Now He Wakes up?

It's the early 90's(1990's for you youngsters) and the Chicago Bulls are rock stars. They are winning championships every year and they have Michael Jordan the most famous person on Earth. Even for people not from Chicago, you want to see your team win and Michael score 50. Well, this was the case the time my father-in-law invited me to go to a game in Milwaukee and watch his beloved Bucks play the Bulls. Now, let me tell you something about me as a fan. I'm a Homer. Not in the sense that I am completed jaded by my teams and can't see that there may be other teams or players better than the ones I cheer for (Except my Ohio State Buckeyes)but an actual Homer meaning, I don't like to watch my teams play games at the opponent's stadiums. I know people will watch their team play anywhere anytime. I won't. I like my home stadiums or my home, as in my living room. OK, so I love my father-in-law and agreed to go to this game. The seats were pretty good and I felt pretty confident Michael and the Boys would take care of business. Not wanting to start trouble or god forbid an all out riot, I kept my cheering level to a low and never thought of taunting(actually thought of it, you know me, just didn't do it). Unfortunately, my birth defect of having a loud voice(volumousmaximus) meant that the people in our general vicinity knew I was cheering for the Bulls. I think that actually motivated some people in my section to cheer louder to try to get under my skin(good luck pikers!). Things are going accordingly if you are Milwaukee Bucks fan..your team is playing the Bulls close and Michael has dropped in about 48 points. The Bulls are up 1 point with 15 seconds left and Milwaukee has the ball. A Milwaukee player gets the ball, fakes and shoots about a 20 footer. NOTHING BUT NET!!!!  The Stadium goes ballistic!! Everyone is my section is cheering extra psychotically in my direction,I guess to help me know what the score of the game is. Oddly, there is a guy sitting right next to me doing nothing but sitting there quietly. This guy didn't make a sound the entire game.(maybe he was pissed this wasn't a Packer's game) Even his buddy next to him was about to burst an artery cheering but not this fellow. He was just sitting there quietly sipping on what looked like a 96 oz cup of soda(maybe it was filled with Ritalin hence the catatonic state he was in). Almost like he was the only one that knew(I knew this too having Mr. Jordan on our team) that this game wasn't over yet. So everyone in the Tri State area knew who's getting the ball with 7 seconds left for the Bulls. The crowd is still going wild when Michael gets the ball. He takes a few dribbles, fires his shot and CLANK! off the rim. Milwaukee wins! Now besides the crowd going wild(which I expected), this guy next to me who was in a coma for 48 minutes, gets right in my face screaming WHOO!!! WHOO!!! OH YEAH!!!!  I wanted to punch this guy right in the nose but probably wouldn't have ended well for me( Massive brawl would have broken out-my father-in-law and I vs.95 people and I heard Milwaukee jails have bad food ). So after this guy took a breath from going nuts on me, I said "Well, we'll see what happens in the playoffs". Easily one of the Top 5 Worst Comebacks in the History of Danny's Life. It happens.

What The #@$%#@*& !!



                                                             (Bottom Row, 2nd from right)



My mother lives alone in a 2 bedroom condo in downtown Chicago. It's not a huge place but perfect for her.  She made the second bedroom a den/office. On the wall she had(yes, notice the word HAD) 5 pictures. All the wedding photos of her 4 children and in the center a really old refurbished picture of her mother and father's (my grandparents) wedding picture. That picture is a classic. Well, unfortunately as life goes all my siblings got divorced. Sad but it happens.  I'm the black sheep of the family because I have stayed married to my original spouse the longest(21 years this October). Well, my mother is her infinite wisdom decided she did not want to look at all the ex-spouses of her beloved children and removed the pictures(except the old pic of my grandparents) and replaced them with whatever was the last picture her children had taken. Well, I found out by going to her condo and not only seeing all the pictures removed but seeing what pic of mine she put up. She put up my freshmen year in college pic from the fraternity house I lived in. BRUTAL!!!!  I had the Jullet (Jewish Mullet) going on and looked like a total dweeb. (though now at age 47, I would kill for the amount of hair I had). I'm thinking, "What the F*ck Mom, I get penalized for being married to my original spouse? That is not right"  So I look at my mom and say "Hey, what is up with the new pictures?"  She disregarded what I said and asked me what she could make for me to eat(Standard Jewish Mother response to any uncomfortable situation). Then to see if my mother was listening to me, I say to her, "You know Mom, you're going into a home soon, it's just a question of whether it's a good home or a bad home, so keep this crap up" She again answers with "Do you want your crust cut off on your grilled cheese sandwich"  Let alone my wife, who was also there, was thinking, "So I'm not married to you anymore, huh? Good I was ready to date anyhow" So as it goes, all my siblings remarried really nice people and all the married pictures went back up. Glad to see that horrible pic of me off the wall but really would kill to have that amount of hair again.



Lamaze Class

It's November 1994 and my wife is 8 months pregnant with our first daughter.  As new parents we read a lot of books on parenting(actually my wife did, I would ask for the Cliff Notes version-what a shock), watch any show on parenting and tried to be as prepared as possible for being 1st time parents. Well, one thing we hemmed and hawed about was taking a Lamaze Class.  Basically, Lamaze is to help expectant parents(really the mothers) learn about what to expect when giving birth, naturally.  Yes, naturally. Meaning no drugs and as I soon found out, sometimes giving birth in the home with a midwife.  Now, the reason we waited so long to take this class was that my wife was always going to give birth in a hospital and  take drugs when she was in labor(Hell, she'll tell you she had to take drugs to make the baby!). We decided to take a Monday night class.  The first night we get there, we're sitting with about 10 couples and this woman walks in who I'm assuming is the teacher. She was not only the teacher but she was the perkiest, most high strung human I've ever encountered. I mean she made Richard Simmons look like he was in a coma.  OK, so Ms. Mary Happy Sunshine, starts talking about what to expect and then we go right to a video.  The video was of a woman giving birth naturally in her home. I'm telling you, I've seen horror movies that were less disturbing.  I mean this woman didn't look like she was giving birth. She looked like she was being tortured by Al Quaida.  Sitting next to me is a woman who either was having triplets or lived really close to a Burger King and I looked at her and said "You going to do that?" She looked at me like I had 2 heads and said "of course I am" OK then. After the video, the teacher has us break into couples and to discuss amongst each other our experiences in pregnancy. My wife and I are fortunate  get a Chinese couple who I think had been in the country 4 days. They didn't speak a lick of English and the 4 of us basically sat there smiling at each other for the next 15 minutes. At the end of the class, I told me wife that we really don't need to go to this again. She wanted to go one more time and I agreed. So it's a week later and Mary Happy Sunshine is fired up again like a poodle that has had one too many STARBUCKS coffee. I couldn't tell you what went on the 1st 45 minutes because I wasn't remotely paying attention and then Ms. Sunshine says "Alright Mommies and Daddies, now we're going to learn a massage relaxation technique. I want Mommies to get on all fours and Daddies get behind them" I then say loudly "That's how we ended up in this class!".  My wife is laughing but no else is and Mary Happy Sunshine is looking at me like I just ran her naturally born child over. So, safe to say that this was our last class. A month later with a full epidural, my wife gave birth to a beautiful healthy daughter and all I could think of was "I can't believe I missed Monday Night Football to go to that horseshit class"

The Wedding That Almost Didn't Happen

It's October 19th 1991. Yes! My wedding day.  My lovely bride and I got married that evening at the Milwaukee Athletic Club, a really nice men's club in downtown Milwaukee.  The wedding ceremony was beautiful and the party that night was really a great time with friends and family......though, it almost didn't happen

REASON #1
 The day of wedding my friends and I decided to play basketball at around 3:30( about 3 hours before the wedding.) The club had a small old time gym that was surrounded by brick walls(No padded walls behind the baskets like the basketball courts of 2012). So we're having a good time. 90% of us were severely hung over from the night before (Groom included). Some guy who was an actual paying member of the club made the mistake of asking if he could play in our game. Big mistake. My friends, for their own entertainment, abused this poor fella to the point of him leaving the court. I believe as he walked off the court all of us gave him the Atlanta Braves Tomahawk chop and chant(The Atlanta Braves were in the World Series in 1991 so it was a popular thing to do). Well, we've been playing for about an hour and of course I'm going 100 miles per hour like I normally do when I play sports. I drive down the lane to the basket, trip over someone's foot and THUD!!! I go head first into the brick wall behind the basket and drop like a bag of dirt. Everyone runs to me and I'm just lying there. Someone asks "Are you OK?"  I reply woozily "I didn't do my homework Mrs. Tiller, I'll take the zero" Just kidding. I was fine. Luckily, I've been blessed with a hard head. Some folks might say I have rocks in my head( ask my wife about that).

REASON #2
It's about 6:15 P.M. and we're 15 minutes away from the ceremony. The only thing to do is to have the Ketubah ceremony. The Ketubah is the Jewish Marriage Certificate that is signed by the bride, groom, a witness and the rabbi presiding over the ceremony. In the room besides my wife and I are my Mother, my wife's Mother and Father, the maid of honor(witness) and the Rabbi. The room is quiet.Very serious stuff here.  Everyone signs except me. I get to the desk and start to sign. I all of a sudden stop and say "Hey, I think I just signed the Rabbi's bar bill!"  The rabbi actually laughed (good man), my wife gave me the "Oh brother, can you be serious for 1 second" look but the best was my Father-in-Law.(Who I don't think at the time was so thrilled that his youngest daughter was marrying this moron). I wish I had a picture of his face. The color of his face was a mix of red and pissed off red. If you knew anything about body language and facial expressions, his look basically said "This wedding does not have to happen. I will stop this shit right now if I have too!" Priceless.

The wedding went on and 21 years later I can say that other than the day my daughters were born, it was the best day of my life...that almost didn't happen!

Might Be A Good Idea to Follow The Instructions

The year is 2005, I'm 40 years old and due to family history, I decided I needed to have a colonoscopy. Not the most pleasant procedure but definitely needed(If you're a male and 50 years old and haven't had one, you should get one-my public service announcement for the day). So part of the program is you need to "Clean out" before you have the exam so they can see everything clearly.  "Cleaning out" is basically drinking a liquid substance the night before that induces you to empty everything out of you from the South Side of town. The instruction for taking this liquid is to drink 8 oz of it every 45 minutes ( 32 oz in 3 hours).  So I'm prepared. It's about 6:30 P.M. and I have some reading material( ESPN Sports Almanac) and in some comfortable clothing. I open the container that has this liquid and take a little smell.  Whoa!!!  This stuff smells bad and I'm guessing it doesn't taste good either.  I poor the 1st 8 oz into a cup and drink it. UGGGGHH!!!! This stuff taste horrible.  I mean I never had a problem drinking any kind of shot whether it was Jack Daniels or Tequila but this stuff was god awful..  It was  like a rubbing alcohol taste with a hint of menthol.  Not to mention the texture of it really shouldn't be classified as a liquid.  It was more like a combination of phlegm and a raw oyster.  Not good.  I didn't know how I could sit around and do this 3 more times..Well, me being a rocket scientist I am, I decide that I'm going to attempt to drink as much of this swill as I can as fast as I can...not smart...so I proceed to drink the remaining 24 oz in about 20 minutes.  Not easy but at least I was done with it. So it's been about 40 minutes since the 1st oz and I say to my wife who is in our bedroom with me, "I wonder when this is going to kick in...HOLY !#$@#!!@!"  I feel like what Mt. Vesuvius must have felt like before it erupted. I bolt to the bathroom and let the games begin.  I proceed to sit on the toilet  in the "Evacuation Mode" the next 4 1/2 hours.  My youngest daughter who was 7 at the time, knocked on the door and said "Dad, Mom wants to know how you are doing?"  I replied "Tell Mom I'm asking the lord to take me now"  and then I said to my little girl "Do me a favor and promise me you and your sister won't call the new guy Dad". I think around the 4 hour mark, an organ might have come out of me. When I was finally done, I limped back to my bed( Limped because one of my legs was numb due to sitting on the can for 4 1/2 hours) and went to sleep.  Once again, Danny excelling in stupidity.

Wacky Birthday Party

The year is 1999 and my 4 year old daughter has been invited to a birthday party for our next door neighbor's 4 year old daughter. I love my next door neighbors and we have become good friends. They are really interesting people that go to the beat of their own drum. Well, this party is being held at a rec center gym in our area.  At age 4, parents are still staying at birthday parties, so I volunteered to take my daughter. The party is starting out like your typical birthday party. A couple of games, bunch of 4 year olds running around. So far so good. Let's have some cake and hit the road. They bring out the cake, the candles are blown out and the kids get finished eating. I might actually get out of here quicker than I thought. NOPE. Time for the entertainment. Out for a side door walks this kind of rundown guy in his late 50's early 60's wearing a pith helmet,cargo shorts, safari shirt and army boots.(Basically, Crocodile Dundee after he's had a 6 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon) He's shouts out "I'm  Captain Al The Reptile Man!" Oh Brother... So Captain Al proceeds to bring out a creepy looking lizard, a  turtle and even a pretty huge snake(not talking your little garden snake). These creatures were big. I was standing in the back of the gym with my daughter clutching my left leg in fear, while I will say there were some kids that were more enthused and sitting up close. Captain Al is letting the kids touch the reptiles and seems like nothing too out of the ordinary is going to happen. NOPE. Captain Al leaves the room and comes back dragging a huge black canvas bag and there's definitely something in it. Well, he pull the bag open and there in suburban rec center at a birthday party for 4 year olds is an 8 foot Alligator!!!.HOLY @$!$(@#!U !!!!!! Well, so much for a calm little party. All the kids sitting up front get up running and screaming to the back of the gym. It was total chaos. I'm talking citizens of Japan running from Godzilla chaos. Well, after Captain Al explains that this alligator is very old and docile(Right!then why does he have a big ass muzzle clamped to his mouth?)the place gets a little bit calmer(calmer meaning all the kids are with there parents at the back of the gym.) Now my neighbor walks his  4 year old birthday girl over to this alligator and he and Captain Al place her on top of the alligator like she's riding a horse. Captain Al and my neighbor are walking the alligator and smiling while the rest of us are sitting shocked in the back of the gym. The little girl meanwhile has a look of total terror on her face and unfortunately for my neighbor, she's been out of diapers for a few years( guess those underpants were thrown out). She finishes the ride gets off and everyone is getting ready to leave. Captain Al comes over to me(why is it always me in these situations?) and ask, "Hey, can you help me get this big fella into the bag?" Oh Man....I say "OK".  Captain Al says "You grab his tail while I grab the business end"  This ginormous reptile was freakin' heavy and not super happy about going into the black bag. After about 10 minutes we get him in the bag and I'm beat. Captain Al thanked me and went on his way. As we're leaving my neighbor says "Hey, Danny, pretty crazy stuff huh?"
I replied "Mark, you couldn't have rented a pony, it had to be a  8 foot alligator?' We both laugh about that party to this day.

Cash Only Please

I play in a pick up basketball game every Thursday night for the last 10 years. Good game, Good guys and good workout. I'm actually the commissioner so I contact the gym to get the rental agreement, collect money from the people playing and e mail everyone each week to see who is playing. Even though it can be a pain in the ass, I do it for selfish reasons. I want to make sure we always have a game and I can ask who I want to play in the game. (I became commissioner about 7 years ago in a total Michael Corleone Power Move-another story for another time). So anyways, everyone is pretty good about paying me for the session(usually I collect about $100 per 3 months from each person). I've been stiffed a few times but most of the guys pay me quickly usually cash. (One guy paid me with a personal check and the actual physical check was so large that I asked him "What golf tournament did you win to get this check?") Well, there's this one guy I will call "James" that used to play in our game. Nice guy, kind of quiet, great ball player and a total mystery.  No one really knows where he lives, what he does for a living or what. So what.  Good player and good guy (You can see my requirement to play in the game has nothing to do with character but can you hit the open 3 pointer?) . I do remember this guy always paying me but I did have to chase him a lot. So one session I'm collecting money from people and James says "Danny, I've got my money, you don't have to hound me" (If you haven't paid me in about a month, I send out broadcast e mails to the entire group stating your delinquency. Humiliation is a great collection agency). So I walk over to James as he pulls out his wallet. He starts to count out cash.  He hands me over 3 $20 bills and then pulls out what looks like scratch off lottery tickets. They were scratch off lottery tickets. He says "The tickets are winners and they are worth $40"  Looking stunned, I reply "James, I'm not taking lottery tickets for payment."  He replies "You don't understand, they're winners. Just go to the Shell Station and redeem them."  Are you kidding me?   I then said, "James, I'm not taking lottery tickets to the Shell Station. Pay me cash when you get it." James then gets another guy in the game to take the tickets and give him cash to pay me. James hasn't been in our game for about 3 years now and I do miss playing with him. Last I heard, he was in a game that the session fee was $60 and 2 live chickens.

How Did You Not Feel That?

It's the winter of 2011 around late February. If everyone(especially in the Midwest and East) recalls, lots of snow. So my oldest daughter at the time, has had her driver's license for about 2 months. Let me preface by saying that my daughter is a better driver than me now (If you don't believe me, read the post "Employee of the Month"). So my wife and I never hesitate to let her use one of our cars when she needs it. Well, It's a Tuesday night around 7:00 P.M. and she has asked if she can use the car to pick up her friend and drive to their weekly dance class. Hmm? Should I let her take the car or should I get off my ass that is securely planted on my couch watching some sporting event of some kind? Of course, she can take it. All I ask is for her to call me when she gets to the dance studio to make sure she got there safely. Off she goes and I assume the relaxation position. About 2 minutes later the house phone rings and I see on the caller ID my daughters name and cell phone number. UH OH!  This cannot be good. My daughter in a half panic mode says "Dad, I'm about a block away from the house and I think there is something stuck under the car." So, I throw on my winter coat and boots and head out of my garage. Now garbage and recycling pick up is on Wednesday mornings, so I always put out the garbage can and recycling bin on Tuesday nights which I did that earlier that evening. When I get out on my driveway, I don't see either of them. Hmmm? Did I not put them out? I know I did and I even look into my garage and see they are not there. It's pitch black outside but I look around and finally see where the recycling bin is. It is directly across the street from my house on my neighbor's lawn which is about 200 feet away! I put the recycling bin back and start walking down my block where I can see my wife's Honda Pilot is idling. (If you don't know what a Honda Pilot is, it's one of the Steroid SUV's that women in my neighborhood are issued at the maternity ward of our local hospital after the birth of their 2nd child.). I get to the car and can see that our garbage can is wedged under the car. I go to the driver's side window to talk to my daughter. I ask "Are you alright?" She replies "Yes"  I then say "Our garbage can is wedged under the car. Shut off the engine and I'm going to pull it out". She turns off the car and I go under the car from the back to get the can out. Oh yeah, it's also about 20 degrees outside. (Thought I'd throw that in to let you now how crappy it was outside). I'm pulling the garbage can and cannot unwedge it. I mean this sucker is stuck. I then tell my daughter "You're going to have to pull up a bit while I unwedge the can." She says "No problem" She starts the car and I get to the back under the car. I then jump up and run to her window again and say "Listen, whatever you do, do not put the car in reverse! You do that and Mom has to start checking out J-Date". She pulls up and I get the can out. I kiss her goodbye and off she goes to her dance class. She gets home about 2 hours later and my wife and I greet her as she comes in. My wife is the concerned parent asking if she is OK. After she says she's fine, I couldn't contain myself so I asked her "When you were pulling the car out of the garage, did you not feel yourself hitting both the garbage can and the recycling bin?" She replied "I thought I was going over a snow bank on the driveway" I replied calmly, "Well, I'm impressed that you knocked the recycling bin that far and surprised that the mailbox is still standing."

And The Winner is.....Horse Radish!

Well, it's been a while but here's another eating story from yours truly. This is about maybe only the 2nd or 3rd time I've been beaten by food. (I told you about my last culinary defeat in "And The Winner is...Habanero Pepper!"). So I'm at my annual industry trade show in Las Vegas this past week. I had a speaking gig at the trade show also, so I was there for 4 days(way too long in Vegas for me). So after a day of speaking or walking the trade show, I look forward to eating at one of the many fine restaurants Las Vegas has to offer. The 3rd night of the show, the owner of our company has told us that he's taking us to a great restaurant at the Bellagio Hotel. I'm excited because I know that this is going to be a great meal and I'm hungry as hell.  The owner also tells us that we've been invited to a wine tasting party thrown by one of our vendors that is also at the Bellagio. He tells us, "Let's go to the party, get some drinks and then we'll go eat"  Considering I don't drink and I haven't been to an industry party in 9 years (don't like hanging out with people who do the same thing I do. Just don't), I wasn't overly excited to go but whatever, I'll survive. So we get to the Bellagio Hotel and find the ballroom where this party is. It's packed with people. Also, there are a bunch of long tables with lots of different wines for people to taste. We also notice they have stations with different kinds of food. Lots of stations. There's a station with Asian Noodles, a station with fruit, a station with Sushi and there a couple of stations with  guys carving what looks like Prime Rib. Not to mention, there are a bunch of servers walking around with great hors d'oeuvres.  I was pleasantly surprised at not only how much food but how good it was. We're all filling up on food (we ate so much that we ended up cancelling our dinner reservations). So It's time for me to get some of that Prime Rib. I grab a plate and a little roll while my guy in the chef outfit is carving a really nice piece of beef. He plops the Prime Rib on my roll and now it's time to add a condiment. There's about 5 little bowls of what looks like Mustards and Horse Radish. I ask the chef about each one. He tells me about each but my attention is on the one that he calls "Pure Horse Radish". We all know that I like food as hot and spicy as it comes so I figure "Pure Horse Radish" was the call.  I grab the ladle and start to put the horse radish on my mini Prime Rib sandwich. "Put" is probably the wrong word. I should use the word "Glob" because I put a TON of horse radish on this sandwich.  I think the chef must have been thinking "Geez, fella. Do you need a paintbrush?" Now I'm ready to sink my teeth into this bad boy. I take a pretty healthy bite and HOLY *#&#@%* !!!! Immediately it feels as if my face has exploded. The burning sensation I'm feeling in my eyes, nose and mouth is unreal. My eyes and nose are watering like someone drilled a hole in the back of my head and stuck a garden hose in it. My mouth feels like I just drank Drano. The woman next to me says "Are you OK?" I say, "No! You may have to take me to the emergency room!"  She laughs thinking I was kidding and walks away. I grab a full glass of water I had with me and down it in about 2 seconds. I'm starting to regain my senses and grab a plain roll to try to nutrilize this heat.  It actually worked( along with 2 more glasses of water). After I composed myself I walked back to this same station. I asked the chef "What is your name?" He replied "Renaldo". I said "Renaldo, you seem like a very nice man."(learned at an early age not to anger people that handle your food)  He replied "Thank you" I then continued "But that being said when you saw me put so much of the horse radish on my sandwich, did it ever occur to you to tell me that it was going to burn my ass out?" He looked at me sheepishly and replied "No, sorry about that." Thanks Renaldo.