Blinded by emotion, Tommy and Alicia make their move -- not content to prom as mere homies, they plot by telephone exactly how to structure their ever-more-complex alliance.

And once they've worked out their intentions, they momentarily quench their torrid passions by sharing a delicious frozen dessert.

And to think, in the old days of the 13th Avenue Market the pickle-monger would dump out the brine after all the pickles were sold from the barrel. If only Eddie the Good Humor man would have made the entrepreneurial connection...

I can't help but think it's funny that all of my posts are relationship related.

So there's this girl. I've known her for a while now - and she's truly a genuinely good person. She's truly a nice girl. And she's fantastic.

Now, I know something about myself. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am very quick to fall very hard for a girl. This is something that I've known for a long, long time. It's something my mom told me I'd have trouble with when I was four or five years old. For example:

A long, long time ago, at about that time (when I was four or five years old), my sister Stefanie was having a sleep over. I had a bunk bed/futon in my room at the time, and I loved it with a passion. My sister and her friend asked to sleep in my room so they could have the two beds, and neither of them would have to sleep on the ground. My sister asked, "Tommy, can we sleep in your room?"

I firmly responded, "No!"

My sister's friend asked, "Pleeease, Tommy?"

Immediately, without giving it a thought, I said in a soft and defeated voice, "Okay..."

My mother laughed, and told me it was something that she hoped I wouldn't do in the future for fear of me getting stomped all over.

So, as you can tell, wearing my heart on my sleeve will only feed into my thought that this girl is magnificent. No, I won't mistake her for my one-and-only. I understand I'm in high school. I understand this won't last forever. But it's nice while it's around.

Alicia is her name. She's a gorgeous girl who truly believes that no one would like her. She's one of those people that keeps all her feelings shelled up inside, but she's really a funny person. She's one of those that can point out something you said that was stupid or dumb, and make sure even you were laughing about it. She's insanely cute.

We decided to go to prom together quite a while back, but it wasn't truly finalized until tonight. It was a single phone call that changed many things.

I wore my confidence through my voice, and said, "So, are we just going as homies, or are we going as something more?"

"Are we?"

"Yeah, I'm asking."

"I dunno. Do you WANT to go as just homies?"

At this point, I'm worried. I don't want to say something that would make it awkward.

"Well, do you want to go as something more?"

"I...I just feel like..Eh..." She trails off before exclaiming, "I have to go."

"No you don't. Finish your sentence. What're you feeling?"

"No, I really have to go. Didn't you hear my dad?"

"Yeah, he can wait thirty seconds. Tell me what's on your mind."

"...Okay. I just feel like you can do so much better. You could go to prom with someone else and have way more fun."

Did she really not realize this is exactly how I felt about her? That this is what I was afraid of?

"Alicia, that is the exact opposite of how I feel. I feel like if I go with you, I'd have real fun. You're so not drama-filled and so completely genuine, I feel like I'd have true fun with you. But if I went with someone else, it'd be bullshit fun. Know what I mean?"

She laughs. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So, are you interested in going as more than just friends? I mean, I'd be more than willing to go if you want to. If you're interested in going as more than friends, then let's do it. Otherwise, don't worry about it." After I said this, I was hopping on the inside because it came off EXACTLY how I wanted it to. It was one of those no-stress kinda lines. It worked so perfectly, it was beautiful. It made it seem like I would be totally okay with not going as more than friends (Which I would be, mind you). It was so great.

"Okay. Let's do it."

"Sweet! Alright, this should be cool."

"Yep! But I really have to go now."

"Alright, Alicia, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever."

"Okay! Bye!"

I cannot express how excited I am. This is the second time I was asked to prom, and I know this. But this time I feel so much more sure than last time.

We'll see how everything goes. I have a history of letting emotion blind me from the real situation. I'm going to do what I can to avoid that now.

Cookie and Mojo will almost certainly need therapy when they grow up. There are many reasons for this. Here is just one:

It's a fairly typical Sunday here at Berea-Rose: got up and made the coffee, then made the meatballs, then had a short jog (real short), then to Mass, then to Target (a little cellphone replacement), and then to the back for outdoor madness.

Today's madness consisted of the boys wanting to ride their bikes and my wanting to get a ramp assembled for the backdoor (vehicular access is now possible!). Despite the cold, it wasn't long before the two activities intersected, as this video illiustrates:

As you can see, the ramp is complete. I hope it's still in usable condition when we need it in a few weeks. Same for Da Chimpz.

Now that Easter has come and gone, I figured today would be a good time to take down the last of the Christmas lights. Every other time I thought to do it in the last few months it was too cold -- not that today was in any way balmy. But the sun was deceptive, drawing me out to the end of the driveway this afternoon to play catch with Da Chimpz for a while (until they ran in to watch Scooby Doo).

Things are looking up in Northeast Ohio -- today I was actually able to find the Saturday edition of the New York Post at the local Giant Beagle. Which means I was able to read the latest Spitzer info. I'm still waiting for a gem as good as the one that moved on the wires earlier this week:

It is also my client's understanding from the same source that Gov. Spitzer did not remove his mid-calf length black socks during the sex act.

Now c'mon: news just doesn't get any better than that. Especially in Ohio, where the local news is apt to have such stunning ledes as:

Police say a man was arrested after being caught ... having sex repeatedly with his picnic table.

Okay, that's pretty good too, but in a totally different and maybe-even-creepier way.

Then again, they say that by the time you get to age 40 you start to lose your sense of humor. So maybe none of this is really very funny at all. How would I know anyway?

Was in San Fran most of this week, just got back. The weather was nicer there. Alane is downstairs watching the basketball game -- Xavier seems ready to lose this game. Eh, they usually bow out of the tournament at around this level.

It's probably a little late to return Bazzukajoe's phone call. The pictures he put up are fantastic. I will get some rest, and then I will comment on his photos.

I decided a new hair style was in order, perhaps the lack of any to be more realistic. Notice the hat seems to fit him "o" so snuggly as he snoozes the day away and partys all night long. Ellexa on the other hand is not happy with the hat as it is too big. We had an egg coloring pary for Marlena's Birthday. We created a list of ridiculous and real names to put on eggs. None of the list were present to consume or accept thier egg tribute. I will leave that list to Ian. He wrote them all and kept track of its progression.He needs to be a member of the blog. He is at the Spumoni Homestead enough to be considered a resident and a truly disturbed young man at that. He has some stories for you.

Okay so sleeping is apparently a luxury. This boy does not sleep. He eats and screams. Even ellexa looks at him like "AGAIN?" He is always awake. I think the trick will probably be to blend up a meatball and gravy in his bottle and let his fullness sail him off to sleep. Ellexa is handling it much better. I remember the way Ree used to pull little factoid type comments from thin air with cracker jack timing. Ellexa has begun to do this and there are so many little idiosychrisies that i see mysel or ree as doing. She does not miss a single word you say. Even long words she will sound out slow and say when you are least expecting it. She is a very funny kid and she knows her cousins name s from the photos on the fridge. We will make that trip at some point.
<----Does this photo hark back to the 38th street park days?

Why is steve guttenberg on tv again? Didn't we see enough of him?

So is it me or does this little man look like my dad? I swear he looks like all his baby pictures. I question if christian will be competing for the title of most furious. This boy is always wearing a scowl. Do i lie? His head is in the 95th percentile compared to ellexa's stil 60th percentile. Does a girl really need a massive cranium though?

I'm dreaming... of a white... Easter.

Well, the snow isn't actually falling right now. But the white stuff that piled up night before last is still mostly with us. And between the ice scraper and the busted old windshield wipers I couldn't quite clear the frost from the glass this morning, making the short drive to church a true exercise of faith (and road-memory).

But now we're back, and Da Chimpz are stuffing themselves with chocolates and candies. Bach's St. Matthew's Passion blasts on the sound system. A gigantic ham fills the oven. The sun shines as it hasn't done in a while around here. And in Port St. Lucie Mrs. Brown had a marital spat that attracted police attention.

Deputies say she chased her fleeing husband around the yard and tried to run over him about 20 times. Nicholas Brown tried to stop his wife by throwing a brick at the windshield.

This is why Fark makes such excessive use of its "Florida" tag.

Ah, the music is on so loud I can hear while I sit upstairs. Very nice...

"Hey, this music doesn't sound right."

"Whatsamatter, you think CD is baroque?"

When a package absolutely, positively has to get there? Don't use FedEx. For the third time in about as many tries they delivered my package to the house around the corner with the same number. I only know this because my exasperated neighbor is kind enough to swing by and tell me. I even called FedEx last time to bitch... Which may be why they made me haul my own freight over the snowy roads of Berea just now (yep, snowy: it's snowing again).

From now on I have to include special instructions with my online orders: "don't use FedEx, it pisses off my neighbors."

Bunch o' assholes.

UPDATE: According to a WSJ alert I just got by e-mail, "FedEx said net income declined 6% for its fiscal third quarter to $393 million as operating margins declined, hit by higher fuel prices and slack demand in the weakening economy. The express shipping company expects fourth-quarter earnings per share to be less than in the previous year." Suck it, FedEx!

What the hell is wrong with my neighborhood? Why can't these perverts control themselves!

Alane and I drove to the tax office this afternoon to sign our paperwork and render unto Kucinich that which apparently is Kucinich's. Another big financial hit. Oh well: if my pain makes the free-riders happier, then consider me a party animal...

Anyway, as we drove I was playing my really cool Beady Belle CD and the track for "Big Balloon" came on. With lyrics like "I am a fluttering helium balloon... I am a big balloon (I'm a balloon)" Alane thinks it is a ridiculous song. As for me, I never gave it much thought.

Never gave it much thought? Has the morass of female jazz vocals softened my brain? After three or four years of hearing that song it finally struck me:

I am... A BIG BABOON (I'm a baboon)

I sang this, gleefully, right along with the music, and for emphasis I dragged my knuckles across the top of the emergency brake handle -- accentuating my simian musical nature.

And I laughed. Actually I convulsed. Good fortune gave me a red light at the corner of Prospect and Albion, allowing me to catch my breath and wipe my eyes as Alane dryly advised me that other drivers were looking at me with alarm.

I didn't care. I was... a big baboon.

And speaking of alarm, you should have seen the looks on Da Chimpz' faces when I told them the only candy they're allowed to eat from now on is circus peanuts. Easter baskets? They'll be full of circus peanuts. They're going to grow up needing therapy.

When I met Guido he was living in a dorm room down the hall from mine. But back home, he did still have a childhood pet. Not an ordinary pet either. It was a zit. Yes, a skin pustule that he exploded into petri dish where it could live on and grow.

The zit's name was Fester, and its little dish-home stayed on the wall of his bedroom for years until its untimely demise at the hands of aggressive housekeeping.

So Fester, wherever you are in pet-zit heaven, this art film's for you:

I normally try to moderate my intake of prurient cable-news pseudo-analysis -- but this Spitzer thing... well, I must admit: I can't get enough of it. It's so good I'm having a hard time commenting myself: there's so much material here, I don't know where to start.

Well, let's start here:

We could probably end here as well, since it says pretty much everything you need to know. I'll just add this: New Yorkers who pride themselves on being so sophisticated and urbane -- they fell for it like the rubes they really are. Voted him into office in a landslide. Swallowed the hook, the line, and the sinker. Priceless.

You gotta love it.

And next Thanksgiving there will be no giblet gravy (thanks for the mental imagery, Frylock... you've ruined another Christmas).

I cant stop thinking about how much money this guy spent on prostitutes...so lets be honest it has to be perverse. This is my vision of hooker night at Eliot Spitzer's hotel:
Gov. Spitzer: "OK, honey. I'm glad you could make it. First, I want you to give me a giblet gravy enema. Then I want your Miniature Yorkie to lick my rectum while you pee in his food bowl. Oh yeah, you and the dog will be wearing motorcycle helmets...and I'm going to wear a shitty diaper on my head."
Call Girl: "Its an extra thousand for the motorcycle helmet."

OK, so there is so much to talk about here its giving me a headache. So lets start with Uncle Vito's revelation that in the thrown out Florida primary, his disdain for Senators Obama and Clinton prompted him to vote for Cleveland's very own Dennis Kucinich! (My suggestion for campaign slogan: Vote for Dennis. Hes out of this world!! ) I'm pretty sure that at night when Kucinich gazes into the Ohio sky searching for UFOs...hes also fantasizing about one day holding Senator Palpatine's position as head of the Intergalactic Senate. I also promised John I would have a song we could play for women interested in romancing Uncle Vito that would accurately describe him:
(this is sung to the Rod Stewart version of a few years ago)
A Few of My Favorite Things
Socks made of banlon,
and sausage from Carmines,
trousers from Steinmart
and shoes bought at Burdines.

Cursing at Sterling...and Walgreen cashiers
You Jerk, Joe Torre...have a few more beers.

When Marie cooks,
and the Yanks win,
When Im feeling sad
I just imagine a modular home
and then I don't feel so bad

OK, back to important stuff, so if a Governor spends $80,000 on hookers, could that be considered a business expense...I mean I thought there was an entertainment allowance? Me and John predicted what The New York Post headline was going to be on the eve of the news, (which I might add I am thouroughly enjoying) I incorrectly predicted "Spitzer Swallows", they opted for the blander "Ho No!" We have also been discussing the as yet undisclosed secret requests that he was placing on his hired help. My guess was is that he would have each prostitute dress up as former Mayor Ed Koch and repeatedly ask him "How Am I Doing?". Anyway, yesterday BazzukaJoe's face had an allergic reaction to a tree in fromt of his home, and last night his face resembled a mutant strain of Beefsteak Tomato. Hopefully pics will follow soon.

By the way, yesterday I had a dream I was at a recycling plant and the attendant yelled at me because I was dropping off a christmas tree with the christmas lights still on it. Parked next to me was a Spanish family dropping off an entire station wagon full of blankets and comforters. Before I got any further a phoncall awoke me. To my knowledge neither of these are recyclable goods, and even if they were I still doubt I would ever drive to a plant....what do you think it means, am I growing an environmental conscience? Am I gonna rent an Al Gore movie?

The snow started falling on Friday and kept falling until late yesterday. We got buried. Took my busted back out to the driveway yesterday start shoveling out -- the lumbar discs were just getting back into alignment after Thursday night's fiasco hauling the new furniture piece. Anyway, Cookie and I moved some snow around, but by early this morning it looked like we hadn't done a thing. So out I went again, knowing I'd have to clear the way to get the car out for the Cub Scout Mass and the Pinewood Derby set to follow.

No trophies this year. (And Mojo had to skip -- he was laid up yesterday and today with a fever and headache.)

Well, back to the grind tomorrow. We'll see how well Da Chimpz do waking up on a Daylight Saving Time morning. Hell, we'll see how I do.

Good thing I saw this before I tried to cheap out again on our vacation plans.

I'll be glad when silly season ends in, oh, about a few hours. Weeks of robocalls were bad enough -- then earlier tonight I got a call from a real (barely) breathing person who urged me to vote for his candidate. I told him he was probably using the wrong phone list. But the poor kid pressed on, making the mistake of telling me that his candidate would "create jobs" in Ohio. I asked for an explanation of how a politician would create jobs. He responded with stammers and script fragments. He sounded like a college kid who probably never had a real job (or, needless to say, created a job) so I went easy on him. (Well, not that easy -- the rhetoric is so tiresome. And the fact that so many people slurp it up is downright discouraging.)

Oh well, I guess there's one born every minute. Perhaps Simms would like to weigh in on this matter?

Other than that, we had a wicked ice-storm around here today. The two-minute drive to the school to get Da Chimpz from school this afternoon was crazy-treacherous. Wouldn't be surprised if school was canceled tomorrow.

Did anybody see the giant bunny?

Da Chimpz and I returned this morning from our overnight adventure in the arctic tundra outside Akron. Seems the trip caused me to miss not just the comforts of home -- it also caused me to miss this brief item (tagged "Florida," natch).