Thursday, April 29, 2010

Meat Gatorade...

So my Dad came in to visit last weekend so we could sort out some heavy father-son shit. Right? I was looking forward to spending some time alone with him and getting some stuff off my chest.

It's all good.

Even though it was something we both felt we wanted to do, I have to admit, I was a little fucking tense. Not to be a whiny little bitch but I've got a lot of shit on my mind lately and getting my affairs in order have been hard work.

Honest work but hard work nonetheless.

So we went to a steakhouse. Because that's what grown men do when they need to talk about heavy shit. It makes total sense to me. You need the balance that a good steakhouse can offer. All the heavy shit that's coming out of you, all emotional like, needs to be replenished with sirloin.

It's like meat Gatorade.

Possible future slogans for Meat Gatorade:

Meat. It's in you.
Meat. Put it in you.
Meat. Is it in you?
Meat. Is it in you yet?
Cowplenish your thirst.
Obey your filet.
Feel the moo.

Possible Meat Gatorade Flavors:

Rib-Eye Crush
Power Porterhouse
Blue Sirloin
Gatorade Prime... Rib
Angus 1
Performance Brisket
Lemon/Lime Shank


So my pop and I are sitting at the bar, waiting for our table and eating shellfish and I get this call...

Ring Ring Ring (re-enactment)

Out-Numbered - Hello?

Wife - It's me.

Out-Numbered - I know it's you.

Wife - How did you know it was me?

Out-Numbered - Because I know our phone number.

Wife - Oh.

Out-Numbered - What do you want?

Wife - I need your opinion.

Out-Numbered - OK. You know I'm at the restaurant with my Dad, right?

Wife - Yes. Sorry. OK, so you know those little gem, star sticker things that our daughter was wearing all over her face this weekend?

Out-Numbered - Yes.

Wife - Well your older daughter decided to shove one of the star stickers up her little sister's nose.

Out-Numbered - OK. So get a pair of tweezers and take it out.

Wife - I tried that.

Out-Numbered - And...

Wife - I can't see it.

Out-Numbered - What do you mean you can't see it? Is it in there?

Wife - Yes.

Out-Numbered - Can she breathe?

Wife - Yes.

Out-Numbered - Well, maybe it fell out. Did you check the floor?

Wife - Yes. I looked all over.

Out-Numbered - Wait a second. Why was our daughter shoving star stickers up her sister's nose?

Wife - Why? Are you fucking kidding me? What should I do?

Out-Numbered - Don't do anything. If she can breathe, leave her alone and we'll deal with it tomorrow.

Wife - You don't think I should take her to the emergency room?

Out-Numbered - Is it an emergency?

Wife - You're not helping. Goodbye


OK. So now I need to get my shit back together and go talk about the last 30 years of resentment with my Dad.


So Dad. Where were we?

God Dammit! Should I be going home? Am I a douchebag Dad if I don't go home?

Fuck. I can't concentrate. I need to call her back and find out what the hell is going on.

Excuse me Pop. I need go be useless for a moment.


Wife - What do you want?

Out-Numbered - How did you know it was me?

Wife - Because I know your phone number.

Out-Numbered - Oh.

Wife - What do you want?

Out-Numbered - Is everything OK?

Wife - I spoke to the pediatrician.

Out-Numbered - Oh good. What did he say?

Wife - He said if she can breathe, then it's OK to wait until the morning to bring her in.

Out-Numbered - Cool. That's what I thought.

Wife - So I'm on my way to the emergency room.

Out-Numbered - Are you kidding me?

Wife - No. I'm nervous. What if it goes into her chest or something?

Out-Numbered - Are you sure it's in her nose? That thing was too big to get in there and it was sticky. Wouldn't you see it?

Wife - Her sister said she sucked it in before she could get it out.

Out-Numbered - What's that noise?

Wife - Oh. That would be your older daughter.

Out-Numbered - What's wrong?

Wife - She's hysterical. She thinks she killed her sister.

Out-Numbered - That's so cute. Um... Do you need me to meet you there?

Wife - Nah. You just enjoy your steak dinner.

Out-Numbered - OK. Let me know what happens.


Later that evening at home. The girls are asleep...

Out-Numbered - So what did the Doctor say?

Wife - He couldn't find anything.

Out-Numbered - What does that mean?

Wife - It means that it's possible that it went into her chest.

Out-Numbered - Is that bad?

Wife - No. It's awesome.

Out-Numbered - Seriously. What should we do?

Wife - He said to watch for a foul odor coming from her mouth.

Out-Numbered - Our kids always have a foul odor coming from their mouths.

Wife - Funny. I'm exhausted. I'm going to get ready for bed.

Three minutes later...

Wife - Guess what?

Out-Numbered - What's up?

Wife - Look what I found...

Out-Numbered - Seriously?

Monday, April 26, 2010

The Wet Willy...

The Wet Willy:
Usually performed on a sleeping or otherwise unsuspecting person, the perpetrator of a wet willy wets his or her finger with saliva and inserts it into the ear of the victim.

My Dad came up to visit this weekend.

My Dad likes to nap.

My Daughter likes to mess with people.

Grandpa + Nap + Daughter = Wet Willy

Ladies and Gentlemen... Class is in session.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

When Did The Fun Die?

When I was a kid we played with trucks. We rode big wheels around the neighborhood pretending to be Ponch and Jon. We collected comics, Micronauts and Star Wars Cards. The toys back then had heart, substance and encouraged children to be creative.


Back then, less was more.

OK so we also had those ridiculous, demonic, Smurf figurines. That was some bad shit.

Every generation has it's regrets.

But fuck me til I'm bald, I don't understand the collective brain trust running the toy industry today. I'm not talking about the people who market them or the stores that sell them. I'm talking about the hard core thinkers. The ones that sit in a room and eat cold Chinese food and don't come out until there's an idea worth dying for.

You know, the next great thing. The thing that kids will go nuts for at Christmas time. The thing that will inevitably turn unsuspecting parents into savages come Black Friday.

I would think if you're one of these highly paid, highly influential, toy engineer types, you'd take your job seriously.

You'd strive for greatness. Perfection. Uniqueability! (I made that up.)

Wouldn't you?


Well then people...

What the fuck are these?

And these?

Are those Shrinky Dinks?

No, you silly goose face!

Of course not. That would be genius.

These are Silly Bandz. They are the latest rage.

Well, what do they do?

Uh, they don't really do anything.

What do you mean? They must do something.


Then what are they exactly?

They are rubber bands.

Rubber bands?


They don't look like rubber bands.

That's what makes them cool. They are all different shapes. Look! A hippopotamus.

That looks nothing like a hippopotamus.

Sure it does.

It looks like a fat dick.

Shut up silly.

Do you tie things together with them?


Can you put your hair back with them?

Not really.

Do they have a uterus?

Nooooooo. Why would you ask that?

Because if they have a uterus, I want to punch it.

You're cuckoo!

Can you do anything with them?

Yes. Don't be silly.


They glow in the dark!

Holy Shit that's fucking awesome.

See I told you!

I was just kidding you dickhead. They suck.

You're mean.

You're an idiot.

Silly Bandz! As seen on TV!

Yes, my kid has 20 of them... Shut up.

Friday, April 16, 2010


According to the Dictionary, the word Angle has many meanings:

1) To fish with a hook and line.

2) The figure formed by two lines diverging from a common point.

3) A devious method; a scheme.

4) A biased way of presenting something or looking at something.

5) A member of a Germanic people who conquered England and merged with the Saxons and Jutes to become Anglo-Saxons.

Apparently there is one that I am unaware of...

Yesterday morning

Out-Numbered - Let's move it ladies. We're late.

7 Year Old - UGH!

This is such a normal sound in my house that it barely phases me anymore. My wife and two daughters have completely coherent conversations between them, simply by changing the intonation of the sound, "UGH". I'm sure this is not dissimilar to the dialect that originated from our neanderthal cousins. I digress.

Out-Numbered - Now what's wrong?

7 Year Old - I hate my hair.

Out-Numbered - What's wrong with your hair?

7 Year Old - It's horrible. It looks stupid.

Out-Numbered - Let me see.

7 Year Old walks out from the bathroom. She looks like she's been sucking on a lemon.

Out-Numbered - What's the problem?

7 Year Old - Dad, are you kidding me?

Out-Numbered - No. I think it looks fine.

7 Year Old - No it doesn't. It looks stupid.

Off the record, her hair did look like shit but I have no idea if it had anything to do with angles.

Out-Numbered - Then put it in a ponytail.

7 Year Old - I can't even put it in a ponytail.

Out-Numbered - Do you want me to put it in a ponytail?


Out-Numbered - Then what are you talking about?

7 Year Old - Suzie cut my hair and she gave me these stupid angles.

Out-Numbered - It looks straight to me.

7 Year Old - DAD!

Out-Numbered - What?

7 Year Old - My hair. She gave me angles.

Out-Numbered - I don't know what you're talking about.

3 Year Old - UGH!

Out-Numbered - Don't you even start.

7 Year Old - My hair keeps falling in my face and I can't put it in a ponytail because it keeps falling out because of the angles.

Out-Numbered - So what do you want me to do?

7 Year Old - You don't know anything about girls. NOTHING!

Out-Numbered - That's probably true.

7 Year Old - And you live with THREE of them.

Out-Numbered - You can count. I'm impressed.

7 Year Old - I'm not going to school.

Out-Numbered - OK. So you're gonna stay here at the house?

7 Year Old - Yes.

Out-Numbered - OK then. We'll see you later. Just don't answer the doorbell for anyone.

7 Year Old - Not even you?

Out-Numbered - Why would I ring the doorbell?

7 Year Old - What if you forgot your keys?

Out-Numbered - I won't forget my keys.

7 Year Old - But what if you did? Can I answer the doorbell then?


7 Year Old - OK. Stop yelling at me.

Out-Numbered - I'll stop yelling when you start listening.

7 Year Old - I'll go to school but I'm never cutting my hair again.

Out-Numbered - Fantastic.

3 Year Old - My feet hurt.

Out-Numbered - UGH!

*In the spirit of full disclosure, I will confess that I spelled intelligence incorrectly three times before I conceded and used spell-check.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Little Kid, Big Heart...

My best friend Rich has cancer.

Last year I wrote a post called Hockey Heals. It was about a special night we shared together at Madison Square Garden. Right around that time, my daughter had heard me talking to my wife about Rich and his battle.

I explained to her that he was sick and that he had a disease called cancer. She asked a lot of questions but seemed to understand most of what I was telling her.

Every now and then she asks me how Rich is doing. She asks if his cancer is getting better. She asks if it's contagious. She asks about his wife and his little boy. It always seems so random and comes to pass as if we were talking about the weather.

This past Friday, my family and I went to temple for a Friday night family service. It's not something we do often. As a matter of fact, it's not something we do ever. Suffice it to say, we were sitting in the sanctuary when the Rabbi asked the congregation if anyone had someone they would like to pray for this evening. Slowly but surely, hands began to pop up randomly throughout the congregation and names would follow shortly after. I tracked the Rabbi's eyes as they wandered over to our side of the room.

She pointed right in our direction.

Unbeknownst to me, my daughter had raised her hand quietly and without any encouragement.

Rabbi - "Yes?"

7 Year Old - "Rich."

The Rabbi continued on with a nod and a comforting smile.

Nothing can describe the impact that the soft, sweet sound of my daughter's voice had on my heart. I was overcome for a moment and then felt my eyes well up. I placed my hand on my daughter's knee and kissed her head. It was one of the most touching moments of my life.

That night after we put the girls to bed, my wife called me into the dining room to look at something. I wandered over; tired from the long day and the emotional evening.

Wife - "She wanted to show you this."

Out-Numbered - "What is it?"

I looked down at the table and this is what I saw...

I guess my daughter is like me. She thinks about Rich all the time. She worries about him being sick. She worries about his family. It's good to know that a person's age has nothing to do with the size of their heart...

Thanks to everyone, friends and strangers alike, who helped me reach my $5,000 fundraising goal for the Garden of Dreams Foundation. My family and I are moved beyond words from all of your kindness and generosity. I have raised my goal to $10,000. Kindness makes a difference. Please give if you can...

To learn more about the Garden of Dreams foundation or to make a donation, you can click on the widget above or visit my fundraising page at

Thursday, April 8, 2010

101 Damnations...

Call things by their right names - Glass of brandy and water! That is the current, but not the appropriate name; ask for a glass of liquid fire and distilled damnation. -Robert Hall

Would you change history if you knew something bad was going to happen?

Would you interfere with destiny?

How far would you go in order to prevent disaster?

Would you have assassinated Adolph Hitler had you known of his twisted and gruesome ambition?

Would you have thwarted Osama Bin Laden's reign of terror on 9/11?

Would you have prevented Terri Alden from joining the cast of Three's Company?

Altering history could cause cataclysmic events. I'm no moron. I saw Hot Tub Time Machine.

This brings me to my current quandary. I can't carry this burden alone. I need your guidance; for changing the course of history is no small matter.

But I know something bad is going to happen.

About two months ago, my wife and a group of our friends, came up with an idea. This idea seemed fairly harmless to all those initially involved but to me it seems to be a sure sign of the impending Apocalypse.

Wife - Hey guess what?

Out-Numbered - Uh, what?

Wife - I just made plans with everyone from the neighborhood.

Out-Numbered - Plans?

Wife - Yes. Plans.

Out-Numbered - What kind of plans?

Wife - We're going to take a trip into the city in April to go see a show?

Out-Numbered - A trip into the city?

Wife - Yep.

Out-Numbered - But I hate going into the city on weekends.

Wife - This will be fun.

Out-Numbered - What are we going to see?

Wife - 101 Dalmatians.

Out-Numbered - The Disney Cartoon?

Wife - Yes but it's a live show.

Out-Numbered - Live as in 101 smelly dogs, shitting all over the place, packed into a small theater?

Wife - Stop. It looks cute. Supposedly the dog even jumps into the audience at the end.

Out-Numbered - So I'm paying to be maimed by a rabid dalmatian?

Wife - You're an ass.

Out-Numbered - Is the show on Broadway?

Wife - No.

Out-Numbered - Then where?

Wife - At Madison Square Garden.

Out-Numbered - I hate shows.

Wife - This will be fun.

Out-Numbered - Why do you keep saying that?

Wife - Saying what?

Out-Numbered - This will be fun. You keep saying, this will be fun.

Wife - It will be fun.

Out-Numbered - No it won't.

Wife - Sure it will.

Out-Numbered - Not for me.

Wife - C'mon don't be such a dick. We're going with all of our friends.

Out-Numbered - How many of us are going?

Wife - I don't know.

Out-Numbered - Yes you do. You know exactly how many of us are going.

Wife - I honestly don't know exactly. A bunch of...

Out-Numbered - TELL ME THE NUMBER!

Wife - 25

Out-Numbered - 25? Are you fucking kidding me?

Wife - No. It will be fun.

Out-Numbered - NO!!! STOP SAYING THAT!!!

Wife - Jesus, Jay. What's the problem?

Out-Numbered - Do you know what you've done?

Wife - What the fuck are you talking about?

Out-Numbered - How are we all getting there?

Wife - Does it matter?


Wife - The train. We're all taking the train.

Out-Numbered - Holy Mother of God. 25 of us on the train, into the city, to see 101 Dalmatians, Off Broadway? On a Saturday? Are you out of your fucking mind?

Wife - You can't be serious.

Out-Numbered - How many kids are going?

Wife - I don't know... 13 or 14?

Out-Numbered - Oh my God.

Wife - Seriously?

Out-Numbered - Stop. Let me think for a second...

Wife - It will be fu... Great.

Out-Numbered - What time is the show?

Wife - It's in the afternoon.

Out-Numbered - So we'll come home straight after the show. Be home early. Good. Good...

Wife - Uh. Not really.

Out-Numbered - What do you mean?

Wife - We're all going out for dinner afterward.

Out-Numbered - Out for dinner? In the city? 25 of us?

Wife - Yes.

Out-Numbered - I don't feel so good.

Wife - You'll get over it.

Out-Numbered - Were the tickets expensive?

Wife - I spent like $250 altogether.

Out-Numbered - Plus train. Plus Dinner. Plus two fucking, shitty-ass, stuffed dog toys for the kids. Plus cotton candy, sodas and whatever other piece of crap stuff we have to buy.

Wife - You really suck.

Out-Numbered - I hate this idea.

Wife - You need to see a shrink.

Out-Numbered - I already see a shrink.

Wife - Well you need to see another one.

Out-Numbered - I'm going to sleep.

Wife - Sweet dreams.

Out-Numbered - Yeah, or nightmares about killer dogs, eating my fucking face in a packed theater, while hundreds of kids are laughing at me.

This is not going to be fun.

I must find either a Hot Tub or a DeLorean before it's too late...

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Concrete. Brick. Mortar. Repeat...

For my family...

The bathroom in my bedroom has a window right behind the toilet.

This morning I was peeing and staring out into the yard.

I spotted a bumble bee crawling across the roof.


The seasons can signify many things. I suppose it depends on who you are.

For most, I would imagine they bring hope, change or inspiration. Perhaps all three.

But not me.

I don't think I've ever needed the Spring as much as I do now.

The sun is like an awakening of sorts. Its bright light can change everything in an instant. There's something about the warmth, the light, the smell of green.

So I've heard.

I've needed a change for quite some time. So long, that it's hard for me to explain. It might be easier for me to speak in metaphors. I'm not quite ready to talk about all of this. But I need to let it go.

Suppose for the past 30 years you had been walking in the cold, gray, Winter. What if you'd watched countless seasons come and go but the Spring had always eluded you?

What if most days seemed as if they were filled with dark clouds and rain? So much rain. Imagine the Winter never left and Spring never came.

What would you do?

What could you do?

I can feel the Spring today. I can feel it for the first time in a long time.

For 30 years, I've carried a huge burden with me. I've harbored a lot of anger. I've tucked years of resentment so far down in my soul that I had forgotten it was even there.

But it was there.



Resentment has been the foundation for a wall I've built so high that I couldn't even see over the top of it.

Concrete. Brick. Mortar. Repeat.

Mom, Dad, Wife, Children, Friends.

All on the other side.

My parents got divorced when I was 9. I remember the night they told me. I think that was the beginning. That night I locked the door to my heart and threw away the key. I wouldn't ever talk about it again. I wouldn't bother anyone. I wouldn't listen to anyone.

I wouldn't do anything.

I spent the last 30 years avoiding contact. I did whatever it took to stay at an arms length away. I wouldn't let anyone even remotely close for more than a moment. I was afraid.

What could a 9 year old boy be so afraid of? What could a 39 year old man, with a job, a house and a family, be so scared of?

It's simple.

I was afraid of being disappointed. I was afraid of being let down. I was afraid that it would happen all over again.

I was angry at my Father for leaving and I resented my Mother for letting him go.

It's amazing what the mind will do to preserve one's own sanity. Or maybe it's just tragic.

I would take care of myself. I would wedge anything and everything between me and anyone who wanted a piece of me.

I would use alcohol, pills, food, whatever it took to numb the pain. I would self medicate for 30 years. I even used this blog. Especially this blog. It's the perfect form of contact. It's indirect. It's not real. It's safe because you can't get too close to me...

Until now.

I'm changing.

I can feel it. For the first time, I'm starting to let go. I'm turning over the reins to a power greater than myself. I'm letting the resentment go and I'm inviting the ones that I love back in. I'm putting trust in faith. I'm having faith in trust.

These past few weeks have been hard. But not nearly as hard as all of the weeks prior. Over a thousand weeks gone for good. So much wasted time.

I must do this. I will not waste any more time.

I've taken some big steps to make things right. Things I'm not ready to talk about right now. Not here.

Today I felt the Spring for the first time in a long time.

It's never felt so fucking good...