Fugetaboutit!!!

What happens in Vegas can leave a mark.

2008-05-07T17:42:00.000-07:00

After almost thirty years of marriage I can finally say with complete confidence that I will never understand women.

Oh I’ll fear them.

But I will never understand them.

My wife spent the weekend in Las Vegas with three of her friends that all turned fifty years old this year.

They drove to Las Vegas in a big blue van.

Sort of a menopause road trip.

You couldn’t pay me enough to be in that van.

I’ll bet they broke the air-conditioning in the first fifty miles.

Leading up to the trip I had to hear about all the things they were going to do, all the things she was going to need, and all the things I was going to have to do while she was gone.

I paid strict attention like I normally do for an hour or four and when she finally finished I snapped out of my self induced coma.

She finished with the familiar line….. Did you hear anything I just said?

“Yep. Every word of it.”

“Then what did I just say.”

“Um….something like, “On the way we’re going to stop at an outlet mall and blah blah blah blah…….. and don’t let the dog touch my camera.”

“Idiot, we don’t even own a dog.”

“Then why would you worry about a dog touching your camera?”

“I asked you if you remembered to charge my camera.”

“To take a picture of a dog?”

“Calabrese you would think that after thirty years you would at least attempt to listen to what I’m saying.”

“I attempted it. You lost me after outlet mall.”

“Look numb nuts I need my camera charged so I can take pictures of our trip. We’re going to have fun and I want pictures to share with the girls later.”

“Fine I’ll charge the camera. Um… Did you say anything about a dog at all? I could swear you said something about a dog.”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

I then noticed the cardboard box on our dining room table.

“What’s in the box?”

“Party supplies for our trip.”

“Honey? There’s nothing but Johnny Walker Black and low fat graham crackers in the box. Scotch and low fat graham crackers? That’s your party supplies?”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Nice diet. You’ve got all the essential food groups in there.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“You know friends don’t let friends drive and eat graham crackers.”

“These are not for the van. This is for the hotel room.”

“Scotch and low fat graham crackers? What are you girls gonna be listening to while you eat and drink this? Tonight we’re gonna party like its 1939…..”

“You’re just jealous because you’re not going to Vegas.”

“Honey, first of all I don’t drink scotch. Secondly I don’t eat graham crackers and third if I ever found myself trapped in a Las Vegas hotel room with four fifty year old women who were drinking scotch and eating graham crackers it would either mean I was some sort of bizarre strip-o-gram, I had lost a major bet or both. But jealous? No I would never be jealous.”

“Whatever. Just remember to charge my camera. That’s the one thing I need you to do. Charge my camera. Can you remember that?”

“Of course. I'm smart! Not like everybody says... like dumb... I'm smart and I want respect!”

“Okay Fredo, just remember to charge that camera.”

“Trust me.”

So they leave and I have the whole weekend to myself. Just me. No one else. I could have done anything I wanted. What did I do? Well on Saturday I woke up a round 2:00pm and then I took a nap. On Sunday I got up bright and early. I think it was around noon and then I had breakfast and then I took a nap. I’m a wild man when the woman is not home.

She gets back around 9:00pm Sunday night.

I looked at these women as they piled out of the van.

It was scary.

My wife looked like a tired angry coal miner.

I turned into Sgt Schultz. “I know nothing, I see nothing, I say nothing!”

I help unload her stuff from the van.

I notice her cardboard box of supplies is still full of graham crackers but there’s no scotch.

“I know nothing, I see nothing, I say nothing!”

I help carry her luggage and crap upstairs for her to unpack.

She unpacked without saying a word but she grunted a lot.

At that moment she kind of reminded me of me after I try a sit up.

“I know nothing, I see nothing, I say nothing!”

She starts to undress and I notice something on her back.

Right above her butt.

IT’S A TATTOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sgt. Schultz went out the window!!!!

“What the hell? Are you nuts? You got a tattoo? A tattoo? You’re fifty years old and you got a tramp stamp over your butt crack? What happens is Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas and you need to take that back!!!!!”

“Calabrese…. I’m going to only say this once. I’ve been trapped in a van with four other menopausal women for eight hours fighting through heavy traffic. I’m tired, I’m irritable, I may go off at any moment. Don’t F#*^ with me right now. Am I clear?”

“Hell no!!! You got a tattoo!!! A tattoo!!!! Jesus woman what the hell were you thinking? Tell me you don’t have any extra piercings to go along with that!!!! Did you go Vegas for the weekend or prison? How drunk were you to get a tattoo? What the hell is that anyway a bald eagle or Charles Manson? I can’t believe you could be that stupid. What are you going to tell your great grandchildren forty years from now? Great grandma and her friend Johnny Walker Black decided that they wanted the Hindenburg permanently etched above her ass crack so the nurses at the home would have something to look at during her sponge bath???”

“Ten.”

“What?”

“Nine.”

“What are you doing?”

“Eight.”

“Oh you think you’re going to do a countdown like I’m supposed to be afraid or something? Well you don’t scare me Miss Tattooed San Diego.”

“Seven.”

“Hey I’m not the one in trouble here you are. You know what wild and crazy things I did this weekend? I took two naps. When I woke up no one had drawn anything above my ass. You know why? Because I’m an adult.”

“Six.”

“Stop counting! This time… for the first time in thirty years of marriage… I’m right!!! Did you here that? I’m the correct one. I’m the one who is acting responsibly. So you go right ahead and count away woman but you can’t win this one. TA DA!!! I’m the victor on this!!!!”

“Five.”

“Go ahead and count! Count all night! But you’re going to have to tell your sons that there mother wants to look like drunken trailer trash. Go ahead. Count. Count away!”

“Four.”

“Stop counting!!!! You have no right to be mad. I’m mad. You can’t be mad. You’re the one that finally screwed up! I’ve been waiting years for this moment. This is my moment! So stop counting.”

“Three.”

“What are you going to do? Sprinkle graham crackers all over me. Cause you’ve got plenty of those left. I guess no one eats a box of graham crackers and then says, “Oooh I feel like getting a tattoo.” You couldn’t eat a few graham crackers? You had to drink a bottle of Johnny Walker Black?”

“Two.”

“AWE COME ON!!!! Stop it! You know I’m right! I’m right! Let that sink in for a moment. Your husband finally wins. I may get that tattooed on my right butt cheek. Right next to “exit only”.”

“One.”

“Oh Crap…..”

“It’s Henna.”

“Umm…. That’s it? It’s Henna? No psycho rage thing? No yelling? No explosion? Who’s Henna? Is she some famous Las Vegas tattoo artist or something?”

“This tattoo isn’t permanent. It wears off. Henna is an ink. Think of it in your pea sized brain as “magic marker”.”

“Uhhh……Oh…. Am I dead?”

“No you’re not dead. You’re just an idiot. An idiot that just made a complete ass out of himself. I was going to tear you a new one Calabrese but now I don’t have to. You know why? Because I won again. I’m 30 – 0. Undefeated. You lost again. Now let that sink in. I am the champion, I am the champion. No time for losers cause I am the champion…. of the world.”

“Damn….. Can I ask you one question?”

“Could I stop you?”

“What’s that supposed to be a tattoo of?”

“A dove.”

“Huh…It looks more like The Grand Canyon.”

“OUCH!!!! Not the face. Not the face! I know nothing, I see nothing, I say nothing!”

Here comes the Sun... City.

2008-04-14T13:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you need a little spark to break your writers block.

My spark was Sun City California.

We went to visit my wife’s cousin who had just had a baby.

She’s forty years old.

I don’t think you’re allowed to have children in Sun City until you hit forty.

Forty is a teenager in Sun City.

The greeter at Wal-Mart is one hundred and thirty five years old.

Stop lights? No one even bothers. They go when they feel like going. And they go very slowly.

I could have gotten out of my car, opened my trunk, retrieved my bat and pummeled them to death before they would have moved any quicker.

We’re talking about a lot of really old people.

Why she lives in Sun City no one knows.

At first I thought she was in the witness protection program.

Then I thought well maybe she just likes to introduce herself to people over and over and over again.

That whole town thinks it’s always meeting someone new.

So maybe it made her feel special.

Plus you feel like you’re among royalty. On every street are estates. Of course these are mobile home estates.

I think Elvis started this.

I went in to the Walgreen’s there to buy an extra memory card for my camera. I don’t think I’ve seen a line that long since the last time I was at the DMV, although it smelled a little different, more like Eucalyptus.

A Koala Bear would have gone nuts.

I watched three women in their eighties or more arguing about the warning label and the “side effects” of a multivitamin.

Um…. Don’t you think you get to a certain age where warning labels and side effects aren’t that important?

If you’re 85 and want to start smoking I say go for it. If it kills you it kills you. So it knocks five years off your life. It’s the last five.

Live a little.

Some of these warnings and side effects just aren’t that important.

Does an eighty year old man really need to worry about the side effects of Viagra?

So he gets a four hour erection that has a blue tinge to it. Maybe it’s a good thing. Think about it. He looks down… there it is. He looks up… he forgets about it. He looks back down… Bada Bing! There it is again. He may not remember what it is but he’ll be damn proud of it.

And seriously, it only becomes a problem if grandpa wants to show everybody.

I know… I know. A lot of people are tired of Viagra jokes and comments. But heck half the commercials on TV ask me if I’m worried about E.D. and then they list those stupid side effects.

And what are the main side effects that stand out?

The blue tinge to your vision and the four hour erection.

I haven’t had a four hour erection with a blue tinge to it since I was fifteen so if that happened it might scare me a little, maybe for a moment, but I’m Italian, I’ll figure out some place to put it.

I don’t worry about E.D. anyway.

Hell at age 50 I think I’m a little to young for E.D. I’m also too old for A.D.D.

I think actually have “A.E.D”.

I can still get an erection, but I tend to get distracted.

“Is that pizza I smell?”

At least most of the stuff that has warning labels and side effects is “newer” stuff. Like new drugs or cosmetics or air bags.

When I was a kid my air bag was my face.

I figure I’m kind of safe. I don’t like new stuff. I like my old reliable stuff. My same old deodorant, cologne, cheese, wife, etc…..

For me life really is very simple.

You’d never see me arguing about the side effects of a multivitamin because… well… I would have to take one to worry about it.

How come there are no warnings about the side effects on the stuff that’s really important?

Like marriage.

Shouldn’t we have had some kind of warning about that?

Maybe a sticker or a tattoo?

“Surgeon General’s Warning: Marriage has been known to cause your entire collection of Playboy magazines that you have cherished since 1975 to be thrown into the trash without your knowledge. Your vision may be affected causing you to see things in your house that you are absolutely unable to identify. This includes children, small animals and your self esteem. You may lose your ability to find parking, drive correctly on the freeway or ask for directions. You may no longer be able to decide on what you want for dinner, what movie you want to see or what to wear. Married men have frequently been spotted wearing two different colored socks. You may be unable to drink black coffee and instead will insist on something that sounds like it should only be ordered in San Francisco. You will lose closet space and in some cases the entire closet. You will be unable to fold sheets or pillow cases correctly but find yourself determined to try. You may lose all independent thought finding yourself agreeing on things just so she’ll shut up while you’re watching The Office. In more sever cases you may even end up at an outlet mall during pro football season. You may no longer have the will to live but will be afraid to ask your wife’s permission to kill yourself because you don’t want to get in trouble. You may find yourself hearing about “her day”, unable to comprehend that she doesn’t want your opinion or solutions, she only wants you to listen. You may be unable to listen because you could care less about what she is saying and are afraid that in the end she may want your help in picking out drapes. You may end up grunting and nodding a lot. Prolonged exposure to marriage may cause you to completely forget what a vagina looks like.”

Hmmm… When she reads this I may have to move to Sun City.

Don't ask me why this stuff goes through my mind on Valentine's Day.

2008-02-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

At some point in history someone got the concept of free samples. I believe it was probably the ancient Chinese. “No ees no too hot, you try sampu.”

Now free samples are for the most part a good thing. I don’t know how many times I’ve had lunch at COSTCO without spending a dime but trust me it’s a bunch.

I actually tried taking my wife to COSTCO to learn how to cook.

“See honey if that mentally handicapped Asian woman with three teeth can make ravioli’s with just a frying pan, olive oil and a pencil you could do it too.”

(That ones going to cost me.)

(A lot.)

Most of the free samples I’ve had are food or drink items. Very rarely do you see free samples of light bulbs, motor oil or toilet paper.

I also hear you never get free samples at a strip club.

That’s what I hear.

It’s too bad you can’t get a free sample of what the next president would be like. I think it would be great to get a free sample of foreign policy, fiscal policy and common sense before we vote.

Right…. And that will happen when monkeys fly out of my butt.

I remember when I thought it was a good idea to go and get free samples of wine.

My wife and I and a group of friends went on a limousine tour of the Temecula Wineries. There are twenty wineries in Temecula and they all make the same thing.

Red and white wine with really fancy names.

You go from winery to winery “tasting” wines. It’s not free though. You buy a ticket for $7 to $10 bucks at each winery and it gets you four or five tastes. So basically you get free samples of wine for around $2. That’s almost free.

The wineries do have some totally free samples… of crackers. All the crackers you can eat.

First you sample wine and then you eat crackers.

I thought the crackers were like nuts or something at the bar. You know…. snacks!!!

I just kept eating crackers until one of the wine baristas, or whatever you call those people, scolded me and told me I was supposed to eat just one between tastes.

The crackers are supposed to “clear” your palate so you can tell the subtle differences between wines. By the third winery your palate can’t tell the difference between and old sock and cheesecake I don’t care how many crackers you eat.

As for these wine baristas these poor bastards do nothing all day but pour wine to the throngs of drunks passing as wine aficionados that visit the wineries.

They’re like Starbucks baristas that have finally grown up. They’re angry because no one can pronounce the names of the wines they want to sample.

“I would like try that one.”

“You mean the 2005 Decaf Frapponoir Salamanca Chico Sauvignon Family Reserve?”

“Whatever.”

“Fine it has a light oaky fruity cherry wood taste with a hint of smokey apricot fungus, old worn German sandals and grape flavor to it.”

“Uh… It tastes red.”

99% of the people tasting wines at these wineries are drinking their samples as if it was last call.

Here’s what you’re never supposed to hear at a wine tasting:

“Hit me again.”

There are a few people that pretend they actually know what they’re doing. They smell the wine, swirl the wine, smell the wine and then pound it down like a shot of tequila.

But they do it delicately.

Then they eat a cracker.

There are also people I call wine snobs. I love these people. They know everything there is to know about grapes.

Here are the only two things I know about grapes. I know that my ultimate fantasy is to have Salma Hayek wearing nothing but high heel shoes feed them to me one at a time while she calls me Caesar and sings “My Funny Valentine”.

What? Like I’m alone on that one.

Plus I know that I like grape jam better than grape jelly.

Wine snobs spend hours tasting and spitting out wine. They actually spit it out! Even if they like it! Trust me I’ve seen it!

The only thing I ever spit out is tofu which to me is vegetable liver. I swear it has the same disgusting texture as liver. I’ll bet if I kill, cut and skin broccoli somewhere in there next to the kidneys is the “tofu”.

You don’t believe me?

Taste it. You never see anyone giving out free samples of that crap because no one would buy the stuff if they did.

“Yeah Yeah Yeah…. I know. It’s healthy and will help you lose weight. The only reason it helps you lose weight is because you can’t swallow it.

I don’t want to go off on a tofu tangent here.

The wineries are a fun place to people watch. You see a wide variety of alcoholics and just plain drunks at the wineries. The other thing you see a lot of…. is.… um…. well…. Cougars.

And I’m not talking about big cats.

For some reason there were hordes of 40 something year old women piling in and out of limos at every winery we went to.

I don’t get it.

All I know is they frightened me.

I felt an evil presence around them.

Maybe they were all having hot flashes.

I had this terrible urge to go hammer something use a television remote or barbecue.

I felt sorry for their limo drivers. Those guys would be safer driving in Baghdad.

That brings up something else that I couldn’t figure out. How in the hell do you tour these wineries without a limo?

If I was a cop I would just park outside a winery and pull people over. I have my DUI quota in about an hour.

In defense of the wineries they do have food. Some of it is really amazing. There is one winery called the Maurice Car’rie Winery that sells hot sourdough bread with… get this… cheese baked in the middle of it.

It’s hot and filled with melted cheese. A little sourdough volcano of cheese.

I wept.

I wanted to sacrifice a virgin to it.

I swear after I ate some of it I was actually speaking in tongues. That may have been the molten cheese just burning my mouth though.

We’re talking an amazing loaf of bread. Maybe the best bread I have ever tasted in my life.

I didn’t want to leave.

They had to force me back into the limo.

Communist bastards.

I was fighting them off as best I could but I was holding four loaves of bread at the time. That must have been how it felt at the Alamo. I would have stayed there the rest of the day just eating my hot molten cheese sourdough bread. Eventually I weakened and lapsed into a sourdough coma. When I woke up I was in the limo and my bread was gone. BUT THERE WERE CRUMBS!!!!! Communist bastards ate my bread.

You know ladies you can make a man a sandwich and feed him for day. But you melt some cheese in a loaf of sourdough bread……You’re getting jewelry for the rest of your life without having to do anything even remotely related to oral sex.

Damn now I’m hungry.

Does COSTCO give out free samples on Thursdays? COSTCO should have free samples of wine to go with the crackers, soup and ravioli. They have a bakery. COSTCO should bake enormous loaves of sourdough bread with cheese melted in them.

You know…. I might even vote for Hillary if she gave out free samples of sourdough bread with cheese melted in it.

Um….

Wait….

Nope can’t do it.

Not even with the bread.

I still can’t get past the “cankles”.

Not even if she was feeding me grapes.

"My funny Valentine... sweet comic valentine..... you make me smile with my heart. Your looks are laughable, unphotographable, yet you're my favorite work of aaaaaaarrrrrrrttttttt.................."

One of those special life moments…..

2008-02-09T08:07:00.000-08:00

I love Monty Python. I actually love British humor in general but Monty Python… well… shear brilliance.

Two weeks ago I changed my cell phone ring tone from the Godfather Theme to an excerpt from Monty Python and The Holy Grail.

Now when my cell phone rings I hear the following:

“Bring out your dead… bring out your dead… bring out your dead… here’s one…I’m not dead yet….”

Anyway every Friday my Rotary Club meets for lunch at the Yacht Club.

I head to the restroom after lunch and just as I unzip my zipper my cell phone rings.

“Bring out your dead… bring out your dead… bring out your dead…..”

There’s a little old guy with a captain’s hat standing at the stall next to me and he turns to me and says:

“It’s not dead yet…. But it is a little worn out.”

Did you know it’s almost impossible to pee when you’re laughing?

Here's a cell phone ad you won't see......

2008-01-29T15:55:00.000-08:00

“Yo?”

“DAD???”

“Anthony?”

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!!!!!”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”

“I’m dead dad, I’m dead!!!”

“What???”

“Kim’s going to KILL me!!!”

“What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault dad, it’s not my fault I swear. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!!!!!”

“Son calm down. What happened?”

“It’s John.”

“IS HE OKAY????”

“Dad I swear I wasn’t watching him for like five seconds and he…. he….”

“HE WHAT??????”

“He swallowed my cell phone.”

“WHAT???????? HOW IN THE HELL COULD HE SWALLOW YOUR CELL PHONE????”

“Dad I don’t know. But when I call it he rings. IT’S INSIDE HIM!!!!!!”

“You’re dead.”

“OH MY GOD DAD!!!!!!”

“Did you call 911?”

“I called you.”

“Is he choking?”

“No dad I told you, he swallowed it.”

“Son how in the hell could he swallow something that big?”

“MAYBE BECAUSE HE’S PART ITALIAN DAD!!!! I DON’T KNOW HOW HE DID IT!!!! HE JUST DID IT!!!!”

“Okay calm down we have to think this through. Does he seem sick? Does it look like it hurts? What’s he doing now?”

“Now? He’s watching Curious George. He looks okay he just RINGS!!!!! What am I gonna do dad? What if they want to cut it out of him? OH MY GOD!!!!!”

“Umm….. Does he eat a lot of fiber?”

“What?”

“Well maybe if you give him some fruit or bran or something eventually it will come out.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna work dad.”

“Okay here’s the deal. Meet me at Urgent Care. Don’t tell Kim and I won’t tell mom. Maybe they can pump it out of him and no one will ever know.”

“No one will ever know what?”

“Umm…..””Crap dad, is that mom?”

“Yep. I swear she’s a Ninja.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Anthony.”

“What are you two up to?”

“NOTHING!!! Why do you assume we’re up to something? I can’t just have a normal conversation with my son?”

”Uh huh…. Then why are you saying that “No one will ever know?”

“It’s a secret. If I told you it would spoil the surprise.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dad maybe we should tell mom. Mom’s know about these things.”

“It’s okay son I’ve got everything under control.”

“Calabrese give me that phone.”

“Anthony what’s going on?”

"Momit’snotmyfaultJohnswallowedmycell
phoneandnowheringsandKim’sgoingtokillme
whenshefindsoutbecause
theywillhavetocuthimopentogetitout!!!!!!”

“What?”

“JOHN SWALLOWED MY CELL PHONE!!!!!”

“What are you looking at me for? Anthony was watching him.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Anthony there is no way John swallowed your cell phone.”

“MOM HE’S RINGING!!!!”

“You’re both idiots.”

“Mom I swear…. call my cell phone number. Call my cell phone from your cell phone and I’ll hold John’s stomach to the phone.”

“Fine.”

“SEEEEE!!!!! I TOLD YOU!!!!! HE’S RINGING. KIM’S GOING TO KILL ME!!!!!”

“Uh huh…. Son…. When was the last time you changed his diaper?”

“Uh…. About an hour ago.”

“Uh huh…. Change it again.”

“Why? He’s not….. oh…… hold on………..”

(A few moments later)

“False alarm mom!!! My cell phone was in his diaper! Boy am I glad he didn’t poop! Thanks Mom!”

“No problem.”

“Uh… so… John didn’t swallow the cell phone?”

“No, when Anthony changed John’s diaper somehow his cell phone ended up in there.”

“HA!!! Kind of brings new meaning to, “Can you hear me now? Now that’s funny. Anthony was worried for nothing. Kim would have killed him. Well that’s one more funny story he can tell when John grows up. Soooooo…… I’m going to the store do you need anything?”

“Sit your butt down Calabrese. Let me get this straight. You and Anthony thought that John had swallowed Anthony’s cell phone and you were trying to hide that from me and Kim?”

“Um…. No….. Not exactly. I was using my superior analytical skills to assess the situation so we could take a prudent course of action and didn’t feel it necessary to worry the two of you at the time.”

“So you were trying to cover up for your son being an idiot like his father?”

“Hey, I’m no rat. It’s an honor thing… you know… a code we Italian men live by.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Come on honey. I knew John couldn’t have swallowed the phone. There obviously was a logical explanation and we would have figured it all out at Urgent Care.”

“Urgent Care…. Tell me again why I married you?”

“My incredible wit and charm and my huge hands. OOOUUUUCH!!!!! I hate it when you smack me on the back of the head like that. Damn woman I’m going to have a concussion.”

“Just be thankful I don’t have your huge hands.”

You either order with us or against us......

2008-01-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

“May I have your order?”

“Yes I’d like five pieces of grilled chicken and a pint of coleslaw.”

“You want a large or a small?”

“Umm…. A small or a large what?”

“Coleslaw.”

“I want a pint of coleslaw.”

“Do you want a large or a small pint?”

“Uh…. I want a pint. You know, 16 ounces of coleslaw.”

“We don’t have ounces. We have small and a large.”

“How big is the large?”

“Pretty big.”

“HOW BIG???”

“It’s large.”

(I knew at this point I may be talking to the future president of the United States.)

“Do you want something to drink with that?”

“Can you read my order back to me please?”

“You want five pieces of chicken and a small macaroni and cheese?”

“I DON’T WANT MACARONI AND CHEESE!!!! I WANT A PINT OF COLESLAW!!!!”

“Let me get my shift manager.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“No problem, I’d like five pieces of grilled chicken and a pint of coleslaw.”

"He told you we don’t have pints sir. We have a small and a large. Now you’re holding up the line sir. I suggest you order or leave.”

(Ahhh…. The future secretary of defense.)

“Okay I’ll leave, but let me ask you one more question. How many ounces in a pint?”

“What has that got to do with chicken sir? Do you want a pint of chicken?”

“I don’t want a pint of chicken. I want a pint of coleslaw

“We don’t have pints.”

“Okay let me educate you. There are 16 ounces in a pint. How many ounces in a large coleslaw?”

“I’m going to ask you again to leave sir.”

“HONK HONK HONK. Come on asshole order!”

(Great…. The future vice president is behind me.)

So I left. It wasn’t like I could eat the chicken or the coleslaw anyway. I’m sure they would have graced it with a little something extra for me.

I guess the older you get the more you embrace the “principle of the thing”.

Once you’ve had a colonoscopy you’ve pretty much reached that point in life where you’re opinions and thoughts are irrelevant.

Unless of course you’re married and then you’re opinions and thoughts become irrelevant on day two.

So you grasp at any little chance to prove a point or show the world that, “Hey! I’ve been around fifty years! I know stuff.”

And one of the things I now know is maybe… just maybe…. We need to leave the occasional child behind.

Comedian Ron White says, “You can’t fix stupid.”

But shouldn’t we at least try? Or are we destined to be a nation of illiterates placated by our Xboxes and Playstations and Bluetooths and iPods and and and and………

How can you not know what a “pint” is?

It’s not like the kid was brainwashed by the metric system.

Maybe I have finally turned into my father.

I wonder how many people in their twenties have actually read a book.

How many have read anything other than e-mail or a text message in the last five years?

“No Child Left Behind”?

Why not?

Fix stupid before it gets a chance to screw up your drive thru order.

A small or a large "pint"?

Ma please!

2008 a year to....

2008-01-12T15:41:00.000-08:00

I came home last night to find my wife twisted into a pretzel on my living room floor.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“It started out as Downward Facing Dog.”

“It looks more like Sideways Curled Up Cripple.”

“Idiot, I pulled something now my back is spasming.”

“You sure you’re not just trying to turn me on?”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Do you want some help?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“So this is like sex.”

“GRRRRRRRRRRRR……”

And so the newest New Years resolution had reared its ugly head.

I don’t know why my wife has to try all this crazy stuff. It started with the Jane Fonda workout about twenty years ago. I’d come home and instead of being able to watch M.A.S.H. I’d have to watch my wife hopping around the living room to that pinko Commie on videotape.

The worst was that Taebo kickboxing thing. We had this stupid pole with a pad on it in the middle of the living room and she’d kick the crap out of it all damn day.

I accepted it in the belief that it saved my life…. or at least significant bruising.

Then it was Aikido. I’m sorry but there is absolutely no reason to give a premenopausal woman a sword.

Then boxing. She did that for five years. I didn’t get away with crap in my house.

For the past twenty nine years the only question I’ve ever been afraid my wife will ask me is, “Do you want to see what I learned today?”

So when she said she was going to take yoga I thought, “Hey that’s great. Go for it. She can’t hurt me with yoga.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you up?”

“No!”

“Maybe you should have started with an easier yoga position. Like “Lazy Fat Man Sitting On Couch Eating Pizza”. That would be the one I started with. Then maybe go into “Crouching Ego Hidden Self Esteem”.

“I swear you’re a dead man Calabrese.”

“Have you ever thought that instead of doing all this crazy stuff that you should… Oh I don’t know…. try a sit up?”

“I am so going to hurt you.”

“How about next time instead of trying yoga you just eat yogurt? I’ve never heard of anyone pulling anything from eating yogurt.”

“Idiot, help me up.”

“I thought you didn’t need any help. Okay okay.”

“Here’s the deal Calabrese. This year I’m doing Yoga, and Pilates. I’m also taking a “fusion” class. Then we’re going to take up ballroom dancing. I’m doing it for me. Because it makes me feel better about myself and keeps me in shape.”

“Hold on….. I’m rewinding what you just said in my head. Um…. Did you say “we” are taking up ballroom dancing?”

“You don’t want to do it with me? Fine, but I’m doing it and that’s that.”

“What would possess you to think that I would want to ballroom dance?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“Awww Jeeeeezzzz…… I don’t want to dance with anyone. At least you’re finally going to learn how to cook.”

“Excuse me?”

“Um….. You know that….. you know…. um…. fusion class?”

“Idiot that’s not a cooking class!!! It’s an exercise class. You think I need a cooking class?”

“Awwwww Jeeezzzzzzz………..”

Now that 2008 is upon us I look back upon 2007 and can honestly say it pretty much sucked.

Not in a tsunami destroyed the neighborhood kind of way but it just wasn’t as good as 2006.

2007 was not my favorite year, maybe because I turned 50 and have not fully embraced my mortality yet.

I did learn a few things though.

I learned that it is possible to pull a groin muscle simply by getting out of your car.

I learned that it’s dangerous to open a new DVD with a fillet knife.

I learned after I had my colonoscopy that I could never be gay. But I now have unequivocal proof for my wife that my heads not up there.

I’ve also learned that I’m not a ballroom dancer.

Wait…

I take that back.

I already KNEW I wasn’t a ballroom dancer I just never thought I’d have to PROVE it to anyone.

I would have thought my wife had learned that when I almost threw her out the window during her “disco” faze.

“Stayin alive, stayin alive, whoops…..”

But nooooooooo……….

Apparently one of those hot flashes fried the part of her brain that would have remembered that.

For those of you unfamiliar with a “hot flash” let me explain it for you.

You’ll go to bed with your woman by your side on a chilly night. As you drift off you feel the warmth of the covers around you and the heat radiating off of her body. It’s nice. It’s comforting. It’s peaceful.

It’s…

It’s……….

IT’S F&%*&#G COLD!!!!!!!

What the hell happened?

She’s thrown off the covers.

She's sweating.

You’re shivering.

She’s still asleep.

If you’re lucky.

Because if she has a “hot flash” while she’s awake you’re going to hear about it.

ALLLLLLLLLL………… DAYYYYYYYYY……………...

Menopause and hot flashes are much worse than the one week a month thing you used to have to be afraid of before.

Because now she has all the knowledge and experience to really know how to hurt you if you do something stupid, you know, like breathe.

You do not want to confront a woman about not wanting to ballroom dance or how crappy her cooking is while she’s in the middle of a hot flash.

So apparently I’m going to be the new star of “Dancing with the middle aged overweight Italian guy.”

And… I’m going to be hungry.

This year I’ve given up resolutions. Instead I’ve set goals.

Goal number one – Don’t get hurt ballroom dancing.

Goal number two – Don’t get hurt saying or doing anything that will piss off a menopausal Portuguese woman.

Goal number three – Lose weight, get in shape, blah blah blah……….

Goal number three never changes.

Hmmm……

Maybe I should take a “fusion” class.

Happy New Year!

I wish I was making this up........

2007-12-14T17:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you get caught in the middle of a conversation that could only be had by men.

“F*&>+#g mortgage crisis.”

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“I know how you feel.”

“No you don’t.”

“Maybe he doesn’t but I do.”

“Neither one of you skinny little bastards know how I feel or what I’m thinking.”

“What? Are you saying only fat people can have feelings about this?”

“In this case yes. Only Tony understands me here.”

“Whoa!!! I’m not fat.”

“Maybe not on the outside but on the inside you’re still a fat guy no matter how much weight you lose.”

“He has a point Tone. You probably have a fat gene that makes you fat inside.”

“Who are you now? Pauli Walnuts? A fat gene? I don’t have a fat gene.”

“He’s got a pizza gene though.”

“I miss the Soprano’s.”

“Stupid ending.”

“Totally.”

“I almost shot my wife when the TV went blank. I thought she had touched the remote.”

“You know you do kind of look like Pauli Walnuts sometimes.”

“It’s the hair.”

“I thought we were talking about subprime mortgages.”

“Hey you guys ever have the prime rib at Hunter’s?”

“Hunter’s? Ma please…. You gotta go to Morton’s for good steak.”

“Why does every conversation always go to food? You guys know I’m always on a friggin diet. Why do you always end up talking about food?”

“We don’t always talk about food.”

“Yeah sometimes we talk about women.”

“Same thing.”

“You guys are pathetic. And I’m tired of the fat references. I’m not fat. I’m slightly overweight.”

“Uh… Tone…. You know how they always say, “Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes to the bone. It’s the same with fat.”

“Fat doesn’t go to the bone.”

“Sure it does. You never heard of bone fat? What do you think they mean when they say, “She’s just big boned.”? That’s bone fat.”

“Who is she?”

“Your sister.”

“Watch it. My sister really is big boned…. What? She is.”

I meant she in general she. You know, they like to say that about fat chicks.”

“You guys are losing the point here. Sully is obviously upset about mortgage crisis and those are personal feelings for him that we just can’t possibly understand. Each person has to deal with it on their own.”

“Shut the hell up. Who are you trying to be? Dr. Phil?”

“He looks more like Oprah.”

“He’s white.”

“The hair.”

“Oh.”

“Oprah’s hair changes all the time.”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t have Oprah hair?”

“I’m not fat and I don’t have a fat gene.”

“Fine Tone we get it.”

“Why’d you have to start with the fat stuff anyway?”

“I didn’t start it Sully started it.”

“Why?”

“What the hell are we talking about?”

“Sully is fat and he has feelings.”

“It’s those pistachios he always eats.”

“Yeah it affects the brain. Clogs it up.”

“You guys don’t get it. I mean… this is terrible guys….”

“What?”

“For some reason I can’t stop thinking of barbecue.”

“Hey we could get some steaks from Cecil’s meats and have a …”

“WE ARE NOT HAVING A BARBECUE!!!!”

“Jeez Tone relax.”

“We still gotta eat.”

“He’s still eating that space food… makes him tense.”

“How many of those little packaged meals you gotta eat to feel full.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never felt full.”

“You should see the crap they call lasagna.”

“You got lasagna?”

“Sort of.”

“Show him Tone. You have any in the trunk of your car?”

“You keep lasagna in your trunk? Now that’s Italian.”

“Yes and turkey chili and barbecued chicken and a few others.”

(Moments later)

“Dude that’s not lasagna.”

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s it.”

“What are you supposed to do with that?”

“You eat it.”

“Be serious.”

“You think I’d kid about lasagna?”

“Why is there corn in there?”

“It’s just one kernel.”

“What?”

“For some reason there’s always one kernel of corn in this packaged lasagna.”

“Tone there’s no corn in lasagna.”

“There is in this lasagna.”

“Who puts one kernel of corn in lasagna?”

“They probably make that stuff in China. Everything is made in China now.”

“The Chinese don’t eat lasagna.”

“I’m pretty sure they eat corn.”

“What are you talking about? The Chinese invented lasagna.”

“I thought Marco Polo invented lasagna.”

“No he invented Chicken Parmigiano. Hello? His last name was Polo.”

“The Chinese invented woks and Yo-Yo’s.”

“Woks and Yo-Yo’s?”

“Where do you think “woking” the dog came from?”

“Not even a courtesy laugh?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Dude? Woking the dog? Please?”

“Can you just pick out the noodles and wash them off? You get seven or eight of those and wash off the noodles it might not be so bad.”

“No, I get one. That’s it. Maybe I eat two in a pinch.”

“You’d have to pinch me pretty hard to eat that.”

“Now that I think of it I’ve never seen a story about corn in China.”

“You think they have subprime mortgages in China?”

“Boy this subprime thing is a real mess.”

“Boy what do you do with two billion subprime mortgages?”

“Two billion?”

“Yeah there’s like three billion Chinese people. Figure there’s about two billion homes.”

“Boy that’s a mess.”

“Look at it that way and things don’t look so bad here.”

“So let’s get some lunch.”

“Seafood?”

“Sure.”

“Talking about Asians always makes me think of fish for some reason.”

“You got any fish dinners in that space food Tone?”

“Tone…..”

“Why’s he leaving?”

It's been too long.

2007-12-11T13:02:00.001-08:00

In addition to being a comedian I actually have a day job. Some of you know this already but most of you don't.

During the day.... Boy you are going to find this hard to believe...

I am the president of a bank.

I don't talk about that on stage or in my blog because I try very hard to keep those two worlds separate.

I can honestly say that I am the only professional comedian/bank president on the planet.

Not only do I run a bank during the day but in November I filled in as co host of a radio show called "The Big Biz Show". I am now a regular on air personality on the show where I am known as "Tony The Banker", very original I know. Blame Sully.

The hosts of the show are Sully & Russ 'T' Nailz,

two San Diego Radio personalities who are heard Weekdays on the Business Talk Radio Network! From current business events to internet-related issues to the movers and shakers in the business world-along with the occasional drink recipe. If it relates to the business, Russ and Sully are talking about it on the air. With their topical, laid back, and comic commentary of goings on in the business world, Sully and Russ 'T' aren't only thinking outside the box-they didn't even know there was a box!

(Yes I copied that right off the website, www.thebigbizshow.com)

The show is on in 125 markets around the country. Visit the website to see if we are on in your area. You can also click "personalities" at the top of the site to see who else is on the show.

I promise to get back to regular posting in the next couple of days.

See ya!

Tony "the banker" Calabrese

How do you fake spontaneity? Maybe with a song?

2007-11-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

So I’m watching TV….

Here’s a commercial that’s going to be about food.

A bunch of guys sitting around playing guitars.

Oh look a bass.

And drums.

Must be about a lot of food.

That’s what I was thinking.

This must be another commercial for Chili’s Baby Back Ribs.

That’s what I was thinking.

Here’s it comes…..

“I want my baby back baby back baby back…..”

What the hell?

An Elvis song?

“VIVA VIAGRA!!!! VIVA VIAGRA!!!!

Elvis just rolled over in his grave.

On top of a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

Is this what we’ve sunk to?

“Viva Viagra”?

What’s next?

“She’s got it. Yeah baby she’s got it. I’m your “penis”. I’m your fire. At your desire.”

What the hell. Why not?

I’m so sick and tired of all the Levitra, Viagra and Cialis commercials.

Haven’t we heard enough about how to give old guys an erection?

Now we have to sing it?

It isn’t any better on the radio either. XM Radio is the worst. I’m not sure they have any commercials that aren’t for products to give men erections.

But now we have a new term for it.

“Spontaneous male enhancement.”

Huh?

Um…

That’s a boner.

It’s XM radio you’re supposed to be able to say anything you want. I heard them swearing on XM Radio.

You can’t say boner?

There’s one product where this semi comatose woman’s voice comes on and says….

“Hi I’m Stephanie. Would you like to have spontaneous male enhancement in three to five seconds?”

I think it would sound a hell of a lot better if she asked if you’d like a boner in three to five seconds.

And think about that, three to five seconds? Three to five? Well then that isn’t really spontaneous now is it?

If I want spontaneous male enhancement all my wife has to do is tell me she’s skipping a Nordstrom Sale.

Trust me I’ll be enhanced in way less than three to five seconds.

Is that really an issue?

Are women all over the world clamoring for spontaneous male enhancement?

I always thought they wanted a little build up.

Aren’t we supposed to lie to them for a while? Fake sensitivity or pretend we’re listening?”

I’ve been married for thirty years I’ve never needed “spontaneous male enhancement”. I usually give myself five minutes or so at least. Maybe spend a little time finding the right television show on the bedroom TV. It’s tough to get “spontaneous male enhancement” to reruns of “Little House on the Prairie”.

I have a question.

All these ads targeting us middle aged guys…..

Um…

Who’s @$%*ing us?????

Seriously.

I’d like to know.

Because in my opinion before you take any of that crap you might want to…. oh I don’t know… HAVE A DATE!!!!

So where are all the women that are looking for old guys to have sex with?

Because I don’t need a pill that will give me spontaneous male enhancement.

I need a pill that will make a woman want to see my penis is the first place.

Where can I find that pill?

And here’s something else.

I’m a fifty year old, over weight, balding Italian man with two grown kids and three grandkids that’s been married for thirty years in a row.

And I drive a Cadillac.

Maybe I’ve #$*^ed enough!!!

Maybe I need a pill that will keep my wife’s hands off my remote.

Maybe I need a pill that will give me more of the closet space.

Maybe I need a pill that will keep my mind from wandering every time she tells me about her day.

WHERE’S THAT PILL????

How about “spontaneous listening enhancement” in three to five seconds? That’s what my wife wants.

WHERE’S THAT PILL???

Just another day in paradise...... Sort of.....

2007-10-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every man’s life where you wake up in the morning with all the intentions in the world of going to out exercise and then you look at yourself in the mirror and say,

“*&#^ it…”

“I’ve peaked.”

I am just not a morning person.

How do these people wake up before the crack of dawn and exercise?

I don’t want to get up at the “crack” of anything! It’s not normal.

I’ve had friends say that they listen to their bodies and their bodies tell them to get up and exercise.

They’ve obviously never listened to my body.

I’ll admit my body makes a little noise in the morning but it has never told me to exercise.

My body has never told me that.

If my body is talking to me at 5:00am it’s telling me there’s cold pizza in the fridge.

I’ve asked myself a thousand times, “What do I get out of this if I get up and exercise at 5:00am?”

And the answer is always the same.

Hurt.

Let’s say I get up early, exercise, lose weight and get in the best shape of my life. Let’s say I’m the picture of health.

It still won’t change anything.

At my age if I go into a doctors office no matter what the problem is I’m going to get a finger up my butt.

“Doc my shoulder hurts.”

“Well let’s check the old prostate.”

“But….”

“Oh there it is. Your prostate is nice and small.”

“That’s just because it’s cold in here doc. Normally it’s huge. But you know what they say... Big hands, big prostate.”

Seriously, what does good health really buy you once you hit 50 years old?

An extra five years?

What if that extra five years is during Hillary Clinton’s time as President? Do I want to spend the last five years of my life listening to someone that always sounds like a pissed off ex-wife?

What if you diet and exercise to get that extra five years and then get run over by an illegal alien who doesn’t have any auto insurance?

Hey I live in California, it could happen.

I think there are too many “ifs” in the world to throw all my eggs in the “eat right and exercise basket.”

What if exercise and broccoli are the real killers?

No one really knows now do they?

If you stand a piece of broccoli on its stalk it kind of looks like a little mushroom cloud doesn’t it?

Do you really want that going off in your body?

Now look at a pizza.

It’s a circle.

Like the “Circle of Life”.

It’s starts out as a little roll of dough and then gets tossed and shaped into a beautiful circle, covered with all sorts of yummy toppings and then it’s baked to perfection, and you eat it, and the world is good, and eventually it turns into a little roll of…

You get the picture.

I can hear Elton John singing about it in my head right now.

“The circle of life, covered with pepperoni and cheese, and it moves us all, through despair and hope, faith and love, with a sauce like Momma use to make…….”

Oh god….

I think I’m weeping.

“What the hell is wrong with you Calabrese? Put down that phone.”

“I… I was just checking the time….”

“They don’t have that service anymore. If you want the time just look at the cable box.”

“I can’t put it down. I need to call someone.”

“Who? Who are you are you calling? Are you crying?”

“Yes… I think I am.”

“Why?”

“I was just thinking about calling Joe over at The Venetian.”

”What the hell are you talking about?”

“I miss him. I haven’t been there or seen him in almost a year.”

“Oh my god!!!! You were going to order a pizza weren’t you????? I can’t believe you!!!!”

“I just want to look at one. I wouldn’t eat it. I would just hold it up and smell it. Maybe build a little shrine to it in the kitchen.”

“You’re pathetic. You’d blow your diet after all this time for a lousy slice of pizza?”

“BE SILENT!!! SACRILEGE WOMAN!!!!! It’s not lousy pizza!!! It’s the best pizza in San Diego! Eating that pizza is a religious experience. I saw the face of Jesus in that pizza. Once. Briefly.”

“Be silent? Be silent? You did not just tell me to be silent.”

“Um…”

“I don’t care numb nuts do whatever you want. You want to blow your diet and get big and fat again go ahead. It’s your health.”

“AHA!!! Yes it is. And do you know what good health gets you? A finger up your butt that’s what!!! Well not me woman, not me.”

“You’re an idiot. You want to be around for your grandkids? You want to watch them grow up? Well then you better take care of yourself starting with your diet and exercise.”

“But… But… I miss it so much….”

“Snap out of it!”

“Fine. But my butt is on your head woman. It’s on your head.”

“Excuse me.”

“I mean the fate of my butt is in your hands… Well not in your hands actually…”

“Look at it this way Calabrese. The smaller your butt is the easier and quicker the examination will be. Because it doesn’t matter weather your skinny or fat or in shape or not that’s where the doctor is going.”

“But it’s not fair.”

“Think of it as punishment for ditching jury duty.”

“I… um… that makes sense in an odd sort of way….”

“Now go drink one of your diet shakes and then go for a walk.”

“Yes doctor…… You might as well be one… you’re on my ass all the time.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing sweetheart… You know me… I’m all about health.”

Dancing with The Unit

2007-10-06T11:31:00.000-07:00

“Damn! Now that’s an outfit!!! What show is this?”

“Dancing With the Stars numb nuts.”

“Porn Stars?”

“WHAT???”

“Look at that chick. She looks like a Las Vegas stripper.”

“Really. And you would know this because?”

“Uh… I read a lot.”

“Uh huh… Stop being an idiot and let me watch my show in peace.”

“Who’s that old guy?”

“What old guy?”

“That guy right there. Who’s he?”

“That’s Wayne Newton.”

“That’s not Wayne Newton.”

“Dammit Calabrese! I’m trying to watch the show! That’s Wayne Newton, he’s the old guy on the show, just like Larry King was last year.”

“Larry King danced with Porn Stars? Well that explains the heart attacks.”

“Don’t make me get off this couch.”

“Sweetheart look at that guy, that’s not Wayne Newton, look at his face.”

“Idiot, he’s had a little plastic surgery.”

“A little? Ya think? He looks like Marie Osmond.”

“That is Marie Osmond.”

“What?”

“That’s Marie Osmond she’s on the show too,”

“Come on you’re making this crap up. You’re trying to tell me that Wayne Newton had plastic surgery so he could look like Marie Osmond so they could be on a TV show to dance together with Porn Stars?”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I want to remember the look on your face right before you died.”

“Come on babe change the channel. I don’t want to watch this crap.”

“It’s not crap. I like this show and I was here first. Go upstairs and watch TV.”

“But… This is my TV.”

“Your TV? Really? Your TV? You think this is your TV?”

“Yes. Remember? We bought this big screen HDTV TV so I could watch football on the big screen. Remember?”

“Uh huh… And what night is tonight?”

“Tuesday.”

“Uh huh… And is there a football game on tonight?”

“Uh… no…..”

“So you came in here to ruin my show because………”

“I want to watch The Unit”

“Watch that stupid show upstairs.”

“That’s only a 30 inch screen it’s not the same on a 30 inch screen. Um… Put the coaster down.”

“Get out of here Calabrese.”

“At least DVR it for me.”

“I can’t, I’m recording House down here.”

“BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!! HOW COME YOU GET TWO SHOWS???”

“My god! How old are you? Big whinny baby? “That’s not fair, that’s not fair, my wife is recording her shows and not mine. Waaaaaaaa.”

“All I’m saying is that we should compromise, we should reach an agreement that’s acceptable to both of us.”

“Nope.”

“COME ON!!! WHY???”

“Cuz I’m here first and I’ve got the remote.”

“Communist.”

“Excuse me? What did you call me?”

“You heard me.”

“Just go upstairs and watch your “Unit”.

“THE UNIT!!!”

“Whatever. Go play with your “Unit”.

“This is BULL!!! Marriage is supposed to be about compromise. Give and take. A little sacrifice on both parts. You watch one show I watch one show.”

“Marriage is about compromise? Uh huh…. Who told you that?”

“I read it in one of your magazines. I think it was Better Homes and Vaginas or something like that.”

“Calabrese I’ve been married to you for almost thirty years. I know you. This is not about compromise. This is your little game to annoy the crap out of me until I give up and go upstairs so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“Is it working?”

“Look at this face. Do you think its working?”

“A little.”

“Really? This face?”

“Well actually you are starting to look a little like Wayne Newton.”

“OUCH!!!!! MARIE OSMOND??? Damn woman!!!! Stop throwing coasters”

***By the way for those of you in the San Diego or So Cal area I’ll be performing at The Pala Casino on Tuesday, October 9^th, opening for John Pinette. Normally I don’t post performance dates here but John is my favorite comedian and truly one of the funniest men on the planet. It’s an honor to share the stage with him. This is a show you do not want to miss. To order tickets before the show sells out visit:

http://www.palacasino.com/entertainment/

I hope to see you at the show.

Ask not what your treats can do for you. Ask what you can do for your treats.

2007-10-02T17:20:00.000-07:00

Well it’s October.

And naturally Family Fitness has come out with a list of the “best” treats and “worst” treats for Halloween.

Here’s a partial list of their “best” treats:

“Pretzels, crackers, and popcorn. If you get whole-grain versions of crackers and pretzels, you can add some much needed fiber to the season’s high-chocolate diet.”

That’s just what we need. A bunch of little kids running around with too much fiber in their diet from all the whole grains they’re downing. Legions of little farters roaming our neighborhoods.

Beautiful.

“Pumpkin seeds, almonds, peanuts, and trail mix”.

Peanuts? Aren’t they constantly warning us about peanut allergies and now we’re supposed to hand this crap out.

Trail mix? Are you kidding me? Trail mix? Where are these kids Trick or Treating? The old west?

“Juice boxes. (just check the label to make sure it’s juice & not colored sugar water!).”

What’s wrong with colored sugar water? I grew up on Kool-Aid and I turned out okay. Maybe if more kids had good old fashioned Kool-Aid they’d be able to stay awake in math class.

Here’s their “worst” list of treats.

“Gummy bears, jelly beans, caramels, fruit leather, gum, and other sticky treats. Full-sized chocolate bars. Cookies and snack cakes. Stay away from the following snacks voted worst vending machine snacks for kids by the Center for Science in the Public Interest: Chips Ahoy!, Oreos, Hostess HOHOs & other snack cakes, Keebler Club & Cheddar Sandwich Crackers, & Starburst Fruit Chews.”

Um… Read that again.

Who in the hell gives out Keebler Cheddar Sandwich Crackers for Halloween? If I’m Trick or Treating that’s a house that’s definitely getting toilet papered.

And who are these communists at the “Center for Science in the Public Interest”? That’s right communists. Anyone who doesn’t like a HOHO has to be a communist.

Gummy bears? Come on! What are old people supposed to eat?

And Chips Ahoy? That’s a nautical food. Maybe the kids into sailing. How can you knock a food that’s basically saying hello every time you look at the bag. That’s not a bad treat. That’s a happy treat. That’s a treat that welcomes you home.

They’re bashing Starburst fruit chews? Hello? It says fruit right on them. We’re supposed to have five servings a day of that stuff.

This list got me thinking. Why would Family Fitness tell you what not to eat? That’s like a cigarette company telling you not to smoke.

If I owned Family Fitness I’d be serving Banana Cream Pies at the Deli I owned in the front half of the gym. Fatten them up and sell them another 24 month membership so we can hold their checking account hostage for those automatic deductions.

But I guess they don’t have to do that.

Because there are no fat people at Family Fitness.

Well…

Okay you see them there…

Once.

As a matter of fact you never see fat people at any gym.

I take that back.

I’ve seen fat people at “Curves”.

I seem them when I look in the window on my way to the Cheesecake Factory.

They’re two doors down.

I’m not sure that’s a real gym.

It’s more of a gathering.

It’s like the women’s restroom at the stadium or the movies.

Just a place to hang out and tell each other how stupid men are.

After lunch.

When are they going to come up with a real gym for real people?

I swear one of these days I’m going to open an all you can eat buffet and strip club and I’m going to call it….

The Gym.

“Where you going honey?”

“Going to the gym babe.”

“You’ve been going there every night for a month and you’ve gained ten pounds.”

“Well you know what they say babe, muscle weighs more than fat.”

So don’t listen to these people that want to ruin Halloween for the kids.

Load them up with candy and chocolate. Thousands of dentists are depending on us. Just make sure to check out their bags first and snag a few of the good treats for yourself.

You know… Like the Keebler Cheddar Sandwich Crackers….

Please……

STAY AWAY FROM MY TREATS!!!!!

This one is just for me.... and the rest of us miserable San Diego Charger fans.

2007-09-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky...Stormy Weather (It's a long one)

2007-09-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

“Hey Poppa!!!!”

“Hey Alex!!! Hey son. Did you have a good day in school today?”

”I’m a rainbow!!!”

“A rainbow?”

“Yep.”

“Dad that means he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t perfect either.”

“Whew! I thought maybe they were teaching some weird sexual orientation thing in kindergarten.”

“It’s a behavior thing dad!!! They have four behavior levels in kindergarten, Sunny, Rainbow, Cloudy and Stormy…. He’s been a little “Stormy” lately.”

“That’s how we labeled the nuns when I was in school. I never saw Sister Mary Sunny but Sister Mary Stormy used to beat the crap out of me.”

“Dad don’t start in front of Alex, he takes that stuff you say to school. He repeats everything his Poppa tells him.”

“So basically he’s a genius.”

“Dad please….”

“Fine, I get it, no problem.”

“Where’s mom?”

“Shopping.”

“So you’re going to watch Alex on your own?”

“I can watch a five year old.”

“I know dad but… well… just don’t teach him anything until mom gets home.”

“Son… trust me…..”

“When is mom coming home?”

“You really think I can answer that question? She went shopping. She could be home next Tuesday. You know how women are. Stick a Visa card in their hand and they use it like a scepter.”

”DAD! Not in front of Alex.”

“Don’t worry. You and Melina go to the parent teacher night and leave the care and well being of my grandson to me.”

“And no sugar dad.”

“Not to worry just healthy fruits and veggies. I’m all about health.”

“Dad?”

“See you later son.”

“Alex, listen to your Poppa and Gramma when she gets home, we’ll see you later.”

“Bye dad.”

“So Alex. Are you hungry?”

“Yep. Can I have some Spiderman gummies?”

“Sure, that’s technically a fruit.”

“YAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!”

“Slow down little buddy. Here’s the deal, you get one bag now and one later but it will be our secret okay.”

“Okay Poppa.”

“Cause once we make a deal it has to stay secret. You know what Italians call people that tell secrets? A rat. You don’t want to be a rat right? So we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

“Okay let’s shake on it.”

(One hour later)

“Hi honey I’m home.”

“Hey babe how was shopping?”

“I wasn’t shopping. I just went to pick up a blouse.”

“Uh huh…”

“Don’t start with me Calabrese. Hi Alex give Gramma a hug.”

“Hi Gramma Poppa gave me Spiderman gummies.”

(Kid has a lot to learn about being a rat.)

“I hope you gave him something for dinner other than Spiderman gummies.”

“He gave me two bags of Spiderman gummies.”

(A lot to learn….)

“Technically they’re a healthy snack. They are made of fruit.”

“Fruit? Okay Calabrese name a fruit that has the texture of gummy candy.”

“Um….”

“Times up numb nuts. You know better than load him up with sugar. He’ll be bouncing off the walls all night.”

”I didn’t load him up. He’s about a half a tank.”

“Gramma called you numb nuts.”

“She sure did. Tell your mom. Not like you’d keep anything a secret.”

“Numb nuts, numb nuts, numb nuts, numb nuts……”

”I can’t believe you. You told him to keep it a secret?”

“Numb nuts, numb nuts, hahahahahaha, Poppa is a numb nuts. That’s funny Gramma.”

“It was a history lesson. I was teaching him about his Italian heritage. I’m all about education.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Poppa is a numb nuts, Poppa is a numb nuts…..”

“Alex that’s enough. Let’s sit down and read one of your books. And you… husband… need to think about not being an idiot.”

“Gramma what’s a scepter?”

“What? A scepter? Calabrese?”

“He saw it on the History Channel. It was a Queen Elizabeth special. Very homely woman as a matter of fact but she had a nice scepter.”

“Whatever Calabrese…Whatever.”

(A little later)

“Hey dad, mom.”

“So how was your first parent teacher night?”

“Apparently Alex has a very vivid imagination.”

“That’s great! I knew my grandson was creative. You can always tell the smart ones.”

“Dad… This is not necessarily a good thing. We need to talk to Alex.”

“HI DAD!!!! HI MOM!!! POPPA IS A NUMB NUTS!!!!”

“Son, settle down. Your mother and I need to talk to you. Son you told us that you were a “Rainbow” today.”

“Yep.”

“Your teacher says you were “Stormy” today. That you punched Dustin for no reason. Is that true? Did you have a Stormy day?”

(Uh oh… Looks like it’s gonna rain.)

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“I felt like a rainbow today.”

“You didn’t punch Dustin?”

“I didn’t punch him.”

“Are you sure you didn’t punch him?”

“Sure I’m sure. I didn’t punch him. I socked him in the head.”

“Alex why did you sock Dustin???”

“He needed to be socked.”

“Alex what did Dustin do that would cause you to hit him in the head?”

“I didn’t hit him.”

“I know, I know, you socked him. Why did you sock him?”

“Cause some people just need to be socked.”

“Alex you can’t go around socking people in the head. Violence never solved anything.”

“Yes it does.”

“No Alex it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does dad. Dustin wouldn’t listen to me so I socked him in the head. He listened to me after that. He was crying a little… but he was listening.”

“Kids got a point.”

“DAD!!!”

”Tony! Knock it off.”

”I’m just saying…OUCH!!! Fine I get it. Stop with the back to head thing. See, now I’m listening. OUCH!!!.”

“Keep quiet Calabrese you’ve done enough already.”

“What? What did I do? I never told him to hit anyone unless it was in self defense. Okay okay I get it.”

“Alex, your teacher said you socked Dustin and then pretended someone else socked him. Is that true?”

“No…”

“Alex who is Ryan?”

“He’s a rat.”

(HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Apparently he’s learned something.)

“What are you smiling about?”

“I’m not… I was… He… I… I’m not smiling. Don’t hit me in the back of the head.”

(After about twenty minutes of watching and listening to my son and daughter-in-law lecture my grandson…)

“I got in trouble Poppa.”

“Yes you did.”

“My teacher is a rat.”

“Teachers don’t count. They’re supposed to rat.”

“So what’s the real reason you socked him?”

“I didn’t sock him that hard.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“I probably won’t sock him again.”

“That’s good. You said Dustin wasn’t listening? What were you trying to tell him?”

“I was telling him not to talk to Jessica.”

(AHA!!!! A woman was involved. Figures.)

“Was Jessica talking to him?”

“Jessica talks to everyone. Jessica never stops talking.”

“So you like Jessica?”

“Everybody likes Jessica.”

“Oh… Well it was still wrong to sock Dustin but I understand why you did it.”

“Why didn’t you just tell your mom and dad about Jessica?”

“Because I’m too young to understand women.”

“Who told you that?”

“You did.”

“Um… Yes… Well… I was right. As a matter of fact your Poppa is still too young to understand women and I’m fifty years old. You never really understand women. I’ve lived with your Gramma for thirty years I still got no clue. Dealing with women is kind of like scratching a lottery ticket. Sometimes you have a winner but most of the time it just costs you a buck. But hey, at least you got to scratch something. Do you know what I mean?”

“Nope.”

“Alex women are like…”

“OH MY GOD!!!! Did you just tell our grandson that I’m a lottery ticket?”

(My wife is a freaking ninja!)

“Eh….. What I was saying was that…um… you know…How great it is to be with women… um… even though… you know… we men don’t always get you.”

“Oh you’re not going to get any alright.”

“Do you want me to scratch you Gramma?”

“No Gramma doesn’t need any scratching right now. But your grandfather is going to be scratched real soon if he doesn’t behave. You need to go downstairs now honey it’s time for you to go home.”

“I love you Gramma.”

“I love you too.”

“I love you Poppa.”

“I love you too little buddy.”

“You’re my best friend Poppa.”

”Well you’re my best friend too.”

“A scratcher? So I’m a scratcher.”

“No…AlexsockedDustinbecausehewasjealousof
DustinfortalkingtoJessicaandhesaidhedidn’ttelhis
momanddadbecauseIsaidhewastooyoungtounderstand
womenandIwasjusttellinghimIwasrightand…”

“Stop it right there. Did it dawn on that pea sized brain of yours that he’s going to go to school tomorrow and probably try to scratch Jessica? You realize that don’t you?”

“No… yes… but….”

“But what?”

“I’m proud of him.”

“For what?”

“He didn’t rat me out to AJ and Melina about the “too young to understand women” thing. He took his punishment like a man.”

“He was punished because he punched another child in the head. Why he punched him is irrelevant.”

“Spoken like a woman and he didn’t punch him, he socked him.”

“Don’t even start.”

“Don’t you get it? Even at age five he gets it. It’s a question of honor and loyalty. It’s a man thing.”

“It’s an idiot thing. You need a keeper Calabrese.”

“No… Poppa needs to be scratched… wink wink.”

“Here’s a coat hanger knock yourself out.”

“Ooohhhh… Someone’s having a Stormy day.”