Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Sometimes I write just for me........

“Hey Dad.”

“Hey A.J. Hellooooo Sweetheart. Hey Alex give Poppa a hug.”


“Where’s mom?”

“She’s at a meeting.”

“So you’re gonna babysit the kids by yourself?”


“Both of them?”

“I think I can handle my grandkids for an hour.”

“But dad….”

“A.J. it’s not like they’re babies. Alex is six and Angelina is two. I can handle that.”

“I’m pretty.”

“Yes you are sweetheart.”

“Ice cream Poppa.”

“Uh… How about some apple instead?”


“How about some grapes?”

“No grapes. Ice cream!!!!!!!”

“I wonder why she always asks for ice cream when she comes over here?”

“No clue son."

“Dad they’ve been good all day they can have pretty much anything they want just don’t overdo it.”

“Trust me son.”

“Dad… seriously…”

“I got this don’t worry.”

“Okay Angelina come here. We need to change your diaper before daddy leaves.”

“Thanks for that son.”

“She should be fine until Melina gets home.”

“Have a good time son.”

“Bye Daddeeeeee. Bye Dad.”

“Okay kids who wants ice cream?”



“Yes Alex. “

“Can I play the X-Box?”

“Let’s see if we can’t find a TV show we all can watch instead. You’re not going to be here that long.”

“But Poppa I need to fight the forces of evil.”

“Yes we all do but you can’t fight the forces of evil without ice cream can you?”

“Um… I think I can Poppa. But I should have some ice cream just in case to recharge my energy.”

“That’s what I thought.”


“Yes Angelina.”

“I pooped.”


“WHOA!!!!!! POPPA!!!!!! SHE DEFINTELY POOPED. We’re talking serious poopage Poppa. Man can my sister poop or what?

“Yes she’s a real pro.”

“You’re gonna need some Febreeze in here Poppa.”

“My lord how in the hell can such a sweet little thing hold so much poop?”

“She’s a Calabrese.”

Now I have to break this story up a little. The following is not my fault. When did they decide to make diapers that just pull up like underwear? How are you supposed to clean up a kid with a poopy diaper if the only way to take the diaper off is to just pull it down? The old diapers with the little tabs on the side made sense. You open it up, grab the legs with one hand, lift the kid, use thirty or forty baby wipes, grab a clean diaper with your free hand, slide the diaper under the clean butt and presto diaper changed. But how in the hell do you do that if the diaper slides off? There were no tabs. You yank that puppy down you’ve got poop everywhere.

I got a beach towel and old newspapers and set up on the tile floor in the kitchen.

“You want me to go outside and get the hose Poppa?”

“Not yet Alex.”

“Okay sweetheart I need to you to stand here. We’re gonna change your diaper.”

“Ice cream!!!”

“In a minute sweetheart.”

“I really think you’re gonna need the hose.”

“I can’t use the hose inside Alex, Gramma will kill me.”

“Hose her off outside.”

(Now I will admit that I thought about that for a moment. But only for a moment.”

“Just go in the living room and play the X-Box until I’m done here.”

“YES!!!!! You battle the poop and I’ll fight the forces of evil.”

Twenty minutes later I had changed her diaper. I had used the entire box of baby wipes and two sports sections. And I was definitely going to need to mop the kitchen floor.

“I’m pretty.”



“Yes sweetheart.”



“No way Poppa we are not watching Hannah Montana.”

“You’ve been fighting the forces of evil and now it’s your sister’s turn.”

“She can’t fight the forces of evil Poppa she doesn’t have any training.”


“Do you want to listen to her yell for Hannah Montana for the next forty five minutes?”

“This sucks Poppa. She always gets her way.”

“Get used to it.”


“Fine just hold on a second sweetheart.”

So we all sit down to watch Hannah Montana. Five minutes into Hannah Montana……

“Scooooby Dooooooooo.”


“Great Poppa, now she wants to watch Scooby Doo. She’s always changing her mind. You just can’t watch TV with her it’ll drive you nuts.”

“You want to watch Scooby Doo?”



Five minutes into Scooby Doo.


“Told you Poppa.”

“Okay. Angelina how about Poppa reads you a story? You want to read a book?”


“Can I play the X-Box Poppa?”

“Yes sure Alex.”

(Under his breath I hear….)

“Great. Now I have to start over. You’d think a grownup would know a woman can’t make up her mind.”

“Okay Angelina, go and pick out the book you want Poppa to read to you.”


“Oh? Oh what sweetie?”


“She wants you to read the Oprah magazine to her Poppa. She loves that.”

“You’re kidding.”


“OOOOKay, Poppa will read “O” to you. The first story is called Oprah and the three bears…… and Oprah huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and blew all the other talk shows away. And only Ellen was left and she had very short hair, not like your beautiful hair, so Ellen couldn’t let her hair out the window for a handsome prince to climb up and rescue her so she turned into a lesbian that loved to dance but never got her own magazine.”

“More Poppa.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s see here…. Stacy says the most important thing to look for when trying on jeans is the “rise” or crotch area. You don’t want any pulling or puckering or extra fabric up front….. Huh… I wonder if the same thing goes for guys jeans?”

“I love you Poppa.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

“YES!!!! Level six!!!!! I’m soooo good at this Poppa.”

“Can you read yet Alex?”

“Some stuff.”

“Would you like to read “O” to your sister?”

“No thanks.”

“You could learn how to look ten pounds slimmer.”

“I’m only six Poppa I’m already slim.”

“Grab the phone for me Alex.”

“Calabrese’s residence. Hi mom. I’m playing X-Box and Angelina pooped so Poppa is reading “O” to her. Hey mom what’s lesbian?’

“ALEX!!!!! Give Poppa the phone.”

“Hi Melina. Yes. She’s… well I’ll be… she’s asleep. No…. No trouble at all. Um… you’re all out of baby wipes though. Okay I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Okay Alex be very quiet you’re sister is asleep. Let’s turn the volume down.”

“Poppa you can’t fight the forces of evil with the volume turned down.”


“Fine, but if I die it’s on your head.”

“I can live with that.”

About ten minutes passed and I realized that I was actually reading “O” magazine. There were some great tips for grilling the perfect steak. Now everyone knows that women can’t use a barbecue so this must mean that men are supposed to read “O” magazine. By the way rub a stick of butter on each side of the steak every time you turn it to give it great color.

My beautiful granddaughter was curled up under my arm asleep. I’m sure she was dreaming Oprah thoughts and about getting a manicure and a pedicure. My wife would have killed for that moment.

When the kids left I straightened the house so that when my wife came home everything would be ship shape.

“Hey babe I’m home how were the kids.”


“No issues?”


“The house looks clean.”


“Well I guess grandpa can watch the kids… for the love of god!!!!! What the hell happened in the kitchen?

(I knew I forgot something.)

“Um…. She pooped. A lot. Major poopage. Alex wanted to get the hose but I took charge and cleaned her up in the kitchen.”

“Christ Calabrese newspapers and a beach towel? How many baby wipes did you use? The whole box?”

“There wasn’t that much left in the box. I forgot to clean it up once I got her changed. Boy I think I need the hose.”


“By the way….. “


“Your jeans fit perfectly? No pucker at all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just something I read.”

How could I not read Oprah Magazine to that face?

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

It's been too long so here's a brief moment of inspiration.

I believe it was Cher or possibly John McCain that sung, “If I could turn back time, If I could find a way…..”

Well you can’t.

Yesterday I found myself saying the following: “I’m going to get myself in the best shape of my life….”


The answer.

The Food Network.

I saw something yesterday that I could have only dreamed of.

It was on the Food Network Challenge. The episode was called “Super Heroes”.

There was this sandwich.

She was so beautiful.

A spaghetti and meatball sandwich.

Oh God.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you see a great work of art and you actually get emotional?

I wept.

Spaghetti and meatballs inside bread.

Say it with me people!!!!

Let me hear Amen!!!!

And the Lord looked down from the heavens and on the eighth day, the least talked about day, he created the spaghetti and meatball sandwich!!!

And it was good.

And all the angels in heaven said in one great voice, “Fuggetaboutit!”

And then he turned to Adam and Eve and said, “How U doin? Hey, why would you want to eat a friggin apple when I got youse a sandwich like this?”

But Eve turned out to be a liberal vegetarian and ruined the whole thing. And that’s when god created the calorie and the rice cake and ruined everything that tastes good.

And yes that is the story I will probably tell my grandchildren.

So I did the math.

One spaghetti and meatball sandwich is all the calories I can have for four days.

Communist bastards!!!!

My skinny wife says to me, “You know if you exercised more you could eat things like that every once in a while.”


If I exercised more?

I’d have to build the Great Wall of China on my own with nothing but a tablespoon and duct tape to burn off enough calories to eat a spaghetti and meatball sandwich!!!!!

Every once in a while?

Skinny people really have no clue. They do not understand food. They think food is just for sustenance.


These are the same people that want to go “green”.

That’s when I uttered the following, “I’m going to get myself in the best shape of my life so that I can eat all the spaghetti and meatball sandwiches I want!”

What was I thinking?

Then I realized if I ate all the spaghetti and meatball sandwiches that I “want”, I couldn’t possibly be in the best shape of my life.

This posed what we food scientists call a “conundrum”.

But using my superior intellect it dawned on me that I was already not in the best shape of my life. So technically if I’m already not in the best shape of my life then eating all the sandwiches I want couldn’t hurt.

Do you follow me?

Here’s how I explained this to my wife.

“Ask yourself the following question: Am I in Moscow?”

“Of course I’m not in Moscow.”

“If you’re not in Moscow you must be “somewhere else”.


“If you’re “somewhere else” you can’t be “here”.”


If you’re not “here” then you must be “somewhere else”.

“You’re an idiot.”

So if you’re “somewhere else” you can’t be eating a spaghetti and meatball sandwich with me “here”.

“How does that pea sized brain of yours come up with this stuff?”

“Stay with me babe. So if you’re not “here”, and I’m with you, then I must be “somewhere else”, so I’m not “here” either. So I can’t possibly be eating a spaghetti and meatball sandwich “here” so this could only be a dream and the calories wouldn’t count!!!’

“Just make the stupid sandwich.”

Thank god for a Catholic School education.