1. Your butt becomes uncomfortable in wooden chairs after about half an hour, distracting you from your stiff lower back.
2. Hangovers last three days, not one.
3. Your children need to shave.
4. You can’t read freeway signs until you’re directly under them, and you’d rather miss your exit than buy reading glasses.
5. Drinking coffee after 12 noon keeps you up at night. And when you do order a cup before noon, it’s “half caf/half decaf.”
6. Everybody – EVERYBODY – from the cute barista at Starbuck’s who wasn’t checking you out to the receptionist at your urologist’s office, calls you “sir.”
HI – I’M HERE!
“Chato, you won’t believe what happened.”
My mom’s voice was trembling on the phone. Christ, I thought, please: no heart attacks or hip fractures.
“A car crashed into the house.”
“I’m sorry, we have a bad connection, it sounded like you said ‘a car crashed into the house.’”
“We’re moving into a motel for now – the police and fire department just left – Jim’s pretty shaken up, and he’s really, really pissed.” Read more...
In an era of increasingly progressive attitudes toward homosexuality, it saddens me that former San Francisco 49-ers and Oakland Raiders’ lineman and all around assmunch Kwame Harris didn’t feel comfortable revealing his sexuality until it was revealed for him when he beat the shit out of his ex-boyfriend, Dimitri Geier.
It’s all part of the equality package: gay marriage, gay divorce, gay domestic abuse. Equal rights for everyone, huzzah!
And it all came down to soy sauce and underpants.
Harris and his ex Dimitri Geier weren’t even an item when it happened. According to Craig Charles, Geier’s attorney, “They’d broken up and gotten back together a couple times. It was not a formal relationship.” I believe that’s code for “fuck buddies,” no? Read more...
Brother Steven lit a votive candle as we gathered around the small, portable wooden altar.
Behind the candle was a simple crucifix. We had gathered in our plastic aprons, latex gloves and hairnets. Katherine, one of the regular volunteers, led us in prayer.
“In the name of the Father and the Son and The Holy Spirit,” she said, and we made the sign of the cross. “Today we have a reading from Luke.”
Katherine is a woman of maybe 30, with a tremor in her hand, and she leads us every Friday in prayer before we begin serving the patrons of the St. Vincent de Paul Soup Kitchen. After she reads from the gospel, she asks if anybody has any intentions they’d like to share. Read more...
A few weeks ago I heard from Damon, an old friend, that Corinne, an acquaintance of ours, was gravely ill, and had asked friends and family to help her put together a memory book to leave for the daughter who would survive her. A few days ago I received this from Damon:
Just wanted to let you know that Corinne passed away about 45 minutes ago.
A few days before she died, she wrote a final message to be posted on Facebook after her death…I wanted to share it with you.
Damon Read more...
Dear Everyone, I want to start off by expressing
Fan voting for this year’s inductees into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame closes on December 10th, so you still have time. You can vote for five winners out of 16 nominees. And once you press “vote,” you get to see how your opinion compares with the rest of the hoi polloi.
Here are the nominees:
Peter Gabriel – Genesis and his solo work including “In Your Eyes,” made famous by that iconic moment in “Say Anything.”
The Paul Butterfield Blues Band – I think they’re from the 60′s. I’ve seen their albums in thrift stores for years.
When I was a kid, I was fortunate enough to have an uncle with a respectable collection of vintage Playboy magazines.
But he lived about an hour away, and we visited him and my aunt maybe twice a year, so it was not a very reliable source of porn. And even when visiting, I had to sneak into his garage, without my mom detecting me, for a heart pounding glance at a nipple or mons pubis.
Today, of course, hardore porn is a smartphone away for most kids (too easy if you ask me – they need to learn how to be resourceful and sneaky – like we did).
File this one under “only in Berkeley.”
“Do not throw paper towels inside the toilet.” Pretty straightforward. I have a bar – I understand the unfun of a clogged toilet. But at this Berkeley coffee shop, of course all that unblemished white space was too tempting for the hordes of academics, autodidacts and aspiring witticists to leave alone.
Somehow two simple words – “do” and “not” – provoke four responses: cloying politeness, a contraction, a homophone and an ampersand. Read more...
Yesterday was the day we set aside to honor the sacrifices our war veterans have made, and Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati decided to honor the memory of 28 year old Army Corporal Kimberly Walker, who served two duties in Iraq, by removing her headstone eleven days after they allowed it to be put up.
Kimberly loved SpongeBob Squarepants. She really, really loved him.
This is okay….
…but this is not:
One of my dearest friends, Damon, who I’ve known since ninth grade, sent this to me last week:
Hi Alf, hope you had a great Halloween. Remember Corinne? This is from her Facebook post today.
I am so sorry to have to do this in a Facebook post, but the last few weeks have been very overwhelming. I have tried to phone or email as many of you as possible, but I don’t think I have time to contact everyone in a timely way. Read more...
Yesterday I go to take our dog for his afternoon walk to the park.
Shoulda brought my reading glasses…
I could finish a few chapters of a Dostoyevsky novel in the time it would take me to read this – but of course, I don’t read much Dostoyevsky. And since when has “good neighbor policy” become code for “we hate dogs?” or, “14 Simple Rules To Not Enjoying Your Neighborhood Park!” Read more...
I was sitting on the couch in my pajamas – green and white stripes with little soccer balls on them – when my mother stepped out of the bathroom.
I screamed bloody murder.
“Chato, what?!” yelled back my mom, wondering what had horrified her four year old.
“Aaaaaaaaaaah!” I scrambled back to the far side of the couch. She looked around. We were home alone.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“No!” I shouted at her, pulling up up my legs and tucking my head between my knees.
“Chato, tell me!?”
I started sobbing- I could sense her getting closer.
“Chato, tell me, what is wrong?” Read more...