I love cinema. There’s nothing quite like seeing a movie on the big screen. You get into this bizarre camaraderie with a bunch of strangers. You’ll cheer with some, and others will piss you off. I wanted to share a few emotional experiences I’ve had in theatres past.

 

Anger –

I went with my family in law to see “Kurosawa,” a documentary about Akira Kurosawa. The highlight of the show was an appearance by Teruyo Nogami, who was Akira’s right hand on most of his films. After the viewing of the film, she came out with a translator for a Q & A. 

I was interested to hear her discuss different stories of each film. Well, it wasn’t long before some dick decided to turn the tide for me. This guy in the row behind me to the right decides to ask a question: “Did Akira like Ingmar Bergman’s films”?

I can’t describe how fucking PISSED I was at this guy. I can tell you this, he has earned a spot on my all time hate list. My hate list hall of fame, as it were.

In case you haven’t already, allow me to translate what he said for you: “Attention everyone.. I don’t know about YOU… but ME… I KNOW MOVIES…If you have any questions about movies, I AM YOUR GUY”. She answered the question politely, by saying he liked some of his stuff. But this prick with ears decides that he’ll take a proverbial dump on the director that is being honored, just so he can let everyone know what he knows. What a piece of shit. He had an ugly ponytail too. Prick.

 

Fear –

 When I was 17, I remember going to see ‘Eddie Murphy Raw’ for the first time. I went with my cousin & his friend at the old Park Theatre in Dorchester. Dot was (and is) a tough part of Boston, and it happens to be where my family is from. I’m almost proud to say that my family has most likely commited every blue collar crime you can commit. That HAS to be worth something.

 My dad’s girlfriend at the time worked at the Park & got us in on the sly. I want to say this was the same momentous day when my cousin & friends made me an honorary Dot Rat.

So, we get into the cinema and the only seats available are in the back row. It was packed to the gills. And it wasn’t long when we realized that we happened to be the only 3 white guys in the building. In the late 80’s, the Boston area was at the tail end of it’s racial unrest and there was still some antipathy amongst the residents of Dorchester. As the show was going along, the theatre became active. A lot of yelling and some peeps started tossing things around. It started to get a little uncomfortable. Then came Eddie’s comment in Raw when he says “white people can’t dance”. At that moment, every set of eyes (as far as mine could see) all turned around & looked at the 3 of us. And some guys in the row in front of us stood up, saying things along the lines of “YEAH! YOU MUTHA FUCKAS CAN’T DANCE!” After a few of these, we were giggling nervously. I leaned over to my cousin and whispered “we’re dead”. It didn’t stop for a good 2-3 minutes. One guy on the right closer to me was staring at us, & I remember saying to him “Well, I sure can’t dance… heh heh.”

When Eddie moved to the next subject, we moved our asses out the door.

For the record, I STILL can’t dance.

 

Laughter –

My friend Chris took me to see The Bourne Identity with special passes. We were sitting in front of this guy & we started chatting with him. We were talking about different movies, and the guy brings up that he saw “Deuces Wild”. Chris says to this complete stranger, “Dude.. that movie made 8 dollars… it must have been yours!” Shit. I wish I thought of that one.

 

Love –

 I’ll never forget my first celebrity crush. The seventies were old, and my erections were new. There’s nothing worse than the 3^rd-4^th grade walk of shame with the text book in front of your pants, by the way. Penises are already tough to deal with when they just sit there. Then they do THAT to you. I was tempted to start wearing a poncho to school.

Anyhoo, my mom took me to see Grease. If only there was a camera on me whenever Olivia Newton-John came out & sang “Hopelessly Devoted To You”. I know my eyes were wide, and I’d imagine there were little hearts popping around my head… pop pop pop pop …

Hoo boy. I liked her for a long time. I remember shaking my fist at the TV screen when I saw her boyfriend (soon to be husband at the time). “LAT-TAN-ZIIIIIII!!!” I hated that guy. My Tutor? COME on.

 

Hey. I saw Xanadu in the theatre. Now THAT’S love.

 

The Cinema is magic. The big screen makes great movies even greater. These things can sometimes be lost without that experience. I think David Lynch summed it all up pretty nice:

 

 

I have a love/hate relationship with technology,

 

Off of the top of my head, here are some examples of technology that I love:

 

     1.   The Switcher   _ This is actually the television remote. My  

            father-in law calls it the “Switcher”. Now when my wife

            asks for the remote, I correct her & call it ‘the Switcher’.

           (That’s right before she says “Get your OWN drink Pomeroy”)

            But I get annoyed when I can’t find it. I get my exercise going        

            up and down stairs, thank you very much.

2.    The apple corer – Am I the ONLY one who just discovered this little gem recently? Shit… Now I don’t have to worry about Mars Inc. making apple flavored Skittles.

3.   The DVR/Tivo – Yes… I will now have to endure more product placement within a program. But it’s WORTH it. Now if I could only  get myself to stop trying to rewind my radio…

 

But sometimes technology concerns me. And really, for the same reasons… Making others and myself become lazy fucks. And sometimes miss a view of life that may be important.

 

One thing I’ll never do is go through the automatic checkout line in a supermarket. I refuse to help put people out of work, even if I don’t save $1.35 on my purchase, or get out a minute faster. And the worst thing is, the staff pushes you to the auto lines! I’m not sure if they are told to do this or they just don’t want to do any work. But it pisses me off. I just think of some jerbone in a suit laughing behind the mirrored wall, knowing he’ll save a nickel when someone gets canned.

Another thing I never understood is the constant video recording of a vacation. I’m not saying that shooting a video is bad, but I’ve seen and have been with people that have the fucking thing on the WHOLE time. What ever happened to using your memory? Taking in what you’re seeing and being a part of it. Enjoying the moment.

I was in Bermuda last year and we were heading down into these old caves, and some jerkoff had his camera rolling the entire time. The light was on, so he was illuminating the walls on the way down. I wanted to ask the guy if he’d enjoy the darkness and claustrophobia from his futon. Meanwhile, taking it away from the rest of us. What a prick.

Everything I’ve filmed of myself with my video camera is personal. (And, I was young and needed the money).

Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’m going to put away my laptop, microwave up a pizza and listen to music on my IPod. And I’m going to record the whole thing on my video camera. Let me know if you want a copy.

ACT I – The Blue Beauty

 

I’m sitting here today in remembrance of the Blue Beauty. She was my first car.. a 1987 Buick Skyhawk.

I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 26. Partly it’s because I’ve primarily lived in the city and didn’t need one. But it’s also because I can be a lazy ass.

When I finally got it, I was amazed to see how quick I could get places. It is SO much easier to DRIVE to the mall you know. And picking up groceries? Wow. Now when I bought my Celeste pizzas I wasn’t held to what I could carry. Abbondanza!

 

On what I refer to as ‘The Blue Beauty’s last day,’ I had to bring my mom to my doctor, She didn’t have coverage at the time, and my doctor agreed to see her as a favor to me.

Since my mom didn’t drive, I had to drive from Quincy (where I lived at the time) to Yarmouth in Cape Cod. Then I had to drive back to Quincy where my doctor was, only to bring her back to the Cape later that evening. That was the plan, anyway.

 

ACT II , Part 1–  The Motor Club of whaaaa??

 

So, I’m heading down to the Cape on Route 6 (Cape Cod’s main drag) and all of a sudden… BLOOF! My tire blows and in 3 seconds I’m driving on a banana peel. I pull over to the side of the road, which is part sand dune on the Cape. There was no breakdown lane at all. I put my hazards on, and reach into my glove compartment. There I find my insurance notes, which includes the roadside assistance brochure with the service called “The Motor Club of America”. The guy at the insurance agency said that it was part of their policy, and that they were “Just like AAA”.

As I’m looking through the policy, I notice that a State Trooper has pulled right behind me. I didn’t know what to do, so I got out to greet him.

He says:  “You’ll get hit by a car”.

I say:        “I WAS HIT BY A CAR?!”

He says:   “No! If you stand in the highway like that, you WILL be hit  

                  by a car!”

I say:        “Oh.. yes.. ok” and I get back into the car.

Soon, he comes up and asked me if I had a spare. I said “no,” and he agreed to take me to a garage to help me out.

I get out of the car and he walks with me to his cruiser.

It was embarrassing to see people slowing down looking to see whom the cop was tossing in the car. I was holding my head down, which probably made me look more guilty. I should have put my hood on too I guess. It didn’t help that he put me in the BACK of the car. 

So he drives me to this garage, gets out & on the way tells me he’ll be right back. I lean over & the door doesn’t open. I tried a couple of times to pull real hard and was stuck in there. I looked up & there was a family at the gas pump… all of whom were staring at me with fright seeing me attempt to ram the door open.

I hate when I miss an opportunity for a laugh. I should have mouthed the words: “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU ALL”. Alas, it didn’t strike me at the moment.

Then officer Do-Right comes back and lets me out. I told him “Heh… I couldn’t get out there”. He replied “Usually we don’t want the people who are in the back to get out”. Natch.

I go into the shop, and the guy calls a tow truck to get my car.

While I wait, I talk to the dude behind the counter.

Guy:  “How would you like to pay, sir?”

Me:    “Do you take Motor Club of America?”

Guy:  “Hmm..I’ve never heard of them. Let me go ask my boss.”

A few minutes later:

Guy:   “We’ve never heard of them. Do you have AAA?”

Me:     “No. I was told that these guys were like AAA.”

Guy:    “I’m sorry, sir.”

Me:      “Figures. Do you take Visa?”

Then the guy shows up with my car in tow. He gets out & is glaring at me when I approach him. He looked like a dirty Nathan Fillion.

Me:         “Hi! Thank you very much! I appreciate..”

Tow guy: “45 Bucks.”

Me:        “Oh, of course. Do you take Motor Club of America?”

Tow guy: “No.”

Me:         “Oh… do you take Visa? I only have 8 dollars.”

Tow guy:  “I’m a truck.. I don’t take cards”.

Finally the asshole agrees to bill the garage, who would in turn bill me. The garage didn’t have my tire size, ergo I had to purchase two of the same size. Ugh.

But now I’m on my way.

 

ACT II, Part 2 – The Quack

 

I finally get to my mom’s house. She was worried sick, as usual. I remember once going for a walk while visiting. I took a little longer than I thought for whatever reason. When I got back, she tells me: “Oh God! There you are. I was concerned. I was reading that there’s a guy in a blue van kidnapping children”!

I responded: “Mom… I’m 32. I didn’t fall for that shit when I was a kid. I’d rather BUY a candy bar to be honest. He’d need a 42” TV to get me to look in his van.. at LEAST.”

The doctor allowed her to have a later appointment, which was great. While she was there, I was on the phone with my friend who told me “There’s a spare under the mat in your trunk you idiot”. Oops.

I’m on my way out to get mom & my girlfriend at the time says: “It’s going to be cold.. take your jacket”. I say “Nah.. I’ll just be in & out of the car. No big D.

I pick up mom & head back to the Cape.

Me:     “So, how’d it go?”

Mom:  “Umm.. ok”

Me:      “What? Tell me.”

Mom:    Well, no offense, Jeff.. But I think your doctor is a quack.”

Me:      “ A quack? What? Why do you say that?”

Mom:    “He told me to quit smoking!”

Yeah.. what a fucking nut. It’s a good thing I didn’t go out of my way or anything.

 

ACT II, Part 3    -  The Snot Miser

 

 

So I get mom back home. After that long day SHE’S had with the ‘quack,’ she’s ready to settle down. Who can blame her?

I have dinner and jump back in the Beauty.

Somewhere on route 3 heading back home, I’m driving along in the fast lane. All of a sudden, I hear a ‘doink’ from the hood… and the car starts slowing down! I look at the odometer… 60..50..40..

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” I shouted to myself.

Hazards back on, I sneak over to the breakdown lane. Now it’s late, dark and freezing out!

I tell myself that earlier the State-ey was right on my ass after I pulled over. I’ll just wait.

In about 20 minutes, it was obvious nobody was coming. So, I get out of the car and start to run. I happened to land directly between exits 12 & 13 which are around 3 miles apart.

I have bad sinuses. I always have. In junior high I had the affectionate nickname “The Snot Miser”. Well, when you add cold it doesn’t get any better I can tell you. So, I’m running down the fucking highway and my nose is running down my face. My hands & face were getting numb running in the wind. Even my legs were shaking while I ran.

Finally I get to exit 13, and run up to the top to a Sunoco gas station. I ask to use the pay phone (remember those?).

I say: “Cand you help bme? I’mb looking for a pay phoned”.

The guy tells me it’s outside & gives me change. He didn’t have tissues, unfortunately.

I go out & start calling my house to wake my girlfriend. I had to call a bunch of times before she wakes up. After telling her what happened, she started to realize the true Pomeroy charm. You bought in, honey.

She doesn’t know her way around the South Shore, so I tell her “The Sunoco station at the top of exit 13. It’s a big, lit up gas station. You can’t miss it”.

As if in a movie, as soon as I hang up… all of the lights in the station go off. I run over to the guy & he says he’s closing. I’m thinking to myself that it was NO problem. I told her where it was, right?

About 20 minutes later, I see her coming.

I wave.

I wave frantically.

I start jumping & waving & yelling!

Needless to say… she went RIGHT on by,

I said: “FUCK!! Fuck Fuck fuuuuuck!”

Lucky for me, she had the sense to turn around after another cold 10 minutes or so.

She brings me to my car and just then a tow truck shows up. The guy gets out.

Tow guy 2: “Do you need a tow?”

Me:             “I don’t know. My step dad is handy; I may call him.”

Tow guy 2:     “Mind if I take a look?”

Me:              “Oh yes, please!”

After a few minutes, he comes back to me.

Tow guy 2:      “I think you need a tow.”

Me:               “Are you sure? As I said, my step dad is good with this.”

Tow guy 2:      “I think it’s your timing belt. He won’t be able to fix that here. He’ll have to take the engine apart”.

Me:               “Oh..”

 

A slight pause.

 

Me:               “ Uhh.. do you take Motor Club of America?”

Tow guy 2:   “Hmm. I don’t know. I can check for you”.

Me:               “You know what? Don’t bother. How much?”

 

ACT III  -  The Eulogy

So, after about 2 grand and the longest day in my life, I decide to retire the ol’ Beauty. It was only fair, especially knowing that I got $750 for it when I traded it in. RIGHT in the shorts I took it. And I had to talk him UP, by the way. I wanted it to at least to pay for the sunroof in the new car.

 

 She was a great first car, and if it wasn’t for her owner, she might still be purring somewhere. I have this tendency to make good news bad. Like finding out this girl wanted to go to the prom with me,.. 8 years AFTER I graduated.

 

Everyone has a car story. This was mine. The moral of the story?

 

1.    Get AAA. No substitute.

 2.   Bring a hanky if you need it, even in junior high. 

“Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is a psychiatric anxiety disorder most commonly characterized by a subject’s obsessive, distressing, intrusive thoughts and related compulsions (tasks or “rituals“) which attempt to neutralize the obsessions.”

My mom has a running joke about me. My aforementioned autistic sister Heather is considered ‘high functioning’. My mom’s theory is that the autistic part that Heather missed on may have preceded her and landed right here.

Thanks, Mom.

With more talk like that, there will be no Hamilton Beach mixers under your Christmas tree this year. I hope this is still a face only you can love.

 

I have a pretty sharp memory for sure. When I worked in purchasing in my early 20’s, I’d remember almost 100 different 6 digit vendor numbers. Plus, ALL of their phone numbers. Not to mention almost every catalog number of every item we sold.

There were people I worked with that told me I should join the CIA. Well, that’s not going to happen. First, I’m not good at getting potentially tortured. I got a splinter earlier & it STILL smarts.

And second… I couldn’t even get past Algebra I in high school! I still take issue with the practice of mixing letters and arithmetic. No, I don’t want to divide 6D into 43B. Fuck you.

I know I have issues, though. Observe:

CD’s -  Organized in alphabetical order. Check.

             By true alphabetical order… Abba before Aerosmith. Ok.

             Oh… I have to have them by order by release as well.

              Yes… Revolver must follow Rubber Soul. Green must follow

              Eponymous. In Utero follows Nevermind. That’s how it has to be.   

If I find one of them out of order, I put it back. I have to do this, because my wife thinks that it’s funny to move them to see how long it takes me to discover that a CD is in the wrong place. True love is hard to find.

Movies  -  I have them on my shelf like EVERYONE does… in order by director, of course.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Criterion Collection, though. They usually choose great cinema to restore and put in their collection of DVD’s. However, the fuckers put NUMBERS on the binders! I’ll tell you how this is bad for me.

1.         How can I put them out of numerical order on my shelf?

2.         If I did put them in numerical order, how can I put them by director?

3.         Oh… I also will have to buy EVERY one of them. Why? Because I couldn’t live with missing numbers. I hate Michael Bay, & just about everything the guy has made. But I HAD to buy Armageddon… a terrible movie… because it was number 40! I couldn’t not have number 40. That would drive me crazy.

       I ended up solving my problems with Criterion easily. I STOPPED buying them. I was finding myself buying movies I didn’t like because of the fucking binder numbers. I don’t know why.

I bought 2001: A Space Odyssey (most likely my favorite film) on DVD. It had an Arthur C Clarke interview on it. Not a great interview, but it was there. Then.. they came out with a 7 disc Kubrick box set. I bought it. But I had to sell my 2001, because the binder color wouldn’t have matched the others. THEN… they came out with a NEW box set.. NOW with 9 Kubrick films. This had a ‘box set only’ documentary included. Well, I have to have that, right? So, I sold the 7 box (taking it in the shorts on E-Bay, being undervalued now) and bought the 9 box. So, I plug in 2001… and the Clarke interview ISN’T FUCKING ON THERE! So, what do I do? I went back on E-Bay & bought the same one that I had in the first place. I couldn’t live without the interview, I couldn’t live without matching cases, I couldn’t live with the extra DVD to have the same covers of the box, because it’s not IN the box. So, I own two and have to repeat this every time somebody asks why.

I’m befuddled by my books. I’d like to have them by author. However, I dislike having taller books next to smaller books. So that’s a crapshoot for me. Any solutions would be appreciated.

I can’t look at a superhero & not divide them into Marvel or DC. I can’t … I’ve tried.

At the last wedding I went to, I ended up in suite after the reception. A guy told me… “The beers are in there!” I look to see where ‘there’ is… it’s in the BATHROOM. I’m a little concerned at this point. When I go in, I notice that the bathtub is loaded with ice & beers.

Shortly after, I see my brother-in-law with a beer.

“Not drinking?” he asks.

“Nope.” I say.

“Why not… you’re staying over here tonight”.  He says.

“Well, I don’t want my mouth surrounding a bottle that has been shared with every person that’s bathed in that fucking tub. You can have at it if you want”.

 A minute later, he dumps his out in the sink.

Don’t mention it Danny.

When Jeanne and I were dropping our daughter Kate off at preschool, we made an interesting observation. All of the kids came in before us, and they just threw their shoes off in a pile in the corner. Before Kate went into class, she went over to the shoes, paired them all up, and lined them against the wall neatly. That’s about when Jeanne started glaring at me. I just said “Well, she has your hair… heh heh”.

 

For the record, I find that there are 973 words in this blog (including this sentence) by my first count. Don’t worry, I’ll double-check my count later. As long as there’s no Algebra. 

I can be a stubborn fuck sometimes. I still won’t acknowledge the existence of Scrappy Doo. Scooby had NO fucking nephews as far as I’m concerned.  Oh, and 2010: The Year We Make Contact doesn’t exist either by the way.

 

Although, I tried to change my ways as much as I could when I went on my honeymoon back in 2003. I guess my thinking was that I should learn to compromise more and do my part for the new marriage. My wife is an activities person on vacations, and I’m more of an explore and rest person on them. We ended up choosing to go to Iceland and we mapped out time to do a little of both of our agendas for the trip.

 

One of the things she wanted to check out was this spa called “The Blue Lagoon”. It’s this amazing geothermally heated pool with this white substance added in it. The stuff is known to cure eczema and psoriasis from what I understand. It feels like you’re in a bowl of hot milk. It’s strange, because it’s in the middle of this sea of volcanic rock. You feel like you’re on the moon.

Pomeroyski is not much of a spa guy. My OCD works against me in spas. I’m not hugely comfortable bathing around a bunch of nude people for sure. But I was going to compromise, damn it all.

My issue came up right in the locker room. As I was changing I noticed that this really big, blonde, naked fellow was toweling himself while staring at me. I did the quick acknowledging glance over at him, which usually makes someone look away. Of course, he kept right on staring at me. In my head, I wanted to say “Hey Lars, if you want to propose I’d prefer it if you were on your fucking knee”. But there was no way I was going to say that to this guy. He could have come up to me, put his index finger and thumb on my chin, and BANG!! He could have slammed my head through the ceiling. I can imagine other guests walking around the bottom 3/4 of my nude body. Maybe if I’d had an erection, people would have a place to hang their towel. That may have been useful. Instead, I endured the blonde perv’s ogling.

However, I was a whiny bitch for the whole time there afterward. Imagine a bodyless head sticking out of a tub of milk chronically complaining to you. Amazingly, my wife didn’t drown me.

 

The highlight of the trip was the fucking horses. Jeanne wanted to try horseback riding and I’d agreed to go for it. She had learned that Icelandic horses were smaller and more docile than their western cousins. This may make it easier for me to swallow, she thinks. However, I did NOT have a good feeling about it. Maybe it’s because I’m a chicken shit. Maybe it’s because I’m not the most adventurous fellow in the world. But most likely, it was because I’ve lived life in MY shoes, and I knew that something bad was going to happen.

 

The “teachers” turned out to be these 16 year old Swiss girls. Each of them picked one of us to teach and ride with. Of course mine didn’t speak a lick of English. I didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. We were in this indoor rink area, with the intention to go out for a ride after we got used to our steeds.

When I got up on the horse, I just knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. The horse looked back at me, with that “I am going to FUCK you UP” look in his eye. I asked the girl how to make him go. She didn’t know what I was saying. So I kept saying “go, go” while pointing around the rink. So she grabbed the rein and snapped it. WHOOP… the horse was running around the track. I was hanging on for dear life. We hadn’t even gone outside yet & I thought I was going to die. I was concentrating on holding on tightly.

What I didn’t notice was that the girls left the door open where the PEOPLE go. My horse started his canter right on through the fucking door!

Jeanne’s horse followed, and the “teachers” chased us with the attempt of a quick rescue.

I tried to stop the horse the only way I knew how. I started yelling “WHOA! WHOA”! That’s how Tex Ritter did it. I didn’t realize that you were supposed to pull back on the reins. Dummy.

 

My horse (with me in tow) went by the equestrian gear first, then galloped past the rest rooms. Imagine if you came out from peeing and you see horses riding by you in the hallway. That would have been hilarious.

So I turned my head around to yell for help. I yelled “HEL-“ and then BOOM! My helmeted head smacked against the doorway that I didn’t see. I’d swear to you that the horse saw the low bridge and thought “This will peel the prick off my back”.  Somehow I was still hanging on, but my helmet was almost sideways now. After I whacked my head, Jeanne ducked her head in time. I became the warning video I guess.

The horse went into the stables and then took a right to head for the door leading outside. Before I took another shot on the squash, or even worse went out into the wild I tried my escape. I dove for the nearest stable. I made it off, but my left foot didn’t come out of the stirrup. Needless to say, the horse wasn’t stopping. Before I knew it, there was a tug of war between the horse, and the Swiss girls with my leg as the anchor.

Fortunately the Heidi twins saved me from being drawn & quartered.

 And amazingly, I didn’t have a broken foot. Although, I did have a limp for the rest of the trip. Jeanne was on her horse (which she obviously figured out how to ride and control within two minutes) just shaking her head. She told me then “I’ll never doubt you again Pomeroy”.

 

She was true to her word. We were on another vacation to the Royal Gorge in Colorado and she wanted to go in this cable car that went over the gorge. I basically said “I don’t like the look of this…” She answered “Ummm… why don’t you stay here then”. Right on the honeymoon she started to get it, and the Icelandic people did as well. Not even the amazing landscapes and wonderful people there could disperse the Pomeroy black cloud. How Scandinavian of them. 

Maybe it’s because I’m coming out of witnessing the birth of my 2^nd kid.,.. but I’m feeling the feminist part of me sneaking out over the last couple of days.

It came out in high school once in a while too. Which explains why I spent some time there in a gym locker every now & then. As a matter of fact, I thought that I may have had to receive my diploma from within a locker. You know, I’d bounce up to the Dean, open the locker door, take the diploma, shake his hand, close the door, then bounce off. It would have been a great yearbook shot.  But back to the subject at hand….

 

There are a few things that seem to resonate in society that would annoy me if I were a woman, I wanted to share some of the thoughts I’ve been having that piss me off a bit.

 

1.    “Lady” college team names.

 

The Lady Vols,  Lady Razorbacks, Lady Privateers, Lady Bears, Lady Bulldogs…What the fuck?! Why can’t they just be the Bulldogs? If you want to refer to the women’s team, call it the women’s team like Uconn does. They’re the Huskies.. not the Lady Huskies. It’s a fucking insult! Tennessee women’s basketball program is one of the greatest in all of NCAA history…men or women’s athletics… and they have to be relegated to the Laaaaady Volunteers. It’s fucking stupid if you think of it.

 

2.    Best…. Actress?

 

An actor acts. What does an actress do? Have you ever heard of a Firefightress? Or a Police Officeress? Or how about a Doctoress?

 

And the Oscars can suck my balls. The show has stunk for years, & they stopped giving away deserved awards since the 80’s, save maybe one or two exceptions. They’ve done pretty well for males in the lead and supporting roles. And for the female supporting too I guess. But the leading role for women has mostly been a farce. They just want to give awards to the hot piece of arse of the moment for the most part.

The time that really made me throw my hands in the air and my pants to the floor (right before apologizing to my friends) was Julia mother-fucking Roberts won for that lame excuse of a movie, Erin Brockovich. Julia Roberts played a cunt… WOW! What a stretch! I haven’t seen THAT much versatility since… hmmm…. I gotta go back to Courtney Love in the People vs. Larry Flynt. She played a drugged up whore. Whew. How DID she find that character?

Julia beat Ellen Burstyn that year, who played a drug addict in Requiem for a Dream. Ellen pulled off one of the best performances & toughest roles I’ve ever seen… she had snot coming out of her nose for the love of mary. But she didn’t quite live up to Julia and her blonde highlights. She may as well been the “Pretty Woman” again. (sidebar: Personally, I think she looks like a boll weevil. I don’t see what others see with She-devil)

Actually, when I saw Brockovich I was waiting for Richard Gere to come out from behind a door or something. It might have improved the movie for me. I would have liked it even more if Louis Gossett jr. jumped in and started ordering Gere around.

 

3.    Women comedians… not funny?

 

I have heard from a lot of people… even women… that there aren’t enough funny women, or no funny women. It seems to me that the difference for the most part is women are judged more based on how they look. By men AND women, by the way. I think that works against them in comedy, since most cases you have to act foolish or look gross to get the best results. In a lot of cases women don’t go that extra mile, because they have a sense that they still have to be a woman first. I think the funniest female may have been Lucille Ball. (although, I give Madeline Kahn a close second). Both of them didn’t give a shit what they looked like. They let themselves go for the joke. You can say that about Cloris Leachman too. In modern cases I’d offer up Amy Sedaris, who is hysterical. If you haven’t seen the show Strangers With Candy, you really should. Lisa Lampanelli makes me laugh out loud. I don’t care for Sarah Silverman, but she doesn’t hold back. And to me… THAT’s the difference.

 

4.    Women don’t age as well…

 

Again… I think this is because they are judged on their looks more. Even I have done it. I’ve talked to someone about their kids and would say about the boy “Does he play sports,” or “what will he major in,” or  “he looks like you”. When I talk about the girl I say “she’s pretty”.

I just think that this habit of judging carries on with time. Their wrinkles look worse than a guys as a result. Ask Paul Newman or Robert Redford, who look like shit now. You never hear that they look peaked.

 

 

That said, my grays make ME look distinguished. And YES, I watch Judge Judy. So fuck you!

 

In the many issues that are sprinkled in this election year, the issue that seems to be the most confounding to me is the gay marriage issue. I respect (or try to respect) any opinions shared with me, but I don’t get why this one is an issue at all. Since when should certain American citizens not get equal rights? If a gay couple wants to be hitched, shouldn’t they get the same legal benefits that any other married couple get?  I’m missing this one completely. We as a people are adjudicating that a certain group of citizens can’t get the benefits of a married couple because of who they have sex with.

Does anyone REALLY care about who’s fucking who? I sure don’t. I don’t care who straight people are copulating with, for that matter. Yet, we have made a massive judgment upon people because of that very issue.

 

I was having a conversation with one of my friends (who happens to be gay). At one point, he told me that there was a girl he met that he really liked a lot. He was telling me how much he was looking forward to her company.

   So, I asked him:  “Are you switching sides dude”?

   He replied: “Oh, no. I’m just not wired that way”.

 

To me, that makes the most sense. Because from my perspective, I can’t imagine putting a penis anywhere near my person. I don’t even care for my own. It’s just because I have a NATURAL attraction to the opposite sex. And from what my pal was telling me, his natural attraction is a little more of the phallic variety. Because he is a consenting adult, he can boink whomever he wants as far as I’m concerned. And if he wants to get married, I would want him to have the same legal rights that I do.

 

There was a period of time in my childhood that my mom thought that I might have been  gay. And it wasn’t just because many of my peers in school addressed me as such.

I look back and think that my mom wasn’t sure how to handle raising an adolescent male. I felt in many ways she tried to be a dad to me as much as she could. I remember the Christmas when I pulled a Playboy magazine out of my stocking.  I believe I was around 11 or so. I have to tell you… it was pretty damn cool! But it was embarrassing as well. She gave me another  Playboy the following Christmas. After that, she asked me how I felt about receiving them. And I  told her: “I like them… but if I had to choose, I’d rather have the new Garfield book”.

Can you SEE why she started to consider my sexuality? That Jim Davis…. See what you did to me?! Some of my friends still haven’t forgiven me for that one.

 

I would not expect a church to accept gay marriage. If their religion prohibits homosexuality, I wouldn’t want to impose gay marriage on them. I  would never want those churches to not have their religious freedom. Therefore, I don’t see how it’s fair to impose the churches religious beliefs on the rest of society. And by singling out homosexuals we are doing just that.

There was a time when we made judgments about people because of their gender or the color of their skin. We have made enormous progress in heading towards true equal 

Well, I survived another gift exchange with Heather Pomeroy… so Christmas can’t be all that bad.

 

Most of you know. But for those of you who don’t HP, she is my autistic sister. She’s taller than me, and has a deep, imposing voice. It wasn’t unusual for her to kick my ass when we were younger. Well, we have a Christmas gift history that has darkened my doorstep for a lot of years. Every year for as long as I can remember I grit my teeth not knowing what Heather is going to ask for each Christmas. Not having a filter, she has more than once turned away gifts from yours truly, along with many other unsuspecting givers. My dad tried to give her a watch & she wouldn’t even open it. She kept pushing it away saying “I DON’T WANT IT, IT’S COLOGNE”! My father kept telling her it wasn’t but she wouldn’t listen. After he opened it up she still rejected it. She told him “I DON’T WANT IT… THERE ARE NO NUMBERS ON IT”. (It has Roman numerals… Even I didn’t think of that one)

 

This year thankfully she asked for, and I quote:  “Year of the Cat and Isn’t She Lovely”. So, I bought a CD player for her & burned a CD including those songs. Sounds easy, right? Well here are some previous Christmas gift requests from Heather:

 

  “FOOTY PAJAMAS”   -   Have you ever tried to find these for an almost 6’ person?

 

  “LINE CROSSED WINDOWS”         -   To this day I have no idea what this is.

 

  “FLAT HEADED GHOST”                -     Good luck.

 

   “DOME HAIR DRYER”                  - We actually found one of these, surprisingly. I thought they were all destroyed after the 70’s.

 

   “ADULT SIZED HIPPITY-HOP”      - To be honest, I wish I did find one of these. Imagine going to work like that?

 

   “WEEBLES”                                -   Unfortunately, she asked for these like 2 years ago. If only she wanted them in 1975 when I had them.

 

   “THE APPLE CLOCK FROM GRAFTON ST..”   - She still brings this one up.  We lived there in like 1976-1977. That is so 5 minutes ago.

 

    “A BIIIIIG GLOBE”         -                 I asked “How big”? She answered “AS BIG AS THE WORLD”.  If only she knew that this was a Steven Wright joke.

 

 

The best one of all time, was:

 

 

   “ A DUH-Z-DO”.  

 

She had been asking my mom & I for one of these for a long time. We just attributed this to some nonsensical thing in her mind somewhere. She also called up my father to ask for one too. This guy doesn’t understand her in general, much less be able to field a request like this. Usually he needs me there when he visits her. So she calls him for this, and he of course doesn’t know what it is. He asks her to spell it, and she does so (without missing a beat) phonetically:  “D-U-H  HYPHEN Z, HYPHEN D-O…. DUH-Z-DO”.  Needless to say, Mr Wizard writes this down exactly & starts going all over Boston to look for one. He went to Filene’s, Jordan Marsh, Sears & even to Strawberries just in case it was music she was looking for. He worked for the MBTA & he asked all of his friends there as well. He went everywhere in an effort to please her.

Meanwhile back at her group home, Heather tells my mom that she drew a picture of the duh-z-do and asked her if she can hang it on her wall. My mom in a daze says “sure”. (after being with Heather for a while, you say ‘sure’ to almost everything). Then the next day the staff at her home calls my mom up. They ask: “Mrs Pomeroy, did you give Heather permission to hang a picture up on her wall?” She admits as much: “Yeah.. she wanted to hang a picture of the Duh-z-do she’s been talking about all of the time. What’s wrong? Is there a problem with the picture”? The staff replies “Ummm… do you know what a duh-z-do is”? Of course, she does not. The staff then reveals: “ It’s a man’s genitals Mrs Pomeroy”.

 

So here my dad was looking all over Boston for something that he HAD all of the time. One of my dad’s work friends asked him after Christmas “Hey Chet, did you ever find that thing your daughter wanted”? My dad quickly replied, “It’s your balls, Jim”!!

 

For the record, I saw the picture she drew. And it wasn’t just a drawing; she had cut the phallic shape out of red construction paper and pasted it on a white background. It was like 4 feet long. I wish I were there when the first staff member walked into Heather’s room and saw this thing.  Imagine an enormous cock & balls over her bed staring at you.

 

Hey, at least she makes it clear to what she wants. And I just can’t wait for next year

For the record, I hate fucking magicians. Not the people themselves necessarily (in some cases, that is), but I just can’t get into that brand of “entertainment”. I guess I don’t like any of the “Ta-Daaaaaa” type of showmanship. But magicians may be the most annoying. Essentially, they’re not doing something that it looks like they’re doing. Sawing a person in half, making someone disappear, pulling something out of somewhere… I just don’t give a crap. If they were really sawing someone in half, that may be something. But I’m sitting there and they’re NOT doing it. Shit… I’m sitting here in my office not sawing someone in half. What say I put a camera on myself & you all can enjoy me not doing it A LOT quicker?

 

My least favorite magic man is David vastly-brow Copperfield. Boy I hate that dude. As a matter of fact, he’s been on my hate list as long as almost anyone. (Somewhere around Hasslehoff’s timeline I’m sure). My favorite may have been when he made the Statue of Liberty “disappear”. Of course, he passes it off as real. I guess he thinks we’re a bunch of numbskulls. I just hate when he moves his hands around & stares at you like one of those scary paintings. He’s a swine.

 

The other thing that gets me about him was the bragging that came along with him being with Claudia Schiffer. What is the big deal there? She looks like a horse face to me. And there again goes another “Super” model. Am I the only one who doesn’t like that term? I assume they’re called “Supermodels” because of the money they pull in, but I just don’t see the word “Super” being a prefix for “Model”. In most cases, these people are clothes hangers. They are freaks of nature in the height/weight ratio, and generally don’t represent real women in almost any way. (And foremost includes the attitude, by the by). It’s funny that people want to eliminate the Barbie doll because of the possibility of giving females unattainable goals of physical appearance at a young age, yet they allow these jerks to make loads of money by really doing the same damn thing. The fashion designers may as well roll the fake skeletons we used in science class down the runway with their collections on. You know, I may actually attend that show if they did.

 

Give me normally proportioned people, who don’t do magic tricks & I’m a happy guy.

I have to give Ingrid Newkirk (founder/field general of PETA) some credit. I’m not sure that I care about any one thing THAT much. I just finished watching the HBO documentary “I am an Animal: The Story of Ingrid Newkirk and PETA”. It was an interesting watch I have to say.  But it really makes me question my dedication to things that I want to do. This woman, for I don’t know how many years, is used to being carried out to jail by police, splashing herself with fake blood, recruiting fellow animal commandos & staging good sized demonstrations all over the world. Meanwhile, here I am sitting in my living room unhappy with the fact that tonight is trash night & I might actually have to peel my ass off this seat & put the trash out. Where did I go wrong? (And on that note, what was my wife thinking?).

 

I remember back when I was a teenager I participated in a walk against lab animals. There was a lab (that I don’t recall at all) testing monkeys or something.  I ended up going entirely through the company that I worked for at the time to raise money. To this day I remember the responses of 3 people. One girl told me “I’ll give you money, but I still don’t care what animals get killed. As long as I can have my fur coats”. Another guy told me “I like you Jeff, but I’m not giving money. I think we should test every animal in any way if it betters our life as humans”. I liked both responses, but my favorite for sure was this Latin kid I worked in the warehouse with. This guy got in trouble a lot because he had a terrible case of Dyslexia. I don’t like to discriminate, but I did take issue with a warehouse guy pulling product, not being able to nail down the numbers accurately. I can’t tell you how many times I got a call like “Jeff.. we have an angry contractor on a jobsite! He was waiting for 19 – 6423’s and he received 6432’s. What happened”? There was always a quick silence, and every guy near the intercom would slowly look over at the guy inquisitively. Then he would slink over to the intercom and quietly say “sorry”. Anyway, the day I approached him for support on my walk gave me a laugh. Most reading this may not be parents, and not know Dora the Explorer. But the guy kind of sounded like Senor’ Toucan in that show for reference sake. When I asked him, he replied “I don’t theenk I will help. Animals… they do not have souls, Jesus,…he says zis”.  I’m not bad with the bible, but I don’t remember Jesus saying zat. I could be wrong.

 

Like a lot of things, I’m medium on this subject. I don’t believe in being cruel to animals, but I’d be a hypocrite if I said I was into total animal rights. I really like chicken & steak. I’m like the fur girl in that way I guess. I also consider the circle of life. I loved the Planet Earth documentary, and the thing you see a lot of is one species eating another all the time, everywhere. Maybe we’re just one of the upper links on the food chain. I’d say we’re at the top, but I know none of us would fair too well against gators, sharks, lions & tigers. (Sidebar: Am I the only one that laughed after one of the Siegfried/Roy guys were carried out in a lion’s mouth? You wonder if the other lions were thinking “Finally.. we got a hold of one of those pricks”).  I guess I’m not really a proponent of extreme- anything, I think having a balance in everything is the best way to live. I think of this regularly whilst I’m driving and balancing McNuggets on my lap.