I simply remember my favorite things....and then I don't get....in trouble.

Last night I was in Tower Records and I overheard the following conversation between a young couple.

“YESSSS!!!! In Living Color is out on DVD!!!”

“We’re not getting that.”

“Huh? Why not it’s only twenty bucks?”

“Because if we get that you’ll want to watch it and then I’ll have to watch it and I don’t want to watch it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Deal with it.”

“Oh you are not getting a copy of the Sound of Music.”

“It’s the 40th Anniversary Special Edition.”

“I don’t care if it comes with the Von Trapp family singers. If I don’t get In Living Color you don’t get the Sound of Music.”

“I’m getting the Sound of Music.”

“Then I’m getting the special edition of Office Space and In Living Color.”

“That’s ridiculous you just said you wanted In Living Color, not “two” things.”

“The Sound of Music counts as two things it’s like seven hours long.”

“Then I’m getting T “L” Word.”

“The “L” Word? Let me see that. YOU’RE NOT EVEN A LESBIAN!!!”

“Stop shouting people will hear you.”

“I don’t care who hears me we are not getting The “L” Word. What if my friends see that in our apartment?”

“Your sick friends love lesbians.”

“Don’t start on my friends.”

I missed the rest of their conversation but it was obvious to me, as a grizzled married veteran, that the honeymoon phase of this relationship was over.

I figure they’d been married for about a month.

That’s because everything is faster now.

The honeymoon phase originally lasted about two years. Then like a toddler you hit the “terrible twos” because everything out of your wife’s mouth starts out with the word, “Why”.

“Why is the sky blue?”

“Why is water wet?”

“Why are you going out with Sean and Rich when you could be home watching the Sound of Music with me?”

Then Monday Night Football was invented and the honeymoon phase dropped to just under eight months, or until the next season started.

It dropped briefly to six months with the introduction of NFL Cheerleaders but went back to eight months when the television networks and the NFL ruined football by introducing female sideline reporters.

If we wanted to listen to women during a football game we’d be 49er fans.

There’s nothing to watch there.

I have nothing against female reporters, I just get this terrible feeling when they’re talking that they’re going to ask me to hang a painting, take out the trash or pay attention to them right in the middle of the game.

Today technology has caused the honeymoon phase to last about 30 days. I blame it on the cell phone. She can find you anywhere. Now they’re including global positioning systems in phones.

Why? How many times do you look at your phone and go, “Where am I? I need to call my wife.”

If you have to ask that question you’re probably regaining consciousness in a Tijuana strip club so you’re pretty much a dead man anyway. Unless of course you take the stripper home with you and introduce her to your wife as her new maid.

The day is coming when as soon as the ceremony is over the bride will turn to the groom and say, “You probably hate The Sound of Music. You are not the man I married.”

Which is why I have a photo of Julie Andrews in my wallet.

To remind me of what I need to like.

Which is kind of weird since she’s dressed like a nun.

‘THE HILLLLLSSSS ARE ALLLLIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOU…. Ouch!!! Hey!!! Why can’t I sing Sound of Music songs?”

“Commander in Chief is on.”

“Oh yeah... I forgot. I like that.”

Where was Sheriff Buford T. Justice when I needed him?

Here’s a phrase that will never come out of my mouth again, “Let’s just rent a U-Haul and move this stuff ourselves.”

I always thought overweight middle aged Italian males were supposed to be able to drive trucks, apparently that’s incorrect.

I needed to put some old furniture into storage. If you’ve never been to one of these furniture mausoleums it’s a real treat.

Here is a place, full of crap that people don’t want but pay to store, that is more secure that San Quentin.

First of all they get nervous when Italians want to put something into storage but they try to be funny about it. “I see your name is Calabrese. Who are you putting in there? Ha ha ha.”

“Nobody you know.”

Then they ask the token Homeland Security question. “You’re not planning on storing any chemical or biological agents in here are you?”

“Planning? No… I’m not “planning” on it.”

"So you want me to take my shoes off and go through a metal detector now?"

Meanwhile seven guys who sound like they’re spitting when they talk are unloading drums of fertilizer in the space next to mine.

So I rent my space, on the third floor, and head over to U-Haul with my youngest son to rent “El Truck.”

I called it “El Truck” because anything that big needed a title. I had reserved a small 10’ – 14’ truck but they were all out so we got “El Truck” at the small truck rates.

This is the only time I've ever gotten anything on sale or at a discount. Figures...

This truck could have moved all of Mexico in one load.

All I needed to move was a 241 pound 36 inch Sony TV, TV Stand, Dining Room Set and a bed.

When I hopped up into “El Truck” I was immediately disappointed. There was no CB Radio. How was I gonna ask my good buddies if they’ve got their ears on without my CB radio?

I got out my cell phone and called my son who was following behind me.

“Hey good buddy, ya got your ears on? Can ya hear me now?”

My youngest son was afraid.

“Dad, please don’t screw around in that truck. This isn’t “Smokey and the Bandit.”

Too Late, I had already turned into Burt Reynolds or Jerry Reed. Actually I was more like Dom Delouise in “Smokey and the Bandit II.”

So as I’m driving back to my house to “load up” (that’s trucker talk) I started thinking of the wide open road, fresh air, country scenery, when it dawned on me that maybe I was supposed to join a union to drive something this big. Maybe I was supposed to be a member of the Teamsters.

But the Teamster mind set wasn’t as much fun as the Smokey and the Bandit mind set so I kind of improvised it a little.

“So... How y’all doin?

Anyway not only am I not a truck driver... I’m no mover either. We dropped the TV three times.

I knew we should have given it to the homeless.

Driving back to the self storage facility I started to sing, “East bound and down, loaded up and truckin, we gonna do what they say can't be done…..”

My son was crying.

When I pulled into the self storage lot there was only one space to park in and it was between two other very large trucks.

Here’s another phrase you never want to hear yourself utter, “I think I can squeeze this baby in if I get the right angle.”

So after I hit the front end and ripped the bumper off the first truck I found that although I was now fitting neatly into the space there was no room to pull the ramp out of the truck to unload.

So I nudged it forward…ever so slowly…..

So now my front bumper is locked with the rear bumper of the truck in front of me.

My son was now suicidal.

“Jesus Christ dad now what do we do?”

“We unload the truck.”

We dropped the TV two more times and snapped a leg off of one of the dining room chairs but I packed that stuff into that space like a shopping cart at a Michigan Wal-Mart sale.

Then I went to the front office to confess to the crash while my son figured out how to unhook the trucks. I think he let air out of the tires to lower “El Truck”.

“I kind of hit a truck back there.”

“We know we have you on our video surveillance cameras.”

Video surveillance?

This is a self storage facility filled with stuff that people eventually will forget about.

Video surveillance?

Who designed this place? The same guy that came up with the wrapping on DVD’s?

For a nice twist the truck I tore the bumper off of is owned by a Korean swap meet vendor.

I told him I’d give him a 36 inch Sony TV if I didn’t have to report this to my insurance company.

I’m 10-7 good buddies...come back.

Life's too short...

There’s one thing that I’m sure of and that is that life is too short. That’s why I started my “Too Short” list which is now way “too long” to print in its entirety. It’s not a very formal list but it works for me.

So here’s just a few:

Too short to make yourself nuts over the things you can’t control.

Too short not to take risks.

Too short so get to know and help your neighbor.

Too short so stand up and make a difference.

Too short so why wage war?

Too short not to have a best friend and a true love.

Too short so make a person laugh or smile.

Too short not to say thank you.

Like I said those are just a few of my “Too Shorts”.

Many people reflect on what they are thankful for on this day. I ask all of you to look around this Thanksgiving Day and think of a few “Too Shorts” to add to this list or create your own.

You may be surprised by what you write. I'll bet most of your "Too Shorts" are things you're thankful for.

I live my life by my code of “Too Shorts” and here’s the reason why I came up with my too short list, Jim Valvano.

Jim Valvano, The North Carolina State Basketball coach who passed away from cancer in 1993, was one of the most inspirational human beings on this planet. (ESPN and Jim Valvano founded The “V” Foundation for cancer research in 1993 before he passed away.)

His life was way too short.

He had a couple of quotes that I will never forget.

“There are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. Number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.”

"How do you go from where you are to where you want to be? I think you have to have an enthusiasm for life. You have to have a dream, a goal, and you have to be willing to work for it."

I don’t know if the meaning of life could be summed up better than in those two quotes.

So on this Thanksgiving Day I first want to say “thank you” to all of my family, friends, fellow bloggers and my readers, you are my inspiration.

And remember, life is “too short” so laugh, think and cry today.

It’s also too short not to have seconds (or thirds) of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy……

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

I’ll write funny tomorrow.

The Meaning of Wife......

“I know exactly what I want.”

“Well then, what do you want?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

It was a dark and stormy night…….

Or maybe it was just a conversation I was having with my wife about replacing the paintings and plants in our house.

Apparently we now have paintings and plants that don’t match.

That happens when you remodel.

You have matchless paintings and plants.

If you have paintings and plants that don’t match then you must go on a quest, a mission, an odyssey so to speak.

Which means I must do battle against the forces of Home Depot Expo, Bed Bath and Beyond, Pier One Imports, Aaron Brothers, Michael’s and Ikea.

One of the challenges of the married man is being able to get out of doing stuff without pissing off your wife…. too much.

“May I help you?”

“We seek the Holy Paintings and Plants!!!”

“Stop it don’t be an idiot.”

“Ummm…. We have quite a selection of original paintings as well as some beautiful reproductions. I’d be happy to show you around. Could I get your name?”

It is I, Tony, son of Dominic Calabrese, from the castleof Calabrese. King of my garage, defeater of the front porch spider.”

“Knock it off. My name is Andrea; ignore him he’s an idiot.”

“Excuse me do you have any plants?”

“Plants?”

“Yes, we would like… a shrubbery.”

“You are soooo going to pay for this. He means silk plants and he knows you don’t have them here. If you do one more Monty Python line you’re sleeping in the garage.”

“So, basically death awaits for me with nasty big pointy teeth and a damaged Visa card.”

“WHAT???”

"That doesn’t count, that’s not the whole line, that’s a partial, I get a do over for that one.”

“Dammit just behave.”

“I don’t want to look at paintings or plants. Just buy something, anything, just don’t make them... you know… too chick looking.”

“Chick looking? Chick looking?”

“Ouch!!! That’s alright it’s just a flesh wound!”

"Well next time it will be the whole arm."

"Can’t you just buy paintings of the ocean or ships or a lighthouse or something?”

“No, I know exactly what I want.”

“Well then, what do you want?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we are going to keep looking.”

“Oh goodie.”

“What? Did you say something?”

“I was just thinking that maybe I’d like to stop at the pet store.”

“The pet store?”

“Yes I’d like to get a parrot, a Norwegian Blue Parrot.”

“This is going to go on all day isn’t it?”

“Yep… pretty much.”

“You realize that I know that you’re purposely trying to annoy me so I’ll want to go home.”

“Is it working?”

“Not a chance buster. Take me to IKEA!”

Here’s the thing, women are like the Spanish Inquisition. Their chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Their *two* weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Their *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to Oprah and Dr. Phil....

Oh...and I love Monty Python.

The Sword in the Tone

Last night I came home and saw my wife swinging a sword......which is rare.....in our living room.

“HIIIIYAAAA!!!”

“HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH A SWORD?”

“It’s my Aikido Sword. Watch this.”

“HIIIYAAAA!!!!”

“Look what ever I did I’m sorry. Do you want to go Nordstrom? Put the sword down and let’s got to Nordstrom.”

“I don’t need Nordstrom. I am one with the universe.”

“You don't need NORDSTROM? One with the universe? Is this part of that Cookie Lee cult you belong to? What are you a Cookie Lee Ninja?"

“No we offer Aikido at the gym now and I’m going to learn Aikido for self defense.”

(Boxing, Kickboxing and now Aikido? What the hell is menopause going to be like?)

"I get it you're training for the day after Christmas sales. But what about the new lamps?”

“HIIIIIYAAAAA!!!!”

“I’m not going to hit the new lamps. When I hold this sword I feel enlightened. I have found satori. I am at peace.”

“What about me? I’M NOT AT PEACE!!!! How come every time you’re at peace I end up getting hurt? What about painting or alcoholism? Couldn’t you find peace through them?

“Don’t you want me to feel safe when I go to the mall?”

“Sweetheart… That’s a sword…. You can’t walk around the mall with a sword. Let me buy you a gun, seriously, at least there’s a seven day waiting period for a gun. At least give me a chance.”

“My Sensei says that Aikido teaches us to harmonize our will with the will of our opponent and to conduct his will and his movement so that they cause no harm.”

“Sweetie…..YOU’RE SWINGING A SWORD IN OUR LIVING ROOM!!!!!”

“They have wooden swords.”

“Wooden swords? Honey you’re married to an Italian, I’ve got a wooden bat in the trunk of my car, let me get you a bat. At least it’s rounded at the end.”

“HIIIIIYAAAAA!!!!”

“Stop with the “HIIIYAAA!” already. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

“I’m not giving up my sword.”

“Baby you don’t use cutlery remember? You don’t do kitchen. You know you could put an eye out with that thing. If Johnny Johnson has a sword it doesn’t mean that you have to have a sword.”

“Tell me you are not being a smartass while I’m holding a sword.”

“Jesus Christ babe what’s next, blow guns? Most women your age are knitting or playing bridge or online poker or something.”

“Most…women…my…age?”

(Crud.)

“MOST WOMEN MY AGE?????”

“That didn’t come out right. You know what? Keep the sword. Really, you look good.”

“HIIIYAAAA!!!!!”

“That’s not funny babe.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a Renaissance Fair to buy armor. Where the hell do you thing I’m going?”

“You come back here and give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do Aikido.”

“Babe you can do Aikido but couldn’t you start out slow? Maybe work at Benihanas for awhile?

“You can’t help yourself can you? You have to be a smartass. I’m trying to better myself and you’re making fun of me.”

“You’re right honey. I’m sorry. I was being insensitive. By the way, just out of curiosity, that sword didn’t come with a Xena Warrior Princess outfit did it?”

“HIIIIYAAAA!!!!!

The Mysteries of Colonhenge

Last night I fell asleep watching the “Mysteries of Stonehenge” on the Discovery Channel and when I woke up it was 3:00am and an infomercial was on.

This infomercial was selling……“Colon Cleansing.”

Ummm… This has absolutely nothing to do with correcting punctuation.

The television studio for the program was set up to look like the “O’Reilly Factor” on FOX news.

I was expecting a little tag bar to run across the bottom of the screen telling me the reason these Muslims are blowing themselves up is because they’re all constipated.

There were “framed” experts, like they were in different parts of the country, side by side, talking about the benefits of a clean colon.

This program screamed for Geraldo Rivera. He would have been perfect. Geraldo would have been checking up colons looking for Al Capone’s lost treasure… or Jimmy Hoffa.

Barbara Walters would have been great on this show too. I can just hear her voice in my head asking Dick Cheney or Ted Kennedy if they get enough fiber in their diets.

Obviously not.

Instead of Geraldo or Barbara the guy asking the two “experts” questions about their product was the same little Australian guy I saw last week on an infomercial selling a vacuum cleaner.

At first that kind of frightened me.

That’s not exactly gentle colon cleansing. You should have seen this thing suck up dirt, nails, rubber bands and paper clips.

But then I remembered over the last year I also saw him selling a steam ironing system, a crepe maker, a hand blender, a food processor, a juicer and a food dehydrator.

I don’t sleep much.

I ordered everything except the crepe maker. That sounded too French.

When the “experts” started to answer the questions it was obvious that they were Australian as well.

Apparently they eat too much meat in Australia or something.

It’s very odd to listen to three people from Australia talking about cleaning your colon.

Their accent actually makes it sound kind of exciting.

Imagine the “Crocodile Hunter” talking about the “most dangerous colon in the world.”

At first I started to laugh, and then they said something that made me listen.

They said that people who didn’t have clean colons had five to fifteen pounds of “stuff”, “impacted” in there.

They also said that people who don’t clean their colons are often restless, frustrated, anger easily, are sluggish and in many cases suffer from insomnia.

Insomnia?

Crap…

What if the reason I never sleep is my colon?

That’s a tough conversation to have with your wife.

“Honey I’m afraid I have an impacted colon.”

“Call the dentist.”

“No, not my teeth, my colon.”

“Your what? You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I was watching these Australian people last night on the Discovery Channel talking about the dangers of impacted colons.”

“That was not on the Discovery Channel.”

“It really was. What if the reason I never sleep is my impacted colon?”

“What does your colon have to do with sleeping?”

“It causes insomnia.”

“Uh huh… Have you ever thought that maybe the reason you don’t sleep is that you drink about a gallon of Diet Arizona Green Tea after 9:00pm?”

“Green tea is good for you. Chinese people drink it all the time. Do they have healthy colons? I think The Learning Channel had a special on that. I think they do, the Chinese have good colons. You never hear about a Chinese colon problem.”

“You’re Italian, and maybe the reason there’s so many Chinese is that they’re never getting any sleep.”

“That’s actually pretty funny babe.”

“Tell me you didn’t order a colon cleanser from an infomercial.”

“Well…. Umm… You know honey you seem a little restless and frustrated.”

“You’re starting to piss me off Calabrese.”

“You know you anger easily”

"Really?"

“Ouch!!!! Damn!!! You’re definitely not sluggish.”

"The Color Fig."

This afternoon I found myself feeling like I was regaining consciousness during what must have been a conversation with my wife.

I hate that feeling.

All of a sudden I realize that she’s talking and I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about.

In my head all I hear is the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher.

I glanced at my watch and realize this “conversation” started about fifteen minutes ago.

What could she be talking about for fifteen minutes?

Guys, we can finish a conversation is about 30 seconds. If we want to say anything else to each other after that we just shrug our shoulders, grunt and nod.

Men can have a six hour conversation without uttering a sound.

Fifteen minutes?

We're near comatose in fifteen minutes.

Thank god I’m a veteran.

After 27 years of marriage I can fake listening for fifteen minutes without even trying.

Hell, I don’t even know I’m doing it. I’m on automatic pilot. It’s survival instinct kicking in.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

“WHAT…..ARE…..YOU…..DOING?”

“Um.... listening to you?”

“Listening?”

“Uh huh.”

“What did I say?”

“Come on honey you said a ton of stuff.”

“Name one thing.”

“How can I name it? You don’t name stuff you listen to.”

“Tell me what we were talking about.”

(Tell me what “we” were talking about? I don’t remember my lips moving.)

“You know…stuff… about the house…and stuff…..about colors…and stuff….”

“Colors and stuff?”

“Well I was going to talk about colors…. but I hadn’t spoken up yet… I was waiting for you to finish talking.”

“You have no idea what I was talking about do you?”

“Yes I do. Of course I do. I heard everything you said.” (It was hypnotic it put me into a trance.)

“Then tell me one, just one thing I was talking about.”

“Was it figs?”

“FIGS???”

“Yes I distinctly heard you say something about figs.”

“FIGS???”

“You were talking about the color fig for the new couches.”

“THE COLOR FIG??? THERE’S NO COLOR CALLED FIG.”

“Of course there is. If there wasn’t then what color would a fig be?”

“YOU CANNOT CHEWWBACCA YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS BUSTER.”

“Pumpkin, I’m not “Chewbaccaing” you, I thought I heard you say something about the couches being fig colored.”

“Don’t call me pumpkin. Cute nicknames won’t get you out of this.”

(It wasn’t a cute nickname. I said it because you look like a Jack O Lantern when you’re pissed.)

“I SAID… We need to make sure the new couches FIT!!!

“That’s it!!!! That’s what you said. I knew I’d get it. I told you I was listening.”

“What???”

“Fig, fit, that’s pretty close you gotta admit that.”

“You really are a special kind of idiot aren’t you?”

“Yes pumpkin.”

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW???

I have a problem with cell phone providers.

It seems that no matter whom I choose.

I can’t hear them now.

You know that map they brag about when they show you their cell phone coverage areas?

I’m that one little white spot on the map that has no coverage.

Only my little white spot follows me around wherever I go.

I’ve actually had my neighbor call me at my house on my cell phone, from his house on his cell phone, and found myself yelling out the window for him to call me on my house phone because I couldn’t a signal.

Yeah… I know…

And apparently the Mafia has something to do with my current cell phone company because I have to pay $200 to get out my “contract.”

I guess I’m okay with that because it’s “just business.”

I tried to switch cell phone providers again yesterday.

I got to talk to “Scotty” at the cell phone sales booth.

Scotty was the sales rep at this little kiosk from hell whose sole purpose in life was to make me feel like an idiot.

I had to wait for Scotty to stop playing “Ghost Recon” on his “phone” before he could help me.

Oh there was another young man there; his name badge said “Vance”. Vance wasn’t allowed to talk to customers yet. He wasn’t properly trained in filling out the “contract.” So Vance just stood there waiting for Scotty to kill the terrorists in his phone.

When Scotty finished playing the first words out of his mouth were,

“What’s up?”

“I’d like to switch my cell phone service.”

“Why?”

(Why? WHY?)

“Lousy coverage.”

“That’s great sir we have many different plans but you look like our basic 450 minute plan to me.”

(I look like a 450 minute plan? What the does that mean? This guy doesn’t think I have anyone to talk to? People talk to me. There are a lot of people that want to get a hold of me. People call me all the time! I call people all the time. People like talking to me. I could talk for well over 450 minutes. Communist, pull up your pants and go back to college and get real job. This kid probably smokes dope and sleeps on a futon with his X-Box.)

“450 minutes sounds okay I guess.”

“So have you looked at the different phones we have available?”

“I’d like a blue one.”

“That’s our WMD9800. It comes with Bluetooth, MP3, Video and Text messaging, Mobile Web 2.0, e-mail, a camcorder and a 2.0 mega pixel digital camera.”

“I would like a phone that makes phone calls, does it make phone calls?”

“Um… I think so…”

“How much is the blue one?”

“$449.00 with the discount for a two year contract.”

“How much?”

“That phone is $449.00”

“$449.00? Do I get a free picture of Catherine Zeta Jones before she married Michael Douglas and ruined a fantasy of mine with that?

“That’s a different wireless service sir.”

How much for a phone that’s just a phone?”

“We don’t have any phones that are just phones.”

“Look I don’t need MP tooth or camera mail or any of that crap I just want a plain phone.”

“Well they don’t make plain phones anymore you have to get one that has something on it.”

“That’s ridiculous. What’s the least expensive phone you have?”

“I can probably get two cans and a real long piece of string for you sir.”

“Very funny. Just show me the cheapest phone.”

"Okay sir, here’s the BFD8190. It’s $50 but then you get to send in a rebate and you get your $50 back. So it’s like a free phone.”

“Why can’t I just get the phone for free and not have to worry about the rebate.”

“Cause that’s not how it works sir.”

“But that’s stupid. You are selling me a phone for $50. That’s not a free phone.”

“I said it was “like” a free phone.”

“Hey the numbers on this phone are “like” too small; I can’t dial without hitting two numbers at the same time.”

“Well I can upgrade the phone if you sign a longer contract and then you can have this phone for $149.99”

“Is there a rebate?”

“Yes sir.”

“How much is the phone before the rebate?”

“$349.99”

“So I send in the rebate form and get $200 back.”

“Yes sir.”

“How long does it take to get my rebate?”

“Six to eight weeks.”

“What if I sign up, get the phone, and find out I don’t get service in my area?”

“Have you looked at our service map sir? We cover almost the entire country. You can even get service in Alaska.”

“I’ll remember that if I ever want six months of darkness. What’s this little white spot on the map in San Diego?”

“Oh that’s some guy that lives in Point Loma. We’re trying to drive him insane by blocking out his signal wherever he goes.”

“Uh huh…. So if I don’t get service?”

“Well sir you’ll be pleased to know you have up to fourteen days to cancel.”

“So if I cancel I get my $200 dollars back when I turn in the phone.”

“Um... no…”

“How long does it take to get my $200 back?”

“Six to eight weeks.”

“So it’s “like” I get my money back, but you guys just get to “like” use it for a while?”

“Well I guess it is kinda like that.”

“So how much are the cans and the string?”

“I can give you those for free sir.”

“Can I play Ghost Recon on them?”

“I don’t think so sir.”

.................................................................

“HEY!!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW???”

“PULL THE STRING TIGHTER!!!!”

“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW???”

“WHAT??”

"CALL ME ON YOUR HOUSE PHONE!!!"

Just a quick thought.

There was an item in the news over the weekend about a pirate attack on a cruise ship off of the coast of Somalia.

The cruise ship first tried to run over the pirates and then just outran them.

Um…

If you’re a pirate….

And you have a pirate ship that’s slower than a cruise ship….

Maybe pirating is not your sport.

Maybe whale watching would be better.

From the shore.

I wonder what the conversation was like on the pirate ship.

“Row faster Mufasa, row faster!!!”

“Imagine what the captain of the cruise ship was thinking.”

“Captain you’re not going to believe this.”

“Yes ensign.”

“Um… There’s a canoe flying the Jolly Roger dead ahead.”

“Ramming speed ensign.”

“Aye Aye sir.”

“Excuse me passengers this is your captain speaking. Thank you for sailing on Princess Somalia Cruise lines. I just wanted you to know that you’re about to feel a slight bump, nothing to be alarmed about, go back to your buffets.”

At what point did attacking a cruise ship seem like a good idea.

“I have a question Mufasa. How fast can you row?”

“I can row very very very fast sir.”

“Arghh!!! Excellent!!! Avast ye bilge rat and get after that cruise ship.”

“Sir I have one question.”

“Yes Mufasa?”

“What do we do if we actually catch a cruise ship?”

“Arghh!!!!”

I can be Luke Skywalker if I want to....

Last night I saw Wonder Woman.

Not a movie.

I saw Wonder Woman.

Um…

Halloween was on Monday.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been driving through Pacific Beach late at night but you see some odd things.

I saw Wonder Woman.

She was practicing the ancient Irish sport of “hurling” on the side of the road.

When I got closer I realized that she had on the Wonder Woman headband, the bra, the boots but she was missing one very important piece of the outfit.

The hotpants.

Wonder Woman was throwing up on Mission Blvd. not wearing any pants.

Then I noticed the rest of the Super Heroes.

Batman, Robin, Superman, Spiderman they were all there. I think Wonder Woman was Spiderman’s date.

I didn’t park to find out.

I did circle the block however.

Apparently the Super Hero hideout is near the Jack in the Box in Pacific Beach.

The first thing that crossed my mind was, “Son of a bitch, why can’t I be 25 years old again?”

Then I remembered that when I was 25 I was married with a two year old and had another kid on the way.

Then I thought maybe I could get my wife to dress up as Wonder Woman.

Then I "wondered" where I’d be sleeping if I asked her to put that outfit on.

I have to give the twenty something year old crowd some credit.

Halloween for the rest of us is a chance to steal candy from kids and have a casual day at work.

For twenty something’s it’s a chance to dress like Super Heroes and space alien hookers.

All week long.

The shyest twenty something year old girl in the world will turn into a raving sex craved drunken maniac space alien prostitute for Halloween.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Let’s face it the costume thing is kind of fun.

It let’s us pretend or fantasize about something we’re not.

Which is how I always get into trouble.

With Halloween and the release of the last Star Wars movie I was reminded about the time I wanted my wife to dress up as Princess Leia.

Oh I didn’t tell her that I wanted her to dress up like Princess Leia.

We were at breakfast and I kind of casually put two bagels up to the side of her head.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Uh…Nothing.”

“Why are you holding those two…OH YOU ARE NOT TRYING TO SEE WHAT I WOULD LOOK LIKE AS PRINCESS LEIA.”

“Umm…. NO… NO… babe. I was um… just trying to see… um…if you could hear the ocean.”

“Hear the ocean in a bagel?”

“Yes I saw it on the Discovery Channel.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

“No you kind of look like Princess Leia.”

“Really? Okay Chewbacca help me clear the dishes off the table.”

I haven’t had a lot of fantasy’s come true.

But I will continue to fantasize because we men fantasize all the time.

You know we do guys.

Because fantasies are cheap, follow-through is expensive.

We always think of “what if’s or what I would do’s” and it almost always involves women.

And it almost always gets us into trouble.

The other night at a comedy club the very attractive bartender was wearing these black leather pants, I guess that’s what you call them, that started about mid butt cheek and then were painted onto her body. She was wearing a black leather vest, no bra, high heel shoes and a cowboy hat.

Typical bartending attire.

I wasn’t paying that much attention to her so I could have part of the outfit wrong.

(For the record whoever invented those low rise pants cannot be gay.)

Yes it was Halloween dress up night, (Even though it was not Halloween), and she is in fact a twenty something year old.

When we males see something like this we form the same type of pack that women form when they go to the bathroom.

So we can talk about women.

Which is exactly what women do when they form packs.

And the only people with more vivid imaginations than males with alcohol in their systems are male comedians with alcohol in their systems.

“Boy…she’s smoking hot.”

“Yeah, ride em cowboy.”

“You could put an eye out with that.”

"Now that my friends is an onion lady."

"An onion lady?"

"Yeah, she's got an ass so fine it brings tears to your eyes."

“Man… what I would do to…”

Here’s the thing. Men are pigs. It doesn’t matter whether we are 18 or 80 we’re pigs. Most of the time harmless pigs, but we are pigs. You can say a lot of things about how hot a woman is and not get into trouble but when you get to the line, “Man… what I would do…” you need to make sure the person you are saying this to is not the female in question’s boyfriend or husband.

You also need to make sure he’s not the manager of the comedy club.

But I never have to worry about these things.

Because for a brief moment I may have the “Man…what I would do…” thought in my head and then the “you’ll probably hurt and embarrass yourself” thought just blocks it out.

That happens when you hit 40.

And have Princess Leia at home.

Maybe women find Chewbacca kind of sexy.

May the Force be with you.

To Box or Not to Box? That is the Question.

I saw a homeless guy pushing three shopping carts tied together this morning. At first I was angry because I thought to myself, “What? Even homeless people need SUV’s?”

Then I saw that one cart was full of aluminum cans, one cart was full of his personal belongings and one cart was full of boxes.

This was a very organized homeless guy, probably used to work in accounting for Enron or something.

Maybe he was an ex San Diego City councilman.

So I felt bad for being angry.

Then I thought, what the hell, it’s November and it’s 80 degrees out. If you’re going to be homeless San Diego’s kind of a nice place to be.

So I got over feeling bad about being angry.

Then I got dismayed.

Dimayed?

Yes, dismayed.

Why? Because November 1st signals the start of gift box collection month in my house.

My wife saves every box she comes across from now until Christmas because apparently there is a box shortage in this country this time of the year.

“What are you doing with that shoe box?”

“Um…Throwing it out?”

“What? You know I need gift boxes. That’s the perfect size box, give it to me.”

“Are we giving someone shoes for Christmas?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I have no idea what I’m getting people for Christmas but this box is the perfect size.”

“Uh… okay.”

“Don’t do it. Don’t be a smartass.”

“I’m not. I just don’t get this whole box saving thing. We’ve got hundreds of boxes stashed all over this house. We don’t give that many people gifts that don’t already come in a box anyway. You can ask for a gift box at stores when you buy clothes. I just don’t get it.”

“Exactly, that’s my point. You just don’t get it.”

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

“I need these boxes because you never know when you’re going to need a box.”

“I never “need” a box.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve never needed a box?”

“That is correct.”

“So your baseball cards are not being kept in an old “shoe box?”

“Yes, but I didn’t “need” the box. I could’ve kept them in a sack.”

“A sack of baseball cards?”

“Double bagged.”

“So you think I should “double bag” Christmas gifts smartass?”

“You can double bag mine. I’d like a new watch.”

“Knock it off. Just don’t throw out any boxes. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand. I understand that there are thousands, no millions of Americans that will go boxless this year because of people like us. We’re nothing but box hoarders. You should be ashamed.”

“You think that’s funny?”

“No it just slipped out. I thought I was saying it in my head.”

“Don’t push it wop.”

“Yes dear... Um… Do I still get a new watch?”