Cranberry bread and pussy soup

Ok, so last night I was supposed to hang out with Doug to acclimate him to working graveyard shifts at his new job by keeping him up, partying, maybe involving a tittie bar, til the wee hours of the morning. I get a text from him saying that he thinks he came down with whatever cold bug is floating around. Cool. What's not cool is that I didn't know that one could transmit germs through cell phones, cuz not too long after his text, I started feeling iffy. Stuffy nose, itchy throat, sinuses, slight cough. Dammit!

So I stayed home and did what I always do when I get sicky, pop a herbal and vitamin pill cocktail, down some green tea and knock myself out with Nyquil. 10 glorious hours of undisturbed sleep later, although I still know I have germs floating around in me, I feel like I kicked my cold's ass.

So today (weds), I switched shifts with Matt, he will work tonight for me, and I will work manana for him so he can go to the SEC championship in Georgia. What's on the agenda for today? I baked a bunch of cranberry nut breads for the holidays. Put em in the freezer, and use them or give them out at my leisure. Then, I set out on a new adventure, shopping around for a new toy. A hot tub to be precise. Ah the joys of a hot tub. Long soothing soaks, bubbles and jets working their magic on sore bodies. Add a bottle of booze, a sixer of beer, some tunes and a bunch of near nekkid random bitches and you got one thing my friends ...to quote Striker from his last letter home from basic training...

"Pussy soup". Mmmm, taste it!

Build it and it will come my friends. You want a banging house party? Get a pool. Want a more intimate setting that screams out your pimp status? Get a fucking spa.

yeah...it's on.

The killing fields

Chris entering Rye Creek

Sunday morning, half buzzed on vodka and soda water watching Sunday football, I mention to Chris if it's still dove and quail season. He answers with a definitive "yes" and a twinkle in his eye. We go ahead and decide then that we should pack up some gear and try our go at it one last time for the 2006 year on Monday morning. I pre-pack before the Sunday night game is over and try to head to bed at a reasonable time of midnight. Flash-forward to 630am.

I stammer awake while its still dark outside. Jenny gives me a look as she lies on the carpet still. It's a look of "what the fuck are you doing up???" If she only knew. She's anxious enough that there is camping gear laid out in the living room, hinting of me going somewhere. Anyways, I get dressed and motivated, Chris arrives, and we are off. Red bull and half of Chris's QT taquito for breakfast.
It's only an hour drive to Rye, but somehow, the drive seems longer. Usually we're making this drive in the pre-dawn hours on a camping trip, so I suppose daylight makes time slower.

Our choices are to hit either Rye creek or the Verde river flats near Gisela. We opt for Gisela first. A Podunk shithole of a mining town consisting of ranch properties, single and double wides, and about 40 homes spread out over the 2 square miles that make up this "town". We head in and out of town within about 4 blocks, hit the Verde river, turn right and park up on the plateau. Bad signs we shouldn't be here-get out, find that my camelback exploded all over my backpack and gear, my zipper breaks on my hunting vest, its freggin cold, and my knee just about goes out...and we haven't even left the truck yet. Within 20 minutes of humping around, we find nothing. Dee dee mao! Time to leave this place.
We split and head for greener pastures over at Rye Creek. A 10 minute drive up the road from Gisela, we are immediately greeted by flocks of quail crossing the road in front of us and a large, rare, "Labrador" sized coyote bounding along the hillside as we head towards our start point.
Our enthusiasm revived, we park at one spot, scout around for about 15 minutes, get back and head down to some fenced ranch property down in a nearby valley.
There are birds here, but the pickings are slim. We are arriving after a long 4 day holiday weekend and the killing fields are littered with spent shotshell, tufts of feathers and the occasional beer can. Looks like Joe Bob and his family got out of the trailer this weekend for a holiday turkey shoot.
No matter, we hike around for an hour or so, exploring various hillsides, ravines, grass fields, creeks and treelines for our prey. We see a handful. They are fatties. But they are flying fast and high today and are spooked easily from a distance. I think Chris got off 2 shots and I got off one the whole day, all misses. Overall though, it was good to get out and explore in some beautiful country again before it gets too chilly to head out. And I did end up getting a souvenir that I'd been longing for a while. Tucked in up a ravine switchback, at the end of a bone laden carcass trail, I finally found a skull. Took him home (officially named him Scully McGee. He'll join Dead Tony at the house.) along with another lucky old horseshoe, a handful of pictures and a good time...and a well deserved, early evening power nap before work.

Let's play a game called "how many dumps in a day"

Oh, the traditional American gorgefest that we love to call Thanksgiving? Giving thanks for what? A distended gut? Day long gas brewed from a plethora of yams, deviled eggs, stuffing and beer? Eating enough turkey filled tryptophane to knock you out faster than 3 Quaalude and a sixer?? No, matter, I look forward to it every year.

I started my day off after a few hours of sleep making my( now famous and asked for) fruit salsa and prepping yams for my second stop later on in the day. I grab my salsa and head over to one of our regulars house, Nancy. That woman puts out a spread I tell you- all the more unnecessary too. There was 12 people...12, there at dinner time. She made 4 turkeys, a ham, bowls(multiple) of yams, salad, stuffing, mashed taters and breads. Add a separate table just for appetizers and multiple coolers of beer and you could have fed an army. I had 2 gut buster plates and then took a plate home. I couldn't stay for dessert, not because I had to be somewhere else, but for the fact that I couldn't fit anymore in!!

I split at 4, head home and make the yams to bring down to our friends Crystal and Andrea's house. I show up and so far its just us three. The boys said they may make it later on. Crystal put out a good spread, actually, a impressive one for someone that not only hasn't cooked a dinner like this, but a turkey in general. Another plate of turkey and trimmings later and I needed a stomach pump. Fighting off the effects of cat allergies, I pass out on the sofa in a dreamland of turkey bliss. Drea busts out the super nintendo for nostalgia, and my interests are peaked enough to roll off the couch and play a game or two. Soon though, the turkey called my ass back to semi-conscious land on the couch.

I felt like seeing a movie, and getting out of the cat house, so Crystal took me up on an offer to rent a flick. I stopped by Hollywood and rented a thriller called Frailty. Never seen it. Don't think I will still...I got home and lasted another hour before I needed to pass the hell out. 4 cups of espresso and a power dump couldn't save my turkey stuffed ass, so it was time for yours truly to pass the hell out....

Thankful turkey day

Flashback to say 1989. I think you can say that was the last true, unadulterated Thanksgiving that our family enjoyed as a whole. All the kids were about to enter high school, but still naive enough that they still had childish playtime. Grandparents were still around, aunts, uncles and parents were younger, there was no drama. We'd all merge down at my grandparents house in East Redwood City on "B" street. They were my Dad's parents and didn't really speak a lick of English. The furniture in the living room would be moved and tables and chairs put in to link the kitchen and dining room through to the end of the living room to accommodate everyone.

Before leaving to drive the few miles to the house, my mom was in charge every year for making the ham and most of the desserts. Brown sugar pineapple ham, now my staple at the holiday parties that I throw. Thank her for that one. Pumpkin pies and chocolate silk pies, cherry pies. We'd haul it all down there and join 9 of my dad's 12 brothers and sisters and 16 cousins, 2 grandparents, about 7 family friends and their kids for a typical Portuguese Thanksgiving. The bird would be cut and served along side my mom's ham, a seafood rice dish, salad, bread rolls, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, stuffing, vegetables and other more ethnic Portuguese dishes. Before anyone even touched the food, Grandma would say a prayer, in Portuguese to the table, and then my father (the true head of the family) would say a blessing. In simple terms his blessing was, and still is (in broken English) " Dear Lord, we thank you for gathering all of us here today. We are fortunate that we are able to all be here, as a family, in good health and good spirits. Let us enjoy our time together today and for all of us to once again be here a year from now."

Pretty simple isn't it?

Outside of the first 5 words, it isn't a religious statement, but a simple statement of thanks. A statement of love for family and friends, of respect and love, and goodwill to those that we hold closest to ourselves. That is what Thanksgiving should always be. Not a day to be viewed at a chance to start the holiday shopping the following day, or to have a day off work, or to go out and get wasted. It is a day that should be held in the utmost anticipation, for who knows what the future would bring to you in the following year? Someone may not be there next time.

I see more and more that people forget, or don't know the true meaning of gathering for T-Day, or the holidays in general.

You don't miss it until it's gone. My family stopped doing things that way in the years after that one. Kids went to college, got married, or aunts got divorced, or family members got disowned. The last straw was when Grandpa passed on. Now everyone does their own micro-family holiday. My godparents are without their daughters who are away now and don't have anything planned. The older cousins have their own families now. My parents are literally on the highway as I write this, driving to a casino near Sacramento to play in a slot tournament and eat their Thanksgiving dinner in a hotel/casino. Me? I haven't been home for this holiday since 1994. It's a sacrifice I make yearly at work so I can guarantee that I am home for Christmas. I'll be spending this year at friend's houses. What a bar customer coined as a "misfit Thanksgiving". I don't agree with that. There's nothing misfit about it. I am visiting these people on this day because they are my extended family. Even though they may not be blood to me, they have earned my respect, care and honest love as friends.

The turkey may be burned, or out of a TV dinner box, but that's not what is important. It's my family. Something that should be important to you also.

Take care of yourselves today, be safe, and thankful.

A 47 lb cock and a parole hearing

I got out of work last night and decided to take my bro Doug's offer to hang out sometime. I gave him a call and wanted to do something after I got home at 7. He called back saying that he would get home around 745. Cool, time to take a shower and scrub the sack and make a beer run. I hit up Fry's and grabbed a 6er of Pete's new seasonal brew "Wanderlust"-a pale cream ale. Tasty treats I tell you, I'll have to look around more for it. I also got him a gift, a bottle of my favorite vinos- Rex Goliath's 47 pound cock! A wine collection ain't nothing until it has a 47 lb cock in it. It's a pretty good merlot, dark and rich, but not overly sweet and not too dry...almost perfect. And at $6 a bottle, its even better. Where else can you get to chug a 47 lb cock for $6?? Well, maybe south Phoenix...and have a buck left over for bus fare home.

Doug's girl ( almost common law spouse!) Karna was travelling to Michigan to spend the holiday with family,so I had the boy to myself for a few hours before he crashed out from a long days work.

It was cool, we caught up on Ryan, family stuff, talked about bitches and titties, got him signed up for a blog site, and made an old school beer inspired taco bell run. I ended up splitting out of there at 1030 and go a hold of Chris, Drea and Crystal to come over for a few and hang out. Papi was hitting the jack hard last night, guess the holiday crunch is on at work. I get the feeling that I'll find out for myself tonight, being one of the busiest bar nights of the year...day before Thanksgiving, no work or school manana, people on vacation, getting wasted. Good, I need the cash. Time to pay off party expenses.

Captain Unmotivated

I have a problem that I can't seem to shake. Granted, I'm lazy like everyone else at times, and I love to sleep, but lately, especially the past 4 months, I just can't get motivated to do anything. I can remember the feelings of waking up and getting ready to take the day head on. There was an initial spark of life that I don't seem to have any longer. All I feel like doing lately is, well, nothing. If that! I've been napping more, and sleeping longer at night. One problem may be sleeping habits. I don't get good sleep. I'll sleep for 7-10 hours, but will only get good solid sleep for 3-4 of those hours as the rest of the time is spend shifting around, being uncomfortable, too hot, too cold, an arm would fall asleep, Jenny would wake me up, I'd be thirsty..etc....

Doing daily chores seems to be a literal chore...I'll postpone laundry (I've had a load in the dryer now for 2 days unfolded), taking out the trash, washing a dish. It's like a car that's only firing on 4 cylinders instead of all 6.

Even the prospect of exciting things are not there to motivate me, throwing a party, upcoming Christmas holidays, finding or making money, talking to my folks or the potential prospect of a hot chick at the bar thinking I'm cute. It just isn't there.

Bad diet? I'm not eating bad per say. I could always eat more fruits and veggies, but I'm not eating fast foods. I eat a lot of fish and chicken, salads, milk, cheese and juice. Only carbonated drinks I have outside of the occasional beer is a redbull before work and calorie free soda water.

Entry into your 30's depression? Possibly. I'm not very happy right now. Not that anything bad is happening, just not very happy. It's been a veritable "Switzerland" in my head as of late, with things being damn neutral.

I don't know what it is, but I need to start doing something to change what is going on around here.

Take a hike Jack!

(Papago Park)

Well, the morning started off half way decent for once as I got up, got motivated and ready to go to Papago park to hike around for a little. I had planned on going with another person/persons, but it turned out to be just Miss Jenny and I. Weather was warm, about 78 at 2pm, sunny and clear skies. There was plenty of people out at the park today from joggers, walkers, rock climbers, weekend warriors, mountain bikers and other dog walkers. I went around the park at a good pace for about an hour and was able to work up a good sweat. Jenny enjoyed being out there, with all the fresh new smells and tracks, random poos and rabbit turds.

(Ben "staying alive")

Afterwards, I ended up coming home and chilling for a bit, realizing that after negotiating rocky paths for an hour, by boot had chaffed off the skin on my ankle bone on my right foot. Feels great I tell you.

I placed a liquor order through my boss, Greg, for the holiday party, and then tried to touch base with people as to what was going on for fun at night.

I ended up meeting up with Mike and Ben at work at 8 to go bowling up in north Scottsdale. We picked up a stray at work, one of our regulars named Jeb, to come with us, and after a round of shots and drinks, we were off to bowl.

We get to the alley, and settle in on lane 25, buy a pitcher of brew, get our shoes on, and grab our balls. (you sickos).

Since Jeb, is well...vertically challenged, we named him Frodo. In suit, we named all of us after gay Lord of the Rings characters, less for me...they named me Lando Calrissian. 3 LOTR (lord of the rings) characters and one oddball white guy named after a black character in Star Wars. Yes, its gay, funny none the less.

We knock out two games with Mike taking the first one and I the second. The third game, as per true Lando-style, I blow ass and come in last. I tells ya, my second game is the best always-and with that game yesterday, I landed a personal best score of 178!

That last game we all bet on eachother, did a bunch of stupid shit and general tomfoolery. We leave there and head back to Giligins where we met up with Chris and Crystal. Got a cocktail and some fries and pretty much called it a night after a long day.

Communism, Jesus and Pabst Blue Ribbon

I was sitting at home yesterday on my day off doing what I usually do, nothing big, lurking around on the Internet with the occasional visit to random perverted porn sites, when I go to showup.com and research what's going on around town. Nothing. Ok, I go to the Tempe Improv's website and find out that Dave Attell is in town and I think I wanna go Sunday, but nobody is performing today. On a random whim, I go to the Rhythm Room's webcalendar and see that there is (what I think of as) an obscure bad called the Red Elvises playing at 9pm for $10. Cool, I try to round up heads to go, but the only available person is Crystal once again. We head out to the joint. I was surprised to see the initial wait at the door for entry. They actually had people waiting for them to open the doors. No biggie, we stand in line for about 20 minutes before heading in and paying the cover.

The stage is getting set up as we find a seat, as well as a couple of cocktails for only $ 7.50.

The crowd is eclectic, a mix of bikers and accountants, some of which as we saw on the dance floor, are really confined by their office cubicles. Young, and old, straight and flaming gay. I guess these guys have a diverse following. After a bit, we notice that the place is really full. Standing room only in a few minutes. Soon the place is flooded with jibba jabber and a cloud of smoke. Finally they get ready and make a non-descript entrance through the crowd and get on stage. Non-descript outside of the black and white velore zebra print tux the lead is wearing.

Enter Red Elvises, a rokenrol revolution from Siberia.

The only American in the band is the drummer. The rest hail from parts of the former USSR and defected here. A mix of Elvis (of course), rockabilly, Brian Setzer and a polka band (accordion included), they wailed out eerily addicting and catchy cover tunes as well as mostly their own creations in heavy Russian accents. After the second song, we couldn't see the band anymore due to the packed dance floor. Crowd involvement and mood was through the roof. They sang songs about drinking and women, prostitutes, Mary Jane, sad cowboys and a drunk Jesus. They were joined in the middle of "Drinking with Jesus" by a audience member who pretty much looked like the Savior himself, pounding a corona and blessing the stage.

Hell, they even started a conga line, and played a wicked waltz.

How could have I known that I would join the Red army this night, all for $10.