Why My Parents Rock

This "Welcome Home" present, a toilet bowl brush that looks like George W. Bush, was waiting for me at their house when I returned from California:

I'm Baaack!

I've successfully completed my whirlwind tour of southern California with my grandfather which, all in all, was a pretty good time.

Perhaps the most interesting, or at least exciting, part of the trip actually occurred on the way back, so I'll start at the end. Perhaps by now you've heard of the minor earthquake that happened yesterday in the L.A. area? Well, Gramps and I was sitting in the airport not too far from the epicenter when it all went down. This being my first real earthquake (besides several small tremors I experienced in South America) I was a bit confused as to what was happening. Much to my chagrin, I quickly snapped into right-wing fear tactic mode and was certain that a plane had careened into the side of the airport, no doubt at the hands of terrorists. However my response was quickly assuaged when the rumbling continued, and when I saw the hanging lights and signs swaying like streamers from the ceiling, I realized that we were in fact not under attack by those pesky terrorists, but rather by Mother Nature.
Being the good Samaritan that I am, after the quake I walked over to an elderly woman in the terminal sitting in a wheelchair by herself, and asked if she was O.K. She quickly explained that she was from Texas, absolutely terrified and "Ohh Sug-ah, I need ohn that Gohd Damned plane raaht NOW!". So I wheeled her over next to Gramps and I, and she just chatted up a Southern Belle storm with my grandpa, usually accentuating whatever she was talking about with how horribly scary the earthquake was. (For reference it wasn't that bad).
I sat and listened to their conversation for a while, until it turned to politics, and she proclaimed the glory and righteousness that is George Bush and his maniacal political party, which pissed both me and Gramps off, but I was the only one who took
the bait and started making digs. I quickly caught myself using words like "embarrassment" and "racist" and decided that I had no business arguing politics with a 75 year old Texan who just suffered through her first earthquake. So I went to The Coffee Bean.

I will not bore you with all the minute details of the trip, however I did get to see a bit of San Francisco, got to swim in the Pacific, took a tram to one of highest points in California, and did a little hiking* on some amazing trails in the desert where I saw a herd of big-horned sheep and caves with Native American hieroglyphs.

I also learned some incredible and incredibly humorous things from and about my grandfather and had many interesting experiences with him and his two brothers.

In the original version of this post, I listed several quotes and stories that were told by my grandfather and his brothers about growing up and past experiences that stood out in my memory. However, after re-reading the post several times, I realized only the dodgey and morally questionable bits were listed, which in turn made my experience and family sound a bit trashy. So, I have modified the post with a few pictures from my trip. I will be posting random things from my trip in the future (somehow spread out, the trashiness will be lessened). But until then, I leave you with this quote:

"I'm Little Willy from Southern Philly, he's Long Dong from Hong Kong, and he's Big Dork from New York".


*I use the term "hiking" VERY loosely.


Photos:
1: View on tram new Palm Springs, CA
2: Pacific Ocean, Carlsbad, CA
3: Herd of sheep
4: Trail in Joshua Tree National Park
5: Small portion of San Diego skyline
6: Cave with Native American hieroglyphs

Marchons, Marchons...!

Joyeux Jour de la Bastille to everyone!

Today, as France celebrates, I embark on my trip to California with my grandpa. I'll be gone until then end of the month, and am not sure if I'll be updating anything until then. If not, I'll update when I get back with all the stories and hilarity that will ensue as Gramps and I take on the west coast.

Happy Birthday To...

..well, ME! Today I've reached the quarter-century mark in my life, and in true child of the 80's fashion I'll be celebrating my birthday today at the Steve Miller Band concert with some good friends. Nothing fancy and no bar hopping, just some good old fashioned concert drinking! I'm not necessarily a huge Steve Miller fan, nor do I know a ton of his music, but I'm anticipating this concert to be a great time!



(*Note: In honor of The Steve Miller Band's appearance in "da 'Burgh", the lyrics to this song have temporarily been changed to "Abra-abracadabrinz, I wanna reach out and grab yinz")

Behold Loafer's Dog

In response to the post below, You were right Julia, it was a Silky Terrier. Something that definitely does not belong in a car garage.

How Rude!

Since when did the blatant lack of common courtesy become the social norm? I've never understood how some people manage to go about their daily lives completely unaware of their sheer rudeness. I base this post on the happenings today while running errands.

It all starts as I arrived at the car garage for my 11 am oil change appointment. As I approached the entrance, I hesitated to open the door as I saw on the other side of the glass an 18-month old named Ethan (I know these facts because while I was waiting for my car I began eavesdropping on the conversations with Ethan's mother and other customers who seemed to genuinely give a shit about his recent walking then running developments). Ethan was barely holding a retractable dog leash to which was attached some breed of dog that resembled a bigger Yorkshire Terrier (Julia, help me out with this one). I didn't open the door because I was afraid that Ethan, the dog, or both would go bolting out into to traffic, and the blood would be on my hands. So instead, I waited, expecting, for his mother to come scoop him up. Waited...waited...nothing, just Ethan and the dog staring. So I entered the store, and tried to hold back the toddler and dog.

As I'm talking to the man behind the counter, the dog somehow escaped the clutches of an 18-month old and began jumping on and licking my left leg. Completely annoyed by this point, instead of reaching down and acknowledging the animal, I just shook my leg until it went away. Suddenly, and man behind me in khaki short-shorts and penny loafers (you know the type), who actually turned out to be the dog's owner, not Ethan, said "Woah, look out Buddy, looks like we don't have a 'dog person' here." To which I turned around and explained to the man that I do, in fact, like dogs, just not strangers dogs jumping on me in public places. Loafers and I didn't exchange anymore smalltalk after that.
(Side note: why do people bring their lap dogs to the car garage?)

After speaking with the attendant, I turned around to the crowded waiting room to find no available seats. No, there weren't THAT many people in the room, one seat was taken up by a woman's over sized handbag, another by Loafer's dog, and yet another by Ethan. Less than impressed, I stood in the corner next to a stack of Michelin tires and sipped my coffee and read my book in disgust. (finally, the toddler moved and scrambled to steal his seat.)

Fast-forward twenty minutes, and Ethan's mom is ready to go, but apparently not Ethan as he ran across the waiting room jumped into he chair directly next to mine and began screaming as he pulled relentlessly on my arm. I thought I gave of a sufficiently annoyed vibe, but I guess not because mom just smiled and said "Oh, do you want to stay and play with him?". No he doesn't, go home. Ok, thanks.

About five minutes after they leave, a woman starts bitching to no one in particular about how she's been there since 8 am. Bitchworthy indeed, but I'm not going to get your struts replaced. In response to the complaint Loafers says, and I quote, "Squeaky wheel gets the oil, darling, tell one of those guys." Darling? Darling to a complete stranger? With that I got up and walked out to have a smoke. I couldn't take it anymore.

I then stopped at Panera for a quick lunch. As I'm waiting for my Bacon Turkey Bravo, I find myself next to yet another toddler holding a large sized fountain drink. When I look down at him, he promptly and what seemed deliberately dropped the full drink, which then exploded on the floor. Instead of mom bringing that to the attention of one of the workers, she instead scooped up Junior and headed for the door. What? Really? I witnessed a similar situation once and the Dairy Queen when a teenager and her father were eating their Blizzards and the daughter dropped hers on the floor. Again, instead of Dad alerting someone of the mess, he said "Hurry up and let's get out of here". What the hell? Who are these idiots raising children? I stand firm in my controversial opinion that people should pass a test before being allowed to procreate.

Rudeness abounds in the area it seems, and it grates on me a little more each day. I'm not sure if it's the pseudo-swanky suburban housewives with their gas guzzlers and bug-eyed designer shades or the general disinterest in others is just part of a new culture, but it's annoying the piss out of me.

I refer to the first stop of my day to illustrate the other extreme of rudeness: the drive through at Starbucks. I usually avoid going there in the morning because the people are overly nice and considerate, annoyingly so, and to the point where you question it's genuineness. When the lady at the window told me that I looked "very handsome today" (note: at this point I had not yet showered, was wearing my glasses, a ripped Nike T-shirt and a hat with grass stains on it) and to "enjoy my delicious latte on this gorgeous day" (second note: it was thunder storming at the time) I just about lost my shit. Isn't there a happy medium we can all get to, not blatant disregard and letting Fido jump on strangers, but not overcompensating your own depression by dripping strangers in 2-cent and made-up compliments? Really people, get it together.

Disturbing Yet Intriguing Things I Find On Everyday Adventures

While browsing the aisles at WalMart yesterday, I came across this little gem in the vacuum aisle. Apparently someone felt the need to replace the price and information card with this cryptic spiritual message:

DISTURBING YET INTRIGUING.


After my shopping encounter, I stopped to grab some food at a nearby restaurant. While waiting, I was being stared down by an extremely out of place, over sized white rabbit in a top hat.

DISTURBING YET INTRIGUING.

Photo Essay Of My 4th Of July Experience

His name is "Bunkey"

Any half chub in gold looks bigger.

It's hard to tell, but there is a man in an outhouse in the back of a pickup truck with his pants down.

Men who can't wait to get away from their wives.


Best patriotic line of the day: "Sorry about your dick weeping cancer, Greg."

HAPPY 4TH!

Hello, My Name Is Drewby. Remember Me?

Since leaving my blogging regimen (or better, sporadic blogging) this is what I've been up to:

After what seemed like an eternity, my final day of work finally arrived last Friday and in typical fashion, I celebrated with many drinks with friends. Which made more an interesting Saturday morning when I had to wake up early to make the trek north to my parents for a wedding that night. As you may know, weddings are not my favorite affairs, and I typically go into them with a rather pessimistic "I give it 2 years" kind of attitude. I would like to sat this wedding was different, but I can not. A very old childhood friend of mine married his high school sweetheart in a town next to where we grew up. Lovely wedding, lovely reception (cash bar, but I digress...) blah blah blah. Deez Nuts made the trip north with me, so at least I had some entertainment. What had planned on a weekend trip, be back home Sunday turned into a four day event. Due mostly to various members of my family coming up with plans and events that made me feel guilty for leaving. Highlights included eating huge meals, sleeping, eating more, chilling in the hot tub, or "Cajoozie" as my gramps calls it, eating and then going out to eat. It was a great relaxing weekend, but I was more than ready to leave this morning. So after an early rise this morning and a brief stop in Clarion for breakfast with a former professor (Elisabeth, if you're there, I apologize) I'm back at my place. Unfortunately, I did not get to visit with anyone other than my immediate family this weekend, so if you're from home reading this, don't kill me.

Another highlight of the trip was witnessing the phenomenon of my hometown, the preparation for the 4th of July parade. Presumably because there is nothing else to do or look forward to in this town, locals line the parade route 3 to 5 days in advance with lawn chairs in order to get an excellent view of the mediocre parade. Most are linked together with rope to avoid easy theft, but the good seats, the REALLY good seats are chained to street signs and utility poles. (side note: it has always been a mischievous fantasy for one friend and I to saturate the entire street of chairs with maple syrup the night of July 3rd. Unfortunately it didn't happen this year, but I feel next year might be the year. Just imagine what the people in Meyersdale would say! )(Photos courtesy of Dee from my moving vehicle)

So now I am back at home refreshed and ready to tackle the lazy summer days ahead. I realized the other day that, because of my shortened summer, I had not yet prepared my summer reading stack. So, in order to get motivated, I made a trip to Barnes & Noble this afternoon, which is always an economic disaster. After an hour or so of browsing, reading and Starbucks, I managed to get away with only 3 purchases: "Drown" by Junot Diaz (I really wanted "The brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao, but it won't be in until September), an Isabel Allende novel, and Miranda July's new book of stories (Jen-nay, it's all yours when I'm finished). Any other suggestions for the summer stack are more than welcome!