Some people enjoyed the Elvis fiesta -- I hear Steve tossed his mutandes onto the stage before swooning in his chair.

BTW, it was Tommy that cut the boys' hair yesterday. He gave them many lollipops. And he somehow managed to lock me out of the shop twice -- not by accident.

I know that there must be a rational explanation, but I just can't come up with it, why a person would go see an Elvis Impersonator at all let alone for $ 40.00 a pop? For that much you could have come and seen the real Neil Sedak or was it Neil Diamond at Madison Square Garden. I'm pretty sure it would have been just as interesting, and kinda like seeing Elvis as the photo in the paper showed whatever Neil it was in a jumpsuit.

The Last Supper on the Suburban brings to mind my own religious encounter of the week. I was looking for something on my dresser when my St. Jude statue took a fall. This seemed like a very bad omen to me as St. Jude is the patron saint of impossible causes and I had managed to decapitate him. Luckily for me, I had the miraculous Super Glue (maybe I should pray to it instead) and was able to do a successful head reattachment.

Mojo and Cookie got their hair cut today and now both are "good looks".

well i don't have any erectile dysfunction stories but there is that whole steroid controversy and that will give you some dysfuction. I can tell you the guy in front of me on I95 had the entire painting of the last supper across the back of his suburban. Now thats classy. I do not get these guys that drive around with thier last name on the back window of the car. Its just bizarre.

So I guess i will be the one to briefly describe the Elvis impersonator we went to see on wednesday night. You know that this show is going to be good when there are members of the band so old they are in wheelchairs. The drummer could only play like 1 song out of every 4 because he was winded. The best part of the show was the original back up singers for elvis, the Jordanaires, were great but even they were all in thier 80's. This guy put forth no effort. I saw a better impersonation at my wedding. He did not move like him and on a song or two he did sound ok but the back up guys were singing for him. $40 a ticket. I feel dumber for having wasted that much time. We had more amusement in Johnny Rockets. Those guys are GOOD. Even the audience was a joke. There were more misfits and morons than i have ever seen in one place. The 4 antiques in front of us must have been farting or one shit in his pants because i could taste the stink it was so bad. No Elvis memorabilia here to sell but lots of misfits and bad hair. in one word WOW!

Haven't watched a lot of baseball this season, but I did have the game on tonight. Noticed the commercials lean heavily toward erectile dysfunction treatments... lots of Levitra, Cialis, Viagra, etc. They've been on for a while, I know, but for some reason I started to take it personally: are the hidden persuaders trying to tell me that people who watch baseball can't get stiffies?

Well, I can take a hint. I have since changed the channel. I'm watching C-SPAN now. A fascinating discussion of Medicare regulation. I'm feeling somewhat sleepy. And strangely flaccid.

Almost makes me wonder if any Macaroni Dish regulars have related stories... Anyone?

I don't want to give away too much, but I understand Vito has a Big Red story all his own.

When you spend an evening bar-hopping with Broadway Joe, you never quite know what you're going to wind up wearing as a hat. Steve, your tale of adventure has strengthened the soul of Airport Guy -- he wants to know if Big Red makes house calls. And Alane wants the phone number of that midget. Uh, little person.

I keep telling Alane that she's headed for prison. In last week's Wall Street Journal there was in article about a financial firm spending a scandalous amount of money on entertaining a potential client. Here's what captivated my attention:

In March 2003, Jefferies and two rivals [snip] helped pay for a weekend-long bachelor party for one of Fidelity's star traders, Thomas Bruderman Jr. Jefferies paid nearly $65,000 for a corporate jet to fly Messrs. DeSano and Bruderman and others from Boston to Miami's South Beach. The amusements included Danny Black, a hired dwarf whom traders and their friends tossed for entertainment. It is this party that federal prosecutors in Boston are investigating. Mr. Black said he planned to travel to Boston next week to meet with authorities and give grand-jury testimony.

You hear that, Alane? You're going down, lady!

I think I owe the world a brief description of my weekend with Broadway Joe. It started in downtown Orlando deep within the bowels of a filthy, decrepit go-go bar named Mako, where there hides a secret VIP room, decorated entirely in marble and oak (it resembled a library one might see in a gothic castle, an amazing contrast to the grime just yards away). What was amazing was the journey one had to embark on to reach this secret chamber. We had to walk through a room full of go-go dancers changing their clothes, and then an entire floor of construction; stepping over circular saws, sawdust, and even gaping holes to get to it. Bizarre. After we experienced an hour in the "Oak Room" as it was referred to, we moved on to the dance club next door named Antigua, where Broadway Joe literally owns the place. ( To give you an idea of his relationship with the staff, the next day he had a pool party attended by all 5 bartenders, 2 of the bouncers and both operation managers). Now comfortably nestled inside Antigua's VIP area, Broadway Joe proceeds to introduce me to everyone in a very unique manner ("this is my cousin Steve, he loves girls with big boobs, so feel free to rub yours against him") I was a bit startled the first time he said it, but learned to appreciate it immensely when nearly everyone of the fifty women he said it to chose to follow his instructions. Now its time for me to make a generalized understatement...Broadway Joe and I drank a lot of alcohol. So what was a surreal experience in its own right becomes even more surreal. I met and exchanged phone numbers with a midget. I discussed American geopolitics with a realtor from Deland. I was lifted 2 feet above the ground and carried around by an Amazon women named "Big Red" (once again thanks to Broadway Joe whispering in her ear "my cousin Steve really enjoys being lifted and carried around by women"). People kept showing me tattoos on concealed areas of their bodies (due to the absurd volume of alcohol Im not sure if this can also be credited to Broadway Joe). I drank a few things that tasted like cleaning agents: Clorox or Tidy Bowl. The drinks had names like Airplane Glue and Gasoline. The Antigua VIP area had a secret bathroom which required an elevator ride, now true it was private...but the toilet didnt flush. Luckily no one took a brunz, but by the end of the nite that bowl was a real brimmer. We stayed till the club's lights came on, and then departed for some craphole 24 hour pizza joint. As we approach the pizzeria, there are no parking spaces or lot to be found, so Broadway Joe pulls his car into the lot of a recently condemned building. This lunatic seriously parks his brand new $80,000 sports car all by itself in a pile of rubble. This pizza place is not a restaurant, there are no seats, so therefore we must take our slices back to the giant pile of pulverized concrete...and eat our slices over the $80,000 sports car. We devoured the pizza, no clue if it was good or bad and returned to Broadway Joe's house, where I spent the next hour playing in his new car....an original K.I.T. from the TV show Knight Rider. And all I could think was.....what better way to end the night then to be sitting in the same seat once occupied by David Hasslehoff's ass?

What, no report from Bratislava? Perhaps I should check the police blotter.

I don't remember grandma having mini Hershey bars all the time. But at least I now know how "Life is like a hat." Congratulations to Joey and Jessica for their Mastandrea first. And how much is the tooth fairy leaving nowadays?

Ellie and I and our faithful Akita Tarka caught a local blues band at an outdoor concert at a local upscale lifestyle development designed in a "prairie concept" distinctive to the midwest. (Now I know why marketing is evil.) Great music and the weather even cooperated. It was almost like CityPlace in West Palm - but with fewer fountains. And certainly no dirty-water hot dog carts.

I'm enjoying a little lasagna and contemplating the rest of my month. Next week I have training in Missouri, the following week I have training in Louisiana, and I return just in time to work the Air Show. I'll blog when I can but that may not be much.

There is something disturbing about the phone calls i get from the Fatones. When i say hello and all i hear is laughing and someone gigglimg and out of breath says check your email NOW! I know it will probably very funny or very unsettling. This time a very bizzare dance performed by an equally bizzare women. I still cannot figure out why she has an old clown on her head like a hat. I can send a link to those that are daring. I am never sure of what i may see in times like this and i take no reponsibility for those that stare in bewilderment and digust.

I was watching an old rerun of the hulk with bill bixby. it was not as fascinating as it was when i was 8. It kinda sucked. maybe grandma narrating it in italian made it better. never can tell.

I was thinking does anyone else remember grandma having hershey bars stashed all over the house when you were little. She could make one appear in a heartbeat. She was Copperfield with those mini hershey bars. Bang it was in her hand. Where did she keep them? I never did find the bag. One of the great mysteries. We need a photo of her on the blog.

Welcome to Bratislava! Before leaving for Brooklyn this morning, I checked the police blotter in the newspaper to learn the results of Steve's night out. Maybe I should have checked the National News section. Or maybe Frylock just taught Broadway Joe how to go to sleep early... but I doubt it. With any luck, one of both of them spent at least a portion of the evening wearing a big hat. Because everything, and I mean everything, is like a hat.

At least Airport Guy knows what that means now.