Is It Too Much to Ask...

…that an “everything” bagel and veggie cream cheese be made available to me every morning? The number of times I had to choose between wheat and wheat this month is an outrage. Also, whatever it is that looks vaguely like cream cheese but has been worked up into a frenzy is NOT okay.

Selina: The level of incompetence in this office is STAG-GER-ING!
- Veep. (It’s not TV, it’s HBO. Watch it.)




…that “morning” people keep their witty banter to themselves in the elevator? No joke, a woman got on ahead of me this morning and gave a play-by-play of her elevator experience.

“Well, I guess I was in the right in place at the right time. We can all squeeze in here. Come on, don’t be a chicken (I’m not kidding, she was heckling people that didn’t get on the elevator with us, lucky bastards.) Oh, of course I’m the farthest in the back and I have to get off first. So now you all have to move. Everyone have a fabulous day!”

Now go back and re-read that in a voice slightly more annoying than a local morning show host and you still won’t come close to how much I wanted to punch her.

Peter: Let me ask you something. When you come in on Monday and you're not feeling real well, does anyone ever say to you, "Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays?"
Lawrence: No. No, man. Shit, no, man. I believe you'd get your ass kicked sayin' something like that, man.
- Office Space



…that my kids not use my couch as their toy box? It’s bad enough that I have to bulldoze my way to a clear spot after they’ve gone to bed, but it’s ever so much more fun to find markers, Barbie shoes, books, Polly Pockets, beads, etc mixed in with Oreo and Dorito crumbs when I take the time to remove the cushions for a vacuum.

Plus, our couch is REALLY old. In fact, we are getting a new couch somewhere between Wednesday and Friday next week. I’m kind of looking forward to tearing off the underside fabric to see what has fallen through the cracks over the past ten years. That couch is like the Bermuda Triangle. A Bermuda Triangle with chocolate stains, rips in the upholstery, and missing a leg.



…that it NOT RAIN ON DERBY DAY? Seriously.

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

It's been brought to my attention by SEVERAL people (I honestly didn't know anyone would care so much.) that I did Duff a disservice by posting such an attractive picture of Joe.

Personally, I like that picture of Duff. He looks intelligent and kind. He's also TEN years older than Joe. And I'm fairly certain Joe never had a substance abuse problem, so all in all, I'm thinking he looks good.

But in the interest of showing you how he can still kick Joe's ass...here's one from a few years ago.

Also, there’s been a good deal of discussion among my much younger (read: ridiculously clueless) staff as to the identity of Jonathon Knight. However, every one of them agrees that Marty could easily be his illegitimate son.

Celebrity Death Match: Duff McKagan vs. Joey McIntyre

Okay, it’s a no brainer – Duff would beat the shit out of him. However…

As a counter-point to last week’s video breakdown, and in an effort of full disclosure that I was not nearly cool enough to hang with the GNR crowd in my high school, I now offer the other half of my teenage fantasies.

Where Duff was, let’s face it, mostly just to imagine the look of horror on my parents’ faces if I brought home a mid-twenties alcoholic/druggie with big hair; Joey was the boy next door I had an entire wall of Tiger Beat posters dedicated to.

Considering my best friends in the entire world had nicknamed me “white bread” by this point, it was much more realistic. If you consider marrying a beloved member of a heavily marketed boy band realistic. (Which I totally do.)

Though the Hangin’ Tough video would have been the most likely to be on heavy rotation at the same exact time as Patience, it’s mostly concert footage, so other than hideous fashion trends, there’s not much to talk about. Contrariwise, watching Joey sing Please Don’t Go Girl in his pre-puberty voice is now excruciating.

So forgive me for jumping ahead a year to Step By Step. (Note: I have been training for this post my whole life.)


Of course we have to get the fashion comments out of the way first. I mean…just…it is 1990, people and there are MANY wardrobe changes. I couldn’t possibly say all that needs to be said.

Danny Wood and the sideways hat. Donnie Wahlberg and his wannabeagangsta thug-wear. Jordan Knight in OVERALLS? Are we on a farm? That doesn’t LOOK like a farm. Joey is not innocent in this, by any stretch, but his clothes get overshadowed by his Puff Chick, mop-top hairdo that screams for a douse of conditioner. I’m actually giving Jonathon Knight a pass from the Fashion Police and vote him Most Likely to Not be Looked at Anyway. (I love you, Jon, just calling it like it was.)

Then there is the artsy video technique of the black and white film where the important parts have been colored in, but by someone who no longer owns a “Flesh” colored Crayola crayon. THIS is NKOTB kicking it up a notch. Got it.

Okay, back to the beginning. You might not know this if you haven’t seen every video that NKOTB ever made…several hundred times…but Jordan likes to stand in front of big fans - the kind that move air, not overweight groupies. Even better if he is wearing a shirt that is unbuttoned to flap around in the artificial breeze. It is unclear if he finds this dramatic or he just farts a lot.

And now we begin to see how much fancier their footwork has become since the early days. (This is the part where Jon is cut out most of the time. That boy could NOT dance.)

Donnie is starting to try to establish some street cred. What better way than to ride around on a motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket? Oh, yeah…DON’T BE IN A BOY BAND!

Danny wants to establish that he is very tough and possibly using steroids. What better way to do this than to pump some iron? Oh, yeah…DON’T BE IN A BOY BAND!

Joey wants to establish that he is just like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. What better way to do this than by dressing in tails and dancing with his shadow? Yeah, just keep doing what you’re doing, Joe.

For some reason they try to make the Sprinkler dance move look cool. Duff McKagan couldn’t make the Sprinkler dance move look cool. Give it up.

Jordan acts like he is conducting a small orchestra. Probably they are thinking, please take your smelly ass back over to that fan and leave making music to the true professionals.

And then we calm it down for each guy’s little solo. Danny sounds like the gorilla he is. Donnie tries to tone down his bad boy persona with some humor. Jordan’s falsetto is like fingernails on a blackboard. Joey, if you take away the too-big jacket, is actually adorable. And in yet another strange twist of fate, Jon pulls off looking like the most talented of the bunch (which he probably was).

(Sidebar to any of my co-workers reading this blog…is it just me or does one of my staff look crazy similar to Jon at minute 3:00? Could he be Tiffany and Jon’s love child? Given up for adoption as they toured their way across the midwest? It’s chronologically feasible.)

A little bit later, the boys have fun stealing what looks to be a script out of Jon’s hands as he casually hangs out backstage. Are you kidding me? There was a SCRIPT to this thing? Or are we to assume Jon is so popular that he has to spend his downtime reading Movie of the Week offers instead of learning the dance moves?

Seriously, he is missing from every shot on the stairs. I think there may have been some sort of liability about him falling off them.

Enter Marky Mark and Funky Bunch to play a little B-Ball with big brother. Huh?

All in all there is too much Jordan and Donnie, not enough Joey and Jon. As far as I am concerned Danny Wood does not exist. It’s like…who IS that guy? Was he ANYONE’S favorite?

And close on Donnie eating an apple. He’s just like you and me, except he eats apples while making music videos with his boy band.

Flash forward to present day…

Duff McKagan - Clean and sober; one class shy of a Finance degree; writer for both the Seattle Weekly and ESPN.com

Joey McIntyre – Still going on booze cruises with the old gang; surrounded by Approaching, On, and Over the Hill former groupies that may or may not have changed their hairstyles in the last two decades. (Which I would totally be on if I wasn’t married with kids.)

Duff’s not looking so bad now, Mom, is he?

Additional author’s note: This will be my last video break down for a while. Don’t leave me. Also, if you are with Joe Mac, please don't sue me for using that photograph, I am totally linking back to that page here. I think I used the word "totally" in this blog three times. Am I twelve?

Just a Little Patience

So this is totally stealing from my favorite gag on Grantland.com. “Rembert Explains the 80’s”. Rembert is a “Millennial” Grantland staffer, whose editors sometimes send him video clips of 80’s pop culture and he tries to decipher “what the hell we were thinking.” If you are a child of the 80’s there is absolutely no reason you should not be reading this.

You could probably also consider it stealing from Tosh.0’s video break down.

So Cleveland gets to host the Rock Hall of Fame induction ceremony this year, which is surprising considering we are the ones that HAVE THE DAMN BUILDING!

I digress…

Axl is “respectfully declining” the induction, because he wants to be a bad ass, but really just comes off like a regular ass. I mean, I get it. Don’t come. But don’t write me a dissertation on how right you are not to come.

In honor of his decision to forget that his original band was the reason he had any success in his life, I put the “Patience” video on a youtube loop.

Just ask Scott (or the Bon Jovi playlist on my iPod) how much I love a great Rock Power Ballad.

It should also be noted, the only way I was able to view this video back in the day was to log a few thousand hours at D’s house, because I personally didn’t have my MTV (or any cable channel at all).



First and best thing about this video. Duff speaks. Then we get a look around at their… recording studio? Only you kind of know there is no way you could record an albulm like that.

This is also where Steven can be seen lighting incense because there are no drums in this song and therefore he has absolutely NOTHING to do. The entire song. (Fact: last video he was in before he left the band.)

Only in a Rock Power Ballad would we, the people, stand for 54 seconds of WHISTLING before the song even starts. But how else can they highlight the real star of this video – Axl’s famous hip sway.

I would also like to take this chance to note the tightness of Axl’s pants and point out that if his hair wasn’t so long, he could be mistaken for a modern day emo alt rock hipster.

For some reason we have to watch a business man walking down the hotel hallway arguing with his super model trophy wife. This has nothing to do with the lyrics.

Slash likes to hang out with boa constrictors while a hooker in Fredrick’s of Hollywood starts to get in his bed. This also has nothing to do with the lyrics.

Axl then makes a show of having to read the lyrics, because he clearly just penned this diddy and wants to get the words right on the first take of the recording session. (Fact: It was allegedly recorded in one session, but doesn’t note how long that session lasted or if the number of empty liquor and champagne bottles is accurately portrayed in the video.)

Let’s pause while Duff returns his room service tray to the front desk, only to have everyone in the lobby disappear. Why do the other people keep disappearing? Did their parents get screwed by Micheal J. Fox when he went back in time? Regardless, Duff is clearly losing patience. Ahhh…at last the lyrics make sense with the video, but not really.

Steven gets to sit on the couch with some groupies and twirl his drum sticks so we remember why he is the video even though he has NOTHING TO DO. Also, he’s clearly high.

And now we are at Slash’s solo, which is AWESOME. There is nothing better than rock stars on acoustic guitars. Plus, he has that cool and aloof look you can only achieve when you let a cigarette dangle precariously from your lips.

And now he has even more hookers morphing into each other as they climb into his bed. Is it just me or are these the tallest hookers to ever live? Or is the bed just low to the ground? Or are some of them maybe transvestites? Slash does not care. He has a boa constrictor.

After the solo, Axl has to get in one last whistle and then “shhh” everyone so they could all admire more of his gyrating. I am supposing that this is where Mark Walberg got all his research done for the film Rockstar. He was definitely channeling Axl Rose in this exact moment.

Axl has to smash the neon phone. He has to. What the hell else does one do with a neon phone?

Oh wait, they are letting Steven chime in on the refrain, or the bridge, whatever you want to call it. (But really they could have let Izzy and Duff handle it…just throwing him a bone.)

Axl then sits alone in a hotel room and watches old concert footage of the band that actually got nominated for induction to the hall of fame. It reminds me of the moment in The Wedding Singer when Adam Sandler yells at his ex-girlfriend. “Now take off my Van Halen t-shirt before you jinx them and the band splits up!”

The business man and the trophy wife get back together. Phew. I was worried for those crazy kids.

The last sigh into the microphone…was it necessary? I don’t think so. Obviously, it would have been better to pan one more time to Duff. Nevermind that Izzy wrote all the music to this song. By all means, end on Axl.

Bat Shit Crazy

Author’s Note: This is the second time I am writing this post, because as I hit “post” blogger kicked me out. And the only thing saved in the draft when I logged back in was the first two sentences. That will teach me not to type in Word first. In case you’re wondering, the first version was fucking hysterical.

So I’m walking from my obscenely-priced open lot parking spot to work this morning…

I remotely register a girl walking her dog towards me less than a block away, but mostly I’m humming and thinking about all the super cool crafts and activities I’m going to get to do with the girls over my next week off from work.

Not buying it? Tough. It is irrelevant to the story.

Suddenly, I hear her start to get a little frantic. “Oh my god. Oh my god!” Yes, I hear you, sister. Over a week of round the clock child care. What was I thinking?

She starts to become entwined in her retractable leash. At some point it looks as if she is trying to catch the dog and at other times it looks like she’s running away from it, but basically they are just spinning in circles.

I see something brown flapping around in the dog’s mouth and I think, ahh…the dog picked up a dead squirrel. I figure I’ll come to her rescue and just use her poop bag to grab the thing. No need for hysterics ma’am, I’m a professional.

I mean really…the screeching…what the?

She turns to me with panic-struck eyes and it’s like slow motion.. “Ppleeaase…heeellpp…meee.”

There is a BAT hanging off her dog’s face.

Alright, that’s something you don’t see everyday. But still. I am no stranger to wayward bats. I can do this, I just need something to brush it off the dog. And just like that, the dog shakes his head again and knocks the bat loose.

The dog seems to be fine.

Now I’m staring at a bat spread eagle on the sidewalk…twitching. This will eat at my conscious All. F-ing. Day.

I think, if I just had a shovel. I could never kill a living creature, but I could (a) make a guy that walks by do it, or (b) throw it in a garbage can to suffer in privacy. Alas, I’m in front of Old Stone Church and the sanctuary is not open until 9, so God’s not doing me any favors.

Then I see a Cleveland Alliance SUV parked over in front of Key Tower and I march my ass in its direction. This is exactly the type of shit they should be handling – Killer Daytime Bats.

The police officer roles down his window.

Me: Um a dog just got attacked by a bat over there.
Officer: A what?
Me: A bat.
Officer: A what?!
Me: A BAT! Like those things that fly around. The dog shook it loose and now it’s lying on the sidewalk and bats aren’t really supposed to be out in the day…so could you get someone to move it before it bites someone?

I’m pretty sure he didn’t believe a word I was saying because he asked me to repeat SEVERAL times where the bat was, even though I was clearly pointing to the front of a Cleveland Historical Landmark.

Officer: Well, I can call it into the dispatch, but I’m not sure if there is anything we can do about it.

Not sure if there is anything you can do about it? A shovel, people! That’s all you need. What is this world coming to that we don’t know how to handle rabid bats!

He headed over (in his SUV) to assess the situation. My luck, the bat had probably regained his senses during this exchange and had flown off to cause the officer to think…yep, bat shit crazy.

Serenity Now

I’m a little concerned at the apparent absence of short-term memory in my children. Did I drop them on their heads too many times? Should I not have let them eat paint chips?

Is it normal for them to not remember something I told them exactly 3.7 seconds ago?

Typical weekend:

Where are we going? When are we going there? What time are we leaving? Where else are we going? How long till we leave for Nana’s? Which Nana? Do I have to wear a coat? Where are we going before Nana’s? Is Daddy coming with us? Where are we going after Nana’s? Will Whitney be at Nana’s? Why is there air? How many places do we have to go to today? Why are we going to the store? Why are we going to Nana’s? Which Nana? Where are we going and what time will we get there? Can I take my baby?

Rewind to five minutes prior to the first question:

“In twenty minutes we are going to all the leave the house together. First we have to stop at the store to pick up dog food. Then we will go to the gas station. Then, and only then, we will drive to Nana “Sid and Leo”’s to color Easter eggs. Uncle John, Barbi and Whitney will be there, too.”

I have never known two individuals more concerned with time, yet have no idea how to read a clock, nor understand the concept of how 11 AM differs from 3 PM. It’s best to stick with “before lunch” and “after lunch”.

Also...there is a shocking lack of curiosity for where the “Papa”s fit in this picture.

Maybe, you are saying to yourself, I gave them too much information to process.

Yesterday morning:

“My iPod is out of batteries. We have to listen to the radio”

“Can you put on Lemonade Mouth?”

“No, that’s on my iPod.”

“Can you play the “kiss me on my shoulder” song?”

“No, that’s on my iPod.”

“Do you have the ANT Farm songs?”

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DIDN’T BRING MY IPOD! I AM NOT TAKING REQUESTS!”

A few minutes of bliss while the radio station plays songs at random.

“Can you play the Muppets now?”

“The next person that asks me to play something that is on my iPod will lose their hearing for all eternity.” (I didn’t say this. I am not THAT mean.)

Thankfully a song comes on the radio that they know and can sing along with. Unfortunately, this song actually ends.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Can you play that song again?

Fuck. Me.