A heavy dose of truth, humor, and political activism.

Location: Phila, Pennsylvania, United States

Friday, December 16, 2005


CHRISTMAS TREE, OH CHRISTMAS TREE My wife loves Christmas. LOVES it. Until last Christmas she had spent every one with her family back in Canada. Last year, due to some childish and uncalled for behavior by the U.S. Government (specifically I.N.S.), we were forced to spend the holiday here in the U.S. and were not able to travel to see her family. She had always wanted to see the big tree in Rockefeller Plaza in NYC, so I figured it would be a great time to cheer her up and take her to see it. For anyone who enjoys Christmas, NYC is already a magical place in December. For someone who lives and breathes Christmas like the wife does, it's like the holy land. I will never forget the look on her face when we rounded the corner and she saw the tree for the first time up close. Imagine your biggest dream coming true right before your eyes. This was the look she had on her face. Her beautiful blue eyes lit up like they were lights themselves. Her smile must have stretched the entire length of Broadway. I don't think I have ever seen a look of wonder and content like that before or since. It was truly a Christmas miracle. This year we're going to see my in-laws as planned. I hope something can put that look on her face again. That would be the best gift I could ever ask for. ONCE UPON A TIME Being 27 sucks. It wasn't all that long ago that life was easy. Everyone was still in college or had just graduated, no one was married, no one had kids, basically, we were all still young, without much responsibility, and free to enjoy life. When did all of that change? I never see my friends anymore. Some got married and moved away. Some had kids. Most are just too busy with their new jobs or bogged down with work from various grad school programs. Then there is me. I have no college degree to speak of. I don't work with the same regularity as other people. I have no real hobbies. I really enjoy writing but until starting this blog had no real format to share that with anyone else. I love being married. What I really miss is being able to call my friends up, at least on weekends, and be able to get together to have some fun together. Now even on most weekends they are too busy. I guess that means I should follow the trend and get so bogged down that I don't have time for anyone else like I used to as well. I'm just having a really hard time adjusting to that. I'LL BE YOUR HUCKLEBERRY There is no greater dog, nor companion to the human being, than the Pug. For 8 years a wonderful Pug named Huckleberry was a loving member of our family. She died of cancer 2 summers ago and there has been a hole in my heart ever since. That dog was always there to cheer me up when I was sad, to lend an ear and a friendly lick in place of advice. She was there to amuse us with her antics. She forced my father to socialize with people in the neighborhood (as the act of walking her fell upon him 99% of the time), which was very good for him. She loved everyone and everyone loved her. The day she died my father came home and found her on the kitchen floor. She had been sick for weeks previously (we had known the entire time that she had cancer) but on that day she could hardly move. We loaded her in the car and started the 30 minute drive to the vet. She lasted about 25 of those minutes. She lifted her head up one last time, licked us, and was gone. I can remember seeing the life leave her body. I hope she knew how much we loved her. YOU WANT IRONY? YOU WANT IRONY? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE IRONY Imagine the thing you love the most (not a person or a pet, but an inanimate object, a hobby, a passion, something to that effect). Now imagine that one morning you wake up, feel a little sick, and are then promptly told that it is your love that is making you sick, and will continue to make you sick for the rest of your life. I always loved candy. I still do. My father always loved junk food. I guess the candied apple doesn't fall far from the tree. When I was little I used to ask people for a giant bag of blow-pops for my birthday, would eat as much Halloween candy as I could stomach the first night, and frequented any store within walking distance where candy was sold. As my sweet tooth became more refined, it focused more on gummy candy. To this day it is a vice I have not been able to shake. But I have diabetes. As many of you may know, candy to a diabetic is like driving to the blind: it's something that's best to avoid. If I believed that god was a person, I'd believe that he was fucking with me. How could someone who loves candy so much be forced to live a life without it? If I could just take the shots (which suck enough as it is) and still eat the candy, I'd deal with it, but I was told to trade in gummies for injections, chocolate for finger pricks, caramel for urine strips. Fuck you diabetes. Fuck you right in the pancreas. QUIT OOZING INTO MY SEAT YOU FAT BITCH My father and I have season tickets to Villanova for basketball. Currently Villanova is ranked #3 in the country which would normally make going to games an amazing experience, and for the most part, it is. The seats in our section are bleacher seats, meaning every row is just a long bench and not seats. Each bench has numbers written on it so you know where to park your ass. As luck would have it, the woman who parks her ass in front of me should really be sitting somewhere that is a little more suitable for her size. Like Texas. Not only does this tubby bitch ooze sideways (which I am sure makes it uncomfortable for the 2 people on either side) but she hangs her size 50 ass halfway back into my seat leaving me very little room for my legs. Now she has as much right to be there as the next person. Lord knows it's good for her to waddle out of her home, huff and puff her way up the stairs to our section, and devour hot-dogs, I mean what would sports be if you took away all the overweight fans? I'm not saying she shouldn't be able to attend games, she just should have to buy 4 seats. The one she sits in, the ones on either side, and the one behind her, so that she, and others who have paid their money as well, can all enjoy the game in a semi-comfortable setting. YOU ARE NOW FREE TO MOVE ABOUT THE COUNTRY...NOT SO FAST TUBBY I'm not the first one to lobby for size restrictions for fans sitting in my section. Don't think of it so much as buying a seat, but as a unit of space. Southwest Airlines has done the same thing. Fat people now need to purchase 2 seats (probably 3 if they've really let themselves go) on all of their flights. Just call them the fat police. They claim that people aren't buying a ticket that allows them to take up all the room they need. They are buying a unit of space that they can use to travel on that flight. That unit of space consists of one seat, from armrest to armrest. If you need more room, great...buy it. Now this might seem unfair to some of you and to those people I say you must have never been stuck on a long flight next to a big fat person who is oozing over (and under) the armrest into your unit of space. I have. It's bad enough being stuck in the air for hours at a time with the shitty service, shittier food, and recycled air, without having the tons-of-fun (literally) guy next to you smashing his fat sweaty body into your personal space. I'm all for fat people flying (cause let's face it, they aren't gonna walk anywhere) but let's make them shell out for an extra seat the way they do for an extra value meal at McDonalds. They'll be more comfortable, and so will the rest of us. GOOD NIGHT WISCONSIN Or wherever it is that you live. In need of another Spoon Full of Truth? Check back this weekend.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thanks for getting this posted early on a Friday. It gave me a good start on the weekend. The irony is that you probably will get us all hooked to our daily fix of you and will then start charging us money to read your blog. If that happens, you should give those of us who discovered you early a free ride. It's like the New York Times. I used to be able to read my favorite columnists (Dowd, Rich, and others) for free and now I have to pay to subscribe. I guess, like public television or good music, someone has to pay those who put on the programs or write the tunes. But I don't have to like it.

And before I sign off, what in the world did the following comment mean? (See below) I think I am intelligent (which is why I so appreciate your blog) but what is the commenter talking about?

Until next time -- and keep em coming!

December 15, 2005 2:47 PM

Anonymous said...
Thanks for acknowledging your non-pussy friends who danced with you till 8 in the morning on a broken toe in the 'Dam dude!

Now give me $25 or I'll cut you!

December 16, 2005 3:52 PM  

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