it is fantastic that christmas went so smoothly in Berea. We had an excellent time as well. I have no photos of chicken headed men screaming expletives at the drunken neighbor over a megafone at 1 am. Would i do have is Ellexa making announcements.

Christmas was most fun and Ellexa knew what it was all about. She was handing out gifts with Douche clause AKA Mike Gallo. Here she is giving a smile. Jessica may be wearing this outfit later.

It was total carnage: wreckage all over the living room. Robots battling in the dining room. The train derailed on its tracks. Monster trucks crushing cars and destroying all obstacles.

It was the aftermath of Christmas morning. And it was very cool.

That was one mighty tasty turducken. Or, uh, tur-duck-hen, as the label actually reads. And the crawfish dressing totally cinched the deal. Cajun-theme notwithstanding, we roasted some carrots and brussel sprouts in the pan and they came out perfect. An excellent dinner for an excellent Christmas -- we spent much of this evening trying to best each other in freestyle competition in the Monster Truck game for Wii. And this after watching a few rounds of the real deal on cable's Speed channel. It was that or another loop of Christmas Story on that other station. Last night's television watching was even stranger -- one station had It's a Wonderful Life and another station had Goodfellas. I spent over an hour flipping back and forth between them -- a fitting way to mark the Eve, I'd say.

Now... if only this blog had more pictures... I'm imagining a chicken, squawking into a bullhorn... Is this normal?

Temperature is plummeting here at Berea-Rose. Even got some snow blowing around this afternoon! It's just as well -- a cold/flu-type bug has made its way through the house so we're not going anywhere. So today we tended to the cookies and the cleaning and I made a couple pans of lasagna -- one of which we tucked into for dinner. Got a razzleberry pie in the oven right now, because Christmas has officially begun around here. Got the music playing on the bottomless DVD of holiday mp3's. I've had to move the truly rude stuff off to other disks now that the boys are old enough to remember/repeat every single thing they see and hear.

Slick Nick, you devil you...

Note to self: resist the temptation to open Christmas gifts early. Especially in Wyoming.

ROCK SPRINGS, Wyo. — A woman stabbed her husband with a kitchen knife following an argument that began when she accused him of opening a Christmas present early, authorities said Friday.

Alane is safe -- her gift isn't even here yet (hmmm... hope that delivery gets here in time).

A flu-like malaise has descended upon Berea-Rose in the last 24 hours. So the first day of my extended holiday vacation was spent with us kind-a sacking out in front of the TV, thinking of all the stuff that we should otherwise be doing. Except Cookie. He feels fine. And he's making us crazy. He's awake now, watching a History Channel show on Ho Chi Minh. Woke up complaining of a nightmare that featured the Grinch driving a rocket-powered sleigh through NYC traffic.

Here's a little something that came to me by way of e-mail -- more proof that Little Vito is just the kind of guy you'd want Christmas shopping for you. Here we have the upshot of his visit to Best Buy:

hello.. im was doin some late night christmas present browsin/shoppin online.. i was on bestbuy.com lookin around for dvds.. i navigates through the links.. lookin for the tv shows on dvd page.. i got to the tv on dvd page.. and i sorted the results by.. priced low to high..and that's when it happened.. i found myself mesmerized and fascinated.. staring into my computer screen.. barely blinking as im scrolling thru all the choices.. numerous pages of olden day television shows.. there is an interestingly odd selection to choose from.. the covers of the dvds.. and the titles.. while i was lookin.. i noticed that my eyebrows were going up.. and down.. and up.. and down.. so i hope u have the time to check it out.. and see for yourself.. what im talking about.. and don't forget to monitor your eyebrow movement.. and u might even buy one of the dvds for someone.. i am buyin my girlfriend.. monster squad on dvd.. and im getting myself.. ITS ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPIA.. its a funny show.. and on a completely different note.. but the thought just popped in my head.. does anyone else not enjoy the ending of scrooged with bill murray?.. there is something about that scene when he is born again.. and ranting and raving in front of everyone.. that starts to drives me crazy.. and as easy it would be to change the channel.. and relieve myself of further craziness.. i just leave it on.. and just get mad at the movie.. the part that gets me the most.. is when he looks into the camera and talks to the movie audience.. or tv audience..tells them.. us.. to sing.. and then isn't even happy at what he hears.. and keeps asking different groupings of people to sing.. "ok now only the real men.. ok ok now the real women".. and in my head all i keep thinking is.. oooooooooooooooooooh what kinda endin is this!?!..

The turducken has arrived. Christmas won't be canceled after all!

(The thing is huge -- and frozen like a rock.)

What a busy day. Earlier today, after rolling out the meatballs and getting the sauce going, I placed my order for the Christmas turducken. I can't wait. Of course, had I seen this article I may have held out for a roast containing even more species of fowl. Bonus for the first shop that finds a way to fold in some mammal meat (would cajun sausage stuffing count?).

Da Chimpz had fun today -- nothing bespeaks merriment for a kid like the words: weekend, Christmas tree, meatball hero and blizzard.

Ah, the joys of modern travel -- you walk up to the kiosk, swipe your credit card for a ticket, walk aboard and relax a bit while the crew takes you to your on-time arrival.

Too bad I'm taking here about Metro-North Railroad and not American Airlines. Getting to the office each morning this week was a piece of cake compared to getting my ass back to Berea-Rose Wednesday evening. Once again, the aircraft didn't get to LGA until way past our scheduled departure time -- but does American update that in their system? No way -- so Andre and I cut short our pizza-eating and head over to the third-world squalor of LGA. I sat on a wobbly bench across from my gate, trying to read, often distracted by an increasingly bold mouse that kept venturing onto the stained carpet, further and further each time until I finally stood up and chased it under a door.

We left about an hour late and when we got to CLE there ws apparently no ground crew available to bring the plane to the gate so we waited more. Which just goes to convince me further that most of Cleveland is run by assholes.

NYC, on the other hand, is a bit of a madhouse this time of year. Plenty of people congregating at Rockefeller Center, gawking at the big Christmas tree. It's lit with LED lights you know -- just like we do it here in Berea.

Wow Crocker Park sounds like my mall. Outdoor walks laid out with trees, fountains and benches. Cafe tables outside the restaurants and also residential units above the stores. Not like the ones on 13th ave, these are luxury apts. 8 story office space and of course the rickshaws. On fri and sat there is concerts near the 2 million dollar fountain that dances to music. I think there is a new store in crocker park. The mall feel and traffic is very different. It is a bit deserted till the evening when it gets busy. Odd.

So i have been taking application for quite some time for seasonal help. Speaking of richshaws i spoke to a rickshaw driver with 1 leg looking for a holiday job. I spoke to a professional actor, several people that have not worked in years, 2 people that did not want to put down thier ss#?, a guy who wanted to work for free for a week to prove himself, 1 application i could not read. I am astounded at what some write down. i left my old job due to conflict with my boss,wrongfully accused of theft, too boring to work there and the best was i was fired because i missed a meating, spelled that way.

Anyway, working in retail for the holiday season is brutal, its fun times but long days away from the house and family. It sucks always being late for the party or your wife going solo. Christmas shopping is even worse, do you want to be at the mall 1 minute longer than you have to after a 10 hour day? You do however get to see every misfit that shows thier face in public once a year. That is the fun part. I wish my family could all work in my store for just one day so i could have a little fun. They could see my day and they could see the monetary possibilities of owning a business. I do need to start a business of my own. Not that it will be any easier but it would be more fulfilling. okay enough.

Been crazy busy around here this week -- even with the day off to go shop at Leslie Crocker Snyder Park in Westlake on Wednesday. Last night was the Light Up Berea parade, and Da Chimpz marched with their Cub Scout pack. Damn, was it cold! The light snows of earlier this week have given is one or two inches of packed iciness on the sidewalks, so winter-wonderland was in full effect.

That Crocker Park shopping experience on Wednesday was strange. I'd heard about that place -- one of those really modern, fully-planned "urban" centers with residential, retail, and restaurants laid out for maximum cool and efficiency. Everything was shiny new. And deserted. Maybe it's because we got there early. Still, walking the stores it felt like that scene in Polar Express where the kids are roaming around the completely empty toy factory, with everything quiet except for faint Christmas music. Sure beats fighting the crowds!

Still, it reminded me of a lame PBS show that aired last week -- the listing described it as an exploration into the decline of Cleveland, a once-great American city. And what was the cause of that decline? I listened hard for something convincing, but all they had was vague finger-pointing that laid the blame at the restless feet of all those vainglorious folk over the years moved to the suburbs. And it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for all those roads we were building! The show mentioned those planned urban centers. Disapprovingly, natch.

Still got a bit of Christmas shopping to do. Maybe I'll be able to make a run tomorrow. Will there be crowds? Will I be accosted by aggressive salespeople? Will the temperature make it into the 30s?

Hairy Muffins. Did it look like a broccoli floret growing from the nooks and crannies? Jenia once came home at easter with this loaf of bread he was so proud of from some far off bakery in miami that ships foodstuffs from the motherland, He got it open and it needed a shave. It had 5 o'clock shadow. At least you did not bring home any creatures living in the packaging.

So the holidays have been interesting in retail. i have had some really odd people in my store. The best times are when they are half drunk and feeling good and they drop 4 or 5 hundred dollars on things they would never buy. But they are having fun so they buy. My favorite question when people point at thier face and say do you have anything for this. If i hand them a shopping bag that would be rude so i must press on with questions on what result they desire and thier skin type and thier allergies. It gets tired.
Sometimes thier is that older lady on the prowl that tries to get out of me weather i am straight or not. Weather i may be a good friend to know for hair and makeup and fashion tips or am i someone she would like to take home. I am the only man in the store and my cast of girls that work for me wait for this scenario to come up. We wear radios so you can hear them talking about my new girlfriend. I always make the conversation ambiguous and get them to come out and ask. several days ago i had a lady ask me if i was out? Out where? No we are inside. People are forward.
So far the season has not been so crazy. busy but not crazy. Hope everyone is not waiting to shop on christmas eve? It was most fun when ellexa and deklan came shopping on black friday. They were the center of attention. Ellexa thought she worked there.

Hairy muffins. Do the day spas have a waxing procedure to fix that? And did anyone check the muffins for cracked toenails?

Steve is telling me I have to see the "corn flake" face. Yes, I must.

(There's a dusting of snow on the grass around here -- makes the Christmas lights look good; unfortunately Alane's lighted penguins aren't rated for South Pole climate demands -- the wind has toppled both and split one in half.)

Frylock was just online, so I sent him an IM to describe a dream I had last night: Alane and I were with the boys in a hotel. It was a hotel was on 13th Avenue in Brooklyn. There were many long and cavernous hallways before we got to our room. It was afternoon and the boys were sleeping, so I had to wait for them to wake up before I could leave to go to Capital Meats across the street -- there were panettone boxes stacked in the front window, so I really wanted to go in and buy a few things. But I didn't get there until the store was about to close -- it had the metal gates already pulled halfway down. I went in anyway and that's when the dream ended.

I told all this to Frylock and all he wanted to know was, "How did it smell?"

Smell? It was Capital I walked into. Not Fortunato's.

Or maybe he meant 13th Avenue itself. Yeah, it stank. (Now that I think more about it, the hotel would have been right where Stan's used to be. Interesting, huh?)

In some civilizations, saying the term "corn flakes" out loud is the equivalent of putting the whammy on a person's entire ancestry. Not only did you ruin that woman's lunch-hour, you cursed her whole family.

You gotta be more multi-culti sensibilities than that!

Around here, the Wal-Mart employees would have rushed to your side and offered to help you find more moldy merchandise.

"May I interest you in some putrid processed cheese foods? They're on special. Perhaps an over-ripe item from Kraft with so many veins it has a pulse..."

As for your particular package of green bread, I can only assume you returned it before Jenia saw it.

Hello my wonderful family. I had a sensational yoga practice today, so perhaps my third eye chakra was more observant than usual. I went to Wal-mart, that evil jerk empire that it is,(serves me right)to bring back the most unhealthy package of English Muffins anyone has ever laid their eyes on. Lastnight I bought these muffins to make little pizzas with my cousin, who babysat with me. I opened the bag and each one had black hair growing, some contained a little green 'algae', it was disastrous. So we ended up eating Corn Flakes at Janine's house. (How satisfying)
Anyway, I get on the long return line, the guy behind me is talking about the ins and outs of some football game, and how the game would've gone more smoothly if another pass was executed, and so forth. It was boring as hell, and never ended. I thought about interjecting to tell him about that time I should have passed on my deep diaphragmatic belly breath 3/4 into my Soaring Eagle Pose, but in the end...mum's the word, I guess.
I was psyched out when a uniformed employee of indetermined cultural origin, named Farina, asked me to step down to another cash register. When I was called, I gently put the clear, moist bag of muffins on the table. Before I could explain anything, the woman whose fashionable hair was in the shape of a spider told me to not say a word, she was going to lunch in a few minutes. Because I couldn't understand her Jamlando vernacular, I opened the bag, and she made it clear to me she didn't want me to do that. Unpleased by her unprofessional manner of customer service, I took my change. Muttered the words "Corn Flakes," in a soft but comprehensive voice, and walked to my car.

I heard the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is lit with LED lights this year. Are we cutting edge, or what?

Glad I missed the lighting ceremony last night -- friggin' tourists, always standing in my way.

(Hmmm, since I only spend a few days a month in NYC these days, am I now considered a tourist myself? Oh crap!)

The boys said they wanted me to build them a treehouse. I said no. Now I'm having second thoughts.



The gift shop is between the teeth and the tonsils. That's the perfect location.

They want so bad to catch some air... But for now, they'll be satisfied popping the front wheel a few inches off the top of each ramp. It got more interesting when Cookie hit rode them with his butt up off the seat -- more height on the wheel, less control of direction. Too bad I didn't get footage of that.

You'd think they'd be exhausted after a few hours of all that yesterday, but we know better by now.

Progress has been slow, but so far we've hung the stockings with care -- along with a lighted garland for the staircase handrail and a strong of icicle lights to hang from the gutter of the front eave. And not just any lights: LED lights. Multicolored.

Much work remains. Including the hoisting of our inflatables. We'll save that for another night.

And there's something else on my mind too. It's that song Dedication by the Beastie Boys. I keep hearing it in my head. Except in my head it plays different. I keep hearing:

"This goes out to...

...Glastonbury!"

But I know that's not in the original lyrics.

Not sure if I ever posted this, but if anyone wants to see how Don Vito spent his Thanksgiving exactly 20 years ago, here it is. You can clearly recognize the characters sitting at the extreme right and left. But who's the long-haired freak sitting on Vito's left? And where did he get that shirt?

Oh, and Tommy: this isn't so much advice as it is restating the obvious... But if you want things to work out between you and this girl, don't let her read this blog.

I'm having the wackiest time this week loading OS combinations onto this neat-o little handheld. I think I finally got Vista and Ubuntu to play nice together, at least as dual boot (though the latter still can't make use of the touchscreen). But I really need to stop tweaking this thing, put all the disks and notes away and get those boxes out of the attic.

Maybe another cup of coffee first?

You're at a critical phase of the courtship ritual, Tommy. I implore you to thoroughly debrief your cousin Steve to find out exactly how he would approach this situation -- and whatever he advises, you make sure you do the opposite.

Not that I'm any better -- all I can come up with is suggestions for various foods you might take along to share at this event.

"Glad to be here with you, Nikki. Want some of my prosciutto and provolone sammich? It's got roasted red peppers!"

Would she see this offer as the transparent test it really is? And if you had such a sandwich with you, could you really bring yourself to offer to share it (a test within a test).

The sandwich approach (especially when it involves that particular sandwich) is for high-rollers only: the outcome is totally binary, with no possibility of a middle-ground response. She will either be completely disgusted by you forever (in which case good riddance) or she will immediately want to marry you (and you want to watch out for that too).

Here at Berea-Rose, Christmas is about to be kicked off. Got Bootsy Collins on the stereo right now, blasting his holiday tunes. Soon I will venture to the attic to take down the boxes with all the decorations. Also need to make my list and check it twice.

We woke up this morning to the tiniest of snowfalls -- a minuscule dusting of white that settled loosely on grass-blades and car hoods but could hardly cling to any pavement. Cookie and Mojo went berserk -- put on their snowsuits and are out there now. I watched Cookie from the back window as he walked stooped over with his mittens against the asphalt -- he had to scour the entire end of the driveway just to scoop up enough to make one meager snowball. But you should have seen the joy on his face once he had it.

Tommy, there's a lesson in there somewhere. My advice to you would be, is to pay attention to me.

Something interesting happened today.

On my way to get a haircut while in the passenger seat of Kristie's car, I received a text from Nikki, who is still a great friend of mine. It read, "Hey, get online later, I want to ask you something." I responded, "Okay! Going to get a haircut...talk later."

I got a haircut, which I can't say I'm all too pleased with (But hey, who cares? It'll grow back). I finally arrive home and I go upstairs onto the computer, and sign onto AIM. Nikki signs on soon after.

"Are you free December 9th?" She asks.
"Yeah, I don't think I have anything going on. What's up?"
"That's when [my school] is having it's semi-formal dance. I was wondering if you would come with me."

This is where I had a mind split. My fingers typed one thing, while my mind thought another.

Mind: "OH. MY. GOD. HAPPY. Wait...what if that's not really her? I better check her profile to see if she's on the same computer...Yeah...That's her...OH. MY. GOD. I refuse to schedule anything on December 9th. I don't care. I'm gonna make it to that dance."

Fingers: "Yeah, sure! That's sounds like a lot of fun! ^_^ Lemme check real quick to see if I've got anything going on...No, I'm free. Cool!"

Now, I ponder afterward. She didn't ask me to go with her as a friend. She simply asked me if I would go with her. She also called me 'babe' later on in the conversation which is something that she made sure to establish as only being used for someone she's into and/or someone she's in a relationship with.

You girls are so freaking COMPLICATED. Really. Like, I mean it. You really, really are.

I plan on wearing the same bad ass suit I wore back in August, with my amazing purple shirt and purple/black tie.

Life, my family, is good.

Oh, and the answer is yes: I've already found some new Christmas songs to make the holidays more festive. The online search continues.

We didn't go out tonight looking for this, but when we spotted it I had to yell to Alane to pull a u-turn -- I had to get a snapshot.

Who knew we lived so close to the epicenter of healthful juicing!

Is anyone the least bit surprised that the first person to come to mind was Little Vito? Alane said it too.

So, what does Jack LaLane have on us?

It would be a much easier sell if it made you smell like usher. I sell that fragrance and its not that great.
come on john you know who to call to give you a good stink.

I saw a Rod Stewart impersonator last night at the lady's night event i participated in. He was awful. But the ladies went insane. His name is hot rod. Wow. I was disappointed. Insane turnout for the show though. I was swamped at our booth. I hope to get some photos and post em.

Is it correct to give summer sausage as a gift for christmas because it is clearly winter.

Ooh, maybe if I'm a little less naughty and a little more nice Santa will leave me a couple of tasty dumplings under the tree. Mmmmm... dumplings.

Took the Subaru in for service this morning and that gave me a few hours to kill. The dealership dropped me at the close by mall, which gave me a chance to wander around, drink some coffee, meander into Macys singing "I drive myself to Macys" which wasn't quite true since it was a garage employee who drove me there.

Needless to say, the mall was decked out for Christmas and I'm cool with that -- I love Christmas. They even had a little stand-alone stall in the big center aisle for a Hickory Farms stand. The stack of beef-logs made me reminisce for the Christmas season of 1988, when Guido and I roamed the Galleria in White Plains, with Guido totally perplexed over what to buy as his office Secret Santa gift. Then we spotted the stick o' meat at the Hickory Farms stand. We knew right away we'd found the answer. He bought two: one for the office gift, the other for us. And a jar of honey mustard.

As we made our way back the parking garage we couldn't help ourselves -- I used the tiny United Nations pocketknife I'd been carrying around since 7th grade to peel open the industrial-gauge plastic wrap, we opened the mustard jar, dipped the giant meat log, and took big Viking bites out of it as we pushed through the crowd on our way back to the car.

I remember Lisa was with us and she tried real hard to blend into the crowd and make like she didn't know us. Her act wasn't fooling anyone.

But alas, this morning's reverie was cut short -- very short, in fact, as the sole Hickory Farms attendant who was actually in the middle of ringing up someone's purchase stopped what she was doing to come over and put the hard sell on me on, a rapid-fire description of the delights and discounts associated with the juicy cuts of smoked nitrates on display. I nodded my head and tried not to stare down her open shirt -- what the hell kind of bra was she wearing to push those tiny things up and in and out the top? It was distracting, but as fond as my beef stick memories might be I wasn't in the mood to buy any.

So I begged off. Only to be accosted later by someone who wanted to sell me aromotherapy.

"I don't do aromatherapy."

"Why not?" she asked, looking alarmed.

"Because I stink already."

And thus the pushy salesfolk continued to assail me. The woman in Macys wanted me to try Usher cologne. And she looked saddened when I kept walking. "You might like it!" she called after me. Someone help me out here -- does the retail industry have data to show that approach actually works? I feel bad for these people... having to talk to a Mastandrea-at-retail is not always the most pleasant experience.

(Did pick up a few nice things at World Market on my way back. I like that place.)

Sure got cold around here today. Got blasted with frozen rain after dropping da chimpz at school this morning. Now I have a fire going while we watch a Godzilla DVD.

I'm typing this on the split thumbpad of an ultraportable. Not easy.

When Bazzukajoe typed "pot pie" did he say it out loud in Ren's voice? Cheecken pot piiiiie. I know I did each time I wrote it.

I went to Beast Buy just now to pick up a few things. Everything I was looking for they didn't have. So once I was done not finding the stuff I needed, I looked around for the stuff I didn't need. And I think seven different employees approached me to ask me if I needed any help. The first guy was at least helpful -- he told me flat out, they didn't have a bluetooth mouse (any bluetooth mouse, forget the particular model I wanted).

So I paced around looking at other stuff.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

"No, you don't got it."

That repeated several times. The last few times I wasn't very polite. I suppose they do that stuff thinking it'll be good for business. But whatever they do in the Cleveland area is, almost by definition, not good for business.

Berea-Rose has gotten some warm weather the last few days. That ends tonight. The cold is on its way. I stopped in World Market before Beast Buy and was pleased to see the Christmas stuff out. I was tempted to buy a few boxes of pannetone -- what the hell, it's not like they'll be bringing in any fresher inventory between now and the holiday.

I want pot pie.....

John i will never understand how the mind works. It just does its thing. I think that it knows when your full. Your gauge is on F and its time. The question is......has it risen as high as the brow line? Is this what causes the discussion to arise? Ill be damned if i do not have to go just a short while after something like this is discussed. Supporting this theory i can definitively say that not 5 minutes after the 7 pound discussion Don Vito arose and said" lets see if nature has done its thing i hear the call of the wild." and headed for the evac station. Is it truly what beckons us in some subtle way? John did you have to hit the porcelain after that discussion at work? The brow line is very important to the mastandrea blood line. It is part of how we communicate without talking. I challenge anyone to be able to decipher a good facial expression. My dad has said things in his head that nearly made my head explode. Perhaps this is the reason for all that extra cranial material we carry. If he cannot hold it back he will usually say something either completely of the subject or he will bring someone else into the conversation to prove that this conversation is a waste of time. I believe at times that the message does get garbled and this is what i believe gets my dad in trouble some times. He sends out a signal and on occasion a nut job will pick it up. It was okay in the younger days but now he is sometimes unable to get away. I wonder if this was also a problem don Vito had as he very often got into pointless altercations with other postal workers. I wonder............ Good thing my dad has wheels now, he just rolls away. How did i get to this point in this dialogue? I am tired. Nite.....

As Alane was making the chicken pot pie (glazed ham!) in the kitchen last night, she was playing music I never heard before. This morning I saw a newly-opened CD case -- something from Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Seeing Robert Plant's leatherized mug in the cover photo made me think of one of my favorite tracks from his early solo career, a song called Big Log.

Which, of course, made me think of Don Vito.

Thus does the Mastandrea mind operate. Even at the office, as I talked shop with various members of my department, when the discussion turned to the turf battles that inevitably arise among the different pieces of any organization: some requested that I take a harder line when demanding certain outputs from other departments. Yes, we'll get what we need from them, I assured my group. But I will not take an overly-aggressive stand. "I don't push," I explained.

Were they assured by that? Or did they hear in their heads the piercing intonations of Robert Plant crooning "my love is the miles and the waiting."

Miles? Makes sense if you remember Cowboy Buddy's ad for the Swollen Tick Family Restaurant: "Shoot, you got five miles of intestines. That's plenty of room for all my inventory!"

Yes, this is how the mind works.

Steve has a point. I believe that badge gave him great access. He was a wealth of information yesterday. We truly missed john and the fam yesterday. We sat and listened to Spike Jones and his City Slickers. I can almost see mojo and cookie giggling and laughing everytime the guy gargled out a note. Uncle Vee was impressed by the guy and had historical recollection of when songs came out, in the 40's. It was a funny evening. He did impart some words of wisdom and they were both funny and factual. I do not push is something i will carry with me forever. As Burl was singing he started talking about him as playing a cowboy in a few westerns. If you have seen the guy you would have more chance convincing me he played the wizard in The Wizard of Oz. He argued that this guy was great in westerns. He even won an academy award for Big Country. Maybe uncle vito should be playing scene it with us. I argued that the guy appeared to be a bizare looking possibly man loving oddball. He said "well thats true but not in the westerns. in those he lived that part. " I was intrigued and now we must find this movie and watch it.

The actual quote from Uncle Vito in regards to his bowel movements: "I don't push." This is usually a wise and hemmorhoid-free course of action. He said it more than once, he really wanted to stress to everyone its importance. Also worth mentioning, the blueberry pie was indeed an "Upper Crust" brand delicacy...but its no longer offered by Kosters. Merle, Jenia and I actually picked it up at Nebraska Meats (located on Northcake)...I looked behind the counter to see if they had any pictures of famous Nebraskans hanging on the wall...but sadly there were none. I mentioned it to Uncle Vito, if perchance there was a TV show host because one came to my mind...to which he said "Yes! Johnny Carson." Not the one I was thinking of...but a much better answer. He also informed us that Burl Ives won an oscar for a Western named "Big Country"...we checked his claim to IMDB and Wikipedia to find he was once again right on the money. You know I starting to think maybe a USPS ID badge can get you past airport security.

Today was a long day for a Sunday. I was up at 6am and arrived at Publix by 7am. I had to buy some breakfast and party items for the annual holiday store meeting. A normally boring meeting i attempted to lighten up . At 8 am i prepped for the presentation and it began at 9am. It ended at 12:30 and i was home by 1 pm. We hit jersey mikes for a little lunch. We picked up a few things at publix, my second trip. And them medicine for the baby at CVS. Last Stop Spumoni South. Ellexa and pop pop tried to chase a rabbit across the lawn. And the drunken neighbor called me Steve.

So i got to see the Uncle Vito today and i must say the man looks amazing. He got a hug from ellexa and she got a Christmas teddy bear. We tried and tried to get her to say his name as she had earlier in the car but to no avail.
Uncle vee showed off his cool new scar and declared they had in fact glued him back together "after moving some stuff around in there". He very subtly referred to his open heart surgery as a little cut and they moved some stuff. I don't feel any pain or anything. Amazing. We discussed many things over some DeCaf Orens Vienna Roast and a Blueberry pie from Kosters. Of course all discussion between mastandrea's eventually must end with bodily function discussion. I learned something Uncle Vee should have received an award for. He said it with very little fan fare and spoke as if, you know it happens. He apparently had some trouble with regularity and he had not dropped a deuce in more than 3 days. This disturbed him and weighed him down as one would expect. Using only prunes as his weapon of choice he made a full recovery in the hospital and actually took a 7 pound shit. 7 pounds......I have done some extraordinary work but i have never even come close to that number. He was sure of its weight as he was weighed each day and after that monumental movement he was 7 pounds lighter. He also checked it out visually. We all felt that if it was not mud than it probably resembled a chivalad sausage with the toothpicks still in it. Much to our surprise it was neither. It was a normal consistency AND he did not need to push at all. It left on its own. I was amazed and left my dads house with a whole new image of uncle vee. He is truly a bathroom warrior. His philosophy is awesome. He will drop no log before its time. If the peristalsis of the lower intestines has not moved the next submersible to the on deck circle he will not force the issue. He will speed it up with a few prunes but thats it. I needed to share this as i thought about it all night.

We also watched some cookie and mojo videos. Very interesting.

I think uncle vito is growing a beard. I think that's perfect. He and my dad should stop shaving and see what develops. They should have some stashes in 3 or 4 days. I aspire to have the Rollie Fingers handlebar mustache some day. Someone has to bring it back, someone help me.

It's starting to come clear to me just how messed up a city Cleveland really is. First, if you're flying to Cleveland on Continental (a shit airline) make sure they're not planning to have you use Terminal D. It's about 15 nautical miles from the main entrance. You may as well use Akron airport for all the extra time you'll need to allot.

Second, make sure you're going to be in a plane larger than a 1970s hatchback. For me, the sice of the plane doesn't really matter much -- until you tell me I have to gate-check my carry-on bag (the carry-on bag I've already overstuffed in order to avoid having to check luggage period). So there I was, on another overbooked flight compressed into an undersize plane, cramped in a seat that squeaked and clicked whenever I moved (which was often, as the anti-ergonomics of its design was making my ass-bone scream) wondering how long it would take me to get my bag back once we landed.

Answer: a while.

Once I got it I made the epic journey back to the main terminal and out to the cab line. The cabbie was glad to see me -- until I told him where I was going. He went insane -- Berea is very close to the airport, so this poor bastard probably sat in a line hoping for a big payday and all he got was a short haul. And he was so annoyed I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel. Hey, if you got a rule against short haul trips, hang a sign on your cab announcing that. Or renounce the sweet-heart monopoly arrangement the city granted to certain cab companies for picking up fares at the airport.

That'll never happen.

Anyway, it's good to be home -- Da Chimpz are watching their Mario Brothers video, and I'm about to tinker with my wireless router and some new gadgets I got on the trip. I should call Guido -- see if he still feels woozy from that bottle of sake we killed last night.

I have been back from my trip to Philadelphia for some time now and have not shared my adventures. The conference I attended was by far the most uninteresting thing I could possbily have ever sat through. Chronic Beryllium Disease, no matter how you slice it--is not stimulating discussion. But I did meet lots of interesting people.

I did at the advice of John go to Tony Luke's to eat the philly cheese steak that beat Bobby Flay in the throw down (which by the way I just saw Mr. Flay, which reminds me of someone telling me that NPR annoucers were calling 50 Cent--Mr. Cent, but I digress, get beat in a meatball throwdown--I'm sure John could have done it too). Since I did not want to make the trip alone, I had to bribe the guy that came with me from Cleveland to go with me by buying him lunch. So we set off in the taxi to South Philly. We drove through a very lovely neighborhood with lots of "gentlemen's clubs". Once we got to what must have been the most industrial part of the neighborhood--we came to Tony Luke's. Now, Tony Luke's has two establishments right across the street from each other. One of them was a sit down restaurant sports club type place and the other was a walk up stand with picnic tables. We decided since it was a nice day we would do the "authentic" walk up stand. So we order the Italian philly which is what beat Bobby Flay. IT was a pretty tasty sandwich, and I am not a big fan of broccoli rabe.

What I found truly fascinating about the place was how people would stop to get their sandwiches from the stand. The road that Tony Luke's sits on is a four lane road with two lanes in each direction and then like a fifth yellow painted median lane in the middle. People would drive up to the median lane from either direction pull into it park there and run across two lanes of traffic to wait in line at Tony Luke's. I have seen many interesting parking ideas in NYC but I dont think I ever witnessed that there.

So we are waiting for a cab to take us back and watching the fascinating median strip parking, when a Chrysler 300 pull in and park in the median. I personally find the 300 to be a stereotypical mobster car and my belief was not shaken when I saw the man that emerged from the vehicle. He was a dead ringer for Pussy from the Sorpranos, if Pussy would have ever worn shorts with tube socks. I was totally fascinated by him until the moment he seemed to take notice of us. We watched in abject terror as he came walking up to us. He stopped in front of us and said to my friend--Are you Seymour? Now this is especially amusing because my friend would definitely be voted least likely to be named Seymour if a contest was held. I, at this point, am telepathically alerting my friend that he best not even go with the answer Yes or we will end up dead in the back of the 300. My telepathy worked and he said No. To which our new friend said, I'm suppose to meet Seymour to do some business with him and I dont know what he looks like. Obviously this was a very close business relatinship. He then ambled off in search of Seymour. Those giving me my highlight for my stay in Phialdelphia.

Too bad Cookie and Mojo couldnt have trick or treated with Ellexa--they were Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi. It would have been like a little Star Wars reunion. I would post a picture--however I am technically challenged so when John returns from his weekend frolic in westchester, maybe he could do it.

The boys got their school pictures. Mojo was having his all time worst day ever and the photo is priceless. I showed people at work and they were in awe of the photo--well after they wiped away the tears from crying from laughing so hard.

Today the boys and I went to see Flat Stanley--a musical production in downtown Cleveland and they had a good time. It was a cute show.

Guido, Kay and I have a fire blazing while we sit on the couch and talk. Or snore, as Guido is slipping in and out on us. Good time to relax. And drink sake. More sake.

You people are playing with fire here -- Alane gonna come down on you with some righteous ass-kicking, and soon. On me too, for the "you gotta make friends with her fat friend first" advice I was all prepare to give Tommy until you people slipped the GYN's stirrups and smuggled the conversation into Michael-Jackson-removable-nose territory.

I"m a well-rounded kind of guy -- so after a fancy dinner on Thursday night I settled for a street-meat dinner last night, huddled in my hotel room, shoveling gyro-platter into my gob while saying goodnight to Da Chimpz over the cellphone.

This morning I get the rest of my crap out of my office. I'm sure I can find someone to adopt the talking Cartman plush toy. Flyswatter collection should be an easy hand-off too. Not as sure about the two mannequins -- they have no heads and they're a little creepy.

The gynocologists office is not the place to be ever. The only women there are ones that are pregnant or itchy in some way. Either way they are always incredibly angry as soon as they get thru the door. Its like some sort of gateway of sarcasm and pain. Never put the paper gown on while your waiting for the doctor. She will not find it amusing. The thing looked like some kinda superhero costume. Like a paper cape and vest or something i still do not get it.

ANYWAY.....listen to steve's first statement......do not take advice from him about women. It would be wrong to take advice from any man about women. It is fundamentally impossible to predict what, how, where or anything at all about them. You will be wrong, always. Till that one come along that gets you. She will not ask WHY. She may think it but she won't ask it. There will be no repercusions when you accidently break several glasses trying to prove you could stack every glass in the house in a pyramid and break a few leaving you with odd numbers of matching glasses. OR how you managed to flush and entire package of 350 q-tips down the toilet. ( i told you my toilets could flush) OR when you accidently leaned on her car and made a big dent the first night you went out. GO AHEAD. YOU WANT TO ASK. There is really no reason, just because. When you find that girl, you'll know. You wont realize it when your wiping up the carnage but you will when there is no arguing and its just accepted. I never said she would like it,just accept it. I dunno.

Don't get discouraged, Don Tommasino. Girls are fundamentally confused, just know that usually a guy ends up in the friend zone because hes worked hard to be an altogether decent human being...so let her poor judgement validate what you always say about yourself...you're awesome. Anyway, they say names predetermine your future job...Nikki is tied with Destiny and Ivy as the quintessential stripper name. Of course, I myself will refrain from dispensing any personal advice on choosing women...that would be like Michael Jackson saying "I can recommend you a really great plastic surgeon..." However, I've given it some thought and if parties are not working out for you, I think a good place to meet women is the gynocologist. Its just a thought.

Yeah. Sweet.

So much for the whole Nikki thing.

We were talking and she informed me that at this point, I'm nothing more than a friend and she doesn't see that changing any time soon.

That kinda sucks. A lot. But I'll get over it. Life goes on.

It seems the hardest part about finding someone I want to be with is having to meet new people. All of my female friends have put me securely in the friend zone, and I'm not exactly interested in any of them.

I guess I just need to find my way to more parties. I guess there'll be more girls. Hopefully more attractive, intelligent ones.

It looks to me like Vito Jr. has two different Blogger accounts -- one attached to Tutti Barese and the other to the Macaroni Dish. Maybe a nice Chantix-snooze will help the other userid come to you? As in a dream, perchance?

I'm hanging in NYC right now, milling around while my droogies do all the work. While they're breaking down equipment tonight maybe I'll save them a doggie bag from Piano Due -- supposed to be a nice joint but I honestly don't recall ever seeing it as I passed that way to/from work every day. Maybe it opened since I moved away. (Hey Steve, you think I should order Orange Soup and see how they respond?)

I'm cleaning out my office too -- something I should've done months ago. There's really no need to tie up a room that sits empty most of the year. So my managers will play musical offices to scoop up the new digs. One window looks north on Seventh Avenue a few blocks to Central Park, the other the Sheraton and eastward. Whenever Cookie visited he'd sit on the windowsills, lean his head on the glass, and count the taxicabs passing down below (something he remembers still from the NY days -- memories that are slowly fading as he gets older).

So maybe by Saturday morning I'll have most of this crap boxed up or discarded. I might even wipe things down before I hand over the key!

The weather is cold. Radio City is already dressing itself up for Christmas. I think I like the city better these days, being able to visit and just get my work done, catch up with friends and colleagues. That old commute of mine was tame by metro-area standards, but I dreaded it profoundly.

I recieved this in my email box this morning, and felt it my moral and civic duty to share it with the rest of the world. Vito Jr., you are a fascinating individual, and all I can say is WoooooooW.


hi.. i wrote this last night.. i tried to get it on the blog.. but my page says.. im only part of the tutti barese blog.. so i couldn't post in macaroni dish.. so i emailed it to u guys..

hello.. im sittin in my computer chair.. just got home from my girlfriends house a few minutes ago.. im watchin conan o'brien..i love this show.. jerry seinfeld is the main guy for the night.. he did some new material.. it was pretty good.. and promoted his new bee movie.. again.. then its time to goto commercial.. first commercial.. its for a prescription drug called CHANTIX.. a pill to help people quit smoking.. it somehow blocks the nicotine receptors in your brain.. and helps fight cravings.. making for a smoother transition into the life of a non-smoker.. the commercial is all about positive messages and a sense of hope.. and easily achievable success.. they demonstrate visually with a tortoise and rabbit racing to point out that slow and steady wins the race to quit smoking.. and all the while a male narrator.. sounds like he is in his thirties.. possibly a family man.. a smart man.. probably a non-smoker.. he knows all about this terrific discovery.. and he wants me to know.. so he speaks right to me (im the only one in the room).. in his confident know-it-all voice.. he thinks i should talk to my doctor about this CHANTIX.. so i know he's lookin out for me..and then he tells me about the side effects.. which he should have waited for the doctor to tell me that.. because most of them are pretty lousy.. but its only MOST.. not all.. the side effects are..


nausea
sleep disturbances.. (trouble sleeping, changes in dreaming)
constipation
gas
vomiting

i want to have changing in dreaming.. the nausea would not be fun to have.. neither would the vomiting.. and to be honest... im not a big fan of being constipated.. but after that we have gas.. hahaha.. now that is another pretty cool side effect to have.. i would be blasting farts here.. there.. everywhere.. and on the telephone for long distance farts.. it would be pretty great to have just the weird dreams.. and gas side effect.. however.. in the wrong hands.. that sort of side effect combination could make a man go insane with power.. but i digress.. the reason i am writing this.. is because.. i have tried to quit cigarettes a while back ago.. and used the assistance of a nicotine patch.. and that too effects your dreams.. but they used different phrasing.. on the patch box it said.. may experience vivid dreams.. and one night i had a such a side effected dream.. that i was in this random house somewhere in dreamland.. and i was pregnant.. and not the "its bluuuue!" pregnant.. i had a watermelon stomach pregnant.. hahaha.. then i remember being on a beach.. with my newly birthed offspring.. i dont remember if it was a boy or girl.. then somehow i lost the poor kid somewhere on the beach.. maybe in the waves.. im not sure..at one point i looked up into the sky.. and there were hoards of flying lobster tails.. just flying in one direction..and pretty much blocking most of the blue sky.. then i woke up.. it was still dark outside.. got outta bed.. went to pee.. scribbled the main parts of the dream on a piece of paper.. and went back to bed.. which was unfortunately dreamless.. but that dream was by far the wierdest dream i have ever had.. it would be great if we could control what we dream about.. but having each dream be a surprise is great too.. good ones or bad ones.. i wonder if they could make a pill where the desired effect is to have vivid weird dreams.. but then again it would probably also have its fair share of the crappy side effects.. it ain't right.. i am contemplating in using the CHANTIX.. because i would like to and should quit smoking.. and i would like to experience the weird dreams again.. plus there is the slight chance of receiving the priceless gift of gas.. so i am going to look into it.. http://www.chantix.com/ .. so hopefully one day soon after a nap or after a night in sleep mode.. i can blog about a story of me farting so loud that i wake myself up from some outrageous dream.. and hopefully i won't smell like cigarettes..

Ah, I hear Bazzukajoe had a glimpse of a barese sack. Very impressive.

BTW, is this what Jenia was talking about the other day? Maybe he really did receive a recommendation!

I know Tom wrote "bari sax" but for some reason I read "Barry K." That confusion quickly cleared, but for the rest of the story I pictured him playing a "barese saxophone," whatever that would look like (we know how it would sound -- garbled).

But I figure, the guy sporting a barese sax is always going to get the sweet girl at any party, so the rest of Tom's story makes perfect sense to me. May they have a splendid time together.

Mille figli maschii.

Tom, that was the greatest story ever told.
Give me a call and let me know how it unfolds. Today nikki, tomorrow the world. I believe a new name is in order to replace TRUMPET ACE moniker you currently go by. I had a great time in vegas despite the searing heat. My door is always open if you ever want to get away from the connecticut malaise. We recently moved into a larger place and there is always a spot for you and the connecticut division of the massari's. I will warn you that i do not watch c-span and i do not eat tofu. I hope this does not change your impression of me.

A few things to address today about my life that I'm pretty excited about.

My school has a jazz band. This isn't the same jazz band that had a celebrity endorsement from the infamous 'Mrs. Edmann.' Actually, this is a well put together jazz ensemble with highly skilled musicians from my school. This ensemble plays music that is difficult to master, but sounds absolutely fantastic. I have no idea how I
made it into the ensemble, other than the fact that I was the only bari sax that auditioned.

My conductor decided to pull out some songs that sort of feature the bari sax. I dunno what his motivation was for this. Is he trying to make me freak out? Is he trying to make me reach my full potential? Is he trying to make me screw up in front of a large audience to embarrass me? I think he will manage all of these things at the same time. The songs sounds really bad ass, though. One song in particular shines among the rest. It is aptly named Funkalicious. I think the title speaks for itself.

Moving on!

A couple weeks back, I went to a Halloween party which I was invited to by a friend of mine who wasn't actually throwing the party. Turns out my friend Christen has a friend named Kaela who was throwing this party, and they had a shortage on guys. For some reason, the first name that came to mind when thinking of guys that could come to this party to make it awesome was 'Tom.' I ended up going, thinking to myself, "Well, at least it'll give me something to do on a Friday night. Maybe we'll chill, maybe we'll dance...Whatever." Chilling is not what happened.

At this party, there were a bunch of people I didn't know. Actually, I knew only two people. One person I really knew, but the other was just a minor acquaintance of mine. I arrive at the party, only to be greeted and introduced to four girls that go to a Catholic school up by me. I notice one of them in particular who seemed to look a little more physically fit than the other three, and seemed to be a bit more confident. She was a little more outspoken, and dressed in some sort of skimpy, modern day vampiress outfit. A little bit of time past, and I started making conversation and hanging out with these four girls. I talked mostly to the aforementioned vampiress who I came to know as 'Nikki.'

This was a joint party between siblings - The highschool-age sister named Kaela and the smaller, eighth-grade brother named something-that-I-didn't-really-care-all-too-much-to-catch. Kaela had her group of friends, and all of us were highschoolers. We decided, however, to hang out together with her brother's wannabe-macho buddies. The twenty-or-so of us that were there decided it'd be bad ass to play hide and seek in the dark. So we did.

Nikki and I ended up hiding together the whole time, whether it was me and her in a boiler room or mashed into a seven inch space between a sauna and a wall. Because of this time we had together, we joked and laughed and got to know each other a little better. As hide and seek came to a close, us older kids noticed a rift in the eighth grade tribe. Some kids were staying completely away from others. We couldn't exactly tell why, but it was starting to dampen the mostly upbeat feeling of the party. Me and Nikki, without even knowing the other was doing the same thing, went to try and figure out what was wrong and help them cure their middle school drama.

The two of us started working together as a team of two awesome people to mediate and psychoanalyze the issue at hand, trying to stitch up the little breakage in the friendship that had occurred. We found out that there was way more middle school drama than either of us thought there could be. She impressed me with her quick wit and intellectual tongue, but at the same time, her ability to connect with these kids and her ability to figure out each little insecurity the kids had just as I went along trying to cure each one of these insecurities.

Smart AND good looking? WTF?

Sure enough, as time went on, we solved the problems of these eighth graders and got them to be a little more tolerant of each other, for at least the rest of the night. We went back to join our main group of people, only to find that they were trying to find some dance music to put on. Once they decided on a CD, we took each other's hand and sauntered off to the dance floor. We danced together for the rest of the night. Before she had to leave, I asked her for her number, which she gave to me gladly.

Funny fact? I found out after she left that earlier in the night, Nikki asked Kaela for my number. Means she's at least somewhat interested, right?

I was completely taken aback by what happened. I went to this party, expecting to chill out and listen to some music, but came out of it love-struck. This girl was amazing.

We continued our conversations online, delving into everything from religion to spirituality to how the menstrual cycle is a "bitch in a uterus-shaped can."

Nikki is attractive, intelligent, and able to uphold a conversation. She's funny, understanding, and willing to do something a little odd to make people laugh. She's honest, open, and amazingly friendly.

I hope we get to hang out soon.

Tramadol plus Prozac equals seizures and possible death--why they are never prescribed together. Good way to end an argument. The police report is filed. I didn't press charges but I still can. Next time make sure the pills are dissolved completely when you want to whack someone you disagree with.

Princess Lea.
She got much candy. Much too much.
Someone told me she looks like the baby from Full House michelle.
I do not think so. Uncle Jerry thought she was dressed like Fiona from Shrek. I thought the wig gave it away. Everyone else knew it. On the right is the pumpkin patch near our house. She is showing her teeth. And holding a strange gourd. I look forward to seeing the boys apparel for halloween.

It got a little frosty around here this morning -- I'm thinking of stacking some logs in the fireplace and getting my blaze on. Sun is out now, so maybe I should take care of some yard issues before settling too comfortably with a fire and that bottle of nero d'avola I got yesterday. The sauce still has another four hours until we can eat it... I guess I should get some things done in that interim.

Too bad the baseball game isn't on during the day -- maybe I'd see more of it. Last night's game didn't seem like much of a game so I switched channels and, finding nothing interesting, went upstairs to read until sleep took me away. Too bad MLB thinks it has to run those games so late in the evening -- it's such an effort to watch even a portion of those slow-moving late-night games, and forget having the kids watch a full game. It's almost like they don't want people to watch. I'm happy to oblige. At least if it was on in the afternoon I'd put it on while doing other things.

Mojo is out at a birthday party for one of his little school buddies. That leaves me here with Cookie. Maybe I'll take him outside with me to spread topsoil. He likes dirt.

Did I ever point out that air travel is blowjhinski?

Actually, yesterday's return trip wasn't all that bad. Got to stand a lot, and that made things better for my busted spine. I never did get to the Stinking Rose, but I think I ate a lot of garlic anyway. And everything else.

Today's WSJ has an article about video games that get fried -- along with the players -- during lightning storms. I made Cookie read the first few paragraphs out loud. He was unmoved by the danger, asking only: "Can I go now?"

Last night we all ate dinner at Ducca, the new Eye-talian restaurant in the Westin. Great food. I ordered the bison strip steak. Never had bison before. All I could do was keep repeating to myself "smells like fresh bison!" to people who don't remember Ren & Stimpy quite as well as I do. But when reminded, they too had their favorite scenes.

Then we walked back to the Palace and met some very interesting and aggresive panhandlers -- reminded me of the old days outside Penn Station!

Got out early this morning to get a pound of French Roast cofee beans from Peet's -- I think it'll be pretty good. Haven't been to NYC for a while so I haven't been able to stock up from Oren's.

Excellent! I will add it to the flash cards so she will be prepared the next time we see the Ohio Clan.
San Francisco is a beautiful city and quite expensive. Lots of bars but you should dine at a place
called THE STINKING ROSE. The whole menu revolves around garlic, the stinkin rose,and you can actually get a shot of garlic vodka at the bar for a buck. Good luck. Have you been to Lombard Street? How would you like to jog that once a day? Its very interesting.

How did the pinewood derby go? Did the Mastandrea Meatwagon destroy the competiton?

Update:
We have yet to find a car. I have given up.
Ellexa is speaking in sentences her father is no longer.
For Halloween She will be dressed as Princess Lea. I hope the boys
will sense a great disturbance in the force from ohio

Oh, and in response to Bazzukajoe's latest report on Ellexa's vocabulary, I have but two words.

- Mortadella.

- Youtube.

Need we say anything more?

We got some nice weather here in San Francisco. And the office has windows that open -- sweet. Been staying at the Palace Hotel -- very palatial. There was some fire-related haze in the air when I landed yesterday but that seems to have cleared up as the winds are now on-shore.

Tonight, we eat Italian food.

I have decided that shopping for a new car is probably the worst thing i can imagine. I think i would prefer a good kick in the ass or possibly a good puch in the head. Where do they recruit these people? It seems like they should get some sort of tax break for the amount of douche bags congregated under one roof. Just once i want the guy to say,"no sir -you cannot afford that car" I need room for 2 car seats and i cannot afford more than a $300 car payment. So show me the car in my realm not the car thats going to take you 2 hours to discover the lowest payment possible is $480. Sometimes I think these are the places you bring uncle vito and my dad. If there were ever a group of annoying ass heads that deserve to be dragged out all over the lot for half a day only to find out the answer is "NO,i don't think i want that one." I would love to see the guys face after all the haggling and paperwork and loan approval comes through only for my dad to change his mind about the whole thing because the floor mats look a bit scuffed and they wont replace them. I am over the whole thing. I think you should just get online and pick out the car and all its options and it should show up at your house in a week.
No need for douchinteraction.

I hope a mastandrea comes in first at the pinewood derby. Do you get to sell advertising space on your car like jeff gordon? Make steve send you a blackouts sticker or two. I think a hood decal with a large meatball dripping with sauce is enough said.

ellexa is speaking a lot. everything is amusing.She decided to call me joe all day today. Yesterday i came home from work and she was feeding and changing her doll. She repeats everything and its quite amusing. She rambles on and on and we just stare and try to interpret what it is she is trying to say. Tomorrow we satrt learning the vast array of cured and salted meats. We will keep everyone up to date on her progress.
I believe we will start with:
CAPICOLA
GENOA SALAMI
PROSCUITTO

So the Indians completed their baseball season in quintessential Cleveland style last night -- lame. I did a lot of channel-surfing last night so I only saw some of the game; I clicked off the TV while the game was still close. After Saturday night's bashing, everyone around here was pretty much resigned to a loss -- even in the homily at Mass yesterday morning there was a brief mention of "they tried their best" -- delivered in the context of a "never-give-up" message, no less.

After Mass was the Raingutter Regatta. The boys had lots of fun, but alas, no prizes. Mojo already has his Pinewood Derby car kit. Good thing I didn't put the tools away after making their sailboats.

If you look closely at the photo of Mojo, you can discern that powdered doughnuts were available at this event.

Took Da Chimpz to Home Depot just now to get some spray paint -- tomorrow is the Raingutter Regatta for their scout pack, so we've spent some of the day prepping their boats.

Hey, that's better than last year's race when I opened the boat kit about 40 minutes before we had to walk out the door. The paint was drying on it as we sat through the 9 o'clock Mass and the hull was still tacky as we dropped it into the water.

We also bought dirt at Home Depot -- some topsoil and some garden soil that I needed for around the yard. As we drove, Cookie asked if he could have some of the dirt. I told him no. Then he said he couldn't wait until he was old enough to go out and buy his own dirt.

The kid has aspirations.

It was a dark and stormy night....

Unfortunately, local TV weatherman Dave Cocciarella is no Rob Lopicola. You have to see the video to believe how hard it is to say "toward Ferndale."

He might as well have said, "Brunz."

Been catching up on the London music scene, courtesy of Tom O's blog. Reading it only reminds me of my age. Street-level music? I think ska. But that time is measured in decades. Even my turn to electronica has grown long in the tooth -- it was nearly ten years ago that Oakley the Elder slipped me my first Fat Boy Slim CD. But how long can one do the Rockefeller Skank and still maintain a straight face?

My latest finds aren't even current: this Meatbeat Manifesto is a few years old already; and this Infected Mushroom I can't even find the sell-by date. I'm not even sure it's still acceptable to be as excited as I am over the recent Chemical Brothers release. Them geezers have been around for ages...

Anyway, I will continue to read Tom's blog, and will post outrageous comments there as well. Because I suddenly feel I have a lot to say about music.

When I talked to Alane on the phone earlier today, I gave her directions to the restaurant. That can only mean one thing: tonight she will be eating the cheesesteak sandwich that beat Boby Flay in the Throwdown.

And if she doesn't eat that sandwich, I might have to head over there myself.

What's amazing isn't so much the depth of the hatred that Steve's mailman has for him, but the tenacity and longevity of that hatred.

Truly impressive. Do they train people for this in Postal Worker Academy?

Da Chimpz are finishing their showers... Alane decreed earlier as she passed them in the living room and announced that they smell like dog. Could be from the wiener dog they and the other Cub Scouts were playing with at Settlers Landing today. Cookie's den took them all out there as a Go See It event -- rode the RTA trains, explored the river's edge, played with a couple of dogs out for a run, and read the bronze plaque that explained how Old Man Cleaveland landed there in 1796, hung around for a little while, then wisely headed back to Connecticut from which he never returned.

Could he have suffered from the Connecticut Malaise?

It's possible. Alane is out of town for the next few days and she has composed a veritable user manual meant to guide me through the care and feeding of Cookie and Mojo. I had planned to wing it -- I'm pretty sure we can get by smashingly using just our male instincts. We've got plenty of chips. And firewood.

And so the weekend is shot. Jess and I sit in our house......It almost feels like a return of the Roto Attack that happenened in Jupiter so long ago. Good thing our toilets can flush a roast beef. I have gone with such force that it almost resembles a mug of lager with a foam head. So i leave you with that for the moment.

Just got back from a hay ride. It was a school event, held at the Chalet -- the place where Ree and Maloof did the toboggan run with Cookie and Mojo last Thanksgiving week. They had a nice set-up, especially the fireplaces -- because damn it's gotten cold around here. Into the 40s, for cryin' out loud. I should've worn more than a sweatshirt. My kidneys were knocking together.

The hay ride itself was raucous, with the carts pulling up alongside each other frequently to allow the kids to wail armfuls of hay at each other. The carts went out with a thick layer of hay on the floors; they returned pretty much bare. Fun -- but not quite as much fun as watching Cookie compete hard in the dance contest. He really wanted some kind of trophy...

Now we're sitting here watching the Indians catch a beating from the Red Sox.

Took Da Chimpz to the mall just now -- wanted to find out just how lame the local Waldenbooks really is. Answer: really lame.

So we wandered into the food court (Mojo asked if the food would argue its case and if we would be judges... wise guy).

We got pizza from Sbarros and sat down. I told them the story of when I was a kid and we'd bug Vito to take us into Manhattan so we could walk around those wacky electronics shops near 34th Street. He'd often take us to Sbarros and we'd eat crazy amounts of food before getting back on the F train to head back to Brooklyn.

Cookie listened intently and said "So this is sort of a flashback for you?"

"Well, not really," I said. "This is a mall. In Ohio. And Sbarros pizza used to be a lot better."

Now if I could just find a bagel shop like the one that used to be by the stairwell in Penn Station -- then I might have a flashback.

OK, this qualifies as bizarre: night is falling here at Berea-Rose so I'm tuning my radio to one of the NYC stations -- something I do from time to time. But instead of hearing the traffic report for the FDR Drive, I'm getting Louie Prima singing Ce La Luna. That's not what I expected.

What the hell station is this? Now they're playing Caledonia. She got great big feet.

Yesterday morning we still had the A/C on -- that's how hot it's been around here. Tonight, I think we'll need to turn on the heat. It's pretty damned cold in the 40s.

Da Chimpz have half a day of school tomorrow. And Friday, no school at all. WTF?

Good work, Marlena. I always tend to think of Vin as more of a kung fu master. Mental kung fu.

On Sunday Big Vin was a model for my Yoga Research Project/Presentation. I did it on Wheelchair Yoga, there is no such thing as wheelchair yoga, it's more of a chair yoga, so I was really on my own with this one. I contacted the Office of Students with Disabilities at the local college, Veteran's Affairs, and I contacted those in the medical circuit as well,just to name a few. But my father was great, he performed each move in front of an audience, never faltered, and was amazing under the pressure. When I say pressure, I mean the endurance, and difficulty of the move. Everyone kept saying how cute he was, and wanted to talk to him. Marie and Jenia were in attendance too, they even joined in on a little light yoga practice with guided meditation. I was honored. Ok, so my father wants me to practice that Yoga with him on a regular basis, I think I accomplished the impossible! It was "vinnyoga," as John said.

Wow -- a day off from work. We spent some time cleaning the house. I changed the dust-bag on the vacuum cleaner for the first time in, er, a long time. Fired that thing up and had some serious suction working on that living room carpet. Got too close to the TV table and sucked up half the Wii controllers. Snapped a wire to the IR sensor, so now the thing is busted.

I ordered the replacement part online -- hope it gets here soon.

Hotter than hell around here today.

Someone has to make sure Big Kahuna and Don Vito get a chance to watch this clip. It was filmed during those jolly days prior to NYC's descent into Third World status.

One of the must-have items we purchased yesterday was a mini-bullhorn voice modulator. Set the buttons in various ways and it changes your voice -- Da Chimpz love it. We also got Halloween costumes. The boys are following a Star Wars theme this year. Cookie has been raging around the house with his light-saber since yesterday. He is now intoning to his brother, over the voice modulator: "Luke, I am your father. Join me on the Death Star... We have pie on Wednesdays on Fridays."

Dill pickle flavor is nothing. You need to go to a Dollar General store. There is always a strange smell of old musty clothes almost like a goodwill kinda scent. They always have a disturbing assortment of things, which why i go. I recently saw Charles Chips Ketchup flavored chips and Worcesteshire Flavor chips. Hand down though......I still find salt and vinegar chips as the most appalling. Smell like a pair of cleats after game 7 of the world series.

Ahh yes my moving day was interesting to say the least. The spanish women that kept rubbing steves arm after i yanked mine away from her. She kept babbling in spanish and pointing at her stomach. The shrink wrapping of my couch was awesome. We were trying to jess and her mom to sit on it first but suddenly they didn't feel like sitting.It was obvious Pat had done this before. I was thinking this could be how he wrapped the soup can, it would answer a lot. We moved each piece stealthly into the house as if there were a baby sleeping. All to not disturb the paint and cause a disturbance in the force. Mid lift he could here the high pitched scream of the paint being nicked by the crib. I thought i said be careful..........no metal hangers.
Most interesting were the 2 hand trucks brought over to assist in the move. 1 was plastic and could barely hold a box of pillows. The other looked like it was used to move some of the animal crates onto Noah's Ark. I swear it had metal wheels and squeeled as we pushed it. It was amazing. The rain was biblical. Nonstop. What i dont understand is how it could monsoon and still be 112 degrees outside.

I went to the post office and filled out a change of address form. The lady said this is all you need and it will be processed today. Awesome. Finally something easy. I have received only 2 letters so far. both from the post office to tell me my address was changed and if i am the previous resident mail in the card. 2 weeks and i still get this lady's mail.I was thinking why is this not working. Yesterday i get a confirmation of address change from the post office. It said no magazines or catalogs will be re routed. No standard mail will be forwarded.So why did i change my address? So the post master can send me letters explaining why i am not. And so i can recieve offers for limited edition stamps. Is this insanity? Today i recieved the previous residents mail, bills and magazine. I officially give up.

That painting is more like a frieda khalo if you ask me. It will actually be hung at spumoni south so they dont get lonely. Its something by one of the fettuccini's.

I eagerly await the day John Paul and Jojo meet Peanut, whom we have not decided on a nem for as of yet.

It appears that it might be quite the cultural weekend here. Today as John described, it was the anthropological study of the bizarre characters of Wal-Mart, the wing place, and the Bates Hotel.

Tomorrow will be a multicultural event. John and the boys are attending a boys scout meeting then attending a Indian Powwow. And I don't mean Chief Wahoo, either. The local college is hosting a Native American Powwow. We drove by and they had erected a huge Teepee. Now, it has been a good many years since my 8th grade Ohio History class, but I do not remember any of the indigenous people of Ohio residing in Teepees.

While the boys are delving into Native American culture, I will troop off on my own to attend the Polish Festival with a couple of my friends that live in the neighborhood where it is happening. This will be a culinary wonder I am sure. One of the main reasons I am going is the church that is hosting the event acquired one of John Paul II's mitres and have it on display. They also have apparently had an Icon of John Paul done. This fascinated me to no end, because I did not realize that there were still people that did iconning or whatever it is called. So I will go check it out.

Because the State of Ohio is obviously anti-Italian, the boys do not have off for Columbus day. (even though they go to Catholic school, the public school has school too). This means John and I have a free day. We are both off. I have tried to convince John to go over to Cleveland's Little Italy for their Columbus Day parade, but he is being a killjoy. I feel this would be a wonderful way to end our weekend of culture. Indeed, I have almost convinced myself to go alone even if others rather just sit about and do not celebrate their heritage.

Today while at Wal-Mart, I had to purchase Pringles. Yes that's right had to. Mojo is doing something at school and needs a Pringles can. Lucky for me, the Pringles were on special 2 for 2 dollars. And not only were they Pringles--some of them were EXTREME Pringles. My particular favorite was the Dill pickle flavored. I almost wanted to buy them. I have seen Lays in this flavor and have pondered why they thought this was an appropriate flavor for chips. I believe I will suggest wasabi for the next flavor.

Just got back from an a-typical visit to Wal-Mart. We had parked Da Chimpz at their grandparents (what better way to mark their 51st anniversary) intending to get a few things at the nearby shopping mecca... Who knew there were so many additional things we needed?

As we rolled out with a full cart, it did dawn upon me: we didn't see any bizarre people.

Which made it so not the typical visit to Wal-Mart. But then we stopped at the nearby chicken-wing place, having said we'd bring back food for everyone. As we waited for our carry out order, I spotted a kooky looking guy sitting at a table alone, staring into the air in front of him. I motioned to Alane to stop watching the sporting events on the big screen over our heads. "See that guy," I said. "He wants you to sit down and have a conversation with him."

Of course, my statement was utterly wrong -- he didn't need Alane or anyone else to sit down and converse -- he was doing a fine job having a very lively and earnest conversation all by his lonesome.

We got the food, got in the car, and drove down Pearl Rd to a red light. On our side of the road was one of the old-time, creepy, Norman-Bates-type motels that somehow still survive in this area. Across the empty parking lot a woman in jeans and heels was staggering toward the motel building. She wasn't making much progress. "Look at this," I urged Alane. It was still early in the evening, I thought -- she'd gotten her load on in a hurry. We watched her zig and zag until our light turned green and we proceeded.

"Maybe she's looking for the guy in the wings place?" I theorized, thinking maybe the two pieces of weirdness was really a single phenomenon. But as we got closer to the in-laws we passed a parking lot and saw Grizzly Adams busily dumping his refuse into the recycling bins. That confirmed that all the wack-jobs in the area just haven't done their Wal-Mart shopping -- and probably won't get around to it until midnight or after. We just got there too early.

Mojo is not misbehaved, he's just misunderstood. I think he should be universally praised...it takes intelligence, confidence and ambition to redesign the numeric system himself....plus I don't believe a word that librarian says ....most librarians are evil incarnate. You know the smell of a library makes Merle have to make a brunz. Not sure if that little nugget of info will ever help you in any way, it just seemed important for me to mention.
Well, its been a pretty exciting week out in Spumoni, as you know we moved Joey and Jess into a bigger pad to fit their upcoming arrival....that we have confirmed has a winky. We are thrilled and excited to add one more....plus the Pecorino Crime Family could use some new soldiers. Joey said " ...it will be a masculine child" and it reminded me of a time, this real Macho Banana-Head boasted to me in regards to him having four sons, "Let me tell you something Steve, it takes a man...to make a man!" He said this as I watched his son repeatedly smash his head against the kitchen floor until it was bruised, to which Mr. Macho then added "Thats why we call him Frankie Bad-head".
HOwever, Moving Day with BazzukaJoe and Jess was awesome, I would estimate it was about 700 Degrees Fahrenheit and and monsooning most of the day...so if anyone ever needs help moving into an Amazonian rain forest just call up me, BazzukaJoe and Ree....because as Uncle Lenny once said while hip-shaking with a belly-dancer "I have esperienza!". As expected it was both fun and informative, for example Pat showed us how to sandwich wrap a sofa, so next time we need to save a 400 lb. sausage and pepper hero for lunch, we know the procedure. Moving into the new place reminded me of the boardgame "Operation"...we were so paranoid about touching the walls, that everytime we moved a piece of furniture it looked like we were trying to remove the funny bone....without lighting up the landlord's nose. Also, you know how humans are 90% water?....well Joey's apartment is 90% cologne. Finally, Joey and Jess have a painting of their wedding portrait that I feel should be in the Louvre...maybe by the Picassos.
Anyway, I got more to talk about...but right now its time for me to have some cawf'.