Life....

OK bloggers...we were do for a serious one.  I know it's Friday, but it can't be ALL fun and games.  A friend of mine posted the most profound picture on Facebook the other day.  It's a picture of a white (man or woman...can't really tell) person's hand holding the hand of an African (or person of black skin color) refugee's hand.  The hand is SOOOOO tiny and frail.  The wrist is about the same size as the index finger of the person holding the hand.  The caption...."you hate your life, while some people dream of having your life."  It's so true.  I don't want to speak for anyone else but myself, but there are those days when I think...geesh...my life is so difficult.  I think, so many bad things have happened in the past year....things HAVE to get  better.  Well, I USED to think that.  I printed several copies of the picture, one of which hangs on my computer screen.  Another copy I keep in my wallet, to look at when I'm feeling sorry for myself, or to share with someone else who thinks that their life is so bad.  I'm almost ashamed that it took seeing that picture and reading that caption to realize how well off I am.  Every day when I go to Starbuck's and spend in upwards of $3 for a coffee, I pass a homeless man that sleeps on a cardboard box.  I walk right by this man EVERYDAY, and I needed a picture of an African refugee to remind me of what I have and what I have to be thankful for.  It's a shame....and I am ashamed.  My Father has done a great deal of work on mission trips in Africa.  Each time he would come home he would show me pictures and tell of the great work he did to help those less fortunate.  He was always looking for an accolade.  I couldn't give him one.  Not because we have this strange Love Hate relationship, but because we have SO many people in our own country that need help...people that we walk by EVERY day, but everyone wants to go on a mission trip......in my mind, to say that they have.  They do it with their churches and feel that they are getting closer to God.....but are they?  Maybe they are actually getting farther away since they have to walk over people on our very own streets to get to the airport to fly across the globe to help those less fortunate.  It's not glamorous to help the people in your own community or in your own country.  No one writes an article about you or asks you to speak in front of your church for helping the guy sleeping on a cardboard box outside of Starbuck's.....but that's the point.  You shouldn't do it for recognition or to mark an item off of your "bucket list".  We need to do it because we are all the same.  Today it's him...tomorrow that could be me.  If it were me, how would "I" feel to be walked over, passed by, turned away from....only to know that the person ignoring me is paying thousands of dollars to fly across the globe to help someone less fortunate.  Save the airfare and let's start at home.  Let's help OUR brothers and sisters that need us in our OWN communities.  Let's strengthen our FORCE and THEN go an help others.   Help starts at home.  Let's not judge and let's not turn a blind eye.  Just because you walk over them, turn your head away, don't make eye contact....doesn't mean they don't exist.  The next time you think you have it bad, go sleep on a cardboard box outside of Starbuck's...that is until the Police tell you that you are not allowed to do that and ask you to move on.  Live on the street for one night and THEN feel sorry for yourself.  Don't eat for one day...then ask how bad your life is.  Remember there is someone out there who dreams of having your life.  LOVE THY BROTHER.

P.I.T.A.

If you are an avid reader of the "Sparkalini" blog, you know that this past weekend was Greek Fest in Dallas.  During Greek Fest, I did have my fair consumption of pita!  There's the classic Gyro wrapped in pita, there's the pita as a substitute for a dinner roll with your entree (Greek's just can't eat an ordinary dinner roll) and there's the pita triangle for dipping (dipping in ziziki sauce, hummus, etc....).  You have to love pita....that doughy tortilla looking thing....although we didn't steal it from the Mexican's, as after all...., the Greek'  s invented EVERYTHING...right?  Well, not really, but if you talk to most Greek's they will claim creation rights!!!  So like I was saying...I ate my fair share of pita.  But, today's blog is not about pita (the Greek bread replacement), but rather about P.I.T.A.  That would be "P" period, "I" period, "T" period, "A" period....better known as, Pain In The Ass.  Now there are several kinds of P.I.T.A.'s.  There is your basic..."Damn that telemarketer is a real pain in the ass" to "Ouch, I was working out on the stair master and have a huge pain in my ass" to....an actual pain IN your ass.  So let's start at the beginning.  I have been receiving a phone call from a company called NCAC (National Credit Audit Corporation) from toll free number 800.779.4894 for the good part of a year.  It goes like this....my phone rings, I answer, and a recording comes on that tells you that this call may be monitored and/or recorded for quality service.  The recording goes on to tell you that NCAC is a debt collector and the call is in regards to an outstanding debt and asks you to call them back at the number I listed above (please write it down for future reference).  So, I call the number (when I first started getting the calls...a year ago) and listen to the prompts.  It asks for my account number.  Since I do not know what this is about, I have no account number so I prompt out for an operator.  The operator comes on and asks for my account number.  I tell the operator that I don't have an account number and don't know what the call is about.  They then ask me for my phone number, so they can track the call that way.  OK...I give them my number and they ask, "Is this Sergio?"  ME: No, my name is Andrew Constantinides.  NCAC:  "Does Sergio have access to this number?"  ME:  "Seeing as though I don't know who Sergio is, I hope he doesn't have access to this number."  NCAC:  "Sir, a yes or no will do." (Really?  Did they just say that to me? Do they know who I am?)  NCAC:  "What about Irene...does she have access to this number?"  ME:  "Unfortunately I don't know Irene, so I don't think she has access either...or....sorry....No."  NCAC:  "OK, then we must have the wrong party.  I'll remove you from our database."  ME:  "Thank you!"  So that was a year ago, and I have kept receiving the calls and called back maybe two more times to be "removed from the database".   As they have not called in while....they may have actually removed me, but now it's MY turn.  I will call their number EVERYDAY, MULTIPLE times and run up their bill and request that you do the same. I am going to give them a little taste of their own medicine and show them what a P.I.T.A. they were for a good year!!!  That is the first type of P.I.T.A. and it was a MAJOR one!!!  The second P.I.T.A. really is pretty cut and dry.  I WAS working out the other day and felt a little something something pull in the upper part of my thigh, heading up to my glute.  When I got off of the machine, I s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d really big and....OUCH...pulled a muscle.....in of all places, my ass.  Now, that is a regular P.I.T.A.  The third and FINAL P.I.T.A. is the actual Pain IN Your Ass.  Now, I have known many a woman that has given birth to a baby...and the ones that go through it the old fashion way.....labor and pushing...as opposed to the en vogue 21st Century way...either C-Section or massive drugs...are going to know what I am referring to.  So imagine that you are pregnant (this is all second hand information, so if you really HAVE HAD a baby, you can correct me later), you go into labor and you decide you are going to do it "the old fashion way", earn your stripes, be a martyr...and PUSH.  Well, depending on how far along you are and how big that baby is....you may be pushing for a LONG TIME.   So, if you PUSH for a long time...with all your might, and nothing comes out....there's gonna be side effects.  Now pushing is pushing....there's "stuff" in there...NOT boo boo your gross people....I'm talking about veins....you know, inside of your body.  When you PUSH...sometime these veins can swell and.....uh.....well.....ummmmm...become this weird gross thing called a......hemorrhoid.  Ewww....painful, uncomfortable...now that's what we call a pain IN the ass.  Now remember, anyone is susceptible...not just pregnant women.  What are you thinking?  What?  Yes, even men can get them.   I mean, not me?.!?   No...really...I mean....I don't have a hemorrhoid.  Gotta go.

FINAL THOUGHT:  If given a CHOICE...always choose pita over P.I.T.A.  Unfortunately, there is usually not a choice involved....not that "I" would know.  Leave me alone.....I gotta go.

Lions and Tigers and Bears...OH MY!!!

Animals.  You have to love them.  Well, unless you're a sociopath.  Anyone who cannot find some beauty in an animal HAS to be evil.  When it comes to the domestic types, I am partial to dogs.  It's not that I don't like cats....I think kittens are darling!....grown cats do scare me a bit, as they tend to be a liiiitttttllllleeeee too smart, but bottom line...I'm allergic to cats.....and they have been known to sit on babies chests and suck the life out of them....soooooo....for me.....dogs it is!!!!  My menagerie includes 4 dogs....a large 45 lb. mixed breed (he IS NOT and WILL NOT  be called a "mutt"), Sparkey (namesake for the blog), a 15 lb. Jack Russell Terrier, Petey, an 8 lb. Hairless Chinese Crested, Oliver and a new addition to the brood, Jeff's 35 lb Miniature Golden Doodle, Tucker.  Now Jeff knows that I think Tucker is a little "ree ree" (politically incorrect term for slow), but he is just about the most darling, walking teddy bear of a dog that you could imagine.  So, as you can tell, dogs are just my "thing".  They're pretty spoiled....4 dogs sleeping in a king size bed at night with their two owners and Oliver wearing Ralph Lauren cashmere sweaters during the cold months (after all, the poor guy IS hairless!)...but nonetheless, I love them like children.  It's weird though, because I often wonder if they "get it".  Do they know that I love them as if I gave birth to them myself?  Do they think it's weird when I kiss them on the lips?  I don't know.  Initially I think....no......but if you were to watch Planet of the Apes....you start to wonder.  In Planet of the Apes there was that weird role reversal.  The apes were the owners and the humans were the pets.  I can remember a scene where a few of the "human captives" are in a cage and a little ape child comes to pick out her pet.  She puts her face to the cage and ALL of the humans run to the corner an cower.  Hmmmm....is that what it's like for Oliver when I go to plant a big kiss on his lips?  It really made me start to think.  I mean, if you think about it, here on Earth it's Planet of the Humans everyday.  Is this how they feel or have they been so bred and domesticated that they really think that they're human?  Well if you look at Domestic Pets and compare them to Wild Animals....there is a difference.  No matter how much you try to treat a Wild Animal like a Domestic Pet....it doesn't always work out.  Oh sure there was Grizzly Adams who lived in the wilderness and tamed wild bears and had them living with him like children.  But then on the flip side, what happened to Siegfried and Roy?   Well, if you don't remember, Roy almost ended up as dinner for a 7 year-old white tiger.  To that I say....good for the tiger!  Domestic Pets and Wild Animals are two different things!  Think about your dog....or your cat.  For the most part, if these animals were not living in the comfort of your home....they may be dead.  We live in urban cities that do not provide for animals to just cruise the streets for food and shelter...not to mention CARS....the two (domestic pets and cars) usually do not make for a good combination....unless the dog is riding IN the car.  Otherwise.....it usually amounts to......Car - 1   Dog/Cat - 0, aka roadkill.  Wild Animals are called "WILD" because that's what they are.  They should NOT be bound by cages and strutted around like first grade "show-and-tell" finds.  Again, I say, "Good for the tiger!"  he should have done it a long time ago.  Now the BAD thing, they probably put the tiger down.  For WHAT you might ask?  For doing what tigers do....prey, kill, eat (like Julia Robert's movie).  Killed for being a tiger.  I hate to say it, but when the trainer at Sea World got attacked and eaten by Shamu the Killer Whale...yep, you guessed it...I was cheering for Shamu.  Now don't get me wrong, I don't want anyone getting killed or losing their life, but it is TORTURE for these animals to be treated the way they are.  To put a Killer Whale in a "cage" of that size...considering they're used to living in the oceans....would be like a human living in a closet for the rest of their lives (some Gays do that, but it's by their choice and a COMPLETELY different blog topic).  It would be torture.  When given the opportunity....one day...they're gonna strike back!  I really hate it when you watch the news and you hear about a Great White Shark that has been spotted of the coast of a Florida beach and there is a HUGE initiative to track and kill the shark.      H E L L O people....that's where sharks live!!!!  WE are intruding on THEIR space.  What......, you want them to buy a condo in Miami and live in the pool?  Or when you hear about a Brown Bear in Aspen that has been spotted and it MUST be found and put down or tourism will fail.  Ummmm.....people, news flash....Brown Bears live in the mountains.  Sorry skiers, sorry surf boarders, sorry Siegfried and Roy and sorry Sea World trainers....it you play with fire, you're gonna get burned!!!!  So careful what you choose for a pet...and next time your dog looks at you a little weird (I know that they're domesticated and all, but....) be scared, be very scared!!!!

INK me

Over the weekend I had the chance to attend a "Tattoo Fashion Show".  Yeah, you heard me right.  Instead of couture gowns and impeccably tailored suits, the fashions were inked bodies....and I'm talkin' inked....head to toe.  They walked the runway like proud peacocks.  The women had on just the required amount of clothes and high heels...their inked bodies peeping out from their tank tops and mini skirts.  The men...well most of the men had little or no clothing on....just a little loincloth that covered the essentials.  Yep, most of the men were inked from head to toe and all areas in between.  I'm talking scalp, arm pits, butt cheeks....the whole nine yards.  As I watched them strut their stuff, I started to wonder...what makes someone want to do that.  Personally, I think it's kind of cool.  Some of the art work was truly incredible, but what makes you want to do that?  Especially since once you do it....there's really no going back.  I know that there is tattoo removal, but when your entire body is covered, I don't think you can remove it all with no traces.  Really it's just about the biggest commitment you can make.  It's not like getting married or moving overseas.....with this one, there's no turning back.  Some say that it's an addiction....that once you start....one leads to two, that leads to three and so on and so forth.  Well, I got my first tattoo in my twenties.  A small Byzantine cross on my upper left hip.  Not really sure why I wanted it, but one day I called my friend Mary Ann and asked her if she would go and run an errand with me.  I went down to Deep Ellum to a place called "Tiggers" (known for tattooing the likes of Dennis Rodman...has to be good...right?) and told the Inkarista (my made up word for ink artist / barista...ala "ink a rista") what I wanted.  Mary Ann happens to wear a Byzantine cross, so we showed the artist, he drew it on my with erasable ink, and once approved....he started to INK me.  OK, it hurt like HELL!  Maybe it was the location or maybe it was just my mind saying, "What you are doing is going to be on you FOREVER", but nonetheless it hurt.  When it was done....I LOVED IT....STILL DO!  For me, it's the ability to always wear a cross without it wearing you....in the traditional fashion, around your neck.  Well, not until last year...about 20 years later, I got tattoo number two.  This one is more special and just seemed like the "right" thing to do.  For those of you that know me well, you know that my Mom passed away last year....July 13, 2010 at 6:17 am.  You may think that it's strange that I know the time, but without getting into all the details...I was with my Mom, at her side, holding her hand for the last 24 hours of her life.  When she took her final breath....I'm not sure why, but I looked at the clock on the wall in the room.  A large digital clock with red numbers that I will never forget....6:17.  That was the time that God decided that it was time for my Mom to come home to him and begin the life that we all live to begin.  So with that, I tattooed that number, 6:17 on the inner side of my left wrist.  It's right over my pulse and reminds me everyday...NOT of the time my Mom passed away, but rather the time her life began....a day that I want to remember....the best day of HER life.  WOW...I really digressed today.  So that's what mine are about....but what about the people that go...."ALL THE WAY".  Maybe there's a story.  Usually there is.  If you take the time to talk with someone that has a large tattoo...there's always a story of what's to come....of the continuation of the tattoo....of the story their trying to tell.  Maybe some people just need to put it out there get you to ask them, "What is your tattoo about?"  Maybe they have a story to tell, but don't know how best to tell it.  Maybe it's a story of pain.  Maybe a story that they are proud of.  Who knows!?!  It may seem that "these people" always seem to fit into the same category....strange looking, artsy, misunderstood, etc....  But not always.  I don't think that "I" fall into that category.  So maybe it's just the ones that go "all the way".  Like I said in an earlier blog, you REALLY cannot judge a book by the cover.  You can NEVER tell what's inside until you open the book and read it...know it.  That night, at the Tattoo Fashion Show, ALL of the models were extremely nice.  They let us take a zillion pictures with them and were really nice about it.  Of course for us it was part this weird mystique of having our picture taken with the "tattooed guy" and part......fun.  It was cool, it was different.  I gave all of the models a lot of credit for just being who they are and sharing it.  I feel bad that I didn't get the story, but rather played the part of voyeur.  It didn't "gross" me out....well the tattoos didn't.  The only thing that grossed me out.....the ONLY thing the whole night that grossed me out....all of the guys were walking around bare footed.  Now that's gross.  So keep on fighting the good fight, and don't judge a book by it's cover.  Just remember the more interesting the cover, the more chance that you will open the book and read....maybe that's their reason...they draw you in so you'll read the book.  And with that, I say, "INK me!"

Hail to the Chief

As you read today's blog I want you to imagine "Hail to the Chief" playing in the background.  (If you're not familiar with the song, it's that catchy tune that they play every time the President walks into the room.)  In this time of Presidential debates and everyone promising the moon to get a vote....what's really going on?  Well, if you can remember back to 1988, George Bush (Sr.) said, "Read my lips....NO MORE TAXES!"....only to raise taxes in 1990.  If you have watched any of the recent debates or read the paper, Michele Bachmann is going to get gas prices down to $2 a gallon.  So HOW is she going to do this?  Is she sleeping with some middle east leader or something?  OF COURSE she's NOT.  "SHE" is a moral upstanding member of the community.  After all, she and her husband can make Gays go straight.  REALLY?  These are the crazies that we have running to be the President of our Country?  It's been proven that they lie....watch the George Bush "you Tube" on "Read My Lips."  It's there...on video for the world to see.  SO, you can say anything you want to become President.  So I was thinking....what if "I" ran for President?  I have gone over this a thousand times in my head and tried to decide what my promises would be.  One difference is that "My" promises would become a reality.  So maybe they're not as dramatic as "NO MORE TAXES", but does that really count...since it never came true?  And maybe it won't save you a ton of money with "$2 for a gallon of gasoline", but does that count, either, as it hasn't and probably won't come true?  Let's think about promises that are a little more realistic.  One thing that REALLY grosses me out is when I see someone on the street spitting.  Yeah, you heard me "spitting".  It's not just men anymore...lots of women are doing it these days too. I don't get it.  You can't spit in a Kleenex or go to the bathroom and spit in the toilet?  Nope...just right there on the street for the world to see.  Well, when I become President, should someone decide to spit in public....everyone that witnesses the "grossness" of what that is will have the opportunity to spit in a cup and watch the offender drink the cup of spit.  Yep, you heard me...kinda like an eye for an eye.  You wanna be gross and spit, then you can drink some spit.  Smokers.  I know you won't all like this, because some of you are smokers (yes Sunday, I'm talking about YOU!  SHOUT OUT TO SUNDAY!!!  Hey Girl!!!)...ok, so some of you are smokers, but you need to quit.  When "I'm" President, there will be NO MORE smoking in public.  There will be phone booths...similar to those when I was a kid...that you actually made a phone call in...but now, smokers will go into the small cylinder to smoke....DOOR CLOSED, of course.  While smoking in your car, you will have to keep the windows shut at all times and butts will be put out in the ashtray in your car.  I never really understand why smokers crack the window open and then throw the butts out the window.  If you like the smell so much, trap it in there with you!  And don't throw your butts out the window and pollute my land, put it out in your ashtray and savor it.  Whenever I am out and about and I see someone throw a cigarette butt out the window, I just want to pick it up and throw it back in their car and say, "Ooops, you dropped something...here it is."  Harsh?  NO.  And oxygen tanks.  New President Constantinides rule....if you were ever a smoker, and now you have emphysema...sorry, no oxygen tank for you.  You were warned! Do you think the Surgeon General just puts those warnings on the packages for the fun of it!  There's nothing like going to one of those "low rent" casinos....like the ones in Louisiana (remember that Evan?  "It's the Isle of Capri Casino...the Isle of Capri Casino....") and what do you see?  Old women playing the slots, on an oxygen tank and SMOKING!  Lord, let's just blow the place to bits while you're at it!  So what else?  Well, since ALL Presidential promises don't have to come true....how about....Never having to work on your Birthday.  Fast food will be FAST.  ALL customer service reps will be located in the US and speak ENGLISH, and not be located in India and tell you that their name is "Sam" when you really know it's "Siddhartha".  People without children will NOT pay school taxes!  Water is Free...Lord, 3/4 of the earth is covered with it!  Our First Ladies will be glamorous...no more of these "First Ladies with a Cause"....work out, shop and look great!  Police officers will NO LONGER allowed to be fat pigs...period.  Miss America will be just that...Miss America....no more Miss "black" America, Miss "hispanic" America...if you live in America, you will all participate in the SAME contest! (imagine the riots if there was a Miss "white" America) No more Country Club living for prisoners.  If you are guilty of a crime, you will lose all rights...and you will not be able to take the easy way out with the death penalty...that will be going away...we will NO longer play God.  We will make prisoners work!  We will no longer test make-up and medicine on animals, we will test on prisoners!  Why torture innocent animals when we have people that have chosen to give up their rights?  And no TV and books and luxury...you will live in a small cell and work for free...sorry prisoners.  Need to test a new vaccination?  Infect prisoners, then test the cure.  Teachers will make more money...if they are shaping the minds of the future...then why are they paid like peons?  Sports figures will play for little if no money..come on, you're "playing a game".  Really?  We have sports figures making more money than heart surgeons?  NOT ANY MORE.  Women will no longer drive...JUST KIDDING...wanted to make sure that you were still reading!!!  LOL!!!  (although women will no longer be allowed to drive HUGE monster suburbans....it's for everyone's good)  I could go on for days...but that is just the beginning of my list of campaign promises for when "I" run for President.  Hmmmmm....maybe a "write-in" candidate?

Greek Fest or P.M.S?

As this weekend marks the 55th Anniversary of Greek Fest in Dallas, TX (was there performing a cooking demonstration yesterday, thus the lack of blog...ooops, sorry!).  In the spirit of the Greek Fest, I thought I would dedicate a blog to the event...but....is there really that much to say?  After all, it's really just a bunch of white people trying to be Greek for the weekend.  Aside from the incessant mispronunciation of the word Gyro and some woman asking me if I had any honey balls (I was selling pastries today and she was referring to a dessert item known as loukoumathes, which are, in essence, donut holes rolled in honey and nuts), there's really not a lot to talk about.  So, yes...let's go there...where no one and especially no man should go, and talk about P.M.S.  Now, first of all, I want my friend Patti Snyder to know that I am NOT talking about her.  You see, her initials are P.M.S.  OK, now that that's out of the way, I came to think about this topic, as I was flipping through the channels on the TV the other day, and I think it was Dr. Oz talking to a guest about P.M.S.  The guest, obviously a woman, was saying that when she has P.M.S. everything "pisses" her off.  She said that she can get triggered from a  range of things from her husband trying something on in the morning and changing his mind on what he's going to wear, and rather than hanging it back up, he leaves it draped over the back of a chair in his closet.....to her son forgetting to wipe down the counter in the bathroom after he uses the sink......to her dog getting water outside of the bowl when he drinks.  As I sat and listened to her, and watching Dr. Oz (is he a REAL Dr.?) taking her so seriously, I had to sit back and say, "Did anyone just think that maybe she's just a BITCH?"  How is it that women can get away with so much shit because of P.M.S.  I think it's a crock.  Why don't we just call it like we see it and call these "certain" women who have these issues....BITCHES?  If you really think about it, women ONLY have ONE good week a month.  If it's not the PREmenstrual, then it's the POSTmenstrual or it's the actual menstrual cycle....so really, just one good week.  WOW, that really eliminates a lot of good times.  That means if you are a breeder or a lesbian and around a woman all the time, they only really have 12 good weeks a year. You would almost need to date for a while to see what her cycle is to determine what your life would be like. You would need to know....is Christmas going to fall on one of "THOSE" weeks and be really shitty?  Do you have to plan your wedding around her menstrual cycle?  Will vacations be determined by when "FLO" will be visiting?  Come on, after all, you don't want to head to the Caribbean for a romantic vacation, only to learn that you will be scuba diving alone because your wife/girlfriend/lover can't go in the water, or you don't want her with you in the water, because she's SHARK BAIT!  Nothing like swimming around the ocean with a 110lb hunk of chum on your side.  GROSS.  Nothing like being on a vacation with your partner hauling around a heating pad or hot water bottle.  Picture it, "Yes, can we get chairs by an outlet.  No, I don't need to plug in my laptop...I have cramps, it's for my heating pad."  Fun times.  Now don't get me wrong...men have bad days too...we just don't blame it on a bodily function.  So imagine.....damn, I didn't poop today, I'm going to blame that on being an asshole to everyone for the next day.  It just wouldn't fly.  We don't get a "Get Out of Jail" card 3 times a month.  This might be the only argument for homosexuality not being something that you're born with.  It's a sacrifice that men make...getting called names as kids, and getting beat up and discriminated against as adults, just not to have to deal with being someone that only has 12 good weeks a year.  Now don't be getting all mad at me...it's not MY fault.  Blame it on Eve.  According to the Bible, it was Eve taking a bite of the apple from the ONLY tree in the Garden of Eden that God said not to.  Acres and acres of harvest and fruit trees with OOOONNNNEEE tree that she couldn't eat from....Eve is the REAL bitch.  Adam should have done us all a favor and bumped her off before she F'd it up for everyone....asked God for another rib and created Steve....the new and improved Eve.  Then, it could have been Adam and Steve, and then "I" would have been in the majority.  Things could have really been different.  Imagine a world with perfect design, where EVERYONE had a model home  No bad breeder homes with crafty projects made from women during that "time of the month".....no one to have "the headache" and no longer a need to have to wait for to someone to come home from work to discipline the children.  It really would be a more efficient world.  OK, so I hope you know I'm just having fun.  Just providing an alternate point of view.  It's just like when people don't want to be called racist and they say, "Some of my best friends are black"....well in the spirit....."A LOT of my REAL GOOD friends are women"....or at least they used to be my friends.  So for all of you that have female friends, wives, lovers, ect...CALL THEM ON IT....call it as you see it.....tell them, "Quit blaming it on P.M.S., your're just being a BITCH.  Now just admit it."  Hopefully it won't end your friendship, marriage, relationship, but if it does, you haven't lost as much time as you thought.  If you think about it, since women only have 12 good weeks a year....it will take 4 ACTUAL 52 week years to equal one...so when you do the math...you really haven't KNOWN them as long as you think you have!  **** AND A BIG SHOUT OUT TO TINA..who abused me as a child and used to make me come to her house and bake her Toll House cookies and blamed it on cramps.   If I knew then, what I know now, I would have known she was just being a testy BITCH!  LOVE YOU!!!   XOXO!!!!!

Boxers or Briefs?

Really?  It seems to consume the thoughts of so many people.  Several years back I can remember watching a presidential debate on MTV (ok, probably not the best choice to get potential presidential views, but I was watching it) and one of the....the....I don't know, V Jays?  I'm not sure, but one of the interviewers asked one of the presidential candidates, "Boxers or Briefs?"  It made me start to think...what does that really tell you about a person  To me...and you can decide which I prefer....one is for someone who is a "free" spirit...doesn't like to be confined...likes to let it all "hang out" and one is for someone who likes to color inside the lines, likes a sense of "support" and likes "everything in order."  It's hard to judge a book by it's cover.  What you see on the outside is not always what the pages within hold.  With that being said...YOU'RE WRONG.  I'm a briefs guy.  When I was a kid, I can remember being in Kindergarten or 1st grade...coloring.  I always, first, carefully outlined with the crayon of choice in a dark fashion...giving some good pressure to the crayon, then filling in that section with a lighter hue of the same color...accomplished by applying less pressure.  If I went outside of the lines...FAILURE...crinkle it up and start over.  It had to be perfect!  I can remember Mrs. Branch (***HEY SHOUT OUT to my Kindergarten teacher Mrs. Branch...if you're still alive...eww...she was kinda old...back then..hmmm....I wonder if she IS still alive?)  anyway, I can remember her always looking at me, really confused, wondering why I kept coming back for another template sheet.  I guess I can now blame her for some of my O.C.D. behaviors.  If she had been paying attention better, she would have seen the early stages of a Type A personality developing and she could have nipped it in the bud.  Way to go Mrs. Branch.  (For the record...if she is dead, her estate owes me for therapy bills).  I guess I have always been my biggest critic.  I knew that "I" couldn't be perfect, but my coloring could!  I could give everyone the impression that I was a wiz kid...that on first try...it was PERFECTION!!!  So, although I have gone off on a tangent....I ALWAYS colored inside the lines.  Support.  There are two kinds of people in this world...the ones that do it all alone and get all the glory....and the ones that do it with a team (keep in mind that a team can be 100 or it can be 2...but it's not alone...it's a team) and share the glory.  I like the team work approach.  To me, it's the only really option.  Sure if you work alone and win....whoo hoo...it's great and you get ALL the glory.  But, if you work alone, and you lose.....there is NO ONE to blame but YOU.  I always try to go into a situation with a positive attitude, thinking that I am going to WIN, but....come on, you have to be realistic...the chances of winning EVERY TIME are not in your favor.  Be smart....try not to be too greedy and work in a team...that way you WIN together, but you also LOSE together.  Remembering, you never want to go in thinking that you're going to lose...but...it could happen.  I like to be SAFE....never SORRY.  Do your best and your best it will be...you will never have to be ashamed if you give it your all...that's all you can do!!!!  Everything in order.  OK, so while I like "everything in order", I am 43 years old and have no "WILL".  Stupid.  I know.  So when we talk about "everything in order" let's go back to the original subject of "Boxers or Briefs" and not some squirrelly analogy of what I'm trying to say.  So I've already told you that I wear briefs...although at first glance of my characteristics of those that do...you may not have thought that.  Think about it.  Briefs are to men as Bras are to women....helps keep everything under control.  What goes through your mind when you're at the gym, or walking down the street, or shopping at the mall and there's a woman with these HUGE boobs and she's wearing a tank top with no bra.  (To me, Boxers are to men and Tank Tops are to women.)  It's gross...she's all flopping around with these "udders" swingin' back and forth.  You look at her and say, "Really?  Did I really need to see all that?  Damn, she needs to control her junk."  And with that...I wear briefs.  (now if she has small boobs, it's  OK...but we're not talking about those women...are we...get it?  wink wink) No one really needs to see all my junk...on display...Lord.  If want to see all my junk, in all it's glory, you're gonna need to read the book.  Don't judge this book by the cover...you may miss out....there's lots within these pages that you have NO IDEA ABOUT.  Currently, this book is checked out....sorry...you won't be able to get beyond the cover...well except for access through conversation.  Ask me...ask me anything...you may be surprised with the answer you get.  Remember  I may fit the characteristics of Boxers, but I'm a Briefs guy...so are many of my views.  Until next time....play it safe....and why don't we all just NOT judge....period.

Turn! Turn! Turn!

So you read the title....what do you think today's blog is about?  Thinking that I'm going in one direction and about to make a huge change in my path?  WRONG.  So, to give you a little background (for those of you who don't already know) I am the youngest of 4 children...and born in 1967.  The year I was born, my Mother was 41, my Father was 49 and my brothers and sister were 15, 13 and 11.  Can you say. "Oooops!"  Yeah...not really a planned thing.  Being born so much later than my siblings and to older parents, my likes and activities were not normal for someone of my age.  I had to grow up quick...and in doing so, did things that THEY did, as opposed to doing something that someone of my age would do.  OK, so I'm way off the path...interesting, as I said that "getting off the path" was NOT the topic of this blog...and it's not.  Growing up to older siblings and parents meant that I listened to the music of their generation....thus the title of today's blog.  A classic from 1962 (originally written in 1959) from Peter Seeger.  Actually, in looking it up...it says that it's adapted entirely (with the exception of the last line) from the Bible's Book of Ecclesiastes....wow.  I was only borrowing it because the entire name of the song is "Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)".  I kind of thought it was fitting with this being the first day of Fall.  ****You know, I just realized that it's starting to take me LONGER and LONGER to get to the point these days.***  So today is the first day of Fall and the song talks about change....all kinds of change!  As I read the lines, it's kind of interesting, as the words are really profound.  I think I used to give the author a great more deal of credit than he deserved, now seeing that he just stole it all from the Bible....of course, withe the exception of the last line.  What was that line?  Funny you should ask..."A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!"  Fitting also, as I read in the news today that they (IRAN) FINALLY released those poor young hikers that innocently crossed their borders.  Strangely symbolic.  When I first started writing today, I was really just going to talk about today being the first day of Fall and the change of seasons (even though it is STILL over 90 degrees in Dallas....oh how I miss living in the NORTH on these days).  I was going to talk about how while not only the seasons change..whether we want them to, or not...so do SO many other things in our lives.  Change is all around us.  Just today, Facebook rocked my world and changed their interface.  What was wrong with the old interface? Today, AT&T FINALLY came to my house to fix my UVerse.  Why has it taken them since 9 am this morning and they're still NOT done?  I woke up today with a runny nose and a scratchy throat.  Why now?  I have to give a cooking demo at the Greek Food Festival in Dallas this weekend! (***SHOUT OUT...come...it's Friday at 7:30 on the main, indoor stage....my demo that is...if you want information on the Greek Food Festival...look that up yourself!!!!!)  So change is ALWAYS going to be there.  What we have to do is learn how to accept change gracefully and not let it knock us off our feet.  After all, like I said, it's going to happen whether we want it to our not!  So many times, it takes us by such surprise that we get so tied up in the change, that we lose sight of what's really going on.  I know it's easier said than done, but we have to control the things that we can control....and just go along with the rest!  No matter how hard you kick and scream...change is going to happen.  Your hair will grey (yours, not mine), your skin will wrinkle (yours, not mine), ones that we love will go to be with God, children will leave for school, etc, etc, etc....  You get the point.  So like the song says..."To everything, turn, turn, turn.  There is a season, turn, turn, turn. And a time for every purpose under heaven."  Look up the song....I think you'll really like the words.  Sorry to get deep again...must be going through my "dark" period.  On a lighter note...go get some pumpkins and start to decorate for Fall....Halloween will be here before we know it....you can't stop time.....it's always changing.  Enjoy TODAY...FUCK TOMORROW, it's gonna happen whether you want it to or not!!!!

SEXY

Sexy.  What really IS sexy?  In 1992, Right Said Fred was sexy...in fact, too sexy.  He was too sexy for his hat, his shirt, his car, his love....Milan and Japan!!!  Geesh, he was too sexy for just about everything!  When you start to think about what's REALLY sexy...there's a lot of things that get in the way.  No matter where you look, you can really get a distorted view these days.  According to "zillions" of advertisers...just about anything can MAKE you sexy.  If you're a man, AXE body spray is all you need.  Spray it on and, WATCH OUT...you're gonna be sexy and you won't be able to keep people away!!!  For women, there's tons of stuff out there to make you sexy.  If you remember back in the 80's....Enjoli Perfume was the ticket....she could bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and never forget who was her man.  WOW...all just by wearing Enjoli.  Too bad it's not still widely available, as it would probably help to reduce the staggering number of divorces these days.  If you ask people what's sexy...you'll always get a wide range of answers.  Hot, big muscles.  Big boobs.  A chiseled jaw.  Cut thighs.  Is that what sexy is all about?  Is it always physical?  I think that we can all remember a time in our lives, that we have frozen in our memory, when we can remember thinking that we were "sexy"!  Maybe some of you are still there, but as you get older, it becomes a memory that's frozen in our mind.  For me, I can think back to the summer of ....oh....about 1995.  I was 28, working out with a trainer 3 days a week, working out in SOME capacity at least everyday, eating boiled chicken and brown rice with a nice little treat of peach yogurt and a can of tuna at around 10am in the morning.  I was a slave to what I ate and working out, but it payed off...I WAS SEXY.  I wish I knew how to add a photo to this blog, as I would attach a photo of me on the beach in Greece that summer...all slicked up like a pig...in my "little" square cut bathing suit.  WOW.  Like I said...it's a time frozen in my mind.  It's kind of scary, as I can remember being a young kid and making some smart remark to my Mom about her appearance, and she would say, "I was young and lovely, once."  Hmmmm...."young and lovely?"  Well she probably really meant to say, "I was a sexy hot thing in my day", but ...if you knew my Mom....probably words that would never have come out of her mouth!!!  But I used to think, when she said that.....how weird.......I'll always stay in good shape and look sexy!!!  If you don't, you really have no proof and it's just your word.  Again, WOW.  How times change.  Now, at 43, I'm starting to say what she said to people my junior.  Ugh.  I thought this day would never come!  But when I think about it more....was the "ME" of 1995 really sexy?  Yeah, on the outside I was all that and a bag of chips, but at what cost?  I was a slave to the gym, I could NEVER eat what I wanted and carbs were an ABSOLUTE no no.  YUCK.  How not fun.  Some day...these days....the thought of NOT working out and EATING TONS of carbs is all that gets me through the day!!!  So I start to wonder....what's sexy?  Oh sure, I'm only human and can totally admit that when I see some HOT ticket go by, my head turns. (Did you like how I kept that ambiguous and said "HOT ticket"?  You know....kinda keeping the reading wondering?  Yeah right, you KNOW I'm talking about Daniel Craig....yikes!!!  Depressing to think that we're the same age.  Doesn't matter, I was young and hot once....ooops!!!!)  OK, so I digress.  So, what's sexy?  Well, as the years go by, my idea of "SEXY" has changed...A LOT!!!!  Where as a rock hard body and a bright set of pearly whites used to do it for me (still doesn't hurt)...sexy is....well, it's less physical.  It comes more from within.  So you really want to know what "I" think is sexy?  Well I'm gonna tell ya.  To me, sexy is being able to say, "I'm sorry."  It's being able to take the things that are put upon you and make the best of it, while keeping your chin up and keeping a positive attitude.  It's the ability to take lemons and make lemon aid.  It's being able to say, "I tried, I really tried, but I failed."  It's being able to take the good times with the bad times.  Kinda like when "Breeders" get married..."For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, times of joy and times of sorrow, through triumph and failure....."  For me, sexy is just that...it's being "you" and being the best "you" that "you" can be.  I'm not saying not to try, but do your best....all the time....be thankful for what you have.  Now to "me" THAT'S SEXY!!!   (kinda weird how "SEXY" changes as we get older and wiser...isn't it!)

But....why?

If you've ever had the opportunity to be around small children, (...and believe me, I've had my share....seems that my family and friends all seem to have the "reproduction thing" down) if you hear it once, you'll hear it a thousand times a day....a catchy phrase...."But why?"  The questions are usually really pretty basic, ranging from, "Where does the sun go at night?" to "Why does the doggy keep running away from me?"....it's cute, it's pure, it's innocent.  The questions come right from the heart and they don't think twice before they ask them.  It's really a means to an end......there's a question, and now I need an answer so I can put it to rest and move on.  As the years pass....the innocence goes away, but the questions don't.  You want to come right out and ask....but you can't.  It's called being an adult....and sometimes it's not fun....and sometimes I wish someone could tell me.....

Why can't everyone just get along?  Why is there hate?  Why doesn't everyone "Love thy Neighbor?"  Why do people kill?  Why is life so difficult at times?  Why do the ones we love die before we're ready to let them go?  Why do I live so far away from my family and friends?  Why can't everyday be filled with hope?  Why do people intentionally hurt one another?  Why do people have to inflict their beliefs on others?  Why can we not accept one another for who we are?  Why do people lie to get ahead?  Why is honesty no longer an important value?  Why do people have road rage?  Why does Murphy's Law seem to make sense as we get older?  Why do terrorists train people to kill other people?  Why are there hungry people in the world...better yet, why are there hungry people in my community?  Why are there homeless people?  Why do some people become sick with horrible illnesses and die?  Why do some people die young?  Why are some people mean? Why are there bullies?  Why doesn't EVERYONE "Pass it on?"  Why do people get mad at one another?  Why don't we only surround ourselves with loving, caring people?  Why are people envious?  Why are people nice to your face, then talk bad about you behind your back?  Why do people pretend to be your friend?  Why don't more people smile?  Why is everyone in such a big rush?  Why are people late....ALL THE TIME?  Why do people say things, without first wondering if it would hurt the other person's feelings?  Why do people yell?  Why do people judge you, without first knowing you?  Why would someone see you, but pretend not to?  Why are so many people so self entitled?  Why didn't I know at 18 what I know now?  

This just really barely breaks the surface....still I ask...."But why?"  If you know any of these answers.....will you let me know?  XOXO!!!

Creepers

"But never ever on a Sunday a Sunday a Sunday cause that's my day of rest"

So as I said in the beginning...I will never blog on a Sunday.  This is not a real blog.  This is a finger shaking shout to all the creepers, stalkers, voyeurs out there who read the blog but refuse to be a "Follower".  Some claim that they can't figure it out...some just won't admit that they read it...and LIKE IT.  Step up creeper...figure it out.  You have to sign up for a Gmail account, but it's FREE... DO IT....quit being a gross creeper, stand proud and be a FOLLOWER.

Love you...even if you are a gross creeper.

"Most any day you can be my guest, Anyday you say but my day of rest."

The Music of the Nigh

I seem to be on a roll...with musical music lyrics and inspiration.  Why break a good trend?  Here we go...see if you can remember where it's from;

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour...
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender...

If you don't know those lyrics, or have never heard them...you've been living under a rock for a good part of 23 years.  It's from Broadway's longest running show, The Phantom of the Opera (opened in 1988 and has been running ever since!!!).  So if you think about the lyrics...there's some truth to them.  Nigh...it's quiet, it's mysterious and it draws you in.  You've seen few if any horror movies that take place during the day.  All the strange, weird things happen in the night.  Now don't get me wrong...the night is not ALWAYS a bad thing.  After all night is when the stars come out...it's when you get to see fireworks...it's when you MIGHT get the chance to see a UFO!  Lots of things happen at night.  But, if you grew up in my house...and under the rules of my Mother (God rest her soul)...nothing good came out of the night.  I can remember being in High School...and if you've been a faithful follower and read all of my blogs, you know that I wasn't much of a party animal.  For me it was a little "Hook and Latch", a little Love Boat and a little Fantasy Island (RIP Tattoo...."the plane, the plane")  I can remember the few times (I can count them on less fingers than one hand has to hold) when I wanted to stay out late...that being after 11 pm.  The answer..."NO".  I would beg and plead...asking for only an extra hour or two...until 12 or 1....again, "NO".  I would always ask, "...but why?"  MOM:  "You don't need to know why.  The answer is NO."  ME:  "But everyone else gets to stay out until then."  MOM: (she wasn't very original...so I got the classic answer) "If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?"  ME:  (in thought only...I really just wanted to scream "YES, YES...THAT'S THE PLAN...WE'RE GOING TO ALL STAY OUT LATE AND JUMP OFF A BRIDGE TOGETHER!!!!"  As I knew that an answer of that nature would have gained me the "back hand" (parents still disciplined back then)  I just said) "No....I guess not."  She would go on to clarify and say that nothing good happened that late at night.  Hmmmm....what did she know?  What DID happen after 11 that was so awful?  And if there was something specific...shouldn't she at least tell me so that when the day did come...and I was making my own decisions to stay or not to stay out late....that I would make the appropriate choice?  Well, I just filed that thought away and went on with my life.  Flash forward to the college days and that very choice came up.  I can remember the first week of college.  There was some curfew that you had to be out of the dorm of the opposite sex by midnight (hmm..seems to be a weird theme about the bewitching hour).  ***Side note*** if only I had known my sexuality back then, they may have wanted to change that rule...when it pertained to me!  Back to the story....  So a few guys from my dorm went to go visit some girls we had met.  We were all just sitting around in their rooms when we heard foot steps....it was after 12....and here came the RA.  Oh no...it's week one and we're all going to get in trouble.  We didn't know what that trouble meant....but we didn't want to find out.  What do you do?  Not what I would normally choose (and before I say what I did, I want my Goddaughter Maggie, whose a freshman at UT in Austin - SHOUT OUT - HEY MAG!!!!  and her Mother (my BFF/Sister) to stop reading.......waiting.......waiting.  Have you stopped reading yet?  See, a situation happened with Maggie and her BFF Adriane during the final days of Senior year, and Maggie did not do what I did (good kid) although Tina told her she should have...and I disagreed)  OK...so what did I do?  I RAN!  The last thing that "I" was going to do was get caught.  I may have often broken the rules...but I NEVER got caught.  As we ran I remember hearing "STOP, STOP RIGHT NOW!"  Yeah, that was gonna happen.  Long story short...we got away, the girls got a bunch of community service (can't remember who they all were, but if they're out there and by the slightest chance they're reading this...thanks.  They never ratted us out.  All of the waterboarding, electroshock treatment, withholding of food...they never ratted us out.  Just goes to show that no matter how good a friends you think those people are at the time...you'll lose track of them.)  WOW, I hadn't gone off on a diversion like that in a LONG time!!!  Anyway, it just went to show that something weird DOES happen after midnight.  Was THIS one of those situations that my Mother should have told me about?  Nah...it wasn't that big of a deal...this couldn't be it.  Let's flash forward a several years.  I graduate from Loyola University of Chicago (Major in Marketing with a Minor in Philosophy...and on the Dean's List - HEY SHOUT OUT TO MYSELF - HEY!) and move to Dallas, TX.  My first few years in Dallas were quite tame.  Initially I had a roommate and I was trying to make my mark at work, so I worked hard and put in the hours (for all of you recent graduates...don't kill yourself trying...10 years later I got surplussed...trust me, your only a warm body until they don't need you anymore.  Bitter party of one?  HERE!!!)  OK, so I worked hard and didn't play THAT much.  Well...once I realized WHO I REALLY was...actually, admitted what my TRUE sexuality was....I kinda came out of my shell.  I finally found a place of comfort in being me.  I stopped fighting what I was told was WRONG all my life and lived the life that God planned for me.  If you haven't figured it out yet...I by NO WAY believe that being Gay is a choice.  It's too rough of a life...with discrimination and hate...to self-will it on yourself.  Like Lady Gaga says, "Baby I was born this way!"  Wow, from Andrew Lloyd Weber to Lady Gaga...all in one blog.  Who'd a thunk it?  Anyway, once I came to terms with the life that I had been dealt...everything fell into place.  I found additional friends (still kept my original friends, because to me, being Gay is the who I am behind closed doors, my friends come from all walks of life!)  and started dating.  So blah, blah, blah...life goes on, and it happens.  I start finding myself out later and later at night.  In the back of my head, I always wonder when the other shoe will drop.  It's like that old cartoon (one that Ellena and I BOTH love) Gazoo (google him if you don't know who he is), but instead of Gazoo on my shoulder is a mini version of my Mom.  She's saying, "Nothing good happens late at night."  I look to my shoulder and "POOF" blow her off!!!  So one night I'm out late...have a few drinks....la la la....da dum, da dum, and it happens.  I'm talking to this guy, one thing leads to another, and .....yep.....we're leaving together.  ****CENSORED****  (sorry no details, but let's jump to the morning...yes we stayed the night together.  Please, get over it...like you never did it?  Whatever!!!)  Wake up...look over and.....O M G.  THIS IS WHAT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT.  Who is this person?  How much did I drink?  Without getting into a LOT of details....THIS is what happens after 12, 1, 2....you drink too much, and you let your guard down.  The lights are low (I should sue that bar) and like the Phantom said, "...night unfurls its splendour....".  THIS is what she was talking about.  Did she know?  If she did....didn't she have a Motherly obligation to tell me?  Did she live through this herself?  (Yeah, I can answer that...NO.  She liked a good joke in her old age, but was a way BIGGER prude than me as a youngster and didn't get around...I guarantee!!!)  She didn't live it, but she knew.  She had to!!!  So for all you parents out there who are sending your boys and girls off to college this year...and you will NOT be able to set their curfew....TELL THEM!!!  BE BLUNT!!!  Grow a pair and be honest!!!  And for you boys and girls that are at college, away from home and deciding on your own curfuew...LISTEN TO ME when I tell you....make the right choice....LISTEN to your Momma.  Meet these "creatures of the night", have a drink with them and then go home.  Meet them again the next day and see what they REALLY look like....out of the "ambient light" and without your "beer, vodka, rum...whatever goggles" on.  DON'T live through the horror of the next morning.  Hmmmm...so maybe that's why I don't LOVE fireworks, scary movies or stars for that matter?  Maybe that's why I'm NOW in bed by 9 and up by 7.    And like Andrew Lloyd Weber says in the end, and don't take for granted "...the power of the music of the night."

HAIR

According the musical from the same name..."HAIR" (circa 1968), hair was a great thing.  Just looking at a few of the lyrics, "...hair, hair, long beautiful hair..streaming, gleaming,....."  I mean...they really liked some hair!!!  So what happened?  In the matter of some 40 years opinions on hair have GREATLY changed.  I think that there is still a general appreciation for hair.. after all, my family seems to be "hair" blessed.  At 43 I still have a full head of hair, and my older brothers are not having any issues.  I'm sure that my sister's legs wish they weren't so blessed, but you know...you have to take the good with the bad.  The Hair Club for Men and the Bosley Clinic seem to be quite popular...if you take into consideration the amount of, pricey TV advertising that they do.  Now then again, there are always going to be the Sinead O'Connor's and the G.I. Jane's that do just the opposite and REMOVE the hair from their heads.  It would just seem that no one is every happy with what they've got....if their hair is falling out, they want it back and if they have a full head of hair, they shave it off.  Hmmmm?  So....maybe it's just hair that's not on the head that's the problem....at least now-a-days.  Remember, back in the "Hair the Musical" days...ALL body hair was beautiful.  If you've ever seen the play....when they all get naked....ugh....makes me have mini-vomit in my mouth...there's HAIR EVERYWHERE!!!!  So maybe that's the missing link....it's the hair that's not on your head that is no longer desirable.  Metrosexual men really started the fad.  When in the sixties, seventies or even eighties would men be shaving their arms, legs or chests to better show off their muscle definition?  Never.  If you ever look at old porn (not that I have...just repeating what I've heard) there was body hair EVERYWHERE!!!  Probably why there was so much throat clearing and coughing...if you know what I mean.  Body hair used to be a normal thing.  Depending on your ethnic background and family DNA you were either hairy or you were not.  Now I know I "outed" my personal achievement of youth in yesterday's blog, but I will have to admit....and I have to steal one of my favorite lines from Andie MacDowell when I say, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful", but I don't really have a lot of body hair.  It's all stayed on my head.  Good thing, seeing as though lots of guys my age seem to have the majority of their hair on their backs....again....mini-vomit.  To me, if you go bald...be it a man or a woman, it's a bad sign.  To "me" it means that your hair is trying to get away from your face and relocating to another area...on men...their backs, ears, nose or b u t t o c k s.  EWWWW.  So again, hair anywhere but the head is NON DESIRABLE.  The metrosexuals shave it off themselves.....or do they?  I was having a manicure and pedicure at the place that I've gone to for 12 years, and these young, good looking, masculine guys come in and go to the back room.  I hate to say it, but I originally thought they were having a "massage" from one of the Asian concubines....and seeing what a short time they were in there, I assumed that they cut right to the "happy ending".  Finally, one day, I ask Kim (owner of the salon and my token Vietnamese friend - SHOUT OUT - Hey Kim!!!  I've gone as far as to have her make dinner for me at her house) what's going on in the back room with those guys?  Kim says to me, "Back wack."  ME:  "What?"  KIM: (louder and more pronounced) "BACK WACK." (as if I was a complete dumb ass and didn't hear her the first time)  I quickly do some Vietnamese translating in my head and realize that "Back Wack" is translated into English as "Back WaX".  Sometimes that accent gets in the way.  So once I realize what she said, I reiterate, "Back Wax?"  Kim: "Yes, that what I say, back wack."  ME: "That's all?"  Kim: (with a visual point to her brow) "Eye wack too."  Really?  These young, cute, straight, college guys are coming into "Kim Perfect Nail" to get their backs and brows waxed?  Go figure.  I guess it's not hard to believe, seeing as though some of my really good, female friends will get buck naked, up on all fours and let a complete stranger apply hot wax to their privates, then subject themselves to having it ripped off like a band-aid.  OUCH!!!  So hair that is not visible with clothes on is the MAIN culprit....body hair...under the shirt and under the "undies".  This really is not a revelation to me.  I want to share a story.  I used to take an annual pilgrimage to Las Vegas with a couple of girl friends....Ellena and....and....well I need to protect the other friend's identity (since she's kinda the target of the story)....let's call her ....Mary.  So Ellena, Mary and I are on our annual trip.  Now it's important to know that...uh...Mary is an only child.  Never had  brothers or sisters to play tricks on her and has the typical "only child" syndrome...not a good sharer and likes things the way that she likes things.  So we're on our trip, and of course, the three of us are sharing a room (we're Greeks, but there is a fine line between Greeks and Jews...Greeks like to stretch a penny...on some things).  So three adults, two beds and one bathroom.  ***NOTE***CENSOR***If you are a prude, or a respected member of the community, you may just want to stop reading now.  The story is funny, but I am going to share personal "stuff".  You know, I have received some flack aka negative feedback on talking about people and the "goings on" in their lives.  I realized that I really have no need to talk about other peoples stories, as I really have quite a few of my own and things about myself that are actually funny....sick at times (like the following story) but funny.****You've been warned....if you're still reading I don't want to hear about it later!!!!******  OK, so you know that this story is going to refer to hair...right?  Anyway, uh....Mary, being the only child that she is, goes into the bathroom and claims her counter real estate.  She lays out a washcloth and neatly places, on that washcloth, her deodorant, and TWO plastic soap containers....one marked "Face" and one marked "Body". (I wasn't aware of this, but it would appear that only children are a bit OCD).  Upon her departure from the bathroom and my entrance, I call Ellena in.  We giggle and laugh and Mary (from the other room) asks what's so funny.  We come out an share that "she's a freak" with all her little marked containers and washcloth to protect them from the "Four Seasons Hotel Counter Germs".  Hahahahahaha.....  SO, that evening, after a long day at the pool, we all come back to the room and decide to start the "bathroom sharing" process to get ready to go out for the evening.  Being the only child that she is, Mary has to go first.  We're fine with that, but I HAVE to take a quick pee before her bathroom time begins.  I go in....pee...come out.  She goes in.  After she goes in I start laughing and tell Ellena that she's in for a treat.  ELLENA:  "What is it?"  ME:  "Patience...you'll see"  So ...uh...Mary goes in and takes her shower.  She gets out, opens the lid to her deodorant....the screaming begins!!!  I left a little friend under the lid of the deodorant.  A little hair, plucked from a private region.  Oh yeah, later she would find them everywhere....face soap, eye shadow, lipstick.   I know, it's gross and it was cruel, but it was SO fun.  It really does prove the point that hair...other than on the head is just NOT APPRECIATED!  Lots of men and women run their fingers through each others hair.  So if hair is hair...what's the big deal?  I'm not sure.  On one final note...and a continuation from an earlier blog entitled, "WWJD"....let me tell you...he WOULD NOT take a shower and leave a little friend on the soap.  Hair....can't live with it.....can't live without it!!!

Skin Deep

So this year marked the 25th anniversary of my High School graduation....geesh...how time flies!!!  A 2011 reunion to mark the big day!  I have to say, I found out late (as I wasn't on FaceBook) but decided that I would GO!  Initially I was a bit apprehensive....after all...1.) I didn't really think that many of those people liked me in High School (being a teen aged boy not into sports and not uber macho is NOT a great mix in High School...kids are mean....a whole other blog!!!) and 2.)  I had not talked to or seen any of those people since High School!!!  How weird would it be?  Would I recognize any of them?  Well, as the weeks approached the reunion I got on FB and started looking people up.  I recognized the name...but not the face.  Weird.  Was my memory that bad OR had they changed that much?  Once I located my High School Annual (I was on the yearbook staff, btw!!!) and started looking people up....O M G...it was not my memory...THEY HAD CHANGED!!!!  (Dorothy...I am excluding you, as I would have recognized you anywhere.  Marina and Cyndi...same for you.  SHOUT OUT...LOVE YOU GUYS!!!)  OK, so what happened to these people?  I mean....we've all aged.....we're all the same age....how could they look so different?  First...I think it's geographic.  Northwest Indiana is a PIT (sorry for those of you that still live there!).  The climate is brutal and....well.....I mean.....what is there to do there, but hang out and smoke and drink?  In my mind....nothing.  If I lived there, that's what "I" would probably do.  BUT, since I live in the south... Dallas, TX to be specific....it's different.  I work out (it's hot here...you're in less clothes most of the time...bathing suits!!!), I eat right, I dye my hair and.......and I am a firm believer in BOTOX!!!  Why not?  Why does everyone have to know how old you are????  Chemical peels....LOVE THEM!!!  Why not sluff off a few decades with some acid?  So was it fair for me to just show up to my reunion looking all young?  No.....but was it fair to get picked on your whole school experience because you cared about clothes and the theatre and not Friday Night Football games and porking every girl in school?  Sometimes life is just not fair...Karma's a BITCH!!!!  So I wasn't totally honest....things could have been worse.  I could have gone all "Carrie" on them.  So I cheated (it was like Mrs. Wooldridges geometry class all over again!)  I will have to say, though, I have yet to bring myself to going under the knife....which brings me to my next HUGE point.  So, luckily I was born with pretty good bone structure, frame and most of all NOSE (lot's of Greeks are not so lucky in this department....no names mentioned....this time).  I kinda "like" what I was dealt.  But, when you look around THESE days....there seem to be LOTS of good noses, lips, boobs, butts, etc....you get the idea.  That wasn't the case when I was younger.  Again, it might be geographic, but even up north...the general population has seemed to get....somewhat prettier.  THIS is where it gets scary.  So "I" do not plan to have children.  I will be selfish with my DNA and take it to the grave with me!!!  But for all of the ...pardon the expression.....  "breeders" out there (straight people reproducing) this sudden "prettier" population SHOULD be alarming.  I'm gonna let the cat out of the bag....all those ugly or just not necessarily pretty people out there that we remember as kids ARE STILL OUT THERE!!!  A lot of them have just gone under the knife.  The ones that you would least expect.  Not sure if you get my point yet. Let me paint you a picture.  I'm gonna try to give you the "Cliff Notes" (didn't you love those in High School!!!  Read "The Grapes of Wrath"...yeah right, I'll read the "Cliff Notes"!) version.  So it's a Friday night and in different parts of the city a boy and girl are getting ready to go out on the town.  Once out....their eyes meet from across the bar....each thinking that the other is beautiful.  HER:  Tall, blonde, perfect pug nose, full lips, narrow hips and a great rack.  HIM:  Tall, slim, full head of hair, chiseled face, broad shoulders, round ass and pecks of steel.  FLASH FORWARD....they fall in love and get married and she gets pregnant.  Pops the baby out and.....what?  What is this alien creature?  The ugliest baby you have ever seen in your life!!!  What each of them failed to tell each other....their beauty was only skin deep.  They never shared their "secrets" with each other.  HER (procedures endured): Processed hair, rhinoplasty, silicone lip injections, liposuction, and breast augmentation.  HIM: (procedures endured): Lap band surgery, hair club for men, lipo-sculpture, pec implants and a brazilian butt lift.  They met the new and improved "each other".  Unfortunately DNA is DNA...you can't alter it...so for all you breeder's out there...married already or looking for Mr. or Miss "right" you better remember to ask the question and find out if that "look" is real or not.  For us "Non- Breeders" unless we choose to disclose...our DNA is going to the grave with us and only old polaroids hold the proof of what once was or was not.  Always remember....a pretty face, nice body, full head of dark brown hair....it's ALL only skin deep and ANYONE can have it....if they want it bad enough!!!!

The Babysitter

in a hush, low voice...."The call is coming from inside the house."  EEK!!!!  If you've ever seen that movie...your babysitting experience was changed for life....or anytime that you were alone in your own home!!!  I did have my share of babysitting experiences as a youngster, but most of the ones that I remember....I was the victim...aka...child being babysat and not the babysitter.  So starting young...kindergarten, I fall and break my arm (broke it while under the care of my own Father....foreshadowing of my life to come???)  ...any way, I fall and break my are.  So we rush to the ER and like they did back in those days I got a BIG white HONKING cast...ugh...I think it weighed more than me.  The doctor tells my family that, as I am so young, the arm needs to be elevated when I sleep.  OK, not a big deal...right?  Well not a big deal unless your being babysat by...let me refer to them as...my childhood Dr. Mengeles.  Lord, here you have a young child, a cast that weighs more than he does, and his arm tied to the curtain rod (and he is too small the free himself from his "restraint")...so there I lie, Saturday morning....screaming to be released from my confines so that I could go watch Felix the Cat and Mr. Magoo cartoons.  It was torture.  What's sad....I think that they DID IT ON PURPOSE!!!  Sitting on the couch, laughing as I try to escape my bed....oye.  But, the babysitting drama didn't stop there!!!  My younger brother (actually 11 years older than me...but younger than my other brother...and realistically younger than me on an intellectual level) was left to babysit me on more than one occasion.  I can remember a time that he was babysitting me and decided that he was going to teach me how to make a sandwich (keep in mind, I was about 5, which would make him 16...does anyone think that was a good idea...leaving me with an immature 16 year old?)  So, he gets out the bread, adds mayo, adds a slice of cheese and tops it off with some B O L O G N A.  Open face in his hand, he thrusts it to the ceiling....and there it stuck.....ohhhh, for a matter of about 15 seconds, then came flying down to the floor.  I will admit, I was confused, but it WAS funny!!!  It was SO funny that the second my Mom walked in the door I shared the story with her.  She looked at me with a strange look and then looked up at her kitchen ceiling....lovely outline of bread, cheese and B O L O G N A.  The babysitter was thrust to the couch (keep in mind, my Mom was only about 5 foot tall) and beat on the head with the heel of her pump.  For me...the story just got FUNNIER!!!  Hmmmm...I had the power to be able to inflict pain on this babysitter!!!!  So you think he would learn.....nope (I told you, he's not the sharpest tool in the shed).  About a week later we find ourselves at home together again.  This time..."Hey Andrew...do you want some popcorn"  HELLO....I'm like 5 or 6...of course I want popcorn!!!  He puts the oil in the pan (no microwaves back then), heats it up then adds the kernels.  It's not long before their sizzling and popping!!!  One small problem...he decided that we shouldn't use a lid, and instead would just catch the popcorn as it flew threw the air...LOVE IT!  SO FUNNY!  Again...in walks my Mom...the throw down and the shoe.  You get the picture.  This was kinda how the majority of my childhood babysitting stories went with him.....but as he grew...the throw down / shoe bang got harder to accomplish.  He was growing and my Mom was not.  So how could she punish him.  *****NOTE:  This is the EXCELLENT part****  I got to start being the babysitter.....for HIM!!!  Oh yea, all dates were a party of ....3.....Him, some trampy girl and ME!!!  I got to go on the date and report ALL the graphic details when we got home.  Oh those were the days.  Although....the more I think about it....there were times when the babysitting experience WASN'T good for me.  So if leaving me with a family member that is 11 years older than me is NOT a good idea....would you leave me with neighbors that were 4 and 8 years older than me?  If you were my Mom....the answer was YES!  Keep in mind, these were no ordinary neighbors...it was my BFF Tina and her older sister Gail.  Our Mom's were best friends (see earlier blog for details) and leaving me with them APPEARED to be a better idea...1) They were girls  2) They were relatively intelligent.  So, I was kinda like a little doll for them...Tina, only 4 years older than me got to boss me....annoying (keep in mind, that this trend has gone of for a good part of 40 years!!!!)  ...anyway, the worst part for me....the bath.  How embarrassing....first, the're not that much older than me and second, my Lord, I CAN BATHE MYSELF.....but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  They had to give me a bath.  I was like a dog in the tub getting scrubbed....then they would say, "Now, we're going to turn our heads and you clean your private parts."  O M G....How embarrassing (and you KNOW they looked....I have no nanny cam proof....but they looked).  I think this why I can blog just about anything today, as I have had NO privacy my WHOLE life!!!  Oh well...babysitting was fun...some times more fun than others, but I guess it was better than staying home alone and waiting for "the call that was coming from the inside of the house!!!!"

I'll drink to that!!!

Drinking.  An American pass time.  A classic activity....kinda like a baseball game.  Could you imagine a baseball game without a COLD BEER and a hot dog?  That's really the ONLY reason that "I" go!  So how did drinking get to be such a big part of our lives?  It's weird...if you go to Europe, people drink, but it's casual...instead of water, it's wine.  It's expected and normal and it's NOT an activity in it's own right.  When you go to Europe, it's really only the visiting AMERICANS that are drunk...not the locals.  Hmmmm....why is that?  I  want to think it's a cultural thing...but honestly it's more of a "being there" thing.  OK, that was weird and confusing.  It can't be a cultural thing, because I am of European descent and my family allowed me to drink at home (on special occasions, as a kid) and alcohol was not a BIG DEAL...yet, I still got my groove on and drank like a fish when I was in college....so it's not cultural, but more environmental.  When I was in college, I started to drink to make up for lost time...I hate to admit it, but I was kind of a "Polly Anna" in High School.  While everyone else was out partying and getting wild.....I think (well I know) "I" was home watching "The Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island"...they played back to back on Saturday nights.  wow....I was a loser....hmmmm...it really is true when you see it in writing....OH well, at the time, I didn't know and I LIKED IT!!!  It was kind of the high point of my week...well that and Friday Night Videos on MTV.  ANYWAY, you can tell I was sheltered and drinking was not the BIG item on the agenda.  So, when I got to college, I decided to find out what I was missing out on.  Started day one.  I get to the dorm, my Mom and best friend/sister Tina (then a Bogordos, now a Molhoek....yes, she married a white boy) drove up, helped me unload everything, set up my room...and they left.  Oh, before they did, Tina said, "Don't let on that you have no clue what's going on...just act like you know it all."  Hmmmmmmmmm....well that's ONE thing I was good at!  So I'm sitting in my room...alone (roommate didn't show up for a week...wish he never had...dick head) and I decide to go out and meet other people on my floor.  Across the hall are these two cool guys.  I poke my head in the door and say, "Hey, I'm going to go down to the 7-11 to get some cigarettes and beer...you guys wanna go."  They were as innocent as me, and with a "deer in the headlights" look (kinda like Amber - SHOUT OUT - hey girl!!!) they say..."uh...yeah."  And off we went, the blind leading the blind, fake ID in hand...soon to conquer my goal...cigarettes and beer.  Uh...had never smoked, but it was cool...after all, it was the 80's.  This became a regular thing...and as I had early classes on Friday, everyone would give me their money and I would go buy the evening's alcohol...fake ID in hand.  ****NOTE**** there is NO way the liquor store people believed that the ID was real...it was awful, but they still sold it to me...enablers.  OK, so my hard core drinking had tapered off a bit, as I was no longer drinking beer...to heavy at the time for a novice...I was now drinking amaretto stone sours...come on people RED FLAG...how did they not know I was gay...how didn't my girlfriend know....poor KIM...ah, she did well...married to a Dr now.  Anyway, the drinks got frufru, but my tolerance for drinking grew!!!!  So let's jump forward a year or so....I go to a wedding...family wedding, none the less, and I was in it.  I decide to be a "hot shot" and show my Mom what her money is really going to...me learning how to drink.  Walk up to the bar...."I'll have a shot of Ouzo with a screwdriver chaser, please."  (remember, always say please, it's WJWD).  This drinking went on ALL night.  So in college I weighed, oh 125 sopping wet.  You can imagine where this is going.  DRUNK as a SKUNK, being vulgar, finding myself seated in a potted plant outside the reception hall at the end of the evening waiting for my cousin John to retrieve me...only one who could physically pick me up and put me in the car.  We get home...exit the car...vomit on his shoes.  Needless to say it is a night I would forget....oh, aside from the pictures that were taken of me, after I was stripped down to my black underwear and black socks, sleeping on a sleeper sofa, hugging a soup pot...real pretty....there go my chances for being President one day.  20 some years later what do I think.....I think....."I'll drink to that!!!!!!"

Reincarnation....

Well....I think Barbara Streisand said it best in 1964....

Don't tell me not to fly--
I've simply got to.
If someone takes a spill,
It's me and not you.
Who told you you're allowed
To rain on my parade!


Look for me tomorrow....still reeling a bit....too spent to write today!


Thanks for your kind words and support!!!  LOVE YOU ALL!!!

And like all good things.....

....they come to an end.  Some too soon, some not soon enough.  Being understood, or misunderstood is always a problem.  Once I master being "understood" maybe I'll be back.....until then, call me and we'll have lunch and share a few laughs!!!!

Love you ALL and would never want a BLOG to come between us.

Yes Sir, That's my baby!!!!

Babies.  The cutest things in the world...or the ugliest?  Wow.  This is really a tough one.  Well if you ask the Mother...hands down...the cutest thing in the world.  If you ask the relatives....well, depends if they're "honest" and which baby it is.  If it's the first...hands down, the cutest thing in the world. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXMy point....If you're the Mother...always cute, no matter what.  If you're a relative, first one is ALWAYS cute...after that...we get honest.  So what about when you're not related?  Well a good friend of mine....let's protect her identity and make up a name...let's call her...ummmmm....Caroline Newman.  That's a good name.  OK, so...Caroline Newman and I are, I think we we're at the mall, and we run into an "American aka White" (if you don't know what that means by now...read my older blogs already!!!) friend at the mall with her NEW baby.  NOW, before I go on, I have to explain about this weird thing that Greek people do.  It seems as though when they see a baby they find the need to talk to this baby "in Greek" (the language that is) even if the baby is "White".   You know they say, "...oh what a cute little baby you are, blah, blah, blah...." but all in Greek.  OK...back to the story.  We run into this friend, new baby in the stroller....she pulls back the receiving blanket that's covering the baby's face....and "Caroline" bends down...looks at the baby and "in Greek" (with a high pitched baby voice) says, (pheonetically) "Ah, poli askime"...translates to something like...."Oh, what an ugly baby"...but keep in mind, she's smiling and singing it in Greek.  O M G.  I thought I was going to die...but what could I say, it was the truth!!!!  When you're not related, the baby may not be cute, but you HAVE to lie and say it is.  My final point would have to be about pets.  Since I do not have any HUMAN children, my four dogs (yes four and NO I am not a redneck...they all have names and wear cashmere....) are my children.  No questions, they are cute....ALL OF THEM!!!  Cutest of all?  Oliver...my little 8 lb Hairless Chinese Crested.  (He's the one that wears Ralph Lauren cashmere.  It gets cold in the winter when you have no hair.)  I'm kind of like a Mother with them, in that I will claw out your eyes if you say one thing bad about them.  I can remember one time, when Oliver was a little baby...only about 4 or 5 pounds and I walked into Starbuck's (the one in West Village (YUCK) not mine on Lemmon and Knight (Hey, shout out!) to get my coffee.  The manager sees me holding the baby and freaks out and tells me that he cannot be in there and that they could lose their license if the health department saw him in there!!!!  My response....first, I didn't move anywhere fast....kept a straight face and proceeded to tell him that unlike the rest of the patron's in his store, I KNOW where Oliver was last night and whom he was with, which isn't saying much for your customer's...most of whom probably haven't even been home yet from last night....and another thing...I don't see Oliver coughing and hacking like these little snot nosed, germ spreading children in here.  With that, I barked out my drink order, told him to deliver it to me on the patio and spun on my heels out the door.  Bottom line....NOBODY, and I mean NOBODY talks bad about MY baby!!!!  So like I said, or should I say, like Frank Sinatra sang in 1966 - "Yes Sir!  That's my baby - No Sir, I don't mean maybe - Yes Sir, that's MY baby now"

W.W.J.D.

well...."I"....think he would....always say "please" and "thank you", he would always pass the salt WITH the pepper - as they are a married couple, he would never reach his hand out to a woman to shake it...unless she reached out first, he would always make the bed if he was the last one out of it, he would never put a plate in the sink without rinsing it first...to make sure the food doesn't get all gross and crusty, he would refrain from flipping off an annoying driver off (even though he might really want to), he would never take the last piece of pizza (even though he REALLY DOES want to)...because that would be rude, he would always play his turn at Words with Friends and Hanging with Friends as soon as it was his turn and not make his opponent have to beg him to play (just sayin'), he would always put the toilet paper on the roll so that it comes off the top of the roll, in front, and never from the back, he would always put his clothes in the dirty clothes hamper - right side out, he would wash his hands frequently to avoid the spread of disease, he would love dogs more than any other animal, he would blog, he would find WalMart offensive, he would always choose coffee over tea, he would choose Chinese over Vietnamese (Jesus wouldn't like a cat as a pet, much less to eat one), he would do his share to help others, he would always take time to smell the roses, he would hold the door open for a woman...unless it's a really uptight woman who thinks it's your job to open the door for her, then he might just happen to let it close behind him, he would wear a suit with no socks....just because he's cool like that, he would be well groomed, he would avoid letting his grey show, he would be honest when opening a gift and not "fake" liking it (if he really didn't), he would be brutally honest, he wouldn't smoke, he would cover his mouth when he coughed or sneezed, he would probably wear Lululemon....even if it is over priced and never goes on sale, he would use a manual - old fashioned pencil over a mechanical "clicky" annoying pencil, he would be a late adapter to technology - but he would hit it FULL STEAM AHEAD once he caught on, he would hold his friends and family close, he would eat Snickers bars, he would eat spaghetti with burned butter and Ragu, he would not eat lamb, he would always use cloth over paper napkins, he would hold his fork "Continental" style, he would prefer briefs over boxers, he WOULD wear fur.

Now, honestly, this is about what "I" think Jesus would do, and NOT what I would do...regardless of the similarities.  After all, as we are ALL created in God's image...there would have to be SOME similarities!    ; )

R E S P E C T

Yeah, that's right...R E S P E C T....The Queen of Soul was onto something.  Respect is like an endangered species these days...it's AWOL...missing....GONE!!!  Now, in my mind there are different levels of expected respect.  When ordering in a restaurant...ALWAYS be respectful...come on...the person taking your order is ALSO the person that will be retrieving your order from the kitchen and can ultimately add a little "extra" flavoring to your dish (if you know what I mean).  I always love it when someone is being a complete dick to a server....I smile inside knowing that they will most likely be ingesting a little bit of SPIT in that meal.....I was never a server, but I hate to admit...I would TOTALLY DO IT!!!!  Coffee.  It's a sacred thing for me.  I drink it every day...sometimes multiple times a day...and regretfully, I buy it and do not make it at home.  Starbuck's loves me.  So I always go into the same Starbuck's everyday (shout out to the Starbuck's at Lemmon and Knight St in Dallas!!!  Love you Kaila, Jessica, Nick, etc.....).  Now one day, I'm in there in line and some rude, uptight, B**CH in front of me is on her phone, ordering and being all around rude.  Suddenly the barista has a questions and asks this woman and she gives her the "one minute finger signal"...keep in mind that there's a line, so the barista just asks again...the woman, now perturbed goes off on the barista.  Uh, NOOOOOO...completely UNACCEPTABLE...especially to MY baristas.  I let the woman in on good and bad etiquette and shared my unsolicited opinion.  She wasn't happy, but I don't think she'll do that again...at least not to MY baristas at MY Starbuck's.  So here again, we have some Type A personality taking their life out on someone who is doing a FAVOR for most of us in the morning.  Really, when you start to work at Starbuck's I would think that you would be saying to yourself...enough Corporate America...I'm working at Starbuck's where the pressure is low and everyone is happy to see me.  WELL, that's how it SHOULD be.  Why are people just mean?  It's honestly a LACK OF RESPECT.  When I was a kid, back in elementary school....really all the way through high school...teachers were given respect.  If I did something wrong at school, I knew that the teacher was going to ...throw an eraser at me, put masking tape over my mouth, paddle me, make me stand with my nose in the corner, etc, etc, etc....  I think you get the point.   ....and if they called my Mom and Dad...ugh...I was in even MORE trouble at home.  My Mom used to say, "If you get in trouble at school and they call home...just wait....it will be WAY worse here."  WOW...and she meant it.  NOW, if the child does something wrong at school, the child just denies it and the parent's get upset with the teachers.  WHA???   What the hell?  Do you think that these people are working at this ridiculously low paid job just for the fun of it?  I don't think so...they want to teach...they want to shape our youth.... but youth today lack RESPECT.  I really hate to say it, but I blame it on the parents...yes....the parents.  Parents these days are SOOOOO worried about being their children's best friend that they forget that they are parents FIRST, friends SECOND.  Parents are so worried about being COOL and being one of the kids, that they have lost touch with their main responsibility...BE A PARENT.  TEACH VALUES.  TEACH - R*E*S*P*E*C*T.  Aretha was right...listen to her!!!  So, "Mr. You Know Who You Are" remember I am your friend, but I am also your (blank).  He knows who I'm talking about.  Stop trying to be Mr. Cool, be humble and have R*E*S*P*E*C*T.

"Pity Party of One?" Your table is ready.

So not every blog can be funny.  SO....today, I kinda feel like it's 1988...and someone says, "God?"  Who said it? H E L L O....Madonna...who else?  Say what you want...love HER, always have, always will.  In 1988 she came out with "Like a Prayer" and everyone got their panties all up in an uproar.  Yeah, it was controversial, it was sacrilegious, but just like Nia Vardalos with "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" (see yesterday's blog)....artists take creative liberty and go WAY overboard (although Nia was conservative with Tarpon Springs...again, see yesterday's blog) to prove a simple point.  I swear I don't have A.D.D., although it would appear that I cannot stay on a single train of thought if my life depended on it.  So today was like 1988, for me, when Madonna starts her blasphemy and says, "God?" (she didn't mean anything bad by it... she was just trying to be dramatic...please...you know you've been there....case in point...some certain unidentified sexually ambiguous reader who told me.... I FORBID YOU TO POST ABOUT ME OR MY FAMILY....blah, blah, blah).  Sometimes I'm...just like...what do I have to do to cut a break?  I really do try to do good things.  I help people when I can.  I try to make it to church every Sunday (not a good track record during the Summer months)....and I try to keep a positive outlook on life and boost other people to help them feel like they are making a difference (sometimes it's a bit of a stretch...well, a down right lie...but if you're doing it to make someone feel better about themselves...who cares....it's a good thing).  So when I have a day like today..nothing really bad happened, but I just decided to have a little pity party....party of one.  I mean, come on...I have been working at my new job for just over a year now and NO SALES.  What's up?  My boss keeps saying that it's a 12 - 18 month sales cycle, but come on...I can't be the one to change that?  I can't be a superstar?  Sometimes you just want to be a superstar...sometimes you just want someone to notice that you're trying to make a difference...even if it's not financially related or not job specific...but just to notice that you're trying!  Now don't get me wrong...these new parents of this generation praising their kids makes me sick.  Case in point...."OH GOOD you did poo poo in the potty...yay!!!"  Come on people...big f-ing deal.  I really don't know too many adults that don't poo poo in the potty...what's the big rush?  OR how about..you finished all of your dinner...GOOD BOY!!!  ...and we wonder why we have so many Fat F*cks running around?  Why do you have to finish?  What happens if you don't?  If you're Greek and you don't finish it is a personal vendetta against your Mother or Grandmother.  You do it on purpose to kill them.   How many times did you hear, "...there are starving people in the world..."  granted, you may have heard it from me, but it's ignorant.  If they're starving..they need to: a. get to a place with food OR b. stop reproducing and there may be enough food to go around.  or someone says "..well if they're starving, send them the food I didn't finish..."  Really?  Your unfinished chili cheeseburger from Scotty P's...yeah it would kill some African Refugee.  WOW, I'm really going to start taking medication for this A.D.D.   ...back to my point.  Sometimes you just want a break.  If you talk to some people who think that they are having a hard time, you may notice that they are suddenly at church all the time.  It's kind of a natural - knee jerk - reaction.  God is good, God is great, GOD CAN FIX THIS!!!  But, like my Mom used to say, "... you can't just go to church when you need something...you have to go all the time...during the good times AND the bad times."  My Mom had a theory that sometimes God will make an event (usually not a pleasant event) happen...to test you.  To see if you "keep the faith".  Now I know that my brother, father and soon to be priest nephew (ordination of November 20th - Flushing, NY - be there or be square.  Don't wait for an invitation...I'm inviting you as my "plus 1000") would disagree with this and say that God doesn't will anything bad on anyone (not sure if Noah and his arc would agree) and that things just happen.  But my Mom (wife, Mother and granddaughter of a priest) would disagree.  When my Mom had cancer (all 3 times) and a massive heart attack....her only thought was....I'll be fine...God never gives you more than you can handle.  It was almost like she was saying that GOD had certain number doses of cancer and various ailments and hardships to hand out and he only put it off on the people that could handle it.  So as I write this, I think....is my lack of "getting a break" giving someone else the ability to make it through a difficult time?  Maybe there is someone that is really overburdened with life, an can hardly handle anymore, so God says..."Andrew can handle a bit."  I mean, my life is not tragic by any means.  I have a roof over my head, food on the table, Cartier on my wrist...I'm OK.  But if someone else who really needs a break is getting it....and, I, in turn, don't get to be a SUPERSTAR (even though I really think it's my time) then So BE IT.  Like I said at the start...I try to do what I can to help other people...if this is how God wants me to help...can I say "No"?  But...it is challenging on some days not to have a pity party of one and say...."God?"