My Daddy And The Tire

Posted on September 10, 2008 by Meleah

These events are 100% true and originally occurred on Saturday, February 7th, 2007.

* SURPRISE *

I had another FLAT TIRE.

Fourth Time.

Same. Tire.

And at 9am this morning, my father came to the rescue.

Again.

The first decision we had to make was should we put the donut on the car? Or should we take our chances and drive to get air into the tire? It didn’t really matter if we were going to dent and destroy the steel rim, because we were getting a new rim anyway. So….rather than going through the nightmare of opening the trunk,  digging out what we needed, using a wrench, a car jack, taking off the tire, and putting on the donut, we both said, “Screw it” and drove to the closet gas station.

But our day started off pretty badly, when we arrived at our favorite gas station.

 

 

And wouldn’t you know it. The air pump was broken, again. And the same attendants were there the last time this happened.

 

 

All I can say, is thank goodness it was MY 75 cents that went into the machine this time.

Whew.

However…

Now that meant my daddy would have to go through the nightmare of opening the trunk, digging out what we needed, using a wrench, a car jack, taking off the tire, and putting on the donut.

And, fuck! It’s cold outside!

 

Except that once my father got back to my car?

We discovered all of the tools necessary to put the donut on my car were back at my fathers house.

“Goddamn, motherfucker!” My father exclaimed.

“What do you want me to do daddy? Should I drive back home?” I nervously giggled in-between questions because he started the jaw clenching action which he only does when he’s really mad or upset.

“Well,” My father thought aloud, “There is another gas station at the next light. And that’s where we need to make the U-TURN anyway, so…let’s just see if they have an air pump.” He laughed, “Preferably one that works!”

On the drive to the next light, my father asked, “Why do bad things always have to happen in threes? First I lost that insurance account, then, I lost at cards…and I had a full house, when the other guy had all four sevens!! And now this…I’m telling you right now Mel, you are so lucky that was your 75 cents.”

“Don’t I know it!” I said, shocked the veins pulsing in my fathers neck didn’t explode.

As I drove on the shoulder of the highway and looked over at father, all I could do was laugh. Hard.

We both knew at that moment, had it been HIS 75 cents, I’m sure this post would have included pictures of my father being arrested by the police for destruction of property and/or murder.

Luckily, when we arrived at the next gas station….

Yes! What is that! An air pump? One that works? Get outta here! And, its only 50 cents! Oh hell yes, things are looking up.

 

 

Now that things were going in the right direction, my father was in a slightly better mood.

At least in good enough of a mood to get us some coffee.

On his way back to my car, he even stopped to help some lost people by giving them directions (after all he is RON-QUEST).

 

 

Back in the car, we were headed to the the junkyard that Poppa Sye had found. And the new rim would only cost us $50.00.

Thankfully, my father called ahead – just to make sure the rim was there and ready for us to pick it up.

“Hello, do you guys have a 2002 Hyundai Electra rim.”

“Pssst…daddy, it’s an Elantra.”

“I’m sorry, do you guys have a 2002 Hyundai Electra, I mean ELANTRA Steel Rim?” (insert pause) “You don’t? What do you mean you don’t? My father-in-law called you guys, you guys said you do have that. You don’t care what my father-in-law told me? You haven’t had rims in 5 years? You only have tires? Oh, this is great, okay, fine, thanks… for nothing…bye.”

My father turned to me and said, “Shit! Well, at least we didn’t drive all the way there. I would have been really pissed off.”

“Oh, I know. So…where am I going now? What do we do now?” I asked.

“I guess, we have to go to Hyundai and see if they have the rim. I just know they aren’t going to have it. You know we are going to have to order it right? And, you know this is going to cost like $300.00 right?”

“Um… hmm. I love you daddy.”

 

 

When we got there, the first thing my father did was find out IF they had the rim we needed in stock.

And, YES! They did.

Then my father needed to know, “How long is the wait going to be for the dealership to fix the tire?”

“An hour and a half.” Said totally innocent employee.

“No! No, that’s no good, I have things I have to do. I’ll just buy the rim and take it somewhere else.” Yelled my short tempered, at times, irrational, over-reactive, yet very lovable and quite entertaining daddy.

“Let me see what I can do.” Said totally innocent employee. Five minutes later, “It should only take a half hour sir. Can you wait that long?”

“Okay. Fine.” My father replied, begrudgingly.

 

 

While in the waiting area of the service department, watching the food network and reading skiing magazines, my father and I had a nice laugh at the strange couple that was next to us, who decided to sing along, out loud, out of key, to the bad 80’s songs in the commercials on TV.

45 minutes passed when my father noticed my car was still, just sitting there. In the parking lot. NOT being worked on. Not being worked on at all.

My father paced the waiting area once, and took off. I stayed in the waiting area. I knew what was about to go down.

*INSERT DRAMATIC HORROR MOVIE MUSIC*

(In hindsight, I wish I had followed him and taken pictures of him freaking out on the dealership people, but I didn’t want my camera to get destroyed or be the recipient of one of my fathers’ tyrannical rages and/or speeches.)

All I heard, 10 minutes later, from outside the window, “C’mon Mel, lets go!”

I ran out the door to meet my dad, when I noticed he had a box under his arms. It was the steel rim we needed.

I didn’t say anything. I just got into the passenger seat.

“They wasted 45 minutes of my time! What the fuck is with these people, oh, sure, they were going to start to work on it now! NOW?…Now! After 45 minutes already passed, I’d be sitting here for the hour and a half I didn’t agree to. These fucking bullshitters. Fuck them. I don’t even want them to fix it. No, we are going somewhere else now! ! !”

“Okay…daddy. Sure whatever you want.” I decided to be brave and ask for the hell of it, “What did the rim cost anyway?”

“$190.00”

As we pulled out onto the highway, my father just decided traffic laws no longer applied to him.

Maybe he thought he could somehow get back the 45 minutes of his life that were wasted, and therefore he could just ignore all signs, or rules, and make illegal turns to get to a new place, a better place to fix the tire faster. Maybe he was in such a hurry to stick it to Hyundai by getting the tire fixed as fast as he could by another place even if it meant breaking laws. Maybe he really did have other shit to do? Like hanging curtains for my mom. Right?

This was the next place we went to…

 

 

We flew into and out of that parking lot, within three seconds.

“This place is packed. I will be stuck here for an hour and a half. No!”

“Okay daddy.” I clung to my seat belt for dear life.  “I love you daddy…”

And mind you, we flew down Route 9, with the fucked up tire, still on the car.

After turning down side streets and whipping through the town of Freehold, we ended up on MECHANIC STREET.

That’s right…Mechanic Street.

Low and behold…what is on Mechanic Street?

A Michelin Garage!

WITH NO PEOPLE.

AND NO WAITING TIME.

 

 

My father walked right in, right up to the front desk and explained the tragedy of his day.

He rambled on about how terrible Hyundai is and how they are a bunch of liars and scumbags. How he had so much to do and how it had been three hours since we started out this morning. He explained how couldn’t take it anymore, and he asked if they would they please help him now? Or he will have to come back on Monday?

 

 

 

Luckily….  these people were more than willing to solve the life-death-severity of urgent rim-changing-ness.

And they would do it, for $20.00.

While we waited all of 9 minutes for the tire/rim to be fixed, my father sat back, to read this magazine:

 

 

And that’s when my dad considered, just for a second, it might not be a bad idea for him to change his whole life? Maybe even become a member of the Jihadists movement? Then, he could be wielding a machine gun. Much like the child on the cover of the magazine. And NONE of this would have happened today, had he been equipped with the proper ammunition.

After it was all said and done and paid for, on the way home, we turned down a side street.

He thought it would be a shortcut home.

But it wasn’t.

It was filled with mothers, and more mothers, and tribes of children, and strollers.

My father looked at me and said…..”GREAT! Now we are stuck in a PARADE!”

And both laughed so hard, we cried.

 

 

I’m sorry I wrecked your day, daddy!

But thank you for my new tire & new rim!

 

 

Posted in Family, Humor, Photos | 33 Comments

My Daddy And 75 Cents

Posted on September 8, 2008 by Meleah

In keeping with the ‘Stories About My Daddy Theme’, I bring to you a classic tale. These events are 100% true and originally occurred on Monday October 2nd, 2006. Some of you may be familiar with this post as I have referred to it once or twice.

I talk about my family a lot. Mostly because I love them and also because they are all sofa king crazy, you can’t help but laugh. My father, whom I adore, is extremely smart. And he is a well intentioned, passionate, handsome, life saving, family providing, over reacting, hyper active, attention deficient having, genius.

The following is a story about my father. 75 cents. A gas station. And an air pump.

ENJOY!

The phone in my office rings, when I answer to find an irate individual shouting on the other end. I know the voice belongs to my father – but I can’t understand what he’s saying because he’s screaming.

Earlier that morning, my father had gone to the gas station to fill his slow leaking tire with air. He pulled in and parked right in front of the air pump. He took the stopper off the tire, he put 75cents into the machine, and then he tried pumping the tire full of air. Except that no air came out. My father checked the machine, and checked it again, but nothing was working. It was clear the machine was broken.

Just like anyone else in the world would do, my father went over to the attendant and explained the situation. “Hey, excuse me, but I just put 75cents into your air pump, and nothing happened.”

The gas attendant, who barley spoke any English, told my father to wait a few seconds and he would be right with him. So, my father waited. And waited. And waited. And waited – for what seemed like a lifetime. Ten minuets later, also known as just enough time to push the ‘patience envelope’ with my father, things started to get heated.

After serving every other customer, the gas attendant finally followed my semi-upset, borderline-angry father over to the machine. The gas attendant looked at the pump before putting his own 75cents into the machine and tried again. Still nothing.

“It broke” said the attendant.

“Yes, I know that” said my father. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing” replied the attendant.

My father, now noticeably angry, yelled, “Well, you owe me 75 cents!!”

“No, machine broke”. The attendant argued.

“I know it’s broken, but it’s YOUR machine. There is no sign indicating it’s broken!! You owe me 75 cents!!!”

“No. Machine broke. No 75 cents for you. I gave 75 cents too.”

At this point my father’s blood pressure was rising, his jaw was clenched tightly, and he lost the ability to reason rationally.

“That doesn’t matter! I don’t care if you lost your 75 cents. You can, and you will, get your money back. But I want MY 75 cents, and, I want it now!!”

SIDE BAR: In the middle of his rant, my father noticed a couple. They had been there all along, only when they first arrived they had their Mercedes windows rolled down, and they were casually relaxing, dressed in weekend get away clothes. However after witnessing his full-blown-nuclear-outburst? They had rolled up their windows and locked their doors, and now they sat perfectly still – looking straight ahead with their hands folded in their laps.

“You a crazy. You a crazy man!” The attendant shook his head as he walked away.

“No, I’m not. You’re WRONG!”

My father stormed off and got back into his car. He peeled out of the parking lot with the half flat tire. And that’s precisely when he called me to tell me what had happened. The man was livid beyond help. I know that tone of voice all too well. And I also know when he is at that point, there is nothing you can say or do, but shut up and listen to him.

Here are the series of revenge ideas my father contemplated:

“You know what I am going to do? I am going to call the cops! I was robbed. I am calling the cops and saying I’m telling them I was just robbed. They robbed me of my 75cents, this is fucking bullshit!!!”

*CLICK*

5 seconds later my phone rings again.

“No, you know what I am going to do, I am going to make a huge poster. I am going to make a really big sign that says THIS GAS STATION RIPS PEOPLE OFF, and I am gong to stand in front of that gas station with a bull horn!”

*CLICK*

Another 5 seconds later phone rings again.

“No, I am going to take a crow bar, and smash the f**king thing. I’ll just break it open and take MY 75CENTS!!”

*CLICK*

My father was so enraged, he couldn’t let this go. In fact, he circled back towards the gas station to confront the attendant again. Fortunately, he stopped in his tracks, after he convinced himself that MAYBE, he was over reacting – a little.

By the time my father arrived at our office, I had informed the other employees what has occurred and how they would be wise to avoid one Mr. Colonna at all costs.

After hearing the story, most people in our office said the same thing, “Jeez; I’ll give him the 75 cents.”

But it was not about the 75 cents anymore.

It was the point.

For the entire work day my father argued with anyone that would indulge him. “Would you let someone get away with it if it was 2 dollars?” My father continued to defend his position, carrying on about how if he was in Grocery Store and put 75cents in a soda machine but didn’t get the soda, the manager would refund his money, so therefore, the same rules, MUST apply in this gas station!

Right?

My dad spent the next 24 hours of his life trying to derive ‘The Perfect Plan’. He stewed, and stewed, and stewed, and he plotted his sweet revenge.

The very next day, my father went back to the very same gas station.

This time he pulled up to the gas pump. Not the air machine.

He didn’t get the same attendant, but that didn’t matter to him.

Instead of yelling, or causing yet another scene? He calmly asked for 5 dollars of gas.

When the attendant came to collect money?

My father handed him $4.25.

And a note.

“YOUR OTHER 75 CENTS IS IN THE AIR MACHINE.”

And then he drove off.

Yep.

That’s My Daddy.

Oh, and if you ever need air in your tires, do NOT go to this gas station:


Posted in Family, Humor, Life | 46 Comments

The Next Vice President?

Posted on September 6, 2008 by Meleah

Posted in Humor, Politics | 48 Comments

My Daddy And The Spider

Posted on September 5, 2008 by Meleah

When I was living in the mountains of California while attending boarding school, one night, peacefully sleeping in my bunk bed, I felt something moving under my covers. And it wasn’t me. I sprung up, ripped off the blankets, and found the biggest, hairiest, scariest spider creepy crawling up my leg. As I started to freak out the spider bit down on my left leg right underneath my kneecap. Within a matter of seconds my entire calf was swollen three times its normal size. I couldn’t feel or move my toes. My left foot went completely numb. A staff member heard the colossal racket coming from our dormitory and came to my rescue. Thankfully, she dialed 911. I was whisked down the mountain in an ambulance, rushed to the emergency room, and learned I had been bitten by a black widow spider.

Upon arriving at the ER they immediately distributed some sort of anti-venom, with plastic tubes and needles, that went directly inside the gaping hole under my kneecap, and down the length of my calf muscle. I sat there in total disbelief watching as they sucked out puss and blood from my leg via some sort of ‘dust buster’ like contraption. The doctor walked a way from me, once, only to call my mother, who was 3,000 miles away in New Jersey. They informed her they may have to amputate my leg…depending on weather or not the medicine worked.

So. Yeah.

Even though I did not loose my leg that day, or any other day, I am forever traumatized by anything related to spiders. 

Which brings me to the point of this blog post.

Once upon a time, I lived in an apartment complex, with my two year old son. And, I was having one of those nights where I couldn’t sleep. So, I decided to embarked upon one of my famous 6 hour cleaning benders. I scrubbed down the kitchen, and I scrubbed down the bathroom, when I suddenly felt the urgent need to remove my mattress, in order to vacuum underneath my bed. Using my freakishly strong upper body strength, I also removed the box spring and placed it against the wall.

And that’s when I saw it.

Big. Black. Hairy. Spider.

At first, I really tried to be brave. I crossed my fingers, and said a little prayer, while attempting to suck up the spider with my vacuum cleaner. But, I had no such luck. And when I saw the spider ‘JUMP’  I lost it. I dropped the vacuum, ran out of my bedroom as fast as I could, slamming the door behind me. I hauled ass  – clear across my house –  screaming the whole way. I made it into the kitchen and hopped onto the counter.

My two-year old son heard my screams and his tiny little feet carried him into the kitchen right behind me. Soaked in his own tears, he asked, “Was ‘smatter Momma?” “Was ‘smatter Momma?”

I scooped up my son and placed him on my lap, “There is a giant bug in mommy’s room and I can’t kill it. I need someone to help me.”

“Is he a sca-wee bug?” He asked with blue eyes filled with confusion and fear.

“Um. Yeah.” I reached for the telephone. “But it will be okay. I’m going to call Gramma & Poppa, right now.”

I frantically dialed my parent’s house as I held onto my son tightly.

“Mom? Are you there? Are you awake?” I panted. “You have to come help me…” I sobbed into the phone. “There is a really big spider in my room…And I can’t…And I can’t kill it…And I’m too scared…”

My half unconscious mother interrupted my hysterics, “Meleah… Stop.” She spoke calmly and quietly. “Take a deep breath. Where are you now?”

“I’m in the kitchen.” I stammered.

“Where is Justin?”

“He’s on my lap.”

“Meleah,” My mothers voice cracked, “Do you know what time it is? It’s after midnight for Christ sakes!”

“I know!” I yelled. ” And I’m sorry, but pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? I can’t go back into my room. I just can’t. I’ll never be able to sleep knowing that thing is in my room.” I pleaded  with her.

“Hold on.”

The phone went silent.

I was mentally preparing myself to sleep on the kitchen counter when I heard my mother say, “Fine. I am getting up and coming over. I’ll be there when I get there, but you need to calm down for your son. You are scaring the life out of him. Pull yourself together.”

“Okay. Okay.” I felt relived help was on the way. “So, you’re definitely coming here right?”

“Yes.”

*Click*

I looked at my son and pretended I was fine. “Hey, guess what buddy, Gramma & Poppa are coming over. But we’re going to stay here, on the kitchen counter, until they arrive.”

My son and I waited for what seemed like forever.

Meanwhile, both of my parents got out of bed, put on their clothes, got into their car, and started the 45-minuet drive to my house.

[Side bar: My father is my stepfather and while he’s been married to my mother for a billion years now, at the time of the ‘spider situation’ he was still just my stepfather. This night, is the very night, when he stopped being just my stepfather. This was the night he became ‘My Daddy’. The daddy I’ve always wanted. The daddy I’ve always needed. And the daddy I’ve waited my whole life to find.]

According to my mother, this is what happened on their end.

Mom: “Jesus Christ! Why can’t she have her hysterical moments during the daytime? Does she WAIT for us to go to bed first?”

[Dad is pulling on his jeans while Mom is still sitting on the bed.]

DAD: “I can’t believe I’m driving there to kill a goddam bug.”

MOM: “That’s because you’re not driving there. Where are my shoes?”

[Mom is getting out of the bed and going towards the closet.]

DAD: “Shoes? What are you talking about?”

MOM: “She’s my daughter, she’s my problem. There is no reason for you to drive all the way over there. I’ll use a friggin frying pan to kill the damn bug.”

DAD: “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

And so started their first (and last) argument about whose daughter I was and whose daughter I would continue to be. While they argued, they climbed down the stairs, yawning and pulling sleep from their eyes. By the time they reached their kitchen my mother relented, giving my father what I’ve learned is the only argument she ever let him win. When they left the house, they were going to rescue THEIR daughter. I was no longer just my mother’s daughter. My father knew I was more than a handful. But he loved me as much as my mother did. And that made me his daughter. And his daughter needed to be rescued. From a spider.

My dad got into the car wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and jacket. My mom, on the other hand, sat in the front seat wearing leggings, asweatshirt, and slippers. (Apparently her shoes remained missing). Sipping their travel cups filled with coffee, and staring through the windshield, neither one spoke to each other until they were almost at my house.

Except, of course for the expletives.

MOM: “I can’t believe we’re doing this. WTF?”

DAD: “I can’t believe we’re doing this either. And we have to go to f*cking work tomorrow morning.”

MOM: “Doesn’t this EVER END? I am so pissed.” (((Sigh))) “If it wasn’t for Justin…” (((Sigh)))

DAD: “Let’s try to calm down.”

MOM: “Well, slow down then. You’re speeding. I really don’t want to get pulled over in my pajamas and slippers.”

DAD: “Oh. That would be perfect, would it? I can just see it now. Cop pulls us over, walks up to the window, flashlight in my face and demands to see my license and registration. But hey, we have a great explanation, right?  I’ll just tell him, ‘sorry officer, I know I was speeding, but it’s an emergency. I have to get to my daughter’s house as soon as possible, it’s a real emergency. I have to kill a spider. Apparently, we’re the bug police’.”

When my parents finally got to my apartment they were laughing.

I was still on the kitchen counter with my son when my father walked into my apartment with a face full of smiles.

“So…I hear we have a problem with a spider, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“It was under my bed, but I don’t know where it is now. It’s huge. Even the vacuum wouldn’t suck it up.”

I feverishly explained the whole spider situation to my father and my mother swooped in to take care of my son. She coddled him inside of her arms and remained in the kitchen calming all of our nerves.

My father headed down the hallway toward my bedroom to implement his ‘mad spider catching skillz’.

He was so cool and so collected about the whole thing. He was making jokes from down the hall and my son started laughing. Justin must have felt a lot safer with my parents inside the house – because he suddenly became brave and even curious about the spider. He began peeking around the kitchen corner to see what my father was doing.

My father managed to convince my son to help him catch the spider. “C’mon, Justin! It’s not scary. You can come with me, and we can learn about nature.” And that’s when my son jumped at the chance to help his grandfather.

But, I remained slightly petrified and semi frozen in the kitchen with my mom.

When the two of them came back out of my bedroom my father was clasping his hands together with the spider inside. He was laughing and smiling, as was my son.

My father put his hands close to my face and said, “C’mon Meleah! Look at the spider!”

“NO!” I backed away quickly.

“Oh. C’mon.” He taunted me. “It’s nothing. Just look at the spider.”

“Not. Gunna. Happen.”

Then my father whispered something into my son’s ear.

“Momma.” Justin looked into my eyes with a huge grin on his face, “Soooo okay. You can wooook at it. S’not Bad. Reaww-y.”

I didn’t want to upset my son, “Do you want mommy to look at the spider?”

My two-year old jumped up and down, dancing with excitement, “Yes please!”

And how could I say no to that?

It took everything I had – to muster up the courage – to face that spider.

Gradually, I leaned towards my dad and he slowly opened his cupped palms. I began to see the black leg sticking out of my father’s fingers, and I started to wince.

“It’s FINE, Mel!” My father’s hand was all the way open.

And there it was.

My spider.

 

 

 

 

 

Except that it wasn’t a spider.

 

 

 

 

Nope.

 

 

 

 

It was a broken black Hair Clip.

 

 

 

 

Made out of plastic.

 

 

 

 

 

Oops.

 

 

 

 

Yep.

 

 

 

 

 

My parents drove to my house, in the middle of the night, to kill a hair clip.

And to this day, I will never live that down.

Posted in Family, Humor, Life, Other Bloggers | 69 Comments

Wait! Isn’t that…?

Posted on September 3, 2008 by Meleah

What can I say about my father? I could write a book about the man and how he helped save my life, gave me a career, or why he is the reason I even have a family. But instead, I want to share with you another side to my father.

My father happens to look like a very famous, icon-level, singer. Sometimes his more-than-slight psychical attribute can cause quite a roar. Let me tell you the story about a little incident (which occurred as a direct result of the considerable resemblance). This incident took place while on vacation with the guys, all the way in Vail Colorado.

After making a zillion ski runs down the luxurious bump filled slopes of Vail, my father and the guys enjoyed their dinners at the same restaurant every evening. Needless to say, after a few nights, the group had become rather friendly with the owner and the staff members.

One evening, the owner of the restaurant decided to have a little fun. He wanted to play a prank that included my unknowing father and the other unsuspecting patrons in the building.

There just happened to be a three-piece live band playing that night. The owner of the restaurant asked the lead singer of the band to lend a hand in executing this prank. The lead singer, took one look at my dad, and agreed…all to eagerly.

Smack in the middle of dinner service, the lead singer of the band, having just finished a Billy Joel set, turned on a bright spotlight.

A GLEAMING WHITE HOT SPOTLIGHT.

First, the spotlight was aimed onto my fathers’ table. But then, the spotlight narrowed in and pointed directly onto my fathers face.

Immediately the chatter amongst the tables ceased. People in the bar put their drinks down. Silence fell heavy in the room. Everyone curiously distracted by the giant ray of light gleaming onto what appeared to be a somewhat familiar face.

With microphone in hand, the singer announced the following, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am happy to tell you, we have a celebrity in the house! Look right here!” (spotlight square on my dad’s mug) “Everyone please give a warm welcome to Tony Bennett. Right there! It’s Tony Bennett. Tony! Don’t be shy! Stand up! C’mon, take a bow!!”

What was my father to do?

I’ll tell you what he did.

He stood up.

My father stood right up.

The entire room started applauding. Thunderous clapping rang in the air. My father stood there, and then, he jumped right into character.

He started to wave, in slow motion, while he turned a full 360 for all to see, before gracefully taking a bow.

After my father was seated again, a couple of drunken blitzed girls ran over to his table. “OMG! Like? Are you really Tony Bennett? OMG! OMG! OMG! You like ARE…You ARE like totally Tony Bennett!…Um. Can we like have your autograph?”

[insert pregnant pause]

“Yes, yes you can.” Said my father. He picked up a pen andautographed the napkins.

Yup.

That’s my Daddy.

 

 

When he’s in Colorado, he’s not Ron Colonna. He is Tony Bennett.

In my fathers defense…

Can you tell who is who?

 

 

Posted in Family, Humor, Photos | 73 Comments

Re-Cap

Posted on September 2, 2008 by Meleah

My holiday weekend went something like this:

Friday: After work, I went to my local country club and laughed my ass off with the staff.

Saturday: I got my hair done by my best girlfriend Tiffany and then we spent the evening together laughing and playing games like Ghetto Scrabble.

But. Yeah. Um. What Is It Like To Sleep Next To My Best Friend? And by ‘sleep’, I mean lying AWAKE all night long. Okay, so I am 33 years old and I still have ‘sleepovers’ with one of my best girlfriends. That’s not the point. The point is the girl snores. And by snores I mean she makes sounds that aren’t even human. The closest thing I can come up with to compare the racket she makes is with a grizzly bear that’s coming fresh out of hibernation. It is literally impossible to fall asleep with that noise emanating from her.

But what’s worse? When she stops making those noises. Because then I become terrified that she has stopped breathing all together. As I lay there sleep deprived from listening from the roars of her snores, I sit nervously waiting and highly concerned while hoping that she will resume making those horrifying sounds and quickly. Sometimes I even count the seconds of her silence praying that she is not dead.

It’s a loose – loose situation.

I can’t sleep when she makes those sounds, and I can’t sleep when she stops making those sounds!

Does anyone else out here in blogville have to sleep next to someone that keeps you up all night? And, if so, what do they do that irritates you?

But I digress.

Sunday: I did NOTHING. I turned off all of my phones and my computer and just laid in bed all day super lazy watching a Law & Order Marathon. I was probably still so tired from the LACK of sleep on Saturday Night.

Monday: I watched the movie Fight Club with my son while doing mountains of laundry.

And just when I was all done having fun, resting, relaxing and finishing all of my chores, it was time to come back to work.

(Sigh.)

I just never had it in me to get any real writing or real reading done. I guess I needed that kind of downtime? I am constantly on the run, forever busy, and always rushing around. It was nice to be with friends and family and even get some quiet time to sit still for a few days.

Posted in Life | 44 Comments

Happy Holiday

Posted on September 1, 2008 by Meleah

Posted in Uncategorized | 20 Comments

Pre-Holiday-Post

Posted on August 29, 2008 by Meleah

My holiday weekend will kick off, just as soon as I get out of this office precisely @ 3pm. 3pm never seemed so far away. Until now! I currently feel much like a school kid in the classroom waiting for the glorious sound of the release bell to ring.

This morning, I was utterly amazed with the LACK of traffic. There was literally NO ONE on the NJTPK. I’ve never seen that highway that wide open. It was like a scene from the movie I Am Legend (which by the way was not that great). Just ask this dood.

There is practically no one in my office either, which means this day is going to drag on forever. Everything seems to be moving in Slow Motion. I swear, sometimes when I sit here it seems almost as if I am being punished. With No TV, Very Limited Internet Access, and No Phone, it’s exactly like being grounded.

Business has been so slow; I can’t even drown myself in paper work to make the time go faster. And since I have nothing else to do with my day, I find myself daydreaming about ‘what my life would be like’ if I was free from the shackles of corporate America and the confines of this cubical. And I gotta tell you. It would be awesome! Can you imagine what I could accomplish on a 6 month sabbatical? Dare I dream?

But, I digress.

I am really anticipating a wonderful Holiday weekend, full of writing, the company of good friends, Law & Order Marathons, and lots of sleeping!

(I’ve already begun the re-write of chapter one per my awesome writing buddy.)

And, I MIGHT consider the slightest possibility of signing up for that online dating site The Parents have been hounding me about. Because sometimes ‘being really lonely is not totally super awesome.’

What are your plans for this three day holiday weekend extravaganza?

Posted in Dating, Driving, Family, Friends, Holidays, Life, Links, Work, Writing | 44 Comments

The Onion

Posted on August 28, 2008 by Meleah

I love me some satire. Therefore, its easy for me to love The Onion magazine. I have decided this is where I will be getting all of my ‘news’ for the rest of the year. It may not always be factual, but it sure as hell always funny.

This was my favorite article of the week:
(And not just because it originated from my home state of New Jersey.)

NEW BRUNSWICK, NJ—After decades of coddling young children, Johnson & Johnson unveiled its new “Nothing But Tears” shampoo this week, an aggressive bath-time product the company says will help to prepare meek and fragile newborns for the real world. A radical departure for the health goods manufacturer, the new shampoo features an all-alcohol-based formula, has never once been approved by leading dermatologists, and is as gentle on a baby’s skin as “having to grow up and fend for your goddamn self.”

“We at Johnson & Johnson have been making bath time a safe and soothing experience for far too long,” company CEO William C. Weldon said. “Years of pampering have left our newborns helpless, feeble, and ill-equipped for the arduous road ahead.”

“It’s time our children got the wake-up call that’s been coming to them,” Weldon continued. “It’s time they cried their precious little eyes out.”

The result of five years of intensive research and market testing, the company’s “Nothing But Tears” shampoo contains only the most abrasive of natural ingredients and is nearly impossible to rinse from a baby’s screaming face. According to directions printed on the label, the bath-time product is best used with scalding hot water for optimal toughening-up of newborns.

Available in an easy-to-find-and-open bottle, the new shampoo is also guaranteed to give children a “healthy dose of reality.”

“You’ll notice a difference after just one use,” said Michelle Baker, head of new product development. “Whether it’s your newborn’s more hardened appearance, the way he now approaches people with guarded skepticism, or just that look on his face that says, ‘Oh wait, maybe life isn’t all hugs and kisses and rainbows. Maybe I need to get my fucking act together.'”

Added Baker, “Johnson & Johnson will kick your baby’s ass into gear.”

A publicity campaign for the tear-inducing shampoo has already begun, with Johnson & Johnson debuting a series of television ads to push the baby-care product. In one of the minute-long spots, scheduled to air later this week, a mother cradles her crying newborn in her arms. As time passes, the weeping infant grows increasingly older, until the now elderly woman struggles to hold up her 48-year-old, 230-pound son. A voiceover announcer asks viewers, “Worried your child will never toughen up? At Johnson & Johnson, we can help.”

After rigorous product testing at the company’s research headquarters in New Jersey, the new “Nothing But Tears” shampoo was found to give newborns up to three times greater resilience than the leading competitor, as well as a stronger grasp on the crushing disappointment that is life. In addition, when combined with Johnson & Johnson’s new line of bleach-based conditioners, the shampoo resulted in noticeably thicker skin after only six uses.

In recent years, a growing number of parents have begun looking for ways to raise more adequately jaded toddlers, and Johnson & Johnson is not the first company to respond to the rising demand. In 2003, Fisher-Price unveiled a new adventure play set containing 85 easy-to-choke-on pieces, and in 2006, the Walt Disney Company introduced an interactive DVD entitled Baby’s First Brush With A Cruel And Unforgiving World.

Whether or not Johnson & Johnson’s new move will ultimately pay off remains to be seen. However, reaction to the tantrum-provoking shampoo has thus far been positive.

“My 13-month-old used to be a total pushover,” said new mother Catherine Smith. “But ever since I started washing her hair with ‘Nothing But Tears’ shampoo, not only does my little Debra kick and scream and wail, but yesterday she said her first words: ‘No, Mommy, don’t.'”

Despite testimonials from satisfied customers, some concerned parents have come out against the new shampoo.

“To knowingly upset your baby like that is downright cruel,” said Hershey, PA homemaker Barbara Sterling. “My child is going to lose his blissful sense of innocence the old-fashioned way—by coming home from school one day only to learn that his parents are getting a divorce”

—–

I know you are dying to read more from The Onion. And since I am in such a good mood today as we are about to embark upon a long weekend, I will share the link with ya’ll. Click Here!

Have A Great Labor Day Weekend Everyone.

PS: I will be available via email, and visible on the internet, posting comments, and reading all of your blogs, over the next four days while taking breaks from The Book Project.

Posted in Humor, Links, Off The Pole | 43 Comments

My Writing Buddies

Posted on August 27, 2008 by Meleah

I never knew the importance of a writing buddy. That is, until I got one. (Or two.)

A few weeks ago, I received an inquiring email from one of my favorite bloggers. You all know her as Random Chick.

She kindly reached out to me with respects to the book I’ve been trying to write for what seems like an eternity. She knows I’ve been having a hell of a time figuring out a few things!

You see… I’ve never been to college. I’ve never even taken a single writing class. I’ve never had the pleasure of being a part of a writing group. And I’ve certainly never had a writing buddy! Heck, I’ve just been writing every day of my life since I was nine years old.

Aside from sharing preview blog posts with my pal Michael C, mostly I am out here writing blindly. From my gut. With no direction, no clue, and no guidance.

Yes, I know there are books I can read to help me learn all of those rules of grammar. And maybe one day I will get around to that. I will never forget the comment my grandfather, Poppa Sye, made to me when I was freaking out about weather or not I should make one sentence into two sentences or, if I should use a semi-colon. Poppa Sye said, “That’s what editors are for. You just tell your story.” Ever since then, that’s what I’ve been trying to do.

I can also pick up books about ‘how to write a book’. But, I tend to learn by doing. I’ve discovered that I learn best through my actions.

And there is one book in particular that I will read (Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird).

[I’ve promised KellyPea & Random Chick with a pinky swear that I will buy and read that book. And I take my pinkly swears very seriously.]

Of course my mother is always good for bouncing off ideas. She is a super smarty and she is always willing to take a peek or hard look at some of the pieces I have worked on. As lovely as that is, and as much as I appreciate her efforts, it’s just not the same as having personal contact with fellow writers or getting hands on feedback.

I have to tell ya’ll, that I was literally blown away and utterly inspired after I received my first email from Random Chick chock full of suggestions and commentary on the rough draft of my chapter one.

Not only has she been kind enough to offer up an open and honest opinion, she gave me the best ideas, direction and notes…Ever.

I was so inspired that I found the courage and the strength to dig out all of the journals regarding the 10 year span when I worked in the bar. Fortunately that time of my life has been very well documented which will come in handy for when I am stuck. I’ve already started re-reading some of them and I’ve begun the process of organizing them into chronological order.

Since last weekend was such a waste, and since this weekend is a THREE DAY weekend, I am taking full advantage of my time. Let’s see what this new keyboard can handle when I am pounding the keys during my re-write of chapter one.

The most amazing thing to me was that after all of this time and after staring at my rough draft for so long, I had no idea what to do with it. I knew it had holes in it. I knew it needed to be fleshed out, but when a project like this is so big, and so overwhelming its can be hard to see what I need to do. I needed ‘New Eyes’ and a fresh look by someone willing to tell me what was so obviously lacking.

There was a time not to long ago; in fact it was probably only a week before Random Chick contacted me when I wrestled with the idea of deleting the whole thing and chucking the entire concept right into the garbage. Why do I need to write about my past anyway? Right? Wrong.

I am more motivated than ever. I am more focused than ever. Having Random Chick’s input makes me feel like someone just handed me a compass in the middle of a dark, giant, overgrown forest. I am no longer lost. It is so nice to have direction.

Posted in Family, Friends, Life, Links, Other Bloggers, Writing | 34 Comments