friends, but I do know I owe him a lifetime of gratitude. So I take this moment to stop and say THANK YOU for giving me not only the greatest birthday, but possibly the most surreal and amazing day of my life....in my wildest dreams it could not have been better. I love all of you more than I can possibly express. (And Marlena, I know you were the angel behind the curtain...I'm incredibly honored and incredibly proud of you) But enough of all this mushy stuff, lets talk about my Surprise 30th Birthday Weekend.

STRANGE FACTS:
1. The name of the restaurant is Bucco di Bepe (didn't he play bocce under the 38th St. el?)
2. I was asked to chauffer my parents to Orlando for a dinner engagement with some old friends from Packers (?)...and I found this entirely reasonable.
3. Even worse, after arriving I agreed to enter the restaurant to meet these people.
4. A hundred people yelled "Surprise"...and I felt downright awful to have walked in at the same time as someone's surprise party. Luckily, Marlena was seated up front and I stared down at her confused she clarified "This is for YOU".
5. Parties have a funny way of forming unusual combinations. I scanned the room and saw Josh Farnsworth chatting with Justinian and Lori Lynn Dingers. Nearby, was a conversation betweem Julie Kesselman, Joe Nebraska, Kristie Massari and Darrel Waite....I wish those conversations were taped.
6. There was a few very large and vey disturbing pictures hanging around the place. One in particular showed me, Mark and Chris at the prom...it prompted my Uncle Joe to suggest I slide it into the pizza oven in the nearby kitchen and turn it on high.
7. Indeed when the food came out Joe Fatone Sr. hosted a new gameshow called "Veal or No Veal!"
8. I wonder if Pope Benedict felt any strage vibes this weekend? First, Bucco di Bepe has its own Pope themed room (complete with pope throne and lazy susan with John Paul 2's head in a glass cube) and then I received a book on how to dress for every occasion..by the Pope. The book is superb, by the way.
9. By the time I was opening presents the number of vodka and diet cokes had begun make things a little fuzzy...but I distinctly remember my cake had the Statue of Liberty and the Italian Flag. The cake was chocolate espresso....thats downright magical.
10. I received so many new tee-shirts, I can't remember them all, but I know I got one from Joe-maha and Ellie that says Nebraska Beef..."Beat Your Meat". Its good when people really know you. By the way, Kristie made me a clay sculpture of Mr. Feng that I would choose over Michelangelo's Pieta.
11. The after-party at Antigua was so wild they had to widen OKEE-CHOBEE Blvd. Well not really, but it was drenched in alcohol and 80s music. Broadway Joe got access to the house microphone and sang along to everything from Bon Jovi to Stevie B. He also invited clubgoers to give me 30 birthday punches.
12. I entered the club wearing a full size birthday hat...similar to the one Beepo the Clown wears. People were jealous.
13. Ree and Stefanuch hopped up on the main stage and danced before the entire club. Behind the stage is a large aquarium. Unbeknownst to Ree,there was a man was photographing her derrier through the aquarium. Bazzukajoe observed,and then announced "we'll be seeing that picture next week on http://www.fish-ass.com/"
14. Kelly Fatone attended the after-party wearing a pishy-mask. She was in amazing spirits, almost euphoric. Im just not sure if it was the alcohol..or the pishy-mask.
15. NBC cancelled Will and Grace, but My Name Is Earl and The Steve and Molly Show did get picked up for next season.
16. The next day everyone showed up at Marlena for a typical Mastandrea barbecue (or was it a Vyskrebentsev?) complete with burgers, franks...eggplant parmigiana, sausage and peppers and a very, very excited immigrant who repeatedly joined us for pictures and kissing a frightened Kristie Massari.
17. There was a small boy who spent 12 hours in a Superman bathing suit that rode entirely too far up his ass...I'm quite certain that later that day he developed a serious super-rash between his super-cheeks.
18. I learned Aleksey owns some very unusual sleepwear....and by unusual I mean quite small.
19. I finally became the proud owner of an IPOD...it prompted me to ask Steve Fatone, does this play 45s? I still own Captain and Tenille's "Lonely Nights" and Eddie Murphy's "Party All The Time" . God, I really am freaking old.

So these are the amenities at Jenia & Marlens's. Very cool place. And they didnt ask us all to leave either. We are rather unruly as a group. I wonder if they raised thier rent to discourage such behaviour in the future. It was a great scene. These are the few people left from the previous nights festivities. There was quite a group of people assembled at Buca Di Beppo that night. Several from quite far. There were the dynamic duo from Omaha and a pair from Connecticut and there was also a contingency from Staten Island. I cant forgot Angela and the JOSH from Tampa. There were also many delicasies. Cannoli's, 7 Layer cookies made by Janine, Veal Cutlets, Hot Sausages. Great party. Malania should think about doing this as a business. If anyone would like to see steve blow out his candle i have an AVI just email me.
This is no laughing matter. Notice the Backstage pass and Groucho glasses. All party favors provided. Nice touch. After the party we all went to Antigua, a club downtown in Orlando. We drank too much and laughed even more. Somewhere there are incriminating photos of Fefanie and Ree dancing in front of a huge fish tank while Broadway sang his version of many 80's songs. Change the words? He never does that. There was a dance of with ree and lets not forget Kip. Hes a dancing machine. Just ask Al Molly Gwenia.

This must be my week for hearing long-lost standard music: I just walked into the Starbucks on Broadway (the one on 52nd Street had a line three-deep) and on the sound system was Tighten Up by Archie Bell & the Drells. So of course I had to dig up the Yellow Magic Orchestra version of that classic as soon as I got to my desk -- it's playing now as I type.

Japanese gentlemen, stand up please!

Guido played that cover for me back in 1986 and I first thought it was ridiculous; only later did I recognize its magnificence. Lynne waved her arms in a musical panic, screaming: "Turn it off, turn it off! It sounds like gymnastics class!" I especially enjoy the inscrutible Snakeman Show clips interspersed with the music tracks.

Do you understand, Mr. Ohira? Do you understand?

As I drove from Ohio on Sunday I scanned the AM dial and was surprised to hear Summer in the City by Lovin' Spoonful. I turned up the volume and left that station on for a bit. I was next treated to Play That Funky Music by Wild Cherry -- and not that weak-kneed bowdlerized version that was released in the last few years either.

So that kept me awake for a few more miles.

And so 1 urban legend has been broken
I was amazed to see Joe and Ellie. It was a great weekend. We spoke of John and Alane and the Chimpz often. were your ears ringing? You were missed maybe next time we should bring th eparty to you. We did discuss one other urban legend. Has john been moonlighting on American Idol? Many seem to think so.

HAPPY BIRTHAY JOHNNY!!
Sorry I missed your birthday. I cannot believe your 40. Damn.
You do not look like it at all. And we KNOW you don't act it.
So we did a jagerbomb shot to you on saturday night.

"Veal or no veal?"

Yesterday was a long day for Da Chimpz. Alane had to go to work in the morning, so I took them outside where the rain had finally subsided. Cookie wanted to try out his new bicycle -- the raffle-prize from least year, the bike that is still too large for his little legs. But he would not be stopped: he'd fall off in a crumple of tubing and spokes, then get right back up and try again -- often enough to fall again without even having gotten on board. But when he did get rolling, he did very well.

While Cookie worked on that, I somehow convinced Mojo to try it. His training wheels came off weeks ago, but after a few Mojo-attempts he gave up and insisted on riding only his scooter since. He tried it first on Cookie's bike, running up and down the sidwalk holding the back of his sweatshirt. It didn't take many runs until he could make it for long stretches without falling. And once he got that, he learned how to get himself started from a stop. By the end of the day he was zipping up and down the sidewalk with that unique look of Mojo-satisfaction on his face.

After their swim lessons we took out baseballs and gloves and taught them a little about catching in the glove -- they were pretty good at it (though we were tossing the ball right into their open gloves). And after all that I got ribs going in the new grill.

That's right, people: a new grill that Alane got me for my birthday. That means I'm ready for anyone who wants to visit Berea-Rose -- because if yesterday taught anything to anybody, it taught me that this new grill can roast the zucchini, the peppers and the baby eggplant like a champ.

Now I gotta figure out this voicemail from Airport Guy -- part of it is garbled, so I'm playing the ad-lib game, filling in the unintelligible part with radom words to see if I can stumble upon what he's trying to tell me. I'll call him later.

Speaking of later, I'll be spending most of the day on Interstate 80; it's last call at the Tuckahoe apartment. I'll need the week to clean appliances, patch walls, and get everything else in shape before turning in the keys.

Frylock forgot name of the the artist (!) who performed "Detachable Penis." I had to remind him. That made me think about whether I could find the music video for that awesome track -- and indeed it is online. I like seeing the old Kiev Restaurant. Had many late night pierogies there, back in the day. I miss that place.

Today, Mojo had a field trip. He and his class went to the Cleveland Zoo. Somehow I was pressed into service as a parent-helper. Some help I was.

The rain held off for us, mostly, so we got to see most of the park. Mojo held his nose in the elephant house, stood at the glass fascinated by the fruit-bats, and stopped frequently at such compelling distractions as sewer grates and rocks alongside the pathways.

Also of note was something Mojo said yesterday, sort of about this trip. The sitter was leaving and she said to him: "You'll have to tell me all about the zoo when I'm here on Friday."

Without much of a pause Mojo said: "Okay, but I won't talk about you at the zoo."

It took me a few seconds to compute how he'd turned her question all the way around; I'm not sure if she even caught his response.

That's a strange kid. He seemed to have fun today, him and his little pals.

Congratulations from the Prairie, too, John! Happy 40th. My mother shares the same month-day
as yours, but of course, the year is different. Her age/birthdate changes according to whim,
so no one really knows. . .she probably doesn't really know, either since she doesn't have a
birth certificate. . .

I hope that as I age, I keep a handle on the truth a little better than she does. . .as well as not suffering from hardening of the attitudes.

Back to dinner plans. . .simple since I am spending a lot of time in the yard and garden. We
are having tamales with mole. The Mexican kind, not the kind that Sterling our mighty hunter
digs up and drags in. Yesterday we could have had rabbit for dinner. Sterling deposited one
under our dining room table. Joe's comment? Tularemia on the hoof.

Forty years ago today, The Mastandreas crowded around the heatpipe at castle 1526 (no doubt sipping coffee and eating thawed Baby Watson Cheesecake) to celebrate the arrival....of a very large head...and that very large was attached to the tiny infant frame of our our beloved Dr. Sfingi. So we down at Spumoni Gardens send our warmest birthday wishes to Berea Rose on John's Big 4-0. So on this important day, I was reflecting on the inevitable march of time (just 11 days till Frylock hits the Big 3-0) and the curious and amusing way history repeats itself. For example, 35 years ago, Uncle Vito would be sitting on the couch with a glass of wine watching the baseball game while his two baby-genius sons raced back and forth like a pair of wild tornadoes. Sound hauntingly familiar? All thats missing is a 19" monitor and DSL. Or how myself, at 29 had enormous trouble coping this holiday season with having a non-revolving christmas tree...it felt so inherently wrong....almost disrespectful. Thirty years from now, will I own 50 pairs of sneakers and a stereo system that holds 6,000 CDs? Facing 30 has been a bit tough, I'm forced to evaluate once again what I have and have not done in my life...and realize my biggest accomplishment is finishing the one pound burger at "Cheeseburgers and More". In our prior generation, at thirty years old you were expected to be halfway to your pension, own your home and have all three kids in catholic school....and I'm planning on spending my 30th birthday by inviting all my friends and family to a rollerskating rink (!) But the question remains: is it bad? Is it bad that we're staying younger longer? It can't be...and just know that our kids will be staying younger even longer...so if kids leave home now at 25, our kids will be staying till 35...and I think thats just fine. History will continue to repeat and repeat...mark my words: in the next decade John-Paul, Mojo and Ellexa will be throwing a frisbee around the front yard doused in lighter fluid and set on fire.....you know to see it better. Anyway, I can go on yapping about this forever but duty calls. So once again Happy 40th birthday, Johnny-cat!!!

As I drove the boys to school this morning Mojo was heard saying, almost to himself:

"Abbaia means bark. Caca means poop."

And then he started singing Il Cagnolino, that wacky song we blogged about three months ago... And haven't really mentioned since.

"Abbaia e caca!"

Now it's in my head.

Curses!

Tonight we went to Dick's. I had a good time saying that, over and over as we drove there.

"We're going to Dick's."

Alane noticed how much I enjoyed saying that; she heard me repeat it several hundred times in different tones and inflections.

I was looking for a Sports Authority, but they apparently don't have any locations out here. So I looked up this place instead. Alane told me Dick's was big (heh heh), and she was right -- a very large store, wide selection, very nice. Got the double-end bag I was looking for and I already have it set up in the attic. It's a great work-out: you hit the bag, and then you gotta move away fast because it'll hit you right back.

Dick's also had rocks (heh heh) and for a small fee you could test your mettle on their giant climbing wall. None of us was interested -- except Cookie, who spotted it as soon as we walked in. So we took him over and got him signed up. They strapped him into a harness, he put on the climbing shoes, and then scampered up that wall like a friggin' monkey.

Look carefully at the photos and you'll see the dizzying heights of his chimpness.

Normally, you'd yell to a kid or a beginner to not look down. The idea is that seeing just how high you are would freak you out. Cookie didn't care. He looked over his shoulder, waved to us as he approached the top, fell away from the wall a few times fully confident that the harness would hold him and it did.

That kid has no fear. This does not bode well for us, his parents.

He also has no modesty, so as we beat it from Dick's (heh heh), Cookie made much of his accomplishment, declaring: "I climbed that whole wall, and I'm only in kindergarten!" And we knew immediately what the topic of his classroom comments would be tomorrow.

Mojo, incidentally, did express an interest in trying a climb but was ruled to be just shy of the 44" height requirement. It's just as well. He would've gotten as far as strapping into the harness and freaked out.

You batted without donning a cup? You? To quote ..Vito.., "Wow!" I can't think of a better example of staring down history. Mojo should never comprehend what you were trying to forget.

I too have heard the "I can't wait until you have kids" speech. In fact, it contributed to my not having kids. Oh, sure, then I would get to say, "I can't wait until you have kids." Somehow, that doesn't seem to justify it all. By the way, try a bananas and peanut butter sandwich.Or, better yet, go all Elvis and fry it

So what is in store for the Kahuna mobile? Hydraulics? Low rider? Put in a horn that plays the Godfather theme? I can't believe you remember the sawdust on the floor at Capital Meats. In a way that was our Satriale's. Looks like "Eyebrows" isn't long for the show - maybe there's a Screen Actors' Guild card in your future.

Cookie's class expreiment reminds me of my genetics class in college. My lab partner and I performed the standard fruit fly (Drosophila melanogaster) experiment but all we found was a lethal mutation. Luckily, science recognizes the emperical method and I passed genetics lab. Cookie probably didn't get to play with ether, though. I don't recommend it, either!

Funny you should mention bar-b-q. I used to be a member of the Greter Omaha Bar-b-q Society and have a Brinkmann Cimarron smoker. Never smoked shrimp, though. Usually pork, fowl and beef. And veggies like peppers, corn and onions. More like a tornado for your plate, really

What a week I have planned: one day in the office, then four days in class. A train-the-trainer no less. I bet I spend four days thinking about garlic. And bananas.

Yesterday I faced my fears head-on: at the family fun amusement park with my boys, I once again stood at the plate inside a batting cage.

Yeah, I had a few momentary waves of terror when the ball foul-tipped straight down. But I left the facility with my manhood intact. Well, almost intact: Mojo thought I was doing such a poor job hitting that he actually booed me from the bench behind me.

BTW, did I hear correctly that Rob Lopicola turned down NBC so he can join the Severe Weather Experts over at News 12 WPEC? I hope they're giving him the top job he deserves; I'm also sorry I didn't get a chance to sip any of the world-famous mint juleps he whipped up for the recent Kentucky Derby celebration. He steeps his mint leaves for exactly eight hours -- and that's what makes all the difference.

Anyone who has ever attended one of our family gatherings can attest: Rob Lopicala makes an awesome garlic shrimp. He makes it over a charcoal grill, one-handed (keeps a tumbler of Cinzano in the other).

I am trying to picture Vito eating a banana sandwich... made with half a banana... while sitting in a banker training class... and smelling like garlic.

As we know the Spumoni syndicate is vacationing up in Connecticut, so while the Kahuna-mobile was unoccupied, I offered to bring it in to make a few more cosmetic changes that Big Vin had dreamed up in his ever-active mind. Needless to say, forcing me to use their brand-new luxury sedan instead of my decade-old rickety turd wasn't exactly a painful chore. So as I happily drive into work ( listening to Hall and Oates "Say It Aint So" on the XM 80s station), I glance down at the floors of the car and notice they bear strong resemblance to the sawdust covered floors of Capital Meats. So I nextel BazzukaJoe to ask him "how the hell do her floors get this dirty without any babies or pets?". His verbatim reply: "She says its because she lives in her car, but in Florida we all live in our car. Ours don't look like that. My only guess is that she has no opposable thumbs and when she eats she just throws it at her face" It's amazing how that man's mind works.

On another interesting sidenote: Mike Gallo just dropped by the store and informed me that last night he had a dream that Tony Soprano asked me to kill Phil Leotardi and I accepted. That in fact, Mike was part of the scheme to provide an alibi for AJ Soprano who the Feds believed had plans to kill Phil. So Mike had to call AJ on his cell and provide a phone record, at the identical moment I was firing the three lethal shots at "Eyebrows" Leotardi, who was exiting a restaurant wearing a tophat, tails and a cane. (Sounds to me like I assasinated Mr. Peanut).

Also I was wondering if anyone could lend a hand, a close friend (public blog we will refain from using his/her name) needs a premium excuse to call out of work. I believe most of the usuals have already been expired... but we of the Macaroni Dish have our PhD.s in this field, so any help would be most appreciated. Reminds me of some funny ones we have used already.
1. Guido---for having gingivitis.
2. Jenia---got punched in the stomach while sparring with his boxing trainer.
3. Frylock---pink eye...about seventeen times. I kinda miss the NSync mania days when I could trade autographs and memorabilia or phonecalls to the managers children for days off.
4. Joe Fatone Sr.---left work because me and BazzukaJoe were over and told his boss, "I'm driving home right now, if you don't hear from me in a half hour to say I got home safe, please call the hospital" Amazing.

That's what I like about Ohio: you can buy your vermouth in the supermarket. Now, a few glasses later, I'm feeling pretty good -- even as Da Chimpz chase each other around the house like banshees.

I flip from the Braves game to the Yankees game -- all of it bores me. It was gloomy and rainy all day. Where's Rob Lopicola to tell me when the sun will shine? He can whip that Jim Cantore poseur any day!

To paraphrase the mighty Asteroth:

This victory has strengthened the soul of Lopicola!

Cookie's kindergarten is hatching chicks as a class project. Inevitably, some of the embryos don't survive, making it necessary to include the subject of death/dying as part of the lesson plan.

Heavy, yes. But it's a Catholic school, and I kind-a like the fact that they're tackling the difficult subjects head-on.

So the teacher asked the students to think of an experience they may have had with death and draw a picture of how they felt. When we first saw Cookie's drawing we thought he'd sketched out a pretty beat-up-looking corpse. Though somewhat alarmed, we laughed uncontrollably. Then he explained to us that no, that was him, being sad because some of the chicks died.

Awww.

Then for the rest of the night he chased Mojo around the house screaming mirthfully, "You want a dead embryo?!"

As Visions of Barbecue Danced In Our Heads

1.This past Sunday, we had a nice poolside barbecue at Spumoni Gardens South...which anyone familiar with our family can tell you is not an unusual event. The menu was typical......well at least for a Mastandrea: Burgers, Franks, Italian Sausages...Breaded Roasted Peppers, Lobster Ravioli and Spinach Ravioli (!?) Convention is for amateurs, people......and we are World Heavyweight Champions.

2.The aromas and the flavors from the grille made me reflect on another memorable moment in Big Vin Barbecue History. It was summer vacation in the late 80s back on Marisa Circle, and in the midst of boiling July temperatures our house's A/C konked out. It was 2pm on Sunday, so Big Vin had already completed the sauce, which would be used on his official pasta selection of the day: Lasagna. Unfortunately, this menu choice requires the kitchen oven to be used, further heating an already uncomfortably hot house. Big Vin was unfazed, a true embodiment of what John Lennon would call "The Working Class Hero"....unwilling to allow a broken A/C unit stand between his family and his lasagna...he said aloud "we go to the barbecue". Indeed. He transferred the lasagna from baking pan to oversized roasting pan and fired up the grille. Joe and Camille Gagalia watched him load it on his trusty Char-Broil....they were non-believers at first. To the Gagalias surprise (but no one else's) the finished product was perfect as we were accustomed, but with a light smokiness that has yet to ever been tasted ever again. I compare it to the way some people felt when they saw Neil Armstrong take his first walk on the moon....a witness to history.

3. By the way, John I remember around th same time period you stating with a great certainty that Big Vin would be buried with a spatula and a barbecue brush.

4. Uncle Lenny is a man of focus and tradition when he barbecues. He barbecues all his meats first and once he has removed them to their serving platters, he plucks the largest onion from his garden and places it on the grille. He shuts the gas and lets it sit with the cover down until the meal is nearly complete before unleashing on the delighted dinner guests.

5. Rob Lopicola likes to grill sliced zucchini at his world-famous cook-outs. He always prepares his homemade signature potato salad which he calls "Lopa-salad". Its like a hurricane for your palate.

I haven't had occasion to walk through Rockefeller Plaza lately: does Al Roker still get to loiter near NBC studios? Has Rob Lopicola's new stint as Today's lead weather personality caused even larger crowds to form outside the steamed up glass of Studio A? Is Al totally squeezed out now?

I don't miss having to shoulder through those hordes of tourists; especially now that the crowds are destined to grow ever larger.

Last night I got some shelving assembled in the basement. I also set up the desktop PC on those shelves, plugging the television coaxial cable into the video card -- soon I was flipping channels... on a computer... in the basement... alone.

There was a baseball game on -- the Braves. And they were playing, hey now, the Mets. I slid a steamer trunk to the fore, lowered it onto its side, and sat on it like a sofa. Then I remembered: we have a second refrigerator in the basement... with beer in it. I got one and sat down. This was going well. As the game slowed (as baseball games are wont to do) I opened up a web browser and started looking at websites. At that point I realized that, with the beer, the TV, the Internet and the basement bathroom only a few steps away I never really needed to go upstairs anymore. Ever.

While surfing the web I came across some very interesting political news. I cannot think of a snarky comment that does justice to this development. (Though I was instantly transported back in time -- to those distant Saturday nights watching the WWF on channel 9, with the Grand Wizard and Lou Albano and Chief Jay Strongbow, et al).

Later in the evening I did indeed decide to leave the basement so I could watch the rest of the ballgame from the relative non-obscurity of the sofa. Cookie, up way past his bedtime, came down to join me. He's very interested in baseball these days. At one point he said, "Daddy, can you do this?"

He held out his hand, fingers extended except for the thumb and ringfinger which were folded down and touching. The shocker. No, kid, not very often. Not these days.

Oh, forgot to mention: I hear Rob Lopicola will be appearing at the Jupiter Industrial Park this afternoon to make a major career announcement. It's his first sign of poor judgment: no one wants their headlines to languish in the relative doldrums of a Friday evening news cycle. A successful TV personality should have more media savvy. I'm a little disappointed -- but not as disappointed as I am over not being able to attend today's parking-lot press conference/autograph-signing. We all miss the big guy!

It was the move that never seemed to end -- considering we started this relocation adventure on New Years Day. The movers from Clancy/United were the most efficient players in the whole slow-motion operation. Two hours to load the truck last week, about two hours to offload our crap here at Berea-Rose. The boys had greatly anticipated the return of their bunk-beds. Mojo inspected the newly-rebuilt structure yesterday and asked (without any hint of playfulness): "Right before we left New York, do you remember who slept on the top bunk?"

(You see, when they first got the bunk-beds, they worked it out between themselves to alternate who gets the top/bottom bunk each night... Maniacs.)

So we spent the entire evening schlepping boxes around the place; I must've run the stairs a hundred times (I really hate when I'm in the basement holding something that I know should be stored in the attic).

We still went to sleep early -- Alane leaves for work pretty early and I'm starting to enjoy having the house to myself as the sun rises and the boys snooze.

And Ellie, don't despair over having psychopaths as neighbors. Things could be so much worse. You could have Vito as a banker!

Things witnessed this past weekend during Ree and I's trip to Little Moscow:

1. Jenia eat an entire rain forest at an all-you-can-eat salad restaurant called "Sweet Tomatoes".
2. Jenia and I play the loudest game of racqetball game in recorded history...I'm pretty sure you can hear us faintly in Berea, but you probably just mistook it for a 747 flying overhead.
3. A member of the Bloodhound Gang funnel and entire bottle of Jaegermeister, he then followed this impressive feat by throwing up an entire barrel of Jager-vomit. Even funnier was when he threatened to dump it on a guy with a mullet who had been flicking him off all night.
4. There were many exposed breasts at the concert that night, and Jenia recognized it was a perfect photo opportunity. One revolting drunken flasher noticed him aiming his camera phone and responded by giving him the old "lickity split" facial expression for the camera. Broadway Joe, who was standing beside him was delighted by her unprompted display of unfettered raunchiness.
5. The Fatone Family soccer game, in which Joe Sr. and I played goalie...and Aunt Phyllis Fatone was a power forward! Not since Antietam had both sides experienced so many casualties.
6. Steve Fatone put three kites into the upper strata of our atmosphere....one in the shape of a Diet Coke. I imagine Air Traffic Control has determined there is finally a winner in the Cola Wars
7. I bought a used copy of Weekend at Bernies!!!!

I have been outside for a month. (Okay, not literally.) I come in out of the yard/garden/flower beds and collapse on the sofa after a shower. I congratulate you, John, on mowing. Our less-than-a-year-old mower went belly-up last week and is now in queue for a fix-up at the Cass County John Deere Implement Dealership. If it had been a normal repair we would have taken advantage of their 2 year in home warranty, but nothing in our lives is ever normal.

The landlord mowed the pasture and much of our yard with a 3-point mower towed by his full-sized tractor. Our part of the yard takes us two days to mow and it took him half an hour more or less. Well, half an hour after he tinkered with the tractor for half an hour.

We have lost (dead or dying) about 2/3 of everything perennial we have planted in the yard over the last 8 years. I think the neighbor wack-o sociopath made good on her promise to spray weed killer. I can't really afford the money to replace it all and my body is certainly not up to the work.

A cop friend of Joe's suggested claymore mines. I am pretty close to devastation. All I can do is pray for her and keep my temper. I cannot prove a thing, but the damage is too wide-spread to be anything but vandalism. Makes me want to be a hermit.

This blog needs to attach a webcam to the hood of Bazukajoe's car -- he's a magnet for bizarre motorist activity. We also need to wire Kahuna for sound and pipe his commentary over the web. I like Ellexa's ears.

This is my first week working from the home office. Finding myself on an extended conference call, I decided at one point that I could put the call on my wireless phone, put on the headset, and stand outside in the fine spring weather.

They'd never know!

So I stood out back amidst the glorious spring: the sunshine; the budding trees; the cut grass; the lively breeze... which blew hard across the boom-microphone of my headset... causing a nasty roaring sound to blare from the speakerphone some 500 miles away... interrupting the meeting... sending me humbly back to my little workroom... indoors.

Oh well. It was worth a try.

So you were acosted by the librarian. You should have known they thrive on anyone not following the rules. I hate librarians. They always get tweaked anytime you misplace something. Its not my fault you have compulsively organized and reorganized books all day. She will probably be visiting you soon to see if that green wrapper turned up.

So i am trying to get a haircut so i look presentable for easter. I know its saturday and everyone in the county is off and by some miracle i am as well. I hit my 2 usual spots for a trim and they are both closed. Florida makes up all its own rules. The sign in the window says we close at 6pm. It was 2pm. WOW. So i stop at a place i have not been to. I walk in and theres 1 guy. He's in his 60's and he has white hair. His hair is perfectly styled and glossed and his moustache is long and waxed in a strange manner. It goes down and up ever so slightly. He greets me and says I am Albert. I reluctantly tell him the look i am interested in and the cut begins. He is trimming when he stops mid comb and says"You cut your own hair?" No i dont but then is realized i did trim a little scruffiness sticking out the side of my hat the day before. He is frozen in mid cut and replies." You know i really can't fix THAT." And then resumes his trimming. He was silent the rest of my trim. Wow. I will not be going there again.
So I have found that my child enjoys watching wrestling. She sat quiet and watched wrestlemania with me and steve at pat's house. She loves our impressions of the now retired hulk hogan and giggles every time. Here she is with grandpa on easter. Her attire provided by aunt teresa and uncle andy.

So i am driving home this week from work and there is a man next to me on a motorcycle. No big deal except he is on the white line between me and a DHL truck.

I flipped through all the morning news shows today and still no Lopicola... When will this guy make his big announcement?

Y'know, the weather report isn't supposed to be this suspenseful!

Okay, gotta get the chimps ready for school. But I finally dug out the photo I took right after Easter -- we played some wiffle-ball before I drove back to NY last time. It was a nice morning.

BTW, the Berea-Rose network is not only running, it appears to be rock-solid.

(Every once in a while, I get it right.)