EDITOR’S NOTE: Please check out the SoSH Auction. We raised $63,000 last year and considering the state of the economy, hope to come close to that again this year. If anyone has anything they would like to donate, please let me know.

One of the coolest parts of my trip was experiencing jetBlue and Virgin America Airlines for the first time.  The great thing about both of these airlines is that they have little TVs in front of each seat.  These things were amazing and made a 5-6 hour flight literally fly by (pun intended).  They had like 30 TV stations and different movies you could watch.  Virgin America even had WiFi onboard and through the iPhone I was able to email and surf the web in flight.

Since I’m a nosy Nelson, one thing I did was look around to see what other people were watching.  It was funny to match a person’s physical appearance with what they were watching.  I felt like a mini-Neilsen rating air marshal.  I also wanted to make sure there wasn’t something better on that I was missing.  On my flight home, this proved to be a bad idea.

The guy next to me seemed like a nice enough guy.  I dropped my typical “going or leaving home” airline opener and we had a nice conversation.  He was about 25 years old and from California, but flying out to Boston to help a friend drive cross country.  The flight went along fine until he decided to start watching the Hannah Montana movie.  At this point, I became worried.

Why worried, you ask?

It’s the renaissance of the Michael Jackson era.  Who knows?  He could have been a diddler or something.  I was in the window seat and he obstructed my escape path in case of incident.  What if the plane was going down, but he didn’t want to leave his seat because it was a critical point in the Hannah Montana tale?  What if he was a huge closet Hanna Montana fan and went to all her concerts?

All I really knew is that I felt really uncomfortable.  The capper was when the stewardess, I mean flight attendant, was walking by.  She actually stopped, did a double take and asked the guy what he was watching.  I wrote on Twitter about it and my cousin Erwin responded saying that it was grounds for an emergency landing.  His thought got me a little worried because the last thing I needed was a stop in Des Moines.

As we were getting off the plane, I apologized to the flight attendant on behalf of all men for the Miley Cyrus guy.  She let out a big laugh and said it was no problem.  Little did I know that he was waiting for me in the jetway.  He just said it was nice flying with you, but I knew he stopped and heard what I said.  Next time, I need to watch my mouth.

And yes, I realize the irony of this entry coming from a dude with a dog named Miley.

*headdesk*

Dear Readers:

Happy July and Happy Canada Day to our Canadian brothers and sisters!

Due to a confluence of airline flight suck (which I will explain in greater detail tomorrow), the epic vacation of 2009 continues.  When I got laid off, my friend Marlene told me to use this as an opportunity to do things I never would have done otherwise.  I am certainly taking her advice to heart. I have never been on a vacation this long in my entire life.

Presently, I am writing to you from an undisclosed hotel casino on the Las Vegas strip.  I decided to take the lemons that United Airlines served up and turn them into lemonade.  I did this by heading back to Vegas to kill some time until I can get back to Titletown/Pleasantville.  I consoled myself tonight by watching the Sox in a bar while listening to bad karaoke (is there anything funnier, btw?).  I plan to return tomorrow night to perform my trademark version of “Ring of Fire.” It will surely bring the house down and rock/change Las Vegas forever.

As an aside, (per Amalie Benjamin on Twitter), the last time Red Sox lost a game in which they were up by 9 was 6/4/89 (Crazy, huh Phil?) when they lost a game they led 10-0 vs. Toronto.  Last night, Mr. Baseball was in attendance with the lovely Mrs. Baseball.  I completely and totally blame this epitome of “epic suck” on them.  (insert smiley face here)

A lot of you have been asking about the house.  I have had about 17 appointments/visits and one lowball offer.  I think this is really encouraging especially considering the monsoon that has hit New England.  It is also encouraging considering that my only open house was on Father’s Day.  I remain committed to selling the house and even found a neighborhood I’d like to live in while I was in San Francisco.  It is called the Mission District.

Also, my realtor (who is the greatest realtor in the world, by the way) has been checking in on the house, getting my mail, etc.  Neighbors have been messaging me on facebook also keeping an eye out on the house.  I have some really great neighbors and am really going to miss them when I’m gone.  It also helps that I took everything of real value and moved it out of the house, in anticipation of the long vacation.

The only really bad part has been leaving Miley behind for 2.5 weeks.  I called the kennel today, and the woman was actually happy that Miley is staying a few more days.  They absolutely love Miley there.  She has been well behaved and apparently, Miley has become best friends with a lab pup that is also being held at the kennel.

It is amazing how much I miss that dog, especially considering that I only got her in March.  The two things I miss the most are my bed and the dog.  I really don’t miss Boston all that much.  I think this does bode well if (when?) I decide to move.

As I was driving back to Vegas today, I heard on the radio that Michael Jackson’s body will be on display at Neverland Ranch in Santa Barbara on Friday.  This link confirms it (sort of).

From that link:

Meanwhile Tom Barrack, chief executive of Colony Capital Llc, the private equity firm that co-owns Neverland, issued an open letter to the people of Santa Barbara County asking them to prepare for “a global drama of epic proportion.”

I am thinking about heading to Santa Barbara to be in attendance for this once-in-a-lifetime event.  Admittedly, my motivations would be less than sincere.  I love MJ’s music and all, but I’d be lying if I said the main reason I want to go wasn’t the comedic potential of attending said event.  It certainly qualifies as the mother of all wakes.

Picture this: Me, with a Lloyd Dobler/Say Anything-esque boombox over my head, blasting MJ tunes, surrounded arm-in-arm with fellow mourners.  Think of the funny pictures I could take and the blog entry that would follow.

There will be tons of signs, silly outfits, sparkly gloves and crazy people.  It would be the Woodstock of death.  My goal would be to get my picture taken with as many mourners as possible.  This would more than make up for my falconry debacle at Phil’s wedding.

What do you think?  Should I make an attempt to attend this once-in-a-lifetime, “Super Bowl of Wakes?”  It truly would be the perfect way to cap off the whirlwind west coast tour I’ve been on.  I’m looking for honest feedback in the form of comments here.

I will ponder this question over the next few days, but until then…

Off to the blackjack tables!

Mike

PS – I promise to bring the sun back to New England upon my return. 

EDITOR’S NOTE: Sorry for the bad pic. I was trying not to get busted while taking it.

That is the question.

I don’t know what it is like where you live, but I couldn’t be happier that town election season ends on Saturday. Every time I drive through the center of town, I am subject to faux waves from supporters of the various candidates holding signs. To avoid them, I’ve literally taken a longer route during times when I knew they would be out. Sometimes no matter when you do, you have to face them. I have an uncanny knack for getting caught at stoplights in front of these people. I am like a political sign holding stranger magnet. Frankly, it sucks.

To be honest, I’ve stressed out over trying to figure out how react to these people. First, I just ignored them. I looked straight ahead and just pretended that they weren’t there. This worked for a while, but then I started to feel badly about it. These people are volunteers out there supporting probably a friend or relative. They volunteered their time because they actually give a damn and care about the welfare of the town (or they were guilted into it by their spouses).

Next, I tried returning the waves to the various sign holders. I’m a big waver and like to wave at people. It’s fun. It spreads joy. This also worked for a while, but then I felt like I was patronizing them. After all, I (usually) didn’t know them or the candidate they were supporting nor his/her policies. Also, if I waved to one of them, how could I go and wave to someone holding a sign of that person’s direct opposition? Would I have to start directing my waves only to the people I was supporting in the election? I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t do this, right?

Lastly, I struggled with the level of intensity of my return waves. Do I just smile or do I give a moderate wave or do I go big with a smile and even a waving hand out the window? I finally reasoned that I should match the level of intensity that the person gives me. If they go all out with a smile and wave, I should return the favor. If they go small or ignore me, I do the same back.

After all my thought and worry over this, I finally found a solution. I was cruising Facestalk, I mean Facebook, and came across a picture of the perfect look and perfect facial expression to give the sign holders.

A good rule for everything in life: When in doubt, do what Tom Brady does.

Now, this is the face I give:

And it works just fine.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Rutherford Ranch Cab Sauv, oh how I love thee.

I hate grocery shopping.

I probably would rather be anywhere on Earth than in a grocery store. I feel like it’s a big waste of time. I don’t know where anything is and I’m less than skilled in the culinary arts. Grocery stores are literal (ok, figurative) kryptonite to the brilliantly sublime aura that radiates off of me everywhere I go…. except grocery stores. This B.S. aura is something I take pride in and something that is rooted into the very depths of my soul.  Furthermore, it makes up the very essence of me.

I’d like to think of myself as an outgoing, fun-loving Earth citizen who watches and embraces the world around him with wonder. When placed in the modern-day cornucopia of unprepared foods otherwise known as a grocery store, I become just the opposite. I become a lost, shy, introverted, disgrace of a human being who becomes miserable at the thought of trying to find bacon in the dairy section. When I see people I know in a grocery store, I’ll turn and walk the other way. Anywhere else, I’m tripping over whatever is in my way just to say hello.

A few weeks ago, I ran into someone I was supposed to know (my 36 year old memory has begun to betray me) and did everything but hide under the produce rack to avoid her glance. Still, I was spotted and was subject to that oh so hollow greeting that grocerial (I’m running with this) acquaintances are required to exchange. I still don’t know who the hell it was. If you’ve seen me in a grocery store and I didn’t say hello, know that it wasn’t a slight, but a direct result of the mind-altering effects grocery stores have on me.

Last night, I stopped into my local Shaw’s to grab some dinner and snacks for the “Lost” premiere. Shaw’s is probably the most expensive grocery store in Pleasantville, but it is on the way home – so it is where I end up most of the time. For me, convenience always trumps sanity when it comes to grocery shopping. I justify this by the bright orange Shaw’s rewards card that sits in my wallet like a scarlet letter of shame. The shame it represents is my complete lack of interest and skill at grocery shopping.

I found a parking spot and as I pull in, a song on the radio I like comes on. Of course, I can’t enter the grocery without listening to the song. I avoid looking like a complete grocerial stalker to the person in the next car waiting, by pretending to play with my iPhone. The irony here is that I put on this charade for a person who looks like a grocerial stalker himself; as he was waiting alone in a running parked car. (As you can see, the kryptonite-esque effect of a grocery store takes effect before I even enter.) The song ends and I walk into my personal house of horrors only to realize that I parked in a handicapped spot. The markings on the pavement were obscured by the slush and the sand used to clear the lot. I pretend not to see it thinking to myself that I’ll only be a minute.

Of course, I wasn’t only a minute. I enter the godforsaken place without a clue of what I want. Even if I knew what I was going to buy, I wouldn’t have any idea where I could find it. I immediately make a bee-line for the newspaper stand to look for the “Inaugural Edition” of the Boston Globe. After seeing the $2.00 price tag (for a total of four pages), I realize that even if I bought it, I would never read it anyways. I wish I knew it was $.50 per page before I unsuccessfully looked for it in four places on Tuesday night. It would have saved me some time.

I head towards the frozen foods section and I again see someone I think I should know. She smiles but I make a quick turn up the aisle to avoid contact. We run into each other again, she smiles again and asks if my name is Mike. Surprised, I tell her it is and she tells me she’s the wife of a guy I went to high school with. She recognized me because my picture/profile comes up on her “People You May Know” area on Facebook. Still reeling from this most unlikely of ways to meet, we exchange pleasantries about the weather and other menial topics that two complete strangers fill awkward conversation time with. She was very nice and pleasant, and I assured her I’d “friend” her to get off the “People You May Know” list.

Just an aside here, I have blogged about and often think about the effects of Web 2.0. We’re out there in ways we never thought of. Just a few years ago, I would have completely ridiculed the idea of meeting someone just because were indirectly connected via a social website. We still don’t completely understand the full ramifications of Web 2.0, but I digress…

It takes me way longer than it should to pick up a bunch of random, easy-to-make items and run into my neighbor Tim. Again, I exchange those same pleasantries about the weather and about how we both paid the same neighborhood kids to shovel our driveways.  We bemoaned the fact that we to had to do it again ourselves in the morning. I hold my basket behind me as we talk, shielding the poor grocerial choices I made and this is a direct result of my supermarket insecurities.

I run into Tim again at the automated registers. I always use them whenever I can. I like to have as little human interaction as possible while I gather up my items. I’m like a ritualistic hunter in that regard. I don’t need some Shaw’s employee judging my lack of bargain hunting skills and/or the nutritional content of my haul. As Tim makes a joke about not hiding stuff in my pockets, and I mistakenly hit the “Espanol” button on the automated cashier. He probably thinks I’m bilingual now.

I pay for my purchases and leave as quickly as possible so I can remove kryptonite’s grip. It takes one last swipe as me as I slip on the ice near my car.

It was a fitting ending to yet another unsuccessful grocerial episode.

BIRTHDAY MONTH ALERT: Happy Birthday Chuck Neary!

Before you even go there: Yes, I should be buying a good set of snow tires and/or some sandbags for the trunk instead of iPhones and new HD televisions.  They aren’t as fun, though.

With that out of the way, let me begin. Let’s kick me down a notch during from all this birthday celebrating, shall we?

My car is absolutely terrible in the snow. I’m one of the few idiots that drive a rear-wheel drive car in New England. I know this and say it every winter.

That is the question.

Sitting on Route 128, broken down in the breakdown lane, many thoughts can go through one’s head:

How long will I have to wait for the tow truck? Is this safe? Is the $63 I just invested in AAA going to be worth it? Is a cop going to show up? Is “Secret Millionare” on Fox going to be a good show?

For me, the thought was:

Should I finally bite the bullet and get HD?

It seems like I am one of the few remaining souls that doesn’t have HD. I’ve heard the testimonials (“life changer,” how much people love it, etc.) and I’ve seen the difference. It’s there, I will admit it. While deeply and longingly staring into Michele and Sanjiv’s multiple flatscreens over Thanksgiving, the HD bug hit me for the first time. The Black Friday madness was also fuel on the “I need HD” fire.

Easy fix, right?

Not so fast. I have an HD dilemma. It’s not the cost; HDTVs are pretty reasonable these days. A few weeks ago, I wrote about my love for NFL Sunday Ticket. Even though I am at most of the Patriots games, it is still worth it. I love being able to watch any NFL game, as NFLST provides. After closing on my house, the first thing I bought was a satellite setup.

Here’s the problem: NFL Sunday Ticket is only offered from DirecTV. Although DirecTV offers HD, I can’t get it. The trees behind my house are too tall for me to pickup the HD signal (it is too low in the sky). There are some other reasons to remain status quo. “Friday Night Lights” is only offered on DirecTV. Also, I love my TiVo box. As anyone who has TiVO can attest, it is better than having a regular DVR.

So, it is a new life with HD or my old life with Minka, unlimited access to NFL games, and my TiVO box. In the grand scheme of a faltering economy and uncertain times, this is a conundrum of epic proportions.

Quick back story: I did break down on the way home from work Tuesday night. I did sign up for AAA and got my car towed to my local garage. As an aside, I always miss my car when it is in the shop. I am always so happy to see it when I pick it up. But, I digress. Everything is fine. My car got fixed today, but my dilemma remains.

Stay tuned. Getting HD might be my new year’s resolution.

Happy Bastille Day, everyone!

Sorry about yesterday’s entry.

I reveal a lot on here, but I needed to write that one for me. I’ll try not to let that happen again. As an olive branch to my faithful readers, if things fall the way I want, I’ll do this dance. The guy in this youtube is Carlos Tevez, stud Argentinian footballer from the championship football club, Manchester United.

From the movie, When Harry Met Sally:

Harry: You realize of course that we can never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I’m saying is… and this is not a come-on in
any way, shape or form, is that men and women can’t be friends
because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That’s not true, I have a number of men friends and
there’s is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don’t.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You’re saying I’m having sex with these men without
my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I’m saying is they all want to have sex
with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman he finds
attractive, he always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you’re saying that a man can be friends with a
woman he finds unattractive.
Harry: Nuh, you pretty much wanna nail’em too.
Sally: What if they don’t want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn’t matter, because the sex thing is already
out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end
of the story.
Sally: Well I guess we’re not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.

The When Harry Met Sally condunrum is one of my favorite subjects. It is so interesting to me. Can women and men be friends? Before trying to tackle this one, I fully acknowledge that every situation has variables that makes each situation different. This is probably not a topic you can’t accurately talk about in general terms and is probably best discussed on a case-by-case basis.

With that said, let’s talk in some general terms, shall we?

I think this question has a yes/no answer. At the beginning of a guy/girl friendship, Harry’s feelings definitely come into play. If they are of similar age, there is no way that the thought cannot cross one or both of the pair’s minds. It’s just human nature. If a guy and a girl hang out as friends, the WHMSC usually becomes an unspoken factor in the relationship. There is no wrong or right here.

There are certain motivations to guy/girl friendships. The first is a genuine friendship. There is absolutely no doubt that this happens. Sexual motivations aside, there are some guys who just get along better with girls and vice versa. People connect for all types of different reasons. Sometimes these connections can cross gender lines.

Sometimes this same “sexual tension” in a dual gender friendship can be a very, very good thing. Sometimes people start out as friends and end up in a romantic relationship. What better way for two people to get to know each other than starting out as friends first? In my opinion, the is the very best thing that can come of the WHMSC. I think this outcome is so Tevez.

Another scenario is the “in case of emergency” break glass theory. One friend may be keeping the other around for “what if” insurance. While dubious, one friend may serve as a security blanket for the other (consciously or unconsciously). You just never know.

Another interesting one is when one of the participants has a significant other. In that case, the participant with the SO may find something in their “friend” that they lack in their current relationship. I think this one is the most dangerous of all. How does the S.O. of the person with the alternate gender friend react? Does the participant without the S.O. feel uncomfortable in any way? Something I’ve heard for this one is that sometimes, the gender violater can tell the non-SO friend things that he/she can’t even tell their own SO. Again, it’s a case by case basis.

I think ultimately, Harry and Sally are both right. Sally’s opinion can even win out in the end. Men and women can be friends. This is not to say that Harry’s point of view isn’t a legitimate factor and concern within the scope of the friendship. Again, the answer lies in the details.

In the end, the strength of the relationship will always outweigh the number of Y chromosomes in it. This is all that really matters.

And that’s the truth.

EDITOR’S NOTE: I added some new links on the right hand side of the page. Be sure to check them out.

“I’m George. George McFly. I’m your density. I mean, your destiny.”

Back to the Future

In the movie, Back to the Future, Doc Brown creates a time machine out of a DeLorean. When Marty McFly travels back in time to 1955, Doc is careful to make sure he doesn’t disrupt the “space/time continuum” by interacting with people before he travels back to 1985. When I saw this movie back in 1985, I always wondered why it mattered. Aren’t things always going to play out the same way no matter what you do?

Back in college, there was a guy in my dorm suite named Jerry. In the midst of a deep (possibly chemically-influenced), late-night conversation, Jerry revealed to me his theory on energy and people in your life. As we all know, people fall in and out of your life. Jerry’s theory was that everyone in your life was represented by a certain energy that surrounds you. When people fall out of your life, that same energy is re-allocated to new people you meet or interact with.

I mention Jerry’s energy theory because I often wonder if meeting people is destiny or blind luck. One of my closest friends is a guy named Kevin. Kevin is from (what I call) a small town named Paris, IL. When I drive up Illinois State Route 1 up to Paris to visit, I am always very excited. I’m not only excited about getting to see a dear friend, but when I go to Paris, it is like I’m being transported back in time myself. It’s not to say Paris isn’t modern or anything, it is just the silly perception I like to put on it.

When I met Kevin, I was a cocky, know-it-all, smart-as*ed, “not-as-funny-he-thinks-he-is” kid from the Northeast (wait, nothing’s changed). He was a dude from middle-of-nowhere rural Illinois. Kevin and I couldn’t have been more different. Out of all the people I met in college, Kevin was the one I got closest to and remain closest to today.

I call(ed) him the “All-American Boy” because he never cursed and he epitomized what I think of when I think of that term. Kevin literally is the All-American boy (well, man now). If I ever have a son, I would want him to grow up to be just like Kevin. If I ever have a daughter, I would want her to marry someone just like Kevin. He’s smart, funny, athletic, and has a unique aura about him. He’s a walking, talking, living, and breathing John Cougar Mellencamp video. It goes without saying that the A.A.B. is a fan of America’s team, the Dallas Cowboys.

One day, at the beginning of the school year, my roommate Seaner and I were playing video games. Kevin walks in the room, asks if he can join us, and takes a seat. If I had a chance to go back in time in Doc Brown’s DeLorean, that day sixteen years ago would be one of my first stops. I have learned many things from my years of knowing “The Prince of Edgar County.” The most important lesson I learned from him is that it doesn’t matter where you are from; Good people are anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes, you’ll find them where you least expect it: even a faraway place (to me) like Paris, IL.

Was it fate that made Kevin come in, uninvited? Were we destined to meet? What if either of us went to a different school? What if he decided to go into another dorm room? My life changed for the better that day, and I’m glad/lucky Kevin entered the room and into my life forever.

The two things I remember most from the Back to the Future trilogy are:

1) Elisabeth Shue is a smoke show of the highest order.

2) During Back to the Future Part III, writer/director Robert Zemeckis reveals his theory on the fate/destiny question. In the one of the last scenes in the movie, before Doc Brown and Marty part ways for the last time, Doc offers this morsel of time travel goodness:

“Your future hasn’t been written yet. No one’s has. Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one.”

Why do things happen the way they do? Do we have any control or are we destined to (insert your fate here)? The fate/destiny question is one that has baffled people for ages and I’m not really sure it can be answered. All I really know is that if you live a good life, and treat people well, good things will happen to you.

And that’s the truth.