The eye of the storm is upon me…

This weekend has come and gone and I am happy to announce that I am still alive.  Barely. Friday night and all day Saturday were spent doing my good deeds at the church.  The Church Musical was this weekend and I struggled a bit.  I am the bar manager and at one point I asked myself why on God’s Earth am I the bar manager?  I thought about it all weekend and came to a final conclusion. 

 On Friday night, not realizing how much of a pain in my ass this whole event was going to be, there was a moment when one of the volunteers looked at me with the “This guy sucks!” look.   I would have to say that I fully agreed with him because I had never had experience managing a bar before in my life.  But, the bottom line is this:  I got the job done.  It was not pretty.  It was not sexy.  It was very thankless.  But, I got the job done.  Managing two bars, 16 different people, 260 bottles of wine/champagne , 40 cases of soda, 10 cases of water, 16 boxes of wine, and 2 kegs of beer was about the biggest pain in the ass I ever want to experience again in my life.  The great thing about it all is that I get to do it all over again this upcoming weekend.  I can not wait!  So, to the guy that gave me the “this guys sucks!” look, screw you.  Because  if you could do it any better, then you do it.  That is basically what I bring to the table is a guarantee to get things done, but not in the most beautiful or perfect fashion. 

The scariest part of all is that now that I have it down, and can do it well, I will be asked to do it every single year moving forward.  I have already begun to imagine excuses as to why I will be out of town for the two weekends of the Musical next year.  I want to ask now what dates they have on the calendar so that I can schedule a 2 week trip to some tropical destination.  What, is that wrong?  I don’t think so.  I have truly thought about this, and have run about every excuse through my tiny little brain and travel is the only way to get out of it.  The planning and preperation takes 2 months for this event, so a sickness won’t work.  Not unless I want to come down with a possible case of the HIV.  It would be a miracle….I can see it…I don’t do it next year due to the splotches appearing all over my back and chest(that no one can see of course)…once the musical is over o find out that a test came back incorrect and that I was fine all along…no I don’t think that would work.  It is a church event, so faking a death in the family somehow seems as wrong as it gets.  Nope, can’t think of any reason at all other than travel both weekends.  So, I am officially now planning my 5th anniversary.  I don’t know when I will be on it, but I will be sad to miss such a wonderful performance put on by the church. 

Funny quote of the weekend I overheard one of the bartenders say, “My wife already ate because she can not mix up her poop schedule.”  TMI. 

I don’t know why I posted that image for the eye of the storm headline.  I could have chosen a boring weather image, but thought that would be much more weird like me. 

Filed under: Blog, Church, Guy, beer, body, confused, funny, grouchy, mean, muscles, poop, scared, sleepy, sore, weird, wife, work

Beer Muscles

So, lately I have wanted to flex my beer muscles.  I don’t know why, but I have.  Maybe it is because of the number of times I have been dumped on lately.  For some reason, I like to take the dump and dump it on someone else.  I never have been inclined to flex them before, but for some reason, lately, if I get a couple of beers in me I start looking for reasons to throw down. 

Most of you that know me know me as a very gentle, kind soul.  I am.  This past Saturday night almost escalated to a point where I was ready to throw a punch.  I have also been influenced by a radio show in the mornings where they were talking about whether it’s a deal breaker if on a first date, the man will punch or fight another guy for interfering in the date.  9 out of the 10 women that called in said that it made them hot to know that there was a man that would defend their honor. 

I am married.  Truly Happily married.  I don’t want to freak any of you out in this post, so I will keep this as clean as possible, even though I could take this conversation right through the gutters down to the sewer.  My wife and I have a very wonderful romantical relationship.  I love to make her happy mentally and physically.  That is what marriage is about right?  So, my question is this:  Would my wife be one of the 9 who were turned on by the punches thrown or the 1 who would be angry? 

Honestly, I don’t know!  But for some reason, I have a desire to find out.  I could just simply ask, but what fun is that? 

This last Saturday night my wife and I met a couple from our neck of the northern Chicago Suburbs out for beer and pizza.  My wife is very close with this girlfriend of hers but I would honestly say that I have not been a big fan of her friends husband.  He is younger than I (24 vs. my 30) so there is an immaturity there that I find difficult to handle.  I could go on, but I prefer to not ruin something if this site were to ever fall into the hands of the characters in this story. I can say that I am more of a fan and could see being friends more now than ever.   Anyway, my wife Jeanne and her friend got up at this Bar/Pizza place to go to the restroom.  It was one of those moments where the two women say that they have to go to the bathroom.  This hadn’t happened to me in many years since Jeanne and I rarely ever will go to dinner with a couple other than her sister and brother in law. Regardless,  the restroom was not in the room that we were seated in so they had to walk into a seperate room.  Not a big deal, since the girls were together.  As the women came back into the room, they were followed by 3 men.  It was obvious that these guys saw our wives and being the wasted fools they were wanted to see if they were alone.  The women came back and joined us and the guys kept checking them out from near the entrance of the room.  It was at this point that my beer muscles started to tighten.  I was about 6 beers into the night so I was feelin mighty strong at this point.  I looked back at the guys to size them up, and one of the guys started making hand gestures at me in regards to the awkwardness.  I looked at the husband of Jeanne’s girlfriend to see if he looked like he could hold his own, and I was ready to go.  I joked with the girls about how great it is going to be that the first night the four of us get together is going to be highligted by Mark (Jeanne’s fiends husband) and I kicking some guys asses.  He kindof laughed in the tone where he thought what I was saying was funny, but you could sense that he wasn’t ready to follow me into battle.  I looked back at the guys, and they were gone.  For the first time in my life I was disappointed that fists were not thrown. 

Oh well.  It was probably for the best.  I will have to wait until some other time when my wife and I are together and some drunkard hits on her to find out whether she likes the “tough guy” or not. 

Of course it could all backfire, and I could end up finding out if Jeanne likes the “Dennis thought he was tough, but got his ass kicked” guy.  That would be a better ending to the story since I am the one looking for trouble. 

This was not my semi, manly gay moment from this weekend.  I thought that story and this one would blend together like oil and water.  It wouldn’t have made sense.  That post will come soon. 

Maybe this is the first stage of Mad Cow…?

Filed under: Blog, Guy, In laws, Roid Rage juice, beer, body, confused, fight, funny, grouchy, mad cow, mean, muscles, romance, scared, sore, train wreck, weird, wife

Sunday John

I have been contemplating whether to actually post on this or not, but I finally have to do it.  There is this guy who comes to church each and every Sunday and sells the Sunday newspaper.  Sometimes he sticks around most of the morning, sometimes he will just leave his stack of newspapers with a cup so that you can put in the $1.50 and take your own change.  He would assume that it is in church, so who would take the paper without paying?  Not a bad thought.  He must live with the attitude that I don’t mind when people steal from me, since there is a higher power that you will face when your time ends.  I believe that this simple mantra shows a large amount of faith in the belief that he truly believes in there being a higher power you must answer to. 

That is all nice and all, but there are several things that I do not understand that I have to bite my tongue every Sunday when I see Sunday John. 

I don’t know if his name is John.  I just call him that because I like the sound of it. 

Is this an actual ministry? 

Does he feel good about his day because he helped deliver the news to the parishioners? 

Can he actually make money from this?

Does he have a paper route as well?  He is a pretty old guy.  Maybe in his mid 70’s. 

There must be some story behind it.   Sometimes I find my mind wandering during Mass on Sundays while thinking of the funny possibilities as to why he feels motivated to sell the Sunday paper to Catholics. 

Maybe there is a Batman themed story.  Where when he was a child, his mother and father were Newspaper Logistical Engineers (politically correct) and while on a route together as a family some man walked up, stole all the sunday papers and said “Hey kid, have you ever read the paper with the devil in a well lit room?”  then BANG, BANG.  Both parents shot.  Leaving Sunday John to stand there and watch (see above captured photo of that moment) as all the houses on the route have to go without the Sunday news.  Sunday John grows up to seek vengenance by ensuring Sunday delivery to those who are less fortunate and do not have a subscription. 

Maybe a Waterboy themed story.  Where Sunday John grew up without a father, and momma told him that there was some incident where his father had a sad life ending while trying to deliver the Sunday paper?  He goes on to become the best paper delivery boy this side of the Mississippi. 

Maybe he goes to a couple of the paper machines around town, inserst his $1.50 and takes all the papers.  Then sells it and makes a good chunk of change.  If I found this to be true, I wouldn’t feel bad if I just took the paper without paying when he wasn’t there.  (I don’t do that.)

Who knows? (run on sentence alert!) But I am sure it can’t be where he just likes to bring in the paper in an act of kindness not making any money because he knows how much people enjoy reading the Sunday paper.  It just can’t be. 

Off the subject, I had another encounter with someone at Church yesterday who said “How are you doing, guy!”  I can’t help but cringe when I hear this.   

Finally, I forgot to post on this during my Easter debacle that I have written so much about.  The day after when I flipped out at work, I went home feeling sorry for myself thinking about how many times I had been shit on over the course of the last few weeks.  The collection letter from college was what took me over the edge.  So, I peed in my shower. 

I don’t know why.  I never do. I didn’t even feel the need to pee since I had prior to showering.  I just felt like doing something that someone couldn’t say that I was doing wrong.  I really don’t know what came over me.  It was a deep down relation to my animal instincts.  After I did it, I felt the strange connection that scientists always try and prove that we are decendents of monkees.  It felt good and so did I.  Strange how something so retarded could make me feel good about myself.  Maybe a sign of the Mad Cow disease kicking in? 

On the sterile topic, I have since cleaned my shower.  What do you care, since none of you reading this will ever stay in my house anyway.  But if you do…good luck guessing which shower it was in…. 

Filed under: Church, Guy, fun, mad cow

Happy Good Friday!

Happy Good Friday everyone!  One of my wife’s students asked her last week why they call it Good Friday and she realized that she didn’t know.  Being a pretend Biblical buff and knower of religious knowledge she asked me the questions and I realized that I had no idea as well.  Why would this day be labeled as “Good” when it celebrates an historical event that could only be labeled as horrible.  I don’t want to go all religious on you for this blog, but I guess when you look at the final outcome that came from the events of the Passion it is all Good.   Technically speaking, they call it Good Friday because it stems from the early English term “Godes Friday” which meant “God’s Friday”.  So, we say Good Friday when Good meaning God.  Interesting. 

Anywho, funny thing happened to me last night at church.  On the Thursday prior to Easter our Parish celebrates a meal called Agape.  This is a big Pot Luck and 700-800 people attend.  It is a nice dinner followed by Mass where we celebrate Jesus being taken from us after the Last Supper.  Anyway, it was during this meal last night and two very strange and very similar occcurences happened to me that sent my head spinning. 

“Hey, how are you, Guy?” 

“Hey, Guy! How are things?” 

Within 5 minutes, two different individuals referred to me as “Guy” within two very similar statements. 

Now, I am a pretty active individual at my Parish, but I am not so big headed that I expect that everyone at my chuch will remember my name.  I don’t know what it is about the “Guy” thing, but to me it is the same as saying:

“Hey, how are you, man who I feel may have gained the respect to get my hello, but not enough for me to remember you name?” 

or

“Hey, person who I really don’t care enough to make the effort to remember you name!”  “How are things?” 

 Deep down in my head as these two individuals made their attempt at friendliness all I heard running through my head were my versions of their statements.  Needless to say, their attept to being a friendly person failed miserably. 

Instead of saying the word “Guy” I would rather have them fill in that part of the sentence with anything, vulgar or not,  and it wouldn’t bother me so much.   

“Hey, how are you, retard!”….Not as offensive as Guy. I would find humor in this.

“Hey, Numb Nuts! How are things!”…Once again…offensive and funny.  Works better than Guy. 

All I’m trying to say is, the next time you run into someone whom you don’t know their name, do not call them “Guy”.  From a “Guys” perspective, it’s like calling someone a “F*#K Face”.  What if I referred to every woman I didn’t know in my salutation as “Hey, what’s new Girl?”  I think that they would know I am full of shit.  Resolving this issue is very simple.  Just don’t refer to an individual in anything other than “You”.  How are YOU doing?  How are things going for YOU?  Simple. 

 I will get off my soap box now and wish everyone a very wonderful Easter.  Enjoy the holiday and this “guy” will see you all on Monday. 

Filed under: Church, Easter, Guy, confused, grouchy