They say that these are not the best of times
But they’re the only time I’ve ever known

Billy Joel, “Summer, Highland Falls”

Everyone has a particular musical artist that they connect with. For me, it is Billy Joel. The “Piano Man” might not be the best singer or most dynamic stage presence, but his music has always been a part of my life. If I were to build a soundtrack to my life, his songs would make up the vast majority of the playlist. I often write with BJ playing in the background.

I can always find someone
To say they sympathize
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve
But I don’t want some pretty face
To tell me pretty lies
All I want is someone to believe

(Honesty)

Friday, I realized that Billy had only three shows remaining on his ten show stop at Mohegan Sun (the closest stop to Paradise City during this tour). I also noticed that I couldn’t make the last two shows because I am headed out of town for the July 4^th weekend. Realizing that this might be the last chance to see the old man, I decided I had to go (even though I had plans already to watch the Manny Pacquiao fight). After a couple of clicks on craigslist, I was on my way to the Nutmeg state.

Before the concert, I had a little time to kill so I decided to play some Texas Hold ‘Em. Texas Hold ‘Em is pretty much the only game I’ll play in a casino. The Mohegan doesn’t have traditional poker, but an electronic setup where there are no real cards and people sit around a video poker table. When Z told me to check it out, I was skeptical. Could table video poker be as fun as the real deal?

It was. I bought in with a quick hundred and quickly raised my bankroll to about $250. I was feeling good. As with most poker stories, the worm turned. I was sitting with Q-10 suited and when the flop fell, I had high pair. I strongly bet the high pair and most of the rest of the table folded. A ten came up on the river and after I bet, the only remaining guy pushed me all in. I didn’t put him on anything so I called him. Flipping over his 6-8 offsuit revealed that he caught a straight on the river. He cleaned me out. Afterwards, he admitted that he shouldn’t have played those cards (yeah, thanks Daniel Negreanu). Ahhh, the joys of poker. The guy plays a junk hand and forces me out with a lucky catch. This annoyed me more than I should have, all the way up until the start of the concert.

And I’ve been searching for something
Taken out of my soul
Something I would never lose
Something somebody stole

(River of Dreams)

Killing time before the show, I taught myself how to use the ISO setting on my digital camera. I never was able to take good pictures in dark places. I was also thinking of all the times Billy Joel songs were playing during memorable times of my life (quite often) when I got a text from my buddy Kevin (a.k.a. The Prince of Edgar County) asking what was up to. After I told him, he responded with:

“You never stop, do you? How many times have you seen him?”

It was about my tenth time. I have seen Billy in the Boston Garden, the TD Banknorth Jungle, the Hoosier Dome, St. John Arena, and the Horseshoe (a.k.a. Ohio Stadium) and I can honesly say that last night, he sounded as good as ever. Even at 59 years of age, he hasn’t lost a step; The old man still has it. As he has been doing lately, he opened with my favorite song:

I believe I’ve passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage
I found that just surviving was a noble fight
I once believed in causes too
I had my pointless point of view
And life went on no matter who was wrong or right

(Angry Young Man)

I ended up sitting next to a very cool guy named Jack at the concert. “Captain Jack” was at the show with his family and they had a great time. The most interesting thing that Jack told me was that his 15 year-old daughter was a huge Billy Joel fan. I thought people who liked BJ were only old people and renaissance people ahead of their time, like myself (smirk). His daughter rocked out to every song. She represented the vast age range of the people at the show last night. As I looked over at her singing along with every lyric, behind her sat some elderly people rocking along as well. “The Entertainer” appeals to all ages.

And so my child and I came to this place
To meet him eye to eye and face to face
He made my daughter laugh, then we embraced
We never knew what friends we had
Until we came to Leningrad

(Leningrad)

Billy rocked the house. His skills with the ebony and ivory have not deteriorated and he still jumps around that stage with a child-like vigor. It is always amusing to me how a kid from Boston could be so in love with a guy from the Bronx’s music. Even though I really can’t stand New York City, BJ always has me singing along in a “New York State of Mind.”

They held a concert out in Brooklyn
To watch the island bridges blow
They turned our power down
And drove us underground
But we went right on with the show

(Miami 2017 – Seen the lights go out on Broadway)

Many of Billy’s songs resonate with me on the deepest of levels. It seems like whenever I’m at a critical/memorable moment in my life, Billy’s music is there. Almost everyone that truly matters to me has a song that makes me think of them. Most of those songs are Billy Joel songs.

She will promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she’ll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you’re bleedin’
But she’ll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she’s always a woman to me

(She’s Always a Woman)

After the “Piano Man” singalong/lovefest/final number and the concert ended, I bolted for my car. 4-time boxing champ Manny Pacquiao (a.k.a. the Pride of the Philippines) was fighting last night and my brother and a bunch of my friends ordered the fight. I asked John to watch it at my house so I could get the fight on my TiVo (here is a youtube of the champ with the NBA champs last night after the fight).

I drove like a madman up 395 to try and make it back for the fight. I probably pushed it more than I should have, because I got a flat tire. Admittedly, I was trying to do too much in one night (Note to self: enough with the breakdown lane passing on the right – The road just isn’t as clear there). As I was changing my tire by the lights of the passing cars, it began to rain. Normally, this would have been cause for great annoyance, but I was in such a state of Joel-euphoria that I just laughed. I also thought of the quote Billy ends each of his concerts with:

“Don’t take any sh*t from anybody.”

Well, Bill. I don’t. I do, however, apparently take sh*t from mother nature and debris in breakdown lanes.

I don’t need you to worry for me cause I’m alright
I don’t want you to tell me it’s time to come home
I don’t care what you say anymore, this is my life
Go ahead with your own life and leave me alone

(My Life)

After I changed the tire, I realized that Billy Joel is the living equivalent of that 6-8 off-suit hand. Initially you look at him and don’t think he’s anything special, but when it matters he’s a winner. His music is loved by young and old and will continue to line the soundtrack to my story.

And that’s the truth.

Sing us a song you’re the piano man
Sing us a song tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you’ve got us feeling alrighttttt

(Piano Man)

Ever since I posted it at the end of the Shaq/Kobe entry, I’ve been staring at the new Sports Illustrated cover. One thing that keeps drawing my eye is the headline at the top right of the page, “Life Without Tiger.” This is quite fitting for me because over the past 15 months or so it aptly describes my life. Tiger is my ex-dog. He’s my ex-dog because I lost him in the divorce settlement. I’m pretty sure he was the first thing my ex-wife asked for. He was definitely the most valuable asset we shared.

My ex-wife and I got Tiger from the Butler County animal shelter out in Ohio. I always like getting dogs from shelters. I figure, if you take a dog out of jail, it will love you forever. Tiger is a great dog and his passive temperament (that is a yawn above, not a snarl) is probably what got him out at the shelter. Being a mutt, whenever we took him to the vet I’d ask what kind of dog he is. I’d always get a different answer. Tiger was unidentifyable. As far as dogs go, he is Dutch just like me. I’ve never seen a dog like this.

I had wanted a dog for a while, so we decided to take a look. Out of all the dogs in the shelter that day, Tiger was the only one not barking incessantly and jumping around while we walked past the cages. When we took him for that first walk, one of the first things he did was lay down on his back and ask for a belly rub. There he was, finally getting shelter freedom (and a chance to explore the world) and all he wanted was his belly scratched. It was vintage Tiger and probably sealed the deal; but it was the look that initally hooked us. In the back of that cage, he didn’t move and just sat there while every other dog was freaking out. He had a constant “What the eff do you want” look on this face. It was that same passive look that I grew to love over the years.

Tiger was a great dog for me. He didn’t do much, just laid around all day and hardly ever barked. Like most dogs, he loved to go on walks and was even very good off the leash. My brother taught Tiger to get up on the couch and we would always laugh as we watched him do it. Tiger was the slowest couch mounter in the history of canines. Most dogs just quickly jump up on things. Tiger methodically planted each paw on the couch, one at a time. It’s as if he was carefully mounting a horse.

Tiger has one speed: slow.

Ironically enough, the name I chose for him didn’t fit. I named him after Tiger Woods, who is perhaps the most remarkable athlete of my lifetime. I am really not a fan of golf, but if Tiger Woods is within striking distance on a Sunday, I am tuning in. Tiger is a transcendent golfer and will probably end up having more impact than Mohammed Ali did for his generation. It really is amazing to watch this kid play golf; just as it was amazing to watch my ex-dog just sit there like a bump on a log for literally hours on end.

On the day the 2004 Patriots season started, Tiger sustained an injury. I took him for a walk just before the game. At the end of the walk, we were coming out of Regan Park and Tiger was off the leash (as usual). He spotted a squirrel about fifty yards ahead of us. He bolted after the squirrel and just as he made the turn from Sumpter to Olean, he came up lame. He must have sprained his paw because after that sudden turn, Tiger began to limp. I took him to the vet and the vet said he was fine and should be walking normal in around in a month or so. My ex-dog must have loved the attention he got, because he continued to limp for the next six months. We must have looked like quite the pair walking around the neighborhood during that time. Tiger literally hopped on three paws all around the block.

Speaking of the neighborhood, Tiger definitely left his mark (pun intended). He left his mark so often that one of the neighbors printed out signs and posted them all along their fence. The signs were a plea to curb your dog and also showed the local law on cleaning up after your dog. You can definitely feel the neighbor’s annoyance when reading the tone of the sign. Those signs are still up today, but I’d like believe that Tiger played a role in their existence.

There are things I definitely don’t miss about Tigerboy. I don’t miss walking him out in the cold, wind, snow, ice and rain. I must have fallen on my bum about 20 times out on the icy streets in my neighborhood. One year, my ex-dog really pissed me off. It was Christmas Eve (my favorite night of the year) and I had just returned from our annual family party. I let Tiger out the back door and was feeling daring. I let him go by himself without putting on his leash.

He proceeded to take a trek off into the woods behind my house. I chased after him and every time I got close, he would move just far enough away and look back as if to taunt me. At one point, I slipped and fell in the snow. As I laid there in the darkness, snow on my face, I wondered what I did to deserve such a cruel end to such a great night. I vowed never to let him out without the leash again. I ended up chasing Tiger the Terror around for about an hour that night. There were definitely points where I was just going to head home and let him fend for himself. I’m glad I didn’t.

Each night, I have a constant reminder of my ex-dog. Just before brushing my teeth and heading up to bed, my daily routine consists of turning off all the lights and shutting off the computer. Every time my laptop shuts down, it plays that silly Microsoft jingle. Tiger learned that hearing this sound meant that it was bedtime and when he heard it, he would proceed upstairs to my bedroom. Even today, when I shut down my computer and hear the sound, I picture him: laying there, waking up, giving me that same “what the eff do you want” look and then slowly trudging up the stairs.

I miss you, pup.

And that’s the truth.

I wasn’t planning on writing today because I was out too late at the E-Man’s annual NBA Draft Party. I am, however, going to post a quick blurb to settle some family business.

I’m using the blog today to help settle the “First Annual Boston Celtics vs Toronto Raptors NBA Overall Performance Bet” with my cousins from Toronto. This bet came about when we were all out in Las Vegas over last Columbus Day weekend. We were all sitting in Planet Hollywood talking up our respective teams and really couldn’t come to a consensus on who would have a better season. Naturally, the Canadians thought the Raptors would and the Bostonians were singing the praises of the Celtics. We decided to settle the debate in true Vegas fashion and thus, a wager was born.

The Dutch bet participants in front of the Venetian

The bet had two parts. The first part was how the teams would do head-to-head and the second part consisted of who would have a better season overall. The losers of the bet would have to purchase a jersey of the worst player on the other team and wear it in a picture for the victors to share.

The first part was settled early. The Celtics won the season series 3-1. The second part was settled much later with the Celtics winning 66 games and the Raptors winning 41 games. There have been many emails flying back and fourth and despite the Canadians’ tireless efforts to avoid payment, it will now be settled here.

In lieu of the purchasing of jerseys, the Boston contingent has agreed that the posting of the following photoshop will suffice.

Keep in mind that these are “diehard” Toronto Raptors fans who have been with the team since it was founded way back in 1995:

These poor guys now have their hopes pinned to Jermaine O’Neal’s crickety, fragile bones in next year’s edition of the bet.

Good luck with that, eh? The defending champs will be waiting.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

I have been suffering from serious Celtics withdrawal. You go from a 2-3 games a week for like seven months to nothing. I miss the old man I used to high-five on the way in, I miss the “olll” texts, calling everything “Jungle,” I miss the Jack Black guy, I miss Chris’ nasty comments about everyone, I miss the E-Man playing Phil Collins, I miss Tommy Heinsohn and I miss pretty much everything else. It’s like school is out for summer and you miss all your friends that you hung out with all year.

Thankfully, the other day, Shaquille O’Neal brought me right back into it. I’ve always loved Shaq as a player and as a person. The guy, he simply slays me. How can you not love Shaq? He’s like a big kid just jumping all around the court and all around America. It has been well-documented that Shaq and Kobe Bryant had a big feud, but supposedly it was over and done with.

Not so fast…

As a frequent free-style rapper and rap-battler myself, I took particular interest in this story. Apparently, Shaq was at some New York club and did a freestyle rap basically dissing Kobe. The (not safe for work because of language) video is here. The line Shaq repeats over and over is:

“Kobe, tell me how my a** tastes.”

Shaq claims it was all in good fun and he was kidding. Somehow, I don’t think many people are getting that impression. Now personally, I have never tasted a**, nor do I have any real desire to partake in the poo-poo place. Call me crazy, but it just doesn’t sound appetizing at all. Sorry. Just not my bag, baby.

Strangely enough, the phrase has a pleasant and soothing tone to it. It is almost comforting. Being the renaissance man that I am, I’ve been trying to work it into my daily vernacular. I really want to use it at work, but I just can’t find the right time. I certainly don’t want to drop this morsel of verbal goodness on a client. After the near-heart attack (“Sad news”) I gave to Steiny yesterday morning (he looked like he saw a ghost when I walked in), I’m definitely not going to use it on him; I’m actually going to lay off of him for a while.

I was out for lunch yesterday and picked up an Italian sub at LaCascia’s in Pleasantville. I was sure to call in my order, as I don’t do very well with waiting in lines. As I walked in and grabbed my sub, I found the perfect opportunity to rock my new catch phrase. I thought about asking the rest of the patrons waiting in line how my a** tasted. I used my better judgement and decided against it.

On my way back to the office, another opportunity arose. Out on Route 128, I successfully and accurately pulled off one of my favorite highway manuvers: the old, reliable “beat the guillotine” move. I thought of asking the driver of the car I cut off “how my a** tasted,” but just couldn’t figure out how to convey the message. Maybe I’ll get a pop-up sign installed on the car for future use.

I thought and thought and finally, I found the perfect use of the phrase.

It is for Kobe himself:

“Kobe, tell me how my a** tastes”

17! I’m still giddy.

And that’s the truth.

I’d like to post a quick bit about today’s entries. Some people saw them before I put up the disclaimer and it caused some discomfort. This was never ever my intent and to those people, I sincerely apologize.

Let me try to explain the rationale behind my thinking:

I treat the blog like a diary and when I get into that “writing zone,” I seriously forget that others will be reading it. I write like I’m the only one who is ever going to see it. I figure to do this right, I have to keep it “straight real” and not hold anything back (as you guys have surely noticed). What you get here is unfiltered, uncensored, and unadulterated me. Looking back on some of my entries, I’ve definitely winced at some of the stuff I’ve posted. Maybe that is why some of it has been good? Who knows? This is not to say that I’ve taken the best approach or tact each time. When I proofread it, I only proofread for grammatical errors, not for content. This will now change.

Also, I don’t realize the impact the blog has just yet. Today was a big lesson in understanding it. Even though I’ve been averaging about 300 non-unique page views a day, to me, it still feels like nobody is reading it. Blogging is still new to me and still very weird. When you talk to people, you get their instant reaction. When you’re writing on a blog, reactions are happening all the time and you have no idea what they are or when they happen. It’s like I’m a Jedi knight trainee with a new light saber, and I’m swinging it like a madman all over the place.

What I will not apologize for, however, is the message that I was trying to convey. Furthermore, if one person did something (or even said something to someone) that they wouldn’t have done otherwise (if not for reading today’s entries), than it was all worth it. I strongly and vehemently believe in living life to the fullest with no regrets. Again, you never know how much time you have left. Admittedly, I could have gone about it in a gentler manner. I will not dispute that at all.

It even happened to me today. Someone had a reaction that so strongly affected me, stuff I didn’t even know I had in me came out. So for me, it was a success. I’m willing to bet that I wasn’t the only one, and at the very least, made some of you think.

OK, enough of the navel-gazing. I’ll be back in the morning with some funny stuff to lighten the mood.

I hope we still can be cyber-friends.

EDITOR’S NOTE: ***THIS IS NOT REAL*** and done for effect. Sorry for the alarm and sorry for the 7am phone call that my co-worker Dan got this morning.

Hello everyone.

This is Mike’s brother John posting.

I have some sad news. Around 10pm last night, I got a call from Boston police. My brother was killed in a car accident driving home from dinner. This is a very tough time for my family (as you can imagine), please respect our privacy as we deal with this most tragic circumstance. I haven’t slept yet but am finding comfort in writing here, a place my brother loved so much.

My mother is on a plane to Boston now and we’ll be working on funeral arrangements today. When they are complete, I’ll post them here. I wrote up a rough draft of the obituary and it can be found in the post below this one. Please take a second to read it. If there is anything you think I should add, feel free to email me. My email address is john4513@hotmail.com and I’ll be checking it frequently.

Mike gave me this login to the site about three weeks ago. He said that if he were to ever die, he wanted people to find out through his blog. He said that the people that mattered most to him (and cared the most about him) were the ones that read the site now, before he made it big. As most of you know, my brother was a joker. I really didn’t think anything of it and I never really thought I’d even use the login.

On behalf of my brother, mom, and I, thanks to everyone for their support and friendship not only through the years, but during this trying time. He truly appreciated the people in his life and loved writing here. Since he started the blog, I noticed a newfound energy and spirit in him.

My brother’s favorite musician was Billy Joel. “Only The Good Die Young,” indeed. You were truly one of the good ones, brother.

R.I.P. Mike. I love you and I’ll miss you.

Always.

January 7, 1973

June 24, 2008

Now, please read part two, “Obituary.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Read the “Sad news” entry before this one.

NOT!

I’m alllliiiivveee! Alive, kicking and blogging!

Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

Gotcha. So much for Truth About Mike, eh?

Yesterday, I got an email from my friend Red. Out of the high school “fellas,” Red has commented most on the blog. He also provided a bunch of funny and creative names for the site. I emailed him something and this was his response:

“Good to see you are still alive. When I didn’t see a blog today I thought you tempted fate waaaaaay too much yesterday with “The Night I Almost Died”. How ironic it would have been had you met your maker last night? Glad it didn’t happen. Good job staying alive.”

Well Red, if I tempted fate waaaaay too much before, how do you like me now?

As an aside, the staff here at Truth About Mike is a little annoyed with the comments we’ve received regarding the lack of blog entries over the past few days. I was down the Cape over the weekend and needed to recharge the batteries. I’ve also come to the realization that I just can’t keep up the posting pace I had for the first month. I will burn myself out and furthermore, the quality will suffer.

I guess I am a victim of my own “success” and I’ve created a monster. I’m going to post as much as I can, but I promise you, I’ll never post just for the sake of posting. If you click on TAM and don’t see a new post, don’t fret. Keep checking back and one will be sure to appear before you know it (unless I perish, of course). By the way, thanks to whomever “digg”-ed my blog. I really appreciate that.

Anyhoo…

Red’s email got me thinking about death. To be honest, I probably think about when I’m going to die at least once a month. I always wonder what will happen. Will people care? How long will they be sad? How will people find out? Who will come to my funeral? What will they say over my dead body in the casket?

I was out for dinner with my friend Jen last night. I had already had an idea of what I wanted to post today, but she made a great (and timely) observation. She said (paraphrasing):

“It is always unfortunate that it isn’t until a funeral when people really say how they feel about someone.”

She also alluded to the Robert Fulghum quote I posted in one of my first entries:

“There are those who depend on us, watch us, learn from us, take from us. And we never know. Don’t sell yourself short. You may never have proof of your importance, but you are more important than you think.”

She was quite right in saying this. Most people are hesitant to tell each other how they really feel about each other. I’ve tried to make it a point to do the exact opposite. If you mean a lot to me, I’m going to tell you. Everyone already knows I’m an over-analyzing sap anyways, what’s the difference? Maybe I do this because I wonder when I’m going to die and I don’t want to miss the chance to tell someone what they mean to me.

I’m not afraid to die. If I were to die today, I could look back and honestly say that I tried to make the most out of every single day. I can honestly say that I’ve limited my regrets as much as I can. I can honestly say that when it came down to it, and the rubber met the road, I never let anything (or anyone) stop me from doing what I wanted to do. I can honestly say that I’ve seen the Patriots, Red Sox and Celtics (still can’t believe this one!) win a championship live and in person. I can honestly say that 6/24 birthday girl Minka Kelly is the hottest chick on TV today. I guess the only thing I haven’t done and really want to do is raise a kid. There’s still plenty of time on that front, right Minka?

Our mortality is my motivation. Motivation to live a good life and live life to the fullest. You never know when your jumbotron scoreboard clock will hit 0:00. Make the most of your time and never hesitate in telling someone what they mean to you. I guarantee that the vast majority of the time, you will surprise them. Tell people you love them. Tell people you’ve missed them when they haven’t been around. Never leave anything to chance or wonder. Be the bigger person and reach out to someone you haven’t spoken to for a while. Life is too short to hold grudges. Friendships are valuable, don’t let time and misunderstanding make them fade away. With courage and conviction, you can provide clarity. And as always….

People matter.

My favorite saying of all time is from the Nike (best marketing department ever) ads: “Just do it.” Whenever I hesitate on something, I think of the swoosh and push forward. Life is too short for second-guessing and/or regret.

And that’s the truth.

PS – See how I created a new “John” account above, Keri? The staff here at TAM can do the same for you and is anxiously awaiting your guest entry.

PSS – My ex-father isn’t literally dead, just dead to me. Sorry for the confusion in the “Best of times, Worst of Times” entry. The author should be more clear next time.  My apologies.

Happy one month anniversary to my blog! It’s been a long month. We’ve been through 31 posts, one NBA Championship, one name change, and a whole lot of personal revelations on this end. Thanks again to everyone for their support and for reading my (as I said in my last entry) maudlin musings. Special thanks to Mike Taylor: the newest member of the Friday lunch bunch (along with Mr. Baseball and K-Train), the man who introduced me to Twitter (the hottest new internet craze) and the author of the Taylor Effect. Mike created the new banner for the site which should be up shortly.

Over the weekend, I went to Great Island for Kid Spin’s annual Cape Extravaganza. To merely call it a party isn’t doing the weekend justice. Great Island is a private island on Cape Cod which is just south of West Yarmouth (circled on the map above). IMHO, it’s more a peninsula than an island, but Kid Spin claims with conviction that it is an island. To get on Great Island you need to go through three security gates, one of which is manned 24/7. On Great Island, there is a lighthouse and the area around this lighthouse is my second favorite spot in the Commonwealth. This weekend, I was back over at the Great Island Lighthouse (GIL) several times.

I always feel like I am cheating at life when I’m out at the GIL. Out of all the times I’ve been out at the GIL, only one time did I encounter someone I didn’t know would be there. It’s as if I’ve found my own little beautiful corner of the world where nobody can find me (remarkably there’s cell service). There, I’m surrounded by the soothing, constant crash of the sea on the shore, the distinct aroma of the ocean, the warm sun beating down, the ever-cooling wind in my face, sand tickling my toes, boats on the horizon and the gulls diving into the water for food. It’s one of the few places I’ve been where I can forget all my worries and be totally and completely content.

Much like any shoreline, there is a color shift that marks the borders of the changing landscape. It starts with the lush green grass then moves to tan sand, to dark rocks, to green shallow water to deep blue ocean. This color shift is like a rainbow that illuminates the path from where the sea meets the sky; This “rainbow” leads to the visual equator that separates where Earth and Heaven connect. It reaches from inches in front of me to as far as my eyes can see.

Sitting there, in the midst of the Earthly nirvana, I felt compelled to write. “The urge” has been happening a lot lately and by now, I’ve learned that I can’t ignore it. I’ve been late to parties, work, meeting up with friends, ignored phone calls and other appointments/plans. When “the urge” comes, I have to forget the time, the place, the current circumstance and drop what I’m doing to feed that urge. So, I went back to my car and grabbed my laptop.

If I didn’t have my heart set on being buried in Pleasantville, my last wish would be to be cremated with my ashes spread all along the beach at the GIL. It was two summers ago on Great Island where this wish almost became a reality. I almost perished on Great Island and being back there this weekend reminded me of said incident. I’m glad I’m alive so I can share the story with you today.

Two summers ago, Kid Spin and my cousin Mel invited me down to Great Island for the weekend. It was my first time to the island and since then, all other places on the Cape seem pale in comparison. To avoid the traffic, my ex-dog Tiger the Terror (future blog topic alert!) and I left late on Friday night and didn’t arrive until around 11:30pm. Upon arrival, Kid Spin asked if I wanted to go to a party at another house. Normally I would have and furthermore, I was dying for a drink after the long drive. However, Tiger was freaking out at the new surroundings. At home, he was a great dog but take him out of his element and he becomes high-maintenance hound. I just couldn’t leave him alone in the house on that first night. I also figured that getting some rest would probably be a better idea for me.

Approximately 2.5 hours later, there was a knock on the door. It was a drunken, giggling Kid Spin:

“Hey, are you up? Get up. Wanna go on a tour of the island?”

I was awake. I can never sleep well in foreign bed. Also, I was intrigued. What kind of island tour could one possibly go on at this hour of the morning? I was also interested because of the epically scenic drive to get onto the island. I was itching to see more of the area. I looked over at Tiger and he was calm and resting, so I figured “what the heck?” (Noah…) and got out of bed.

I put some shoes on and headed outside to find Kid Spin and few other people (including the Joe Ghory Experience) around a golf cart. Kid Spin was quite excited that his future-cousin-in-law was going to take the late night trek with him. Golf carts are the perfect stealth vehicles on Great Island. They are quiet, clandestine, have headlights, and can go all over many types of terrain (which I was about to learn). I was handed a beer and didn’t realize at the time that I was the only sober person about to take this journey (which I was also about to learn).

We mounted up on the golf cart and proceeded to go on a sloppy, drunken tour of GI. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life. I was sitting on the back, going backwards the whole time and holding on for dear life. As this was going on, branches would whack me on the arms and legs due to Kid Spin’s reckless and abrupt turns. He kept carrying on about shortcuts and at one point he scared me to death, laughing and blurting out this line:

“It feels like Mario Kart.”

I was dumbfounded. This drunk not only was taking my life in his hands, but treated it as if he were playing a video game. We went up hills, down hills, made quick turns and I gained a new appreciation for what a golf cart could actually do. The only good thing about the trip was that I got to see the GIL for the first time. The night-time view was absolutely stunning. The only other time I was moved by a locale that much was watching the sunrise on Mt. Halakela on Maui. If I made it back alive and didn’t end up impaled by a branch, my plan was to check it out again in the light of day. Then, in an instant, amazing didn’t happen.

As we were speeding down one of the many trails along the island, Kid Spin made another abrupt turn and tipped the golf cart. The golf cart actually fell to my side and not only did I get smashed into the brush but I was also covered in beer, red wine and the laughter of my three intoxicated companions. When the cart tipped, it was like life was put into slow motion. I thought for sure I was going to lose an eye or maybe even break a bone.

After their laughter and the crash-induced alcohol dumping subsided, we managed to extricate ourselves from the wreckage. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. Initially, I thought that a branch had impaled me but after checking for blood, that wasn’t the case. At that point however, my shoulder pain was the least of our worries. Tipping the golf cart back upright turned the laugher into concern.

(disclaimer: not the actual golf cart that almost killed me)

The golf cart had sustained some substantial damage. The top canopy was bent off to the side and angled. Our furious and concerted efforts to bend it back into normal shape were all for naught. There was also another problem: The golf cart would not “start” or run anymore. By the light of the moon, we ended up pushing the wreckage formally known as the golf cart halfway across GI back to the house. Kid Spin not only had to pay for its repair, but he was banned on driving on Great Island for the rest of the summer and also the following July. If I recall correctly, he also had to teach the kids on the island a safety class or something to that effect.

Other than the golf-cart accident and the accompanying black and blue bruises, my visits to Great Island have been a pleasant experience. If it wasn’t for the golf-cart-ride-to-near-death, I would have never discovered how much I liked the area around the GIL. It’s a wonderful place and I can’t wait until I’m back there again.

And that’s the truth.

Yeah, I’m impatient.

www.truthaboutmike.com

The old one still redirects here, but this will be my new domain.  Sorry, employers.

Thanks to everyone who sent along submissions.  You can now spread the word (and read at work) without hesitation.

Congrats and best wishes to Braino, who is getting married tomorrow!

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Cape Cod, here I come.

I’ve been writing like a madman for almost a month. Now, I need your help.

First off, I want to thank everyone for checking in and reading the blog. It means a lot to me. I sh*t you not when I say this, all the comments (my favorite!), emails, texts and words of encouragement have truly humbled me. I’ve received comments like: “You’re in the wrong business,” “You should write a book,” “You made me cry,” “You’re the first site I check in the morning,” “I’m disappointed when I click on your site and there isn’t a new post up,” and “I wish they were longer.”

Sincere, heartfelt thanks to anyone and everyone who’s mentioned this blog to someone else. Thanks to PSF for all the tech help and for hosting the site. Also, thanks to those of you who I’ve endlessly blabbered on about the blog to. Thanks for humoring me. I will say that the amount of time I’ve babbled on about this place to you is a direct result of how much you mean to me. If I mention it to you, it is only because I truly and deeply care what you think. This project has also been a good barometer on who my true friends are, because they keep coming back. Those are the people I will remember long after writing here.

I’ve also heard from people I haven’t talked to in years, not even knowing how they got the link to the blog. I’ve gotten comments from complete strangers and I had to email them to find out how they found the place. Allie even emailed me to thank me for the “one that got away” piece. Great stuff. The internet is an even more powerful tool than I had ever imagined.

I put a page view counter on this thing Sunday and have been amazed with the results. I waited because I heard that doing so would be discouraging, but it has only had the opposite effect on me. When you start a blog (other than the comments and emails), without a hit counter you really can’t tell if you’re really reaching anyone. If an over-thinking dude throws some stuff out on the internet and nobody reads it, does it really make a sound? I thought I’d see daily results in the tens and never dreamed they’d be in the hundreds less than a month after starting.

To be honest, I only started this blog to shut my friend Keri up. She was the one who kept pushing me to do this. I’ve thanked her almost weekly for that push. Steiny was right when he said that this has been a great outlet for me. Also, I’m glad that it has brought some enjoyment to the people in the world that mean the most to me. Keri is on or near the top of that list and I’m lucky to have her in my life.

Here’s where I need your help: It has been expressed to me that people are afraid to click on my url at work because of the name. Furthermore, I’ve been told that people have been reluctant to pass it on to others because of this same reason. This is 100% and totally understandable. The last thing I would ever want is for someone to get a call from their resident IT nerd because they were reading my maudlin musings at work. To go from hundreds of daily page views to thousands, I need to make a change. Yes, we can!

So, I am going to add a url to the blog. Nothing is going to really change and I will keep the current url. But, I need a new url that will redirect here. I need some suggestions on what to use for this new url. If you could respond back in a comment, that would be great. If I already have your email and you’re paranoid about such things, enter a fake email when commenting; that would be fine. If you respond in a comment, everyone will see the ideas or thoughts on this. I’ll try and keep a close eye and approve the comments as quickly as I can. If you are dead set against commenting, email me at: thesexualchocolate@gmail.com and I’ll be sure to respond.

I emailed a bunch of people today asking for suggestions and got some great ones (especially from Red) including:

truthaboutmike.com, tschocolate.com. schocolate.com, tschoc.com, letsaskmikey.com, mikeinfocus.com, titletowntalk.com, titletownmike.com, bostonmike.com, allaboutmike.com, belikemike.net, titletowntypist.com, mikelovesboston.com, bostonblog.com, titletown.net, truemike.com, mikeuncensored.com, insidemikesmind.com, bostonbymike.com, zamunda.com, missblackawarenesspagent.com, mcdowellsofboston.com, kingjoffejoffer.com, speblog.com, bostonspeparty, founded1630.com, thesuggestivechocolate.com, thecarnalchocolate.com, thegreenblogster.com, blogospe.com, freethedutch.com, theflipblog.com, fliplife.com, bladeblog.com

Thoughts?

Please comment away.

Thanks in advance for your help!