Reading Is Fun

I just recently completed my first full-fledged attempt at a novel. If you've previously read and enjoyed my Golden Boys stories, you'll love this. I took the four characters from my Golden Boys stories and put them in a murder mystery plot, but with their same idiotic behavior. Does anyone know someone in the publishing industry or who is a literary agent? I have very little idea of how to get this thing from my hands to becoming a full-fledged on your bookstore shelves novel. Any leads you have would certainly be appreciated. Feel free to e-mail me with suggestions if you have any.

I Had A Dream...

A few days a ago I had a dream that I shaved off my goatee. Then yesterday someone said to me, "You ought to shave that off. You'd look ten years younger." Is the universe conspiring to tell me to shave off my goatee? Should I listen to it? Also, some of my long time blog friends might remember a post I did a year ago about vanity plates that was sparked by seeing a plate that said, "Dali Lama." Yesterday after I was told I should shave off my goatee I walked out of the office and into my parking lot, and what car was parked there? Yup. The Dali Lama car. Is it just me, or are those two coincidences happening that close together weird? Is the universe telling me something? Should I shave off my goatee?

"You're a Hottie"

So I was on my way to a dentist appointment. I got out of my car in the busy parking lot of a medical complex that contained several small buildings housing a variety of doctors offices. As I began to cross the lot a van slowed down and the drivers side window was descending. I assumed it was just someone stopping to ask what building a particular doctor was in. The van slowed as it approached me and I slowed my walk, preparing to give helpful directions because that's just the kind of good samaritan I am. The window rolled all the way down and I saw that the driver appeared to be a woman of about 50 maybe. I make eye contact, thinking I'm about to field a question for directions. She looks me straight in the eye and says, "You're a hottie." So I ask for her phone number and after my appointment we went to her house and made mad monkey love on the dining room floor. No! Are you kidding?!!? That was gross! She then drove off without another word. I'm not sure why, but I immediately felt queasy. I suppose this is how very young women feel when some creepy old guy hits on them. Although she is obviously an incredibly bright and perceptive woman, it still creeped me out. Normally, from someone younger I'd accept the compliment and it might put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. I definitely didn't smile as I walked away as quickly as I could. If she thought I was a hottie then though, she should have seen me after I got my teeth cleaned. Now we're talkin' hot! And no, there were not any psychiatric offices in that office complex.

GPS= Giant Pain in my asS

For my new job I do quite a bit of driving around, so I purchased a GPS device for my car. We've all see the commercials where the guy professes his love for his GPS before regaining his senses, realizing that it is just a mechanical device. That won't be my problem. I often do talk to my GPS as it's talking to me, but we're usually arguing. I even switched the voice to that of a British woman, hoping that the accent would make it seem like much less of a nag. It doesn't. Here are a few sample conversations between me and my GPS:

GPS: In two tenths of a mile turn right.............in one tenth of a mile turn right........in 200 feet turn right....
Phil: I know, I'm turning right!
GPS: Turn right
Phil: Shut up! I'm already turning. Leave me alone!

Or another example is when we disagree on directions. For instance yesterday I asked it directions to a specific restaurant and it wanted me to get on a toll road for something like a quarter mile.

GPS: Take ramp on left in 200 feet.
Phil: No. I'm not going to pay a toll just to go a half mile.
GPS: Take ramp on left
Phil: No. I'm not going to. I can see the restaurant from here.
GPS: As soon as possible make a U-turn.
Phil: No, I'm not going to go on the ramp. SHUT UP! I can see the restaurant.
GPS: Recalculating. Travel two tenths of a mile to destination on right.
Phil: See? I told you!

Perhaps my terse demeanor is why my GPS sometimes gives me wrong directions and possibly tries to get me killed. It often has no regard for my safety when it directs me through crime infested, gang run neighborhoods, or down streets that are closed for construction. I think it's out to get me. At some point I imagine myself pulling the thing off the dash and flinging it out onto the highway as I'm traveling at a very high rate of speed, laughing maniacally as it tumbles to it's tiny electronic death still babbling at me. If I'm ever stranded on a desert island I'm sure as hell not taking my GPS with me to keep me company. To quote the great philosopher, me, technology is the opiate of the asses.

More Desert Island

Yeah, I know this is a cop out, but who doesn't love to play desert island? Ok, here's the next one: Rest of your life you're stuck on a desert island with your favorite beverage and one movie. What movie do you choose and why? You can only pick one. No say, 'yeah, but I also considered this." Pick one without any qualifications.

I go with The Princess Bride. It's completely silly and funny and has a lot of those lines that are funny no matter how many times you hear them or how many times you and your friends do them back and forth with each other. If I'm stuck on a desert island I want to be able to laugh on a regular basis. Of course I'd be seriously pissed if my DVD player broke and I couldn't watch my one movie.

Green Kool-Aid

No, I'm not starting a cult. If I were stuck on a desert island and could only drink one beverage for the rest of my life, I think I would choose green Kool-Aid. Setting all health benefits aside green kool-aid may be my favorite beverage, with orange juice and Corona a close second and third. Ok, your turn. Desert island. One beverage for life, what do you choose?

Fate Tempted: Numero Dos

Ok, I'm doing it again. Flying all day. Wish me luck. Don't worry if I don't blog again today. I know I can't get wifi in the Philly airport.

I'm Alive!!!

Hey folks. My flight from home to Charlotte turned out to be the best flight I've ever had. There were first class openings, and I considered paying for the openings, but decided not to. They left the row for the exit door empty and as the flight took off the stewardess..errr...flight attendant asked me to sit in it and read the instructions for opening the door. I had and entire row to myself! It was better than first class. It was like having a king sized bed to myself. I reclined and stretched out. Put my stuff on the seats on either side of me. I was totally livin large. I didn't blog later because there was no wifi I could get in Charlotte and then when I got here in Cancun there is a ridiculously high charge for use of the internet. Also, Blogger is in Espanol here! Fortunately I know blogger well enough that I don't need to understand the tabs. For those of you that worried about my well being after the last post, thank you. I have another story about my roommate after I got here, but I'll blog that later. I've got to go to breakfast.

Fate? Meet Temptation

Some of my long time blog friends know my position on death. I'm not a fan. In fact, I don't really believe in it at all. At least for myself. I have long been of the belief that if an opportunity to be dead presents itself to me I will just flat out refuse to do it. I believe that by sheer will I just won't die regardless of disease, accident, or age. But now I have a bit of a quandry.

I recently started a job that requires me to fly places occasionally. I've rarely flown in my life, and now it appears I will be doing so at least a few times a year. Back to my beliefs about death. Like I said, I don't believe that I will die, but unfortunately I'm not able to be completely delusional in this regard. The flying is a problem because as immortal as I'd like to believe I am, I think that if I were to drop from 35,000 feet in the air I would hit the ground as hard as anyone else. Maybe a little harder, because after all, I'm Phil.

So, here I sit in the airport as I type this, preparing to board my flight. My goal is to blog at the next airport in about 3 hours and then upon my arrival at my final destination. (yes, the choice of the phrase 'final destination' was not a coincidence) If you see no further posts after this, then you and I will know that it's definitely not a good idea to tempt fate like this. Or at least not a good idea to blog about fate. I hope the Charlotte airport has wifi access and I hope Fate has a sense of humor...

Hi. My Name is Phil and...

I'm a cell phone person. They say the first step is admitting it. My long time blog friends who have read my ongoing series of rants against "cell phone people" will appreciate the irony here. For those of you new to the show, I have long railed against the idiocy of "cell phone people." Those inconsiderate morons who speak loudly and indiscretely into their cell phones no matter where they are. Those people who think they're so important they need the Bluetooth affixed to their head 24/7. Those people who have tendinitis in their thumbs from texting. The ring tone losers who are constantly asking you to listen to their new ring tone which they update every two days. All these people deserve their own special level in hell. That has been my position on cell phones in a nutshell.

Fast forward to now. I just started a new job. They issued me a cell phone which I must have on from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm every work day. So because of this, I broke down and bought a holster for my work phone so it didn't look like I have a tumor in my pocket, or something else. I will also have to drive around quite a bit for my new job, so I bought one of those ear pieces so I can talk on the phone while driving. So now, I spend every day walking around with two cell phones and a PDA on me and I have that stupid earpiece in whenever I'm in my car. I feel ridiculous. I don't think the astronauts have this much technology on them when they go for a spacewalk. Also because I drive around a lot I bought a GPS device for directions. I'm sure I'm getting some sort of tumors already from all the radio signals and beams of electricity criss-crossing my body. I love the new job, but I hate being a cell phone person.

Mental Dental Hygiene

Ok, because of my new job I had to spend the last two weeks of August staying in a hotel in Richmond, VA with a roommate. I lucked out. My roommate was a very nice guy. In fact, he was a great roommate. No bad habits except for snoring, but he couldn't control that. In fact he was a very neat, clean person. Not a slob at all even though we were living in a hotel room. After a couple days sharing a room with this guy I notice that a box of dental floss has fallen on the floor behind the toilet. It's not my dental floss, but I'm not sure if it's his, so I leave it there for him and the housekeeping staff to sort out. Also, who wants to touch something that's on the floor behind the toilet in a hotel?

A day passes and the floss is still laying there behind the toilet. Another day, still there. Another day and another day and still no one has picked up the dental floss. Don't worry, I'm not tempted to either. Finally after about five days I see that my roommate has picked up the dental floss and placed it among his other toiletries on the sink where it remained for the rest of our two weeks. Am I wrong, or is it completely disgusting to use floss from a box that has laid on the floor behind a toilet for several days? You might as well dip your floss in the urine filled toilet and use it as far as I'm concerned. Who here would have used it?

Who Let The Dogs Out?

So I get sent to Richmond, Virginia for a two week training to prepare me for my new job. I've been here since the 19th. This morning I walked out of my hotel room and right into the middle of biggest news story of the day. I went down to the second floor where we have breakfast and start our training at 8 a.m. As I get down there another employee says, "Did you hear the rumor that Michael Vick is staying here? It's probably just an urban myth." I agreed, although I'm in a fairly nice hotel only three blocks from the Richmond courthouse.

At 9:30 I during a break in training I went up to my room to get something. As I camme out of my room an older gentleman in a suit exited the elevator in front of me and opened the door of the room next to mine. As he did so I heard the voice of an African-American man before the door closed. I went downstairs only to return a few minutes later after the wheels in my head started to turn. As I returned three men in suits exited the room next to mine and headed towards the elevator and I overheard one say, "Court should take about an hour." After this I observe a hotel employee talking on a walkie-talkie, using the phrase "Room____ is a VIP room for today." Now the light bulb went on over my head! I went downstairs and went back to my training.

About two hours later we got another break and as I exited the conference room a steady stream of men with cameras and microphones began to stream past towards the conference room across the hall from mine. So I got into the line. It was the Michael Vick press conference. As I walked to the line filing into the press conference I passed George Thorogood, the singer, talking to one of my co-workers. He was as curious as the rest of us. In addition to the press, spectators began to file into the hotel lobby. Some had religious shirts encouraging Michael Vick to repent. A family with young children came in carrying signs saying "We Love you" A co-worker of mine began to almost shout at the children, "You love him? How can you say that? He hung dogs!"

So me, Michael Vick, George Thorogood, and hordes of media were all here today. Needless to say, I had to answer a lot of questions about my blog.

An Unusual Post From Me

This post is unusual because I don't really have anything to say, but I just felt like rambling. I may be posting more often (hey, this is the third time in a month). I recently started a great new job and I'm in Richmond, VA for two weeks of training right now. The new job has markedly improved my mood and that might result in a little more regular posting, but I don't know if I'll ever be back to how I was before I tailed off about 6 months ago. Oh sure, I'll still make fun of stuff, but I don't know if I'll put the time and effort into my posts that I used to. Anyway, I just want to thank all of you that still stop by even when I post infrequently. Your comments always make me laugh my ass off.

Keep Your Feet on the Ground

Ok, it's official. I'm tired of hearing about how the Space Shuttle has a nick in it and everyone's concerned that it will explode upon re-entry. Yes, of course I'm concerned for the safety of the astronauts up there, but...the stress on them and everyone else could be prevented.

Let's say you have a car that you drive to and from work every day. If there was a chance that every time a little stone nicked it on your way to work your car might explode on your way home, wouldn't you get a new car? Also, if the outside of your car was made of some material that was injured by foam or ice, wouldn't you decide to have your next car made of a much more sturdy material?

The bottom line is that NASA needs to make some new shuttles. Then again, why the hell do we even need to be in outerspace? What can we possibly learn up there that is of use here? Sure, it's kind of cool to go to the moon and the space station, but really, can anyone think of anything that is useful in our daily lives that has resulted from a trip to outerspace? Essentialy NASA is a bunch of guys who like cool gadgets and are probably sitting around their offices saying, "Man, can you believe the goverment keeps giving us money? Sure, we brought back some cool rocks and pictures, but I do that every time I go to the beach too. I can't believe they didn't shut us down years ago!"

The Clown Whisperer

Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I'd suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn't certain he'd ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs as he walked away. Just nothing. He was...gone.

Later in the day I was driving home from running some errands and as I stopped at a traffic light I looked at the car turning left, crossing the intersection in front of me. What I saw looking back at me was unbelieveable. Two clowns in a car. Yep, only two. But they were clowns in full makeup looking at me as they passed. "WTF," I thought. And then they were gone, just like the other one.

Why? Why are all these clowns showing up? What is the meaning? Why are they following me? As far as omens go, this can't be a good one. Randomly seeing three clowns in one day with no circus or parade going on? That is effing weird.

Speaking of seeing clowns, I'm going to see a couple tonight as I head to Syracuse for my annual get together with The Golden Boys.

Hillary Clinton Is In Town Today

Yes, that's right. If you're keeping score at home, that's the second Clinton sighting in my town in the past three weeks. I think she's got a thing for me, but it may be time for a restraining order. Too bad it's not Condoleeza Rice. Now there's a piece of political eye candy. Anyway, I'd like to give a big shout out to my friends at the F.B.I., Secret Service, and Homeland Security Dept. who I know are checking the internet and blogs for any possible mention of a threat to Hillary. Just so you guys know, I'm going to be in Penfield today and won't be at my regular work location. Feel free to stop by the house though, I left the A/C on for you. I didn't leave a key. I know you know how to get in.

Strange But True

I just read this from a reputable news source: The father of JonBenet Ramsey is dating the mother of Natalee Holloway. Yes, that's right. I'm not kidding for a change. Here is what my reaction sounds like in my head: "What?!!? Are you freakin' kidding me? I'm not sure why, but this seems incredibly wrong and twisted in some way that I can't define. What the hell is wrong with these two people? They're not even from the same neighborhood! How do they hook up? It's not like they ran into each other at the P.T.A. meeting. They had to go looking for each other. Did they find each other through E-harmony? Was personality variable number 29, "Was your child kidnapped or killed?" Is it just me, or does anyone, everyone else find this to be possibly the most bizarre thing maybe ever?

Janie's Got A Gun

Ok, it wasn't Janie, but it was a strange man who walked right through the front yard of my cottage carrying a rifle. Yup, calm as you please he walked right by my window with a gun while I was eating dinner. I thought he might be the guy from two cottages down, but I wasn't sure. He and his companion were headed that way. So of course I put down my fork (I should have kept it, at least I'd have had some kind of weapon) and did I do what any right thinking person with common sense would do? Did I call the police to report that there was a man with a gun walking around? No, of course not. If I did that I wouldn't be me! I put down my fork and walked right out my door to follow him and ask what he was doing walking around brandishing a weapon when I have children that play outside here.

So I caught up to him and confronted him with exactly that question. Needless to say, I felt naked without my fork.

For Those of You Keeping Score...

Former President Bill Clinton is in my town today, and you know what that means! Yup, the Secret Service and F.B.I. will again be checking in on their favorite blogger.

"Where have you been? What were you doing?"

In a recent comment someone posed this question to me. While I was almost completely gone for three months, what was I doing? The one fellow blogger who was kind enough to e-mail to ask about my whereabouts, (yes, my one eyebrow is raised at the rest of you) hoped that I had been kidnapped by pirates because “pirates are cool.” Were it so simple as being kidnapped by the Dread Pirate Roberts I’d certainly be much happier with the events of the past 4 months and their effect upon my psyche. In a recent comment another blogger wondered if I’d actually been undercover as a spy. The truth itself lies somewhere in between those two possibilities and a little to the left. I’ve wrestled with my conscience about whether to tell the tale and what consequences the telling might have. Consequences that might affect me and several others. Being a writer, or at least dreaming that I might someday be one, I can’t resist the urge to tell a story that I hardly believe myself. As they used to say in the introduction to the old Dragnet show, (which I only watched in syndication as a very young child because I’m definitely not old enough to have seen the first time around) the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will also blur some of the details a bit to protect, as they say, my own ass.