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.