My life as I see it

the Family Reunion - The welcome dinner

Tony — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 13:53:00 GMT

I know family reunions aren’t new, people everywhere get together with their relatives for food, fun and just to socialize. I never really had any family reunions in my family until a few years ago when one of my aunts decided that we should start having them. She hosted the first one and it turned out well. After that one of my uncles on the other side of the family thought it was a great idea and he decided that we should do that too - so now my mom‘s side of the family and my dad‘s side of the family set the stage for the family reunions. I didn‘t get to go to the one on my father‘s side of the family because I couldn’t‘ take off work, but after the reunion I heard rumors that the family had decided that the next reunion was going to be in Vegas. My family is the only one that lives in Vegas so it would be up to us to plan it. I had strong objections to it because I didn‘t want to get stuck doing everything. To make things worse, both sides of the family decided they wanted the next reunion to be in Vegas. I protested, but was told that we would have a committee formed by each family‘s oldest son or daughter to help out. I thought I could live with that, so the reunion was set for Vegas July 9^th - 11^th 2010.

I’m not a great planner, I’m more of a procrastinator than anything else. The thing I got going for me is that I believe everything, no matter how bad it seems always turns out well in the end. It seems to happen all the time, but the planning for the reunion was not going so well. If there was a committee set up, I never heard from the members. One of my cousin’s was supposed to have everyone send him recipes so we could put together a family recipe book but I think he only got two and one was my Spam and Hevuoes recipe, so the redipe book was never made. My uncles were supposed to send me pictures of the previous reunion so I could set up a slideshow, but I never got the pictures so thee would be no slide show

The date for the family reunion was getting closer and I felt like I was on a speeding train heading for a major crash. It was going to be a disaster and it was going to have my name all over it - I had a bad feeling about it. I need another year to complete planning it, but I didn’t have that time. I had two days to pull it all together and it still seemed like there was so much to do. Family has already started to arrive and I wasn’t even sure if we were going to have the original welcome dinner where we would pass out the welcome bags that my sister-in-law Edith, Aunt Gloria, Aunt Lupe and the kids had glued cards, dice, and fake gems on to them to make them look “Vegasy”

I didn’t think we would have the dinner because we found out that the place where we were going to have it didn’t rent out the room anymore. We had been told everything was set but at the last minute we had no place to host the dinner. We couldn’t have it at my house because as luck would have it, the air-conditioner blew out before the reunion and there was no way I could have all those people in a house without air during the hot Vegas summer, so we called my sister and we transported tables and chairs to her apartment. On the day of the dinner they (my sister, my cousins Zack, Samantha, and some of my sister’s friends) were working on setting up tables and getting the place ready - they literally had things set up moments before the arrival of the first family members, who happen to show up two hours early because of the time zone difference

Originally we decided that we would have Mexican food and my mom was going to cook it, but as time got closer and the stress started to mount we decided that it might be better to have someone else help. One of my mom’s friend’s made little fried pin-wheels that are pretty popular here - you spray lemon juice and hot sauce on them and then eat them. My sister in law Edith and Aunt Francess made the quesadillas with the cactus tortillas and the Hibiscus water, my sister-in-law made the watermelon water just like they serve in Mexico with the broken chunks of ice. The dinner was supposed to be ready by 6:30 so we could start to eat at 7:00 pm, but things don’t always go as planned.

All the while that we’re running around trying to get the last minute stuff finished my brother keeps calling from my sister’s house to tell us that most of my mom’s side of the family is already there and they’ve been waiting since about 5:00. He wanted to know where we’re at and what we were doing. The last call I get from my brother is while I’m driving to my sister’s house with the Mexican waters and a few other things.

“They’re leaving.” he says.

“What?” I ask, “what do you mean they’re leaving?”

“They said they’ve been here long enough and now they’re leaving.”

I thought to myself, this is not how family reunions start on the Hallmark Channel, not that I watch the Hallmark Channel or even know that it exists, I didn‘t know what to so so all I said to my brother was “Ok,” I hung up and let my mom know what was happening. She was visibly upset about it and asked me if I could call my uncle and let him know what was going on.

I called my uncle and at first he doesn’t know it’s me, so I tell him that it’s me his most favorite nephew in the world - we both laugh at that and I explain to him that we have a lot of food and we’re on our way. He tells me that he’s been waiting for two hours - to which I tell him that the dinner was supposed to be at 7:00. He says that my aunt needs to have her insulin so he will see me tomorrow. I figure there’s no point in trying to argue with him, his mind was made up so I say ok we’ll see each other tomorrow.

I tell my mom what happened and she takes the phone and calls my aunt and basically tells her the same thing I told my uncle, then she hangs up and tells me “they’re just going back to the room to get her insulin and then they’ll go to the dinner.” I guess you just have to talk to the boss to get things done.

When I arrived at my sister’s house I was greeted by my cousin Leslie’s boyfriend Ray. He drove my Uncle Roy from Texas to Vegas because my uncle couldn’t fly due to a recent stroke he had. From what I understand I don’t think he really knew if he was going to make the reunion until a few days before when the doctor’s okayed him to drive. Ray introduced himself, “I’m Ray, I’m your uncle’s driver.”

Later I would tell Ray that for some reason when I heard my Uncle Roy had a driver I didn’t think I would like him. I had no reason not to like him, just a feeling that I wouldn’t. Ray answered with, “that’s ok, most people think they won’t like me when they first meet me.” After that we became fast friends - now, I have a feeling that if you leave us together for very long there will be some trouble somewhere.

We passed out the welcome bags that had Vegas information, a special Family Reunion Poker Chip, Family Reunion bottled water, a deck of cards, a flashing Welcome to Las Vegas lapel pin, and various other things. I didn’t know if the people were going to like that, but they all seemed happy with their little welcome bag.

Everything was unloaded, the food and drinks were served and everyone seemed to have a good time.

Mentally I checked off - Welcome Dinner, Check

AWOL and Family Reunions

Tony — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 14:01:00 GMT

I know I’ve been AWOL from the blogging world for a bit, one of the main reasons is that I have a family reunion coming up in July. The thing about this reunion that is different from other reunions is that it’s going to be for both my mom and my dad’s side of the family. The way this happened is that after their initial reunions both families decided that the next one should be held here in Vegas, and since my family is the only one that lives here it fell on us - when I say us, I mean mostly me to plan the event. If you know me at all you know that I’m not a great planner and I hate to do anything like this. I guess the main reason I hate this sort of stuff is because a part of me feels like I may fail at it - it’s like what if I plan this whole huge event and then no one shows up. I fear that the night of the main dinner I’ll end up sitting in a huge banquet room with my friends Dave, Tamika, my mom, dad, sister, brother and their families and the banquet organizer who will look at me and think, “Wow, nobody showed up for his reunion. It must suck not to be loved by your own family.”

He may even come up to me and say, “This is really awkward, and I feel bad for you since no one showed up for your reunion - I really do, but you will still have to pay for all this food.”

I’ll respond with a dazed, confused look on my face, “just wrap it up. I’ll eat it for lunch.”

“Sir, you know this is enough food for 100 to 150 people?”

I’ll take another swallow from my drink and say, “I’ll eat that for the rest of the week.” I’ll point to my drink, “keep these coming until I pass out or the tab reaches the minimum five hundred dollar mark we need to reach so there won’t be an additional fee.”

“Sir, you know you’re drinking straight Dr. Pepper. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll pass out drinking Dr. Pepper.”

“Just thinking of drinking five hundred dollars worth of Dr. Pepper makes me want to pass out.”

Ok, ok I know it’s unlikely that things will turn out that way, especially since some people already have told me they were going to come, but I still worry - what will I do if no one shows up?

My Uncle Roy

Tony — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 14:06:00 GMT

It’s late and I’m sitting at my computer drinking Iced tea. I should be sleeping because I have to work early tomorrow but I can’t sleep. I’m just sitting here thinking, thinking about my past and about the people of my past. I think about my grandfather who never seemed to call me by my name and even today I still have doubts that he even knew what it was. I think about how as kids we found a $100 bill in one my aunt’s jackets and how we decided to walk to the store and buy so much candy that if had eaten it all on that date we would sill be suffering from bad stomach aches, but tonight mostly I think about my Uncle Roy. It’s funny because up until this moment I didn’t realize just how much I looked up to my Uncle Roy, not did I realize the influence he has had on my life. As I think on the past I remember how he never used to wear socks. I know that’s a funny thing to remember about someone, but my Uncle Roy was a funny guy. I guess this is the first thing I remember about his is because obviously he never wore socks, but the funny thing is that every time someone asked him why he didn’t wear socks he would answer with, “I can’t wear socks and underwear at the time so if I’m wearing socks that means I’m not wearing underwear.” I used to think that was so funny - as a matter of fact, I hardly ever wear socks myself and when people ask me why I don’t wear them, I answer the same way my uncle used to “I can’t wear socks and underwear at the same time so if I’m wearing socks that means I’m not wearing underwear.”

I’m sure that makes my mom proud to hear.

Anyway, when I think of my Uncle Roy one the first and most vivid images that comes to mind is of him sitting with the family around him as he plays guitar and leads everyone in gospel songs. My grandfather was a preacher in the bible belt so religion was always important as I grew up. I have to admit that at times some of his fire and brimstone sermons were a bit scary especially when I was a kid, but the thing I did love was when we got together and sang the church songs and my Uncle Roy was always up there leading everyone, playing the guitar, and singing louder than everyone else.

As a kid, I remember watching him as he interacted with other people. He was so good with people. He could make the strangest stranger feel like he was part of the family. I used to think, “when I grow up I want to be able to do that.” Well, I’m grown up and still can’t do that. I guess it’s one of his gifts. I don’t think my Uncle Roy really knows how I feel about him because I’ve never told him and I doubt that he ever realized that I used to look up to him.

We have a family reunion next month, that’s part of the reason why I haven’t written much - I’m supposed to be the one planning it because it’s here in Vegas - My Uncle Roy is supposed to be here even after he had a health scare recently and many feared for him. He pulled through his crisis and I have no doubt that the strength of his family and friend’s faith and prayers had a lot to do with his speedy and miraculous recovery. Maybe during the reunion I’ll let him know - one sockless guy to another, but the truth is that I probably won’t even mention it to him. Maybe he’ll just read this one day and know, or maybe, somehow he already knows.

Customer Service

Tony — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 13:49:00 GMT

Sometimes the strangest things happen at work. For example, it wasn’t too long ago that an older patient came up to one of the clerks to check out. As he was standing before her desk the clerk noticed that the zipper to his pants was down. The clerk said that she noticed the zipper was down and wondered, “what’s that thing hanging out?” It didn’t take her long to figure out what the thing was. She said she pushed away from her desk and thought to herself, “His Pee-Pee is hanging out.” Apparently the older man wasn’t wearing any underwear and his penis was sticking out of his unzipped fly.

After the initial shock of seeing old guy’s penis hanging out of his unzipped fly my co-worker started laughing uncontrollably. I don’t know if I would have done the same in that situation. I just don’t think that most guys in general would laugh at another guy’s penis, especially if you’re sitting at your desk and the other guy is standing on the other side so his penis is hanging just about at eye level.

To be honest, I think I would have said something like, “Sir, your fly is open and you can keep that pen you’re using and anything else you touched on my desk.”

My co-worker told the man, “Sir, your zipper is down and your … uh …. Well, your thing is hanging out.” She then added. “If you want we can get someone to help you with that.” She turned to my other male co-worker and asked, “Chris, can you help this man with his zipper?”

Chris turned and said something along the lines of “I ain’t touching that.”

At this point I was laughing - I tried not to, but it was just too funny not to laugh.

The patient said, “Mama, I can handle it myself. It’s embarrassing enough already.” The man tucked his penis into his pants, zipped them up, and went on his way as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place.

I went up to my co-worker Chris and said, “Dude, you should have helped him. That would made for some awesome customer service. I bet you would have even gotten an award for that.”

He looked at me with a strange look on his face. “Shut up. I’m not going to touch some guys dick and zip up his pants for him.”

“Dude,” I said, “you could have gotten a customer service award, maybe even a fifty-nine minute early out.”

“I don’t care. I’m not touching some other guy’s dick.” We were laughing about it now.

I said, “I would have written the letter for you.”

“Shut up.“

The letter would have gone something like this:

To Whom it may concern:

Please consider my co-worker Christopher for a customer service award. Today we had an older patient come in who seemed to lack any stamina at all. He just seemed to be dragging his entire body along. Not only did the gentleman lack stamina or energy but it seems that he might be a bit on the forgetful side as well, since he had forgotten to zip his pants and for whatever reason had decided to go commando for the day, so he was not wearing any underwear. Maybe he forgot to put them on. Christopher noticed that the man was just hanging out, flapping in the wind and he did what a lesser man would not do. He rose to the occasion and helped the patient tuck his penis back in his pants and carefully zipped him back up so there would not be any unnecessary pinching. If this is not going above and beyond in the customer service department, then I don’t know what is. Please consider Christopher for an award as it’s not everyday that a man tucks another man’s penis in and zips him up.

Thank-you

Tony

After all these years...The Force is still strong

Tony — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 08:05:00 GMT

“what are you doing Saturday?” the words popped up on my computer screen at work.

I typed in my response: “Since my nephew passed to the second grade, I told him we could have a ‘Dude Day’ and I’d take him wherever he wanted to go; probably to the toy store, the comic store and to eat, most likely at I-hop. We have to be done before his dad picks him up for the weekend, so I’m free after that. How come?”

My friend Tamika who I’ve known for a very long time now responded with: “Ok, don’t plan on anything that night. I’m picking you up at about 6:30 for a surprise.”

“what kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see. Wear your JedI suit.”

Tamika is a great friend. I have known her for like six years or so and in my lifetime that’s like eighteen years of regular friendship years. When I was a kid I used to move a lot so friends came and went in my life. It got to where even as an adult I would change my phone number just about every six months just make it harder for people that I “hardly knew” to keep in touch with me - the blog has been here so they could reach me through here if they really wanted to, but changing my number gave me a little more control. Well, getting back to Tamika she’s one in about four people that I would say is a good friend. Throughout the week I tried to get hints from her as to where we were going but she would only say that it was a surprise.

Saturday finally came and my nephew and I had our “Dude Day” and sure enough he wanted to eat at I-hop, which I’m not real crazy about. One time I went to I-hop and the restroom must have backed up because the entire place started to smell like ass and ever since every time I go to I-hop I think I smell someone else’s crap. Pancakes and Poo just doesn’t seem so appealing to me. I know it’s in my head and that it doesn’t really smell in all the I-hops all the time. I don’t tell my nephew this story because I don’t want to turn him away from his favorite place, but if we walked in and it really did smell like someone took a big dump in the middle of the breakfast bar you can be sure that we aren’t staying to eat there.

We finish our meal and I rush my nephew to my sister who informs me that his dad is not going to pick him again that weekend, but it doesn’t matter because she is preparing a huge Mexican dinner for the family. I tell her that as good a huge Mexican dinner sounds I can’t stay because Tamika is picking me up for some sort of surprise.

My sister looks at me and all maturity leaves her body as she begins, “ohhhh Tamika. Tamika is picking you up, you should marry her.” then she adds, “You two are so good for each other….” everything after that sounds like “blah, blah, blah…blah, blah….blah, blah, blah…” to me.

Since the first day she met Tamika my sister has loved her and has tried to get us to “hook up” and she’s not shy about expressing her thoughts, even when Tamika is around.

I look at my watch and it’s 6:30 pm and just as I look up, I see Tamika pulling up to my driveway. She’s wearing a white shirt and has her hair in the classic Princess Leia buns from the original Star Wars movie. “I thought you were going to wear your JedI costume.” She says as I jump into the passenger side of her car.

“I thought you were kidding.” I said imagining what she would have looked like in the “Slave Leia” costume.

“It’s ok” She said. “Did you figure out where we’re going?”

“No,” I pointed at her Princess Leia outfit and said, ,”but I bet The Force is going to be strong with this date.” she laughed.

We chatted a little but she wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but it didn’t take long for me to see the huge sign as we pulled into the casino parking lot

********

From the website: The production features a full symphony orchestra and choir, accompanied by specially edited footage from the films displayed on a three-story-tall, HD LED super-screen – one of the largest ever put on tour. The live music and film elements are synchronized, creating a full multimedia, one-of-kind Star Wars experience.

Accompanying the concert is an exclusive exhibit of Star Wars costumes, props, artifacts, production artwork and specially created behind-the-scenes videos from the Lucasfilm Archives. Many of these pieces are leaving Skywalker Ranch for the first time ever. The exhibit features many classic fan favorite artifacts, as well as several new and never-before-seen items, including:

Full costumes for Jedi Masters Kit Fisto and Plo Koon will be on display.
For the first time ever, pages from John Williams' original hand-written sheet music for Star Wars: Episode I The Phantom Menace will be exhibited for the public.
Also on display will be various never-before-seen props from the films, including blasters and helmets from Coruscant, Tatooine and other iconic Star Wars locations.

********The first thing I noticed when we got in line was that the crowd was so diverse. There were people from all walks of life some of them were dressed as if they were going to the symphony, others wore their emo Star Wars t-shirts proudly, while some were dressed as characters from all six movies. There were also people of all ages.

I looked at Tamika, “Next time I’m definitely wearing my JedI outfit.”

We walked in and looked at all the props from the movies

Kit Fisto

Chewbacca

C-3PO

Yoda

Darth Vader

Then they made the announcement “Star Wars in Concert will be starting shortly, please find your seats as the theater will go dark suddenly.”

As we sat down, I heard the lady behind me telling a little boy sitting next to her with his father how she had taken all her small grandchildren to see the Star Wars movies when they first came out and now she was bringing them to the concert. The entire row next to her was filled with her grown grandchildren. I don’t know, but for some reason that just seemed really cool to me. The lights went dark and the words, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” came on the screen and the crowd went wild. The orchestra begin to play as the words Star Wars came on the screen and everyone started screaming and cheering.

After a montage of scenes from the movies the lights went out and all you heard was the sound of Darth Vader breathing, then he said, “He’s been there through the entire Star Wars Saga. He’s a rebel and a traitor to the alliance, but please welcome Mr. Anthony Daniels.”

Everyone went nuts as Anthony Daniels came out. I had to tell Tamika that he was the person that played C-3PO in the movies - she may have already known that, but I still felt like I had to tell her.

It was kind of cool because it reminded of Return of the JedI as C-3PO tells the ewoks the story of their adventures. Mr. Daniels told us the story of Star Wars beginning with The Phantom Menace through Return of the JedI.

At the end everyone was cheering and clapping. Mr. Daniels took his bow and walked off stage, then he ran back on and said, “I have a feeling you’re not ready to go home yet.” The crowd started cheering even louder. “I have a feeling that you want to take another walk on the dark side.” The crowd went crazy as the orchestra played the Imperial March. I’ve never heard people yell or cheer so much as they did then.

I turned to Tamika and said, "when I die, after the father does the whole dust to dust, ashes to ashes speech I want them to play this music."

The Force was truly strong with this date.

Thank-you Tamika for something I won’t soon forget.

Zombies

Tony — Wed, 19 May 2010 13:31:00 GMT

The other day a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to try a new Tai restaurant that opened near my house. He said it would be his treat because he had met the daughter of the owners at a party and she had given him a ten dollar off coupon. I didn’t have to think long about it - tai food is always good especially when your friend is paying for it, even if he has a free coupon. I agreed to our little “bro-date” and let him pick me up since the restaurant was close to my house. Hey with the price of gas, it’s best to save when you can.

It was a small place with great ambiance and the owners were both very nice to us. They treated as if we were the only people in the whole place, especially when they found out that my friend knew their daughter. The food was great. The music was great. This whole place was great. As I was eating I looked up at my friend and out of nowhere said, “The Zombie Apocalypse could be happening right outside this window and I wouldn’t even notice it.

My friend stuffed his face with sushi and said, “ that would be so cool to just be able to run around and shoot zombies in the head.“ I didn’t even pay too much attention to his statement because I thought it was pretty dumb and he was just making a statement, but then he asked, “So, tell me, if you could fuck a zombie girl would you?”

I looked up from my plate and simply asked, “Huh?”

“You know“, my friend seemed to get all serious as he continued. He leaned closer to me. “If you could, would you have some zombie sex. Would you bone a zombie if you could. I think it would be cool. She’d be yelling and growling and I’d be like whoo hoo” As he spoke my friend twisted his face into what I guessed was a zombie impression and shook his head from side, growling as he did so, then he switched and started making sexual faces and acting like he was slapping zombie ass. “Whoo, hooo!”

“Dude, I don’t know about you.” this was just plain dumb and I told him so. “Dude, this is just stupid. Everyone knows you can’t have sex with a zombie - If you had sex with a zombie you would turn into a zombie too because of the transmission of bodily fluids. And besides, she would probably eat your brains before you even had a chance to … you, know…” I made a circle with the thumb and finger of one hand and slid the finger of my other hand in and out the hole.

“what is that?” my friend asked as I continued to slide my finger back and forth through the hole my other fingers had created.

“Dude, it’s the universal sign for penetration. I bet even freakin’ zombies know what that means.” I stopped making the sign as the owner walked by and looked at me. I smiled, she didn’t.

“Is the disease in the salvia and other fluids or just in the blood? “ Ha asked laughing at the fact that I had been caught doing the universal symbol for penetration by the restaurant’s owner.

“I don’t know, I guess it depends on which movie you’re watching.” I took a drink of my tea and looked up at the owner again. I smiled once more, once more she did not. She looked away. I said, “I guess you could have sex with a girl as she’s turning into a zombie.”

My friend looked at me like I had just invented ice cream. His eyes lit up and his voice went up an octave with excitement. “Yeah, that would be great. She’d be thrashing around, growling and trying to bite me.” He rolled his eyes back in his head and snapped his teeth a few times, then he continued. “I’d be slapping some zombie ass” He smacked the air with his right hand and moved his body up and down almost as if he were riding a horse, then he started making his crazy sexual faces again as his breathing come faster and faster “Don’t turn yet, not yet…oh….oh…don’t urn…not yet…oh… ohhhhh.

I looked around and wondered where the owner was during this little bit of dramatics from my friend. “I have a feeling this conversation is going to end up in my blog.” I said aloud.

My friend just laughed and then he asked me the strangest question of the day, “Would you eat out a zombie?”

“Dude, that’s disgusting. And, no, I wouldn’t …”

He didn’t let me finish my sentence he just kept on with the zombie talk. “Do you think she’d have crotch rot? You think it would be all slimly and decaying down there? I mean not all zombies are dead and decaying sometimes it’s just a virus that affects them and makes them go on a rage, so they may not even have crotch rot. They may have perfectly good crotches.”

“Dude, I’m not even talking to you anymore…”

Ironman

Tony — Mon, 10 May 2010 12:59:00 GMT

As some of you know, I’m a big comic book geek, so you can guess that I was really excited when I took my nephew to see Ironman II and happen to see comic book legend and Icon Stan Lee walking around the Palms as if he were just any other guy taking a stroll through the casino. I was surprised that he was kind of short and small framed, but even so he was Stan Freakin’ Lee and I saw him. If you’re wondering I did get an autographed Ironman comic book out of this encounter.

The reason Stan Lee was walking around the Plams is because he was given a star on the walkway of the Brenden Movie Theater at the Palms so he was there to unveil it. It was the Palms big promotion for the Ironman II movie. Not only was Stan Lee there but so were other comic artists and writers. I didn’t get to meet all the comic book people that were in attendance, however I did get to meet legendary comic creators David Michelinie and Bob Layton.

They were signing a special limited edition Ironman print for the premiere of the movie at the Palms theater. One of the things I wondered as I watched all these kids dressed in Ironman shirts, caps, etc was how does it feel to see all these kids wearing something that you created, so I asked Mr. Layton that question. He said that a lot of the stuff they have these days is really cool and when he sees it he wishes he had money to buy it all. I looked at him sort of funny and then he said, “Seriously, I wish I could afford all the things I see out there.” He went on to say that although he’s drawn some Iconic characters, he doesn’t own the characters - they belong to Marvel Comics so he doesn’t get royalties on the merchandise that is sold.

I was a bit surprised by that statement, but then he surprised me further when the head of the Brenden Theaters at the Palms told him that he and Mr. Michelinie would be out at the signing table for another few minutes then they would go to a private party. I should mention that the limited edition Ironman prints were free, they were just asking for a donation to go to help with children’s literacy. When the head of the theater told Mr. Layton that he only had a few more minutes to sign he told him that he would rather sit there all day and sign to help raise more money for the charity. He said he didn’t need to be at a private party and that besides no one would even know if he was there or not. He said he would rather be out “here” with all the fans. I don’t know if he went to the party or if he stayed and signed more prints but just the fact that he was willing to give up that private party and stay with the fans was really cool to me.

Here is what the print looks like….

Pretty Cool...huh?

I’m not going to give a review or thoughts on the film because it seems like a lot of people are saying the first one is better, but I’ll let you decided that for yourself. I will say that Scarlett Johansson is smoking’ hot as Black Widow. I'm pretty sure if he was around now, this is one of the images Geeky, Teenage Tony would use as he took one of those forty-five minute showers that teenage boys take.

On that note, I better head to work. Take care and let me know what you think of the film.

Star Wars Day

Tony — Wed, 05 May 2010 06:19:00 GMT

I've been having computer troubles so it's been a bit difficult to post lately. I wanted to post this earlier in the day but my computer had different ideas. If you don't know May 4th of every year is Star Wars Day (you can google it) and for Star Wars Day I wanted to share a Star Wars memory with you - I still got this in before midnight so offically it's still Star Wars Day, so on that note "May the fourth be with you"

********

A long time ago …

In a country far, far away I was a kid living on a military base, far from home, waiting for a special showing of the greatest movie I had ever see in my young life - Star Wars. I had already seen The Empire Strikes Back on video and I had actually seen Star Wars on video tape as well, but this was a special showing of Star Wars at the Armed Forces Theater many years after it was released in the states. This was Star Wars as it was meant to be seen… on a larger than life movie screen in surround sound.

I remember it was winter when they had the showing because there was snow on the ground. For months they had advertised this special showing. I had a flyer that was printed on yellow paper safely tucked in my trunk of treasures. In my trunk of treasures I had all my childhood things that were special to me including my coin collection, some old comic books my Uncle Luis gave me, and a lucky Silver Dollar coin my grandfather gave me as hugged me before we left the States. I remember being so excited about the whole experience from the time I saw the first yellow, photocopied flyer and begging my parents to take my brother and myself to see it. We had to see it even if it meant shoveling the snow from the front of our quarters, to going to school every single day, to being nice to each other and not fighting when my brother crossed the invisible line that separated his side from mine in the backseat.

It seemed like forever before the night arrived for this one night special showing, but it came and we were ready for it. My mom had decided to make it a day for my brother and myself. She took us to the Base Exchange where we were allowed to buy some of the brand new Star Wars figures they had brought in for the showing. My brother bought a Han Solo and Chewbacca and I got an R2-D2 and Darth Vader. The base exchange, the Armed Forces Theater and the NCO club were all clustered together so we parked in the middle and walked from one place to the other in the snow.

After going to the Base Exchange we went to the NCO Club and had an early dinner. I remember sitting by window watching as people began to line up at the theater for the movie and I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to make it into the theater. I was afraid the movie would sell out and I’d miss the one thing I’d looked forward to since I saw that yellow photocopied sheet of paper announcing the “Once in a Lifetime SPECIAL SCREENING of THE GREATEST MOVIE EVER” it was “the story of a boy, a girl and a universe.” My mom reassured me that we would get in and I deep inside I knew we would but even so, I worried. My brother ate his food slowly not worried at all - he was a more rational thinker and he knew we would get in. He knew we would get in because we had been going to the movies almost every weekend since we moved to the military base in Heidelberg Germany, so everyone who worked at the theater knew my brother and myself. The fact that my father had taken a part-time job at the theater was also a big plus.

I ate my food quickly and waited impatiently as my brother and mother finished their meal. I kept asking if they were finished every five minutes. The answer was always the same - almost. Finally, they finished and we began our walk through the slush of melting snow toward the theater. We walked right up to the door and were led in by my father’s friend “Mac” I don’t remember what his real name was all I know is that the entire time I knew him we called him “Mac.” He gave my brother a chocolate bar and I got some gummy bears as he led us into the empty theater. We found the best seats in the very center of the theater and sat there. It wasn’t long before more people started coming in. In just a few minutes the entire theater was filled with people, many wearing shirts with pictures of their favorite characters.

In the excitement of the whole experience I reached over and hugged my brother and he hugged me back. As soon as we realized what we were doing we both jumped back as if an electric shock had passed between us. The lights dimmed and we stood and placed our hands over our hearts for the Pledge of Allegiance. The curtain opened on the screen and the theater went dark. Everyone started cheering when the 20^th Century Fox logo came on the screen, but the crowd really went crazy when the blue letters faded on the screen:

“A long time ago in a galaxy far far away …”

I just sat there, quietly watching as the magic unfolded before my eyes on a larger than life screen.

Wonder Soup and Artisan Bread

Tony — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 13:58:00 GMT

A friend told me about some sort of wonder cure-all soup that’s supposed to be full of antioxidants and all the good stuff our bodies need. She swears this soup will help with anything that may be bothering you and she added “It will help you lose weight.” I wondered what she meant by that? Sure I’ve put on a few pounds in the last few years, but I think so have most of the people that I know. I didn’t think I needed some sort of wonder, cure-all soup to help me lose weight then I thought about something my four year old niece said to me. She came up to me the other day and showed me her hand and said that her hand was like our family. She pointed at each of her fingers saying each family member’s name, “this is mommy, this is my brother, this is gramme, this is po-po,” then she pointed at her thumb and said, “this one is you because it’s the fat one.” Everyone thought it was funny, much more funny than I thought it was - although I have to admit that I did laugh when she said that. As I laughed about it an old saying came to mind, something about only drunks and children telling you the truth, so I decided that maybe I did put on a few too many pounds on this year, so maybe this wonder, cure-all soup that would help me lose weight was not such a bad thing to . The first thing I had to do was go to Trader Joe’s for some of the ingredients because the truth be told, I don’t usually have the stuff it takes to make an antioxidant cure-all soup in my cupboards - now ask me if I have the stuff to make smores and that’s a whole different story.

I love Trader’ Joe’s because I go there so often that most of the employees already know me by name and it’s always a good feeling to walk in a store and have people greet you by name. The first thing I do when I go to Trader Joe’s is head for the demo area and grab a cup of coffee and then have a sample of whatever they are demonstrating that day. It’s funny because I’m not really a coffee drinker - I just started drinking coffee, so I drink it fairly week and pour lots of milk into it. For a while I didn’t drink any coffee other than the small sample cups at Trader Joe’s but I’ve progressed to a cup every once in awhile during work, especially during those long, snore-fest Monday and Thursday morning conference call meetings.

Another thing I like about Trader Joe’s is the rustic, artisan bread. I thought I would buy some and hollow it out into a bread bowl for my wonder soup - I know, I’m adding more carbs to the soup and probably taking away all the wonder from it’s wonder properties, but it’s really good bread. Well, as I finished gathering the ingredients for this wonder soup and putting them in my basket, I went to the bread section and that’s when I saw an old lady sneeze into her hands, rub her hands together like she was using some sort of nose mucus hand sanitizer, and then she started to reach into the packages of artisan bread, feeling each loaf, I guess to find the softest, freshest one. She did this like it was not out of the ordinary for her to rub her mucus covered hands over loaves of bread. “Oh man,” I thought to myself, “I like that bread and now I’ll never be able to buy it again without wondering if an old lady touched my bread with slimy booger hands.” I guess if I want to think on the positive -this is a good way to cut down on the carbs.

Pink Roses And A Teddy Bear For Christy Part 3

Tony — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 07:00:00 GMT

The next few days are lost from my memory. I don’t remember much other than at times just sitting in a daze, thinking about things, but then not really thinking about anything at all. People would come and talk to me, but I can’t remember what anyone said. I remember that for most of that time I hated God because I felt like he took Christy away. How could someone so merciful be so cruel? Yet, there were moments when my heart would open up and I could feel Him and all I wanted to do was run to Him and let Him hold me in His arms while I cried like a little kid.

Later, we would learn from witnesses driving behind my cousin and her husband that they had been fighting in the car. According to one witness, my cousin started slapping her husband when he lost control of the car. The car rolled four times before coming to rest on it’s side. They also said that a little girl’s body was thrown through the front windshield. At first they thought it was a doll because that‘s what it looked like - she looked like a child‘s doll being carelessly thrown out the window. According to the witness it all seemed “so unreal.“ The police would later tell us that Christy was the only one not wearing a seat belt.

My mom and my cousin were the ones that went to identify the body. Later that night, while standing outside the emergency room my cousin would tell me, “I wish I hadn’t gone and seen her like she was. Her nose was sliced off, one eye was gone and the other was hanging…”

I remember yelling and covering my ears. “Shut up!’ I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him as hard as I could against the wall. “Just shut the fuck up!” I was crying. “I don’t want to hear that! I don’t want to remember her like that…” For years afterwards those images would fill my thoughts and dreams. “I don’t want to remember her like that!”

The hardest thing for me to deal with was the funeral. I don’t know why but for some reason it was even harder to deal with than the actual confirmation of Christy’s death by the doctor in the little room where my family had gathered. I looked at the small, white casket as The Father spoke about the earthly shell dying, but the spirit remaining alive and going to a place much greater than where we were at now. I didn’t hear much of the sermon after that, I didn’t want to hear anymore. I sat there clutching a small bunch of pink roses and a teddy bear with the words “I love you beary much” written across the front of it’s shirt and all I could think was that I wanted Christy back. I would do anything to have her back. I asked God to change things and take me instead, just to please bring her back. Four year old kids aren’t supposed to die.

Images of the past went through my mind, but then I imagined the future too. I imagined Christy going to school and crying because she wasn’t used to being away from home. I imagined her drawing turkeys out of an outline of her hand that would proudly be displayed on the refrigerator door. I imagined what she would look like in a girl scout uniform selling cookies outside the grocery store down the street. I thought how terrified I would be at the notion that she was learning to drive. I thought about how happy she would be when she found the person of her dreams and how I would sit in the church pew with tears in my eyes as I watched her get married. I thought of how all that was taken from her, she would never do any of those things.

As I walked by the casket one last time before it was lowered into the ground I laid the roses and the small teddy bear on top of it and as I did, I was hit by finality and reality of her death. Christy was dead and no matter how hard I prayed, no matter how much I cried, no matter if I threw myself on the ground and kicked and screamed nothing was going to bring her back. I would never see Christy again. Everything after that is now just a blur of images; people leading me away from the casket, stopping to hug someone or to be hugged, crying and then finding myself in the backseat of the car not knowing how I got there.

It would take me a year before I could find the strength to go back to the cemetery. My eyes filled with tears as I laid a single pink rose on the small heart headstone that simply read: “Baby Girl” and her date of birth and date of death.

Many times I tried to go back to the lake but I couldn’t. It was too difficult. It would be many years after her death that I would finally find the strength to go back to the spot where she lost her life.

As I stood on the bank of the lake watching the sun set on the water, I couldn’t help but feel like I should be somewhere else. I should be doing something else. I should be anywhere except there. I picked up a small, smooth stone and skipped it across the water, a trick one of my father’s Army friends had taught me a long time ago when I was a kid. I’ve never been the kind of person that wishes he could go back and do things differently, but as I watched the rock skip along the surface of the water then sink to the bottom of the lake I couldn’t help but wonder, what if I had done things differently? Would things be different? Would my life be different? Would I be different?

“I love you, and you, and you…”

Pink Roses And A Teddy Bear For Christy Part 2

Tony — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 09:08:00 GMT

After all the food, the drink and the fun it came time to go home. As we loaded up the car with the leftover food and supplies we had taken my cousin said she was taking the kids to the little carnival so I called Christy over and gave a package of yellow bird shaped marshmallow candy. She hugged me and said that she loved me. I said, “I love you too baby girl.“ Those would be the last words I would ever say to her.

We stopped at my grandmother’s house to deliver some of the things we had in the car when the phone rang. It didn’t seem like very long after we got to my grandmother’s house that the phone call, but the truth is that from the moment the phone rang time seemed to lose all sense - hours seemed like minutes, quick seconds of life that usually go unnoticed seemed to last for hours. Nothing seemed to make sense after the phone rang.

I remember that my mother answered the phone and right away I could tell something was wrong. Her voice sounded rushed and her breathing was quick as if she were suddenly excited or afraid, tears were running down her face as the phone fell from her hands and she turned to me and said, “There’s been an accident. One of the kids was killed, they think it might be Christy…”

The words kept echoing in my head and it felt as if the entire world was suddenly spinning at a dizzying speed. I stumbled, reaching out for something, for someone, but didn’t find anything. This had to be a trick of some sort, a cruel trick played by some sick, twisted individual. There was no way that Christy could be dead.

In my mind I kept thinking, she can’t be dead, not Christy. She hasn’t had a chance to live her life. She hasn’t had a chance to grow up. Four year old little girls with lucky blue plastic eggs aren’t supposed to die, especially not on Easter Sunday.

I sat in the backseat of the car as someone else drove to the hospital at times. I was falling apart. At times I found myself begging God to make everything be some sort of mistake or to make me wake up from a terrifying dream that seemed all too real, and then seconds later I would find myself cursing him for allowing things like this to happen, for taking Christy from us. In my mind I could see her hunting colored eggs, wearing the Easter clothes my mom had bought for her. I could see her eating and getting her face and fingers dirty with barbque sauce. I could hear her laughter as she ran around breaking confetti filled egg shells on everyone’s head. I sat in the backseat, put my head in my hands and cried uncontrollably. I cried until I didn’t think I could cry anymore … and then I cried some more.

The first thing I saw when we got the emergency room were two police officers standing on either side of my cousin’s husband. He was in handcuffs and they were questioning him. I remember running up to him and asking what had happened. The police told me to stay back but I still yelled at him. He didn’t say anything he just looked down at the ground and that’s when I noticed the blood all over his shirt and pants. When I saw that I was hit by realization that this was real, not some bad dream that I was going to wake up from, but something that I couldn’t change, but I knew it would change me because I could already feel myself changing. When I saw the blood I knew that somewhere in this hospital lay the body of an innocent child, “Please don’t let it be Christy” I prayed silently as I ran to where other family members had gathered.

No one knew anything at that time except that my cousin’s husband had been drunk and had driven off a small cliff. The next day I would see a picture of the car in the newspaper and wonder how anyone could have survived that crash. The other thing they knew was that one of the kids in the car had been killed but they didn’t know which one.

“Please God, Let Christy be okay.” I cried. “Please let her come skipping through the emergency doors happy to see me, happy to see everyone. Please let me hear her sing again ‘I love you , and you, and you.’ Please God, I‘ll do anything for you if you just do this one thing for me.”

It seemed like forever before a doctor took us into a small conference room. He told us to be seated. He said that my cousin was in critical condition and may not survive. There was a stunned silence in the room and then more crying as he continued. The doctor than confirmed what I already knew, but didn’t want to accept. I don’t know what he said exactly but I heard “four year old Christina was DOA“. My world just fell apart at the words. I don’t remember much except screaming and the doctor’s wanting to give me a sedative.

to be continued ...

Pink Roses And A Teddy Bear For Christy Part 1

Tony — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 18:28:00 GMT

I’ve heard the saying that you can never go back, but the thing those people who say that don’t understand is that sometimes you have to, or at least you have to try - if for no other reason than to establish some sort of closure. Sometimes you have to go back, so that you don’t ever have to go back again.

This journey started a long time ago, looking back on it now, it seems like it was many lifetimes ago. It started with my entire family gathering for a fun filled Easter afternoon at the lake, and it would end many years later with only myself standing on the banks trying to come to terms with my own demons and the events that have haunted me for so many years.

It started as I said, many lifetimes ago - I was a different person then and so were everyone else involved. If I had to pinpoint when this started I would say that it started even before my family arrived, it started in a small, blue tent with a little girl singing a silly children’s cartoon song.

“I love you, I love you, and you, and you, and you…” four year old Christina sang as she pointed at each of us in the tent.

“I love you too baby girl,’ I said as she finished her song and I hugged her.

We had decided to camp out at the lake the night before Easter so we would be sure to get a good spot the next day. It was a good thing we did because the next day the park was full of families doing the exact same thing as we were. We were enjoying a day of family fun, cooking out, drinking, and hunting multi-colored eggs. I remember the kids were all laughing as they ran around looking for the colored eggs, both hard-boiled and plastic ones filled with jelly beans, small toys, and bubble gum. One lucky kid would find a plastic egg with a big grand prize of a brand new five dollar bill.

The lake was soothing, almost hypnotic. The reason I remember the lake so clearly is because as I stood by it’s sparkling waters and the sun warmed me, I felt calm and at peace. It was as if everything was right in the world and nothing could change that. At the time I didn’t know that the peace I felt then would be shattered with the ringing of the phone later that day or that it would be years before I would feel that peace again.

I watched as the kids hunted for the prizes. All the kids were having a good time, running around, bumping into each other as they tried to grab all the eggs they possibly could. Christy was laughing. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. The wind played with her long, brown hair pulling it behind her as she ran. She was happy because in her hand she held the blue plastic egg, the lucky egg with the five dollar bill. The other kids were happy too, but in their faces you could see just a hint of envy as they congratulated Christy. That day they all agreed that she was the lucky girl, but luck is a funny thing and it works both ways - sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s bad.

Before the sun set on that Easter Sunday Christy would be dead and my life would never be the same again.

to be continued...

"The Picker"

Tony — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 12:30:00 GMT

I have a bit of a dilemma and I don’t know how to handle it. A new person has entered my life that I have to work with on a daily basis and, well, he’s “a picker.” I didn’t know what a picker was exactly until the day that this person started and I got a call from a former friend that asked me who the new person was. When I told her that it was a person that transferred from her section at work she said, “Oh man, I feel sorry for you guys.” I was going to ask why she felt the need to say that, but didn’t get a chance before she added, “Whatever you do, do not shake his hand.”

Now she had me intrigued, why would she possibly make a statement like that? I had to find out. “Why?” I asked

“Because he’s a picker.” She answered nonchalantly

“A picker?” I may be a bit naïve because I had no idea what she was talking about. I had never heard that term before. I had no idea what “a picker” was but I was about to find out.

“Yeah, he picks his nose.” She said, “He always has his finger up his nose.”

“Well, that’s kinda gross.” I said trying to get that visual out of my mind.

“that’s not all,” she added, “he pokes his fingers everywhere.”

“What do you mean? Everywhere?” If she could see me over the phone she would have seen that I was giving her my Boo-Boo the Fool face like she was speaking a different language.

“Yeah, “ she answered. “He puts his fingers everywhere. I‘ve seen him put his fingers in almost every orifice a person has”

“You’re crazy.”

“Ok,” she warned one last time, “Just take my advice and whatever you do, don’t shake his hand.”

Later in the day, the new transfer was officially brought around by the acting supervisor to meet everyone. When he came to me he reached out his hand and I just looked at it. This was the second time that day that I had my Boo-Boo the Fool face. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to shake his hand just in case my former co-worker was correct and he did stick his fingers in his orifices, but I didn‘t want to be rude either. The thought of having dried boogers and ass crumbs transferred from his hand to mine was too much. That thought trumped good manners, so I pulled away from him and my supervisor, did a half-hearted wave and said I had to go talk to a doctor about a patient and I walked away.

Throughout the day I started to wonder if maybe I had been too hard on him and been to quick not to shake his hand. Maybe my former co-worker was wrong or maybe she was just messing with me. I told the rest of the staff that I heard he was a picker, after scolding me for not mentioning this information before they shook his hand they all got grossed out and made a quick trip to the restroom and the hand sanitizer. One of our employees then spoke up.

“It’s true,” she said, “I used to work with him at another clinic and he always had his finger up his nose. I don’t mean just wiping his nose, but inside.“

“You mean it’s like he was trying to touch his brain?” I asked.

She looked at me, laughed a little bit and nodded, then continued. “That’s not all,” she paused, we all stood there in anticipation like we were kids sitting around a camp fire listening to a scary tale. Finally she said, “he picks his butt.”

There was a collective “Eeewwww”

“you guys need to stop it,” one of the other employees said. “that poor guy just started here and you’re already messing with him.”

I looked at her and said, “I’m just trying to protect you. What if he comes out here and gives you some paperwork and ass crumbs slide down the sheet and land in your coffee or doughnut?”

“You’re stupid.” She said.

Another person mentioned the fact that “once it lands on someone’s food or drink, they stop being ass crumbs and become ass sprinkles.”

I thought that was funny, so I had to make sure to mention it here - I just wish I had said it.

We went on with our day as usual, that is until I was called into the office by the supervisor. She was on a conference call, so I sat in the chair across her desk. The new employee stood behind her watching as she worked on the computer and listened to the main supervisors on the call. As I sat there the new employee started scratching the back of his right leg. That’s not bad - I mean everyone has scratched the back of their leg at one time or another, but as I watched him scratch his leg, something strange started to happen. His hand began to move closer to his ass crack and he didn‘t even try to hide the fact that his fingers were quickly descending into the darkness of his ass. I sat there shocked as he started to scratch his ass crack - I have never seen anyone do that before, especially out in a public area like that. He was gone digging as the supervisor sat talking on the conference call. He stood there digging in his ass crack as I sat there thinking, “Dude, I’m sitting right here. I can see you scratching your ass crack.” He didn’t care. He just went on like it was a normal thing to stand and scratch your ass in public.

I just sat trying not to look in his direction, but I couldn’t help it - it was so surreal. It was like he was digging for treasure and I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be happy to find nuggets in there - I’m sure they wouldn’t be gold nuggets though.

The winner is...and a second chance

Tony — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 00:58:00 GMT

I know that this should have been announced on Friday, but I was having a bit of a problem choosing the winner. This is my first contest and it seems like all I’ve been doing is eating and breathing superheroes. The problem I had with choosing the winner of this contest is that I had my “panel of judges” which consisted of five friends, who I asked to pick the entry they liked the best. I printed each entry out without any identifying information and numbered each one. I then asked my panel to read each one and let me know which one they liked the best. The thing I didn’t anticipate was that each person would like a different entry, so I had five different people with five choices as to what was the best entry.

Before I get to the winner and how I choose him or her, I want to say that I had fun with this and I enjoyed the sneak preview at the 2010 ShoWest convention - thanks to Derick from Comic Oasis for the heads up on the passes. That also brings me to the fact that without Derrick or Comic Oasis this would not have been possible since he supplied the comic book, so you should really check out his site and join his myspace, facebook, and follow him on twitter - you never when he’s going to announce a special signing or offer. If you join and he announces a special in-store signing you can send me an email and if I’m able to get to the store - most times I’m there for the signings - I’ll pick something up for you and have it signed.

Ok now for the winner and how I choose him - well, I took the five entries that were chosen by my panel and re-numbered them from 1 - 5 and then I had my four year niece give me a number between 1 and 5 and that was the entry that will get the comic book.

And the winner for “Tony’s Kick Ass Contest” is Joseph Travis.

So Joseph, if you read this please email me your address so I can send this comic book out to you right away.

Now, before you go hating on Joseph - I’ve decided that I would have a second chance contest. It seems that I received many emails after the contest was over telling me that they had missed the contest and would have liked to participate in it. Now, I have my own issue of a first print “Kick-Ass” number 1 that is signed by both Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. that I am willing to give away in this second chance contest. I have to add that there may be other items for second, third, fourth, and fifth place - but I won’t confirm that until I get things worked out for that. I will say that the other “stuff” is really cool too and I’m sure anyone would be happy to have it.

I know you’re asking how does this new contest work and why would you even consider giving away your own comic? First off, I originally thought about giving my comic away, but Derrick gave me one to give out when he found out was I was doing, so I was already comfortable with giving it away and here’s a little secret I have a set of “Kick-Ass” comics from 1-6 that are signed.

How does this contest work? Well, I want to make it easier, so there is not going to be any “what kind of superhero would you be if you were a superhero?” kind of questions. I got the idea for this when I met with my fellow bloger “Boomer” from “Boomer Mussings” As we ate some good Mexican food he and I talked about the fact that although our blogs get a few hit’s a day we don’t seem to get many comments. He said that comments were like bloggers’ applause, and I don’t think I have a big ego, but every once in awhile I like a pat on the back or maybe a little applause - so if you want the comic you’re going to have to show some love and give up some “blogger applause” - from this post on, any and all comments will be an entry into “Tony’s 2^nd Chance Kick-Ass Contest” This time around there is not going to be any superhero posts or big graphics directing you to the contest - just a quiet, comment on this blog and you will be entered into the contest. The movie premiers on April 16, so all comments on any and all blog posts between now and April 15 will be considered as entries, so go on - comment on this

I bet now you’re scratching your head wondering “is there a way to get bonus entries?” Well, I’m glad you asked that - yes there is if you comment and link from your blog, face book, etc to my blog I’ll give you an additional three entries per link - I know that’s going to be a pain to keep up with, but I’m willing to do it - maybe it should be called “Tony’s pain the ass” contest - hahaha I know, I’m a geek, but that’s part of my charm.

Well, with that said - I look forward to this contest and I look forward to getting back to posting regular posts on here.

The Kick-Ass Experience

Tony — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 13:25:00 GMT

I wan to preface this with - I’m not a movie critic nor do I usually give my thoughts on movies here, but since doing the whole Kick Ass contest and superhero guest blogs I felt that I should at least give it a try. Remember, these are just my thoughts and my opinions and like I’ve heard, growing up in the military, so often: “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.”

On March I7, I was one of the privileged to be in attendance at the Las Vegas ShoWest 2010 screening of Kick Ass in the Paris Hotel and Casino. I’ve never watched a movie in an auditorium like the one at the Paris, it was like traveling back in time to when luxury ruled, they had freakin’ chandeliers hanging from the ceiling for God’s sake. Anyway, getting back to the movie after many announcements that cameras would not be allowed and that all cell phones must be turned off - people would be in the theater with night vision goggles and if they saw an open cell phone you were going to be asked to leave, no questions asked. After the announcement a big, burly man in a suit came down the line taking our passes and stamping our hand with a little red ladybug stamp which I thought was funny as hell, so did my friend and some new friends we made in line. We joked that we should go to the back of the line and charge people ten dollars so we could lick our stamp and transfer it to their hand, so they could get in too.

Once inside we had to sit through the introductions of Lionsgate’s officers, my friend thought it was cool to hear these mini-speeches from the movie industry people, I just wanted to see the movie and didn‘t really care to see or hear any of Lionsgate’s representatives. Finally, they said that the movie would start after we watched a preview for another movie called “The Expendables” According to the Lionsgate official who hyped the clip, we were the first audience to see this trailer. The movie looks awesome and has an incredible cast, including Sylvester Stallone, Jet Li, Jason Statham, Eric Roberts, Steve Austin, Dolph Lundgren, Mickey Rourke, Bruce Willis, Brittany Murphy, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny Trejo, and Terry Crews.

The audience in this screening was a mix of people, from the executives of major motion picture studios, to the reviewers and press, to the regular people like us, so it was funny to me when the lights went out and the movie started that everyone was cheering even the guys in the suits in front of us.

If you’ve read the comics you know that Kick Ass is unlike any other superhero out there - he has no power. He’s just an average kid with average teenage problems who one day gets fed up with being mugged while people just stand by and watch, so he decides to fulfill his fantasies and become a masked vigilante superhero. His first encounter with the bad guys is not a very pleasant one. The criminals laugh at him and then kick his ass, but that doesn’t stop him from seeking vigilante justice. After a stay in the hospital where his body is supported by metal rods and bolts, “but it’s cool because it’s kind of like Wolverine” he goes back out as Kick Ass. Aaron Johnson is great in the role of Dave Lizewski/Kick Ass. He has this innocence that comes across the screen and even if you don‘t like him you still find yourself rooting for him. The way he and his friends interact is classic, it almost reminds me of how I used to hang out with my friends and have almost the same conversations - Mark Millar nailed it - it’s all very real.

The violence and action in this movie is over the top, but that’s how I like it. I loved the action scenes in this movie and I have to say that for me, Chloe Moretz steals the movie as the foul mouth, slicing, dicing, shooting, stabbing, ninja jumping Hit Girl. The audience I saw this film with just went nuts when she utters the words, “Ok you cunts, let’s see what you can do now “ in a Dirty Harry kind of way, and they didn’t stop laid waste to the criminals . She not only Kicks Ass, but she‘s a Bad Ass. I’ve talked to friends about this character and many think that this is not the way 12 year olds should be portrayed in movies, but in this movie/story it works. This is what her father taught her to be and this is what she is - and it’s freakin’ cool. I’ll admit that I won’t take my nephew to see this when I go see it again on opening night.

The character of “Big Daddy” is played brilliantly by Nicholas Cage. His performance is so awesome in a twisted sort of way. He’s the concerned father who wants to protect his child by alleviating her fear of getting shot and he does so by shooting her in the chest and explaining that a bullet travels at more than 700 miles an hour and at close range she will be knocked off her feet but that it only feels like getting punched in the chest. Afterwards he asks, “how was that? Not so bad, kind of fun, huh?” I used to love Nicholas Cage movies but got to the point where I didn’t think he was such a good actor anymore - this one is Nick Cage at his classic best. He’s quirky and funny and uses this strange dialect and voice when he’s in the Big Daddy character that reminded of Christian Bale in the Batman movies only not as annoying as Bale was.

This is not a politically correct movie and it‘s not for everyone, hell the main character is shown wacking off to internet porn and fantasies of his teacher early in the movie, but that’s what makes this movie so awesome - it‘s not your typical cookie-cutter superhero film. I didn’t want to say it, because I know a lot of people are going to say this, but this movie really was “Kick Ass.”

********

I know I said I was probably going to announce the winner of the Kick-Ass Contest today, well, I ran into a little problem. I didn’t want to have anything to do with judging the contest so that it would stay fair, so I printed out all the entries and had different friends read them and tell me which one they liked the best. They were supposed to have their favorites back to me by yesterday, but not all have been given back - so, to keep it all fair I’ll wait until I get them back (should be later today) and I’ll post the winner on Friday.

Thanks,
Tony

Vegas Evil...

Tony — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 07:05:00 GMT

Well, my “Kick Ass” contest is over and we should announce the winner soon, possibly on Wed.

Instead of posting a new post I have one more guest post to run. This one is a little different from the rest and the writing style and content is a bit different from what I write. This guest is my friend “M” - he asked that I simply call him “M” for now. He is looking for a creative outlet for his work, whether it’s in blog form or in possibly writing a book someday and he’d like some feedback.

“M” is one of my very first Myspace friends. We were Myspace friends for a long time and would chat online regularly, then one day “M” announced that he was coming to Vegas. I gave him my number and we met face to face - well, considering that he and his roommate were both 7 feet tall, it was more like a face to chest meeting. We spent the entire week hanging out, so as you read his post know that there are plenty more stories from that week that are yet to be revealed.

So, check out the post and please leave a comment with your thoughts on it.

******** Vegas Evil…

Today I am a pro basketball player, world traveler and supreme beast; however, I was not always as I am now. There were many years when I was not realizing my potential awesomeness. I will tell you all the painful story of my education in the world. I know that rule of not breaking the third wall and directly addressing the intended audience of a piece but as I am not a very talented writer this loosely constructed preamble will have to suffice. OK so anyway I was 21 and an upcoming senior at a small east coast college and I was on my way to a prestigious basketball camp for ball players at the Center position as I am near 7ft tall. I was nervous. I was not so much nervous for the camp but rather that I was going out of town when I had a horrible skank of a girlfriend who was bound to spread to her legs to any and every willing partner while I was gone. The opportunity to play with the best players in the world does not come every day so I made my choice to leave town and see what Vegas had in store for me.

The plane ride was uneventful, no turbulence or great looking stewardess to occupy my mind. I fell asleep and awoke to the lights of Las Vegas at night. The soullessness of the city hidden by those blinding lights, one would never know this is where I would begin my metamorphosis. The camp’s handlers collected me and brought me to my room. We had a meeting for the camp, lecture, and next day camp would begin. At the meeting you got a roommate an ID tag and a schedule. We were free to explore and were just given the warning that camp would be at 7:00 am sharp next morning and to rest up. I was free to explore, so of course like a pussy I ran to my room and called my GF… she had gone out with “friends”… to a movie… guy friends… I promptly hung up on her mother. I dialed her cell with light speed… turned off inexplicably? Now in my preamble above I mentioned she had been a terrible whore, however, this was my first girlfriend and the obvious facts eluded me as at this time I was still an innocent. This was two years in mind you and she had blatantly cheated on twice before, I dare not call her again because I was convinced of love’s superiority over all forces and for fear of being called a “stalker” by her. This was the term she threw around when I would question her about her shady dealings and whorebag ways. Needless to say I could not waste any more time on her for the time being, I had a hard day ahead of me.

I love Basketball, I love shooting and scoring and blocking the shit out of stupid snitches that suck and that is exactly what I did. Camp went exactly as expected and was extra awesome because we got to mix it with the NBA guys that were there. I had so much fun playing it almost took all my previously mentioned problems out of my mind. For that reason I will always love this game. Camp went exactly like that for the whole week; everyday was a release from my painfully conscious state of wondering “who is she fucking now?”

The nights, hot and dry like an old vagrant tramp’s fuckhole, screamed to me of infidelity. I walked the Vegas strip confronted at every turn by some abomination of humanity jamming an endless supply of coins into and endless row of gaming machinery. I had managed to befriend my roommate, we can call him “D”, and he had talked me into going to some casino up the strip for a good time. Apparently he had been more outgoing than I had been because we were 20 strong walking up the street. Imagine that sight 20 7ft tall youngsters invading the streets of sin city. It was ridiculous. I eventually separated myself from the pack, tired and worn out from all the walking I had a pizza, ok 2 pizzas, ok three pizzas and like 20 beers but that’s it I promise. I was out of money and had lost my group there was also no shuttle in sight. I had to walk the Vegas strip at night, alone, in August. There must have been something off about those pizzas because I needed to shit bad or vomit or both, immediately. I was hallucinating from the pain and 100 degree temperature…at night? WTF? “JESUS HELP ME” I thought as I ran down the street half slouched over from my aching gut. I would run, stop, rest, almost get sick, run some more, sit, spit, curse and repeat. Much like the corpse of a dead hobo Las Vegas is riddled with parasites. These parasites include hookers, travelers, night tourists and weirdoes… I was, to say the least, in awe of these scandalous perversions made flesh. Prostitutes did not merely walk… they sprinted in high heels that came to a needle point. A strange band of friendly Mexicans handed me erotic literature on the side walk. I took one and was bombarded by 20 different solicitors. I discarded these gifts into traffic as to show my Hispanic brothers what I thought of their chosen professions. Not that I have a problem with whores making a living by paying these guys to hand out cards but I was fucking dying at this point and could not give a fuck about anything that was not a toilet. Although for the rates some of these “tutes” were charging maybe I should have cowboyed up and shit on their chests for a fee. Nevertheless, I much like Aslan from C.S. Lewis Classic “The Chronicles of Narnia was on the move. (Which is what they would always say about him in that story yet he was a fucking lion and should have just been murder-raping every bad guy he saw including the white cunt witch). After marveling at the agility of these women of the night the last challenge presented itself. It was of course a crowd of gay dudes just prancing the boulevard calling each other bitches and such and stating “omg I can’t believe you are wearing that” in unison. I projectile vomited in their general area causing the queens to scatter (running poorly) in a thousand different directions concerned only for the well being of their respective outfits. Leaping across the highway and dodging a police cruiser finally I made it to the hotel.

In my room, I crumbled upon the throne (toilet), and erupted out of all orifices save the ear canal. I lay on the floor of the bathroom curled into a ball futilely dialing her number… darkness enveloped me. I awoke to sound of a voice “hey man you ok?” “D” had come in… Yeah I’m fine dude just little ill from last night. It was only Tuesday and camp was still in session…I had ten minutes to get up wash off the puke and man up for camp. I did…it went well. I came back to the hotel in the evening for another night of who the fuck knows.

In life you meet random people. Have you ever done Chatroulette.com? It is this site that if you have a webcam it matches you to a random person who also has a webcam. Don’t ever go to this site! Out of 20,000 users 19k is a dude in a chair jerking it. A horrifying experience that made me want to break my computer. If you are a user of this site please hang yourself, now. Despite all the obvious fruit bags on the net sometimes you meet regular people doing regular things in a regular way. This is the case with my friend Tony Puente. You can call him “T-bone”, “T-pain”, “TP”, “Pony Tuente”; “PT cruiser” is a new one I have been playing with because he is always cruising for dirty slut-bag college girls. I met him for real in Vegas, we had been random MySpace friends for a long time and now I was in Vegas and he said he knew where things were happening so I said “what the fuck”. Tony is an average size fellow with a kind soul and a strange curiosity of the world of massive people “D” and I headed out in search of a party and we ended up at this place in Vegas where you can get football beers… mission accomplished! To be clear they are not beer cans with footballs on them, or beer served during a football game but rather a large plastic cup in the shape of a football is filled to the brim with beer and served ice cold. The beer was good the place we got them was questionable at best.

This place is Freemont Street, a cesspool unto itself, was a home to lowly dogs that were offensive to all senses. These filthy freaks would that scamper up and down the street trying to glean what they could from the night. The air was permeated with sweat and the canopy of neon lights, which the street is famous for, lit the sky to reveal the brain-dead moron tourist below who could only glare at the wonder of electricity. As we walked we were accosted by skanks… one was obviously pregnant and another had one hand… you know… proper skanks. They were enamored with our size and awesomeness as usual they offered their frail whore bodies and we had to decline because they were not hot and we did not want Hep C. Tony considered mating with them or getting a “nub-job” from the handless one at least. I said I wanted to go because I was faithful to my GF. I let Tony know and Tony being the sly dog scared them away by declaring he would love to wear their skin to his birthday real soon. Thanks Tony. We returned that night to the hotel and bid adieu to our friend Tony as he was anxious to get home and take his shirt off to get on chat roulette ASAP. Jk, tony, JK. As T-bone pealed out of the hotel parking lot I considered my GF and walked to my room. I called her and got through this time. She was distant and unable to explain our lack of communication for the past few days… I could feel my heart beginning to break.

Camp finished up without anything crazy happening. I Hung out with my friends again at a few dinners and such. The week ended and I flew home. She came to get me at the airport. We embraced instantly when we saw each other. For one instant all the transgressions had been forgotten. It was paradise in a moment. See I think it was this way for me because she was my first girlfriend, or maybe it was because I lost my virginity to her or that her parents treated me like a son. I bit my tongue because I was relieved to be home.

The following week it happened… her cell rang. She was showering and I answered. It was some guy asking where she was… I was all “who the fuck is this?”… “Her Boyfriend” he replied. I wanted proof which this guy gave. This was the last and only time I can remember tears rolling down my cheeks as he put the missing pieces into a puzzle I had not been able to solve for some time. The unmistakable facts, times and dates where she would just vanish for hours all deluged out of the phone and into my mind. As this was going on she entered the room. I shattered the cell phone in my hand and threw it out of the window. I asked her once in a stern voice. She admitted to everything. I asked her why, she did not know. She blamed her insecurities, my being too nice, and of course her eating disorder and prime causes. Oddly, she had never mentioned any of this before. If you suspect cheating and you spy some different things can happen. If you are wrong then you are a stalker and if you were right…it’s over. From then on I was numb. I said “whore, it’s over… I’m taking my shit and going…fuck you.”

I had become the supreme beast and I went out on the town for revenge. I crashed parties her guy friends were throwing… house parties or club parties and got into fights. I beat the living piss out of her “boyfriend” a real chat roulette type. I talked to all the hottest girls and got them over to my house for what I like to call “RPs” or rape parties. This is where I get a girls drunk and into my swimming pool then have my way with them… not against their will or anything but they are all loosey-goosey after two drinks anyways and will do almost anything including go all the way with each other (my personal favorite). I targeted her “girlfriends” if they could be called that because they hated each other in secret. In reality her friends that were female were just the worst collection of horrible cum-dumpster ever to walk the face of the earth. My favorite was calling her during the act of coitus with these young “ladies” and telling her how skinny they all were. My vengeance was complete.

It was in this lust for whores I lost the taste for revenge. Railing college sluts had become all that was good, a new night on the town with my wingmen lurking in shadows ready to swoop in a talk the ear off the fat friend so I could take home the prize was my sport of choice now, and I was going to the Finals. I laid waste to whole sororities and came out alive. I guess what can be learned from this whole episode can be boiled down to a simple list.

Always get drunk
Keep a knife handy
RP!!
Never Love a whore

The next time I step foot on Vegas soil things will be different. I am going to RP the whole city and no means yes. Follow these steps and you should be good and maybe you can learn from me and avoid your own Vegas Evil.

Superman / Batman: Heroes in Balance

Tony — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 07:05:44 GMT

The final comic book/superhero guest post is from my friend Ron Mattocks of Clark Kent’s Lunchbox (how cool is that?) He’s a daddy blogger whose spin on the everyday events is genius. He has a way of making you laugh while still getting a serious point across. Ron is a blogger that I look up to, he’s been a bit of a mentor to me - much like Obi-Wan to Anakin.

Ron is the author of the forthcoming book Sugar Milk: What One Dad Drinks When He Can’t Afford Vodka. I’ve ordered an advanced copy of the book and I have to tell you guys that it’s a great read. He had me laughing out loud while reading it. Most times when I read a book, I do just that - read it, but with Sugar Milk I didn’t feel like I was just reading a book, I felt like I was experiencing it. I felt like I was right there with Ron as he went through the ups and downs of his life. This is one book I would recommend and not because he’s my friend, but because it’s a great book.

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Superman / Batman: Heroes in Balance

By: Ron Mattocks of Clark Kent's Lunchbox

I blame WalMart for turning me into a comic geek. Of course, I blame WalMart for a lot of things—lowering our country’s standard of living, raising China’s gross domestic product, and killing at least one of my kid’s goldfish. WalMart has essentially become my one-stop shop for blame, but in the case of my comic book obsession they really are at fault.

It all started with a roll-back special on seasons one and two of the television program, Smallville. I had just moved to Chicago and was having trouble getting my cable hooked up, leaving me with little else but DVD’s to watch after coming home from work. I had heard of Smallville and knew it was popular so I figured, why not? Thus began my slippery descent into the fantasy and adventure of a world (or worlds if you believe Crisis on Infinite Earth), where the forces of good protected the innocent from the minds of evil.

Oh, and did I mention I was thirty-five at the time? Yeah, I’ve always been a late bloomer in life. (It took me until the seventh grade to realize storks didn’t bring babies.) When it came to such staple characters as Wonder Woman and Batman, I knew little about them beyond what I’d seen on the Superfriends cartoons. After watching those discounted DVD’s of Smallville, though, I was hooked, entrancing myself in five season’s worth of Clark Kent as a young adult.

Next thing I know, I’m muscling middle-school teenagers out the way at the bookstore in order to get my hands on landmark titles like Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns, John Byrne’s Man of Steel, Superman series reboot, and Brad Meltzer’s Identity Crisis Once I discovered Chicago Comics was only four blocks from my apartment, storage boxes started filling up pretty quick with current titles like the weekly Countdown to Final Crisis.

Sliding another three-inch stack of comics across the counter for the cashier to ring up, it occurred to me that maybe it was a kind of odd that a man my age should be so into a bunch of freaks who wear their underwear on the outside of their costumes. Nah! And then I told the guy behind the register I’d see him next Thursday—the day the store received its regular shipment of new titles.

Of all the characters I followed, Superman was (and still is) my favorite. Yeah, I know he can be a little self-righteous at times, and people debate as to whether he can achieve relevancy with today’s audiences. It’s hard to relate to a guy, who’s virtually unstoppable and absolutely committed to justice. In reality we know that the world isn’t quite so black and white, which is why, I think everyone is quick to jump on the Bat-wagon when it comes to the Dark Knight.

Batman has no meta-human powers, and although he always does the right thing, he confronts a great deal of grey area when employing methods meant to bring about justice. Throwing a mob kingpin off a balcony and breaking his legs in order to get information is perfectly fine because to the Caped Crusader the ends justify the means as long as the means doesn’t cross that line. Superman, however, would throw a super hissy fit (and often has) over such tactics.

Given their differences, the pairing of DC’s two most prolific heroes has always intrigued me. On one hand you have an all-powerful alien who sees the world through a lens of moral absolutes while on the other hand you have a human being walking a fine line of moral ambiguity. In fact, when thinking about it, Superman and Batman have a number of differences: one grew up with adoptive parents, the other was an orphan; one lived in rural Smallville, the other in Metropolis; in their secret identities one is bumbling reporter, the other is a rich playboy. Despite all this, they remain effective in fighting crime.

So how can two such different superheroes with such different points of view manage to fight together? Well, sometimes they don’t and it’s usually when they are the most polarized versions of themselves. In fact, in storylines like The New Frontier and The Dark Knight Returns, Superman as an agent of the government is actually going after Batman for his vigilante methods. One is so close to the law that he obeys it unquestionably while the other is so far away from the law the he disregards it.

So basically, what this all comes down to is balance. When Superman and Batman are their rational selves, they are a virtually unstoppable team; however, when they become extreme versions of themselves, then infighting ensues.

Balance is something I think about all the time. I think about it when I want that fourth piece of cake. I think about balance when I’ve been spending too much time on the computer instead of with my family. When I read the latest political headlines announcing the latest battle in Congress, I think about balance. When I see the pictures on the news of a smoldering building destroyed by a fringe extremist group, I think of balance. Then I think of Superman and Batman—two silly, fictional characters fighting closely together for justice despite their differences, and suddenly I don’t feel juvenile about reading comic books.

* * * *

Ron Mattocks is a freelance writer and father of five. His work has appeared in a number of publications and on public radio. He writes regularly on his blog, Clark Kent’s Lunchbox, and his book, Sugar Milk: What One Dad Drinks When He Can’t Afford Vodka will be release March 30^th. Ron lives with his wife in Houston, Texas, and sneaks off to the comic book store every chance he gets.

all copyrights reserved by the original author

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There can't be heroes without villains

Tony — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 13:45:00 GMT

This blog has taken on a different feel with all the talk of superheroes and such, but as I was reading the guest posts something suddenly hit me - there can’t be superheroes without super villains. When I was younger I would imagine a super villain to be a mad scientist of some sort, if not mad then a genius, an evil genius. The thing about super villains and even evil geniuses is that at one time they were young and innocent, much like my seven year old nephew is now. When I look at my nephew I’m amazed at how smart he is and at the same time, I fear that he may grow up to be a super villain.

A few weeks ago I took my four year niece to see the Disney movie The Princess and the Frog , which just came out on DVD. We took my seven year old nephew too, well, we kind of dragged him along, protesting the entire time that he didn’t want to see any “Girly princess movie…” He sat with his arms crossed across his chest, sulking as the lights dimmed, not even touching his popcorn, but as the movie progressed he was caught up in and enchanted by the Disney magic. After the movie he said that he loved it and when he grew up he wanted to be just like “The Shadowman” from the movie. I looked at him and wondered, “Why does that not surprise me?”

The Shadowman is the evil witch doctor who originally turns the prince into a frog. He is probably the most evil Disney character I’ve seen since the wicked fairy Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty. I don’t know but for some reason my nephew is attracted to the bad guys in movies.

I remember when he was about three years old, he took a lightsaber to where my niece was sleeping, I stood close because I thought he was going to whack her with it, but he didn’t. He simply went up to her and said, “You don’t know the power of the darkside. Join me and together we’ll rule the galaxy.”

At the time I thought it was funny and kind of cute in a geeky, fanboy kind of way, but little did I know he was serious.

Another time we went to the library and he checked out a book on robots. On our way home he said “I wish I knew how to build robots.”

Being the good uncle that I am I told him that if he went to school and studied real hard one day he might grow up and build robots if that‘s what he wanted to do.

He smiled and said, “I want to build robots that take over the world for me” I looked at him through the rearview mirror, he looked at me and smiled an evil little smile. “you can have Australia if you want it.”

My blood ran cold as I realized I was in the presence of a super villain in the making.

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In which I have super powers

Tony — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 07:05:00 GMT

The next blogger to do a guest post is my friend Michael from The Badass Geek. Michael is a talented writer who writes about everyday life and makes it so funny to read. I admire and feel a little jealous at his writing ability. Since the first time I read his blog, I’ve felt a bond with Michael that I can’t explain - it’s like we were cut from the same cloth except he ended up with more talent and better able to express himself that I ever could. His blog is truly one of the best out there - check it out and you’ll see what I mean.

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In which I have super powers

By: Michael from The Badass Geek

Like thousands of other young boys, when I was a kid I dreamed of having superpowers. I loved the fact that superheroes were normal people. They could be your neighbor, your high school janitor, or your mailman, but when duty called, they risked their lives for the sake of others. I wished so badly that I could have superpowers, too, but I could never decide on what superpower I wanted.

Choosing a superpower always seemed like a permanent thing, like a tattoo. Once you picked the one you wanted, it was a done deal, no do-over’s. My friends argued that having the ability to fly would be pretty cool. Being afraid of heights, I disagreed. I preferred the idea of invincibility, which was convenient considering I was (and still am) one of the clumsiest human beings on the planet. The thought of never getting hurt thrilled me… until I got to thinking about all the other super powers out there.

Having super strength would be pretty awesome. So would being able to move really fast! And to shoot lasers out of my eyes! And long-distance hearing! There were so many options, so many possibilities. Whenever my friends and I would play pretend we’d have to pick our one superpower, but I would get too greedy and opt to switch in the middle of the game. My friends would switch their power, too, and it eventually got to be so confusing as to which person had which power that we just sort of threw out our imagined rule book and just went with it. So what if there were two of us who could shoot bullets from our eyes? It just made the game that much more interesting.

When Tony asked me to write a guest post about what superhero I’d be, I made sure I put a lot of thought into it before I decided for sure. This is an important decision, after all. This isn’t a Vegas wedding that could be annulled once the hangover wears off. After many hours of careful thought and deliberation, I finally came up with who my alter ego would be if I was a superhero.

They’d call me The Enforcer. My superpower? The ability to know when trivial and often-overlooked rules are broken. My costume? I picture something like how Neo looked in the lobby shoot-out scene in The Matrix.

Did you return your library books late through the overnight drop-off slot to avoid paying late fees? Fail to come to a complete stop before making a right turn at a red light? Leave your cell phone ringer on during a movie? Better watch out for The Enforcer.

If I was The Enforcer in real life, I’d be a busy guy. There are so many small rules that get broken every day where I’d be hard pressed to find time to be anything else but my superhero persona. I think I’d eventually become so burnt out by being overworked and underappreciated that I’d give up and resign myself to sitting at home, watching courtroom dramas and drinking root beer.

In the end, I think it’s for the best that I don’t have a superpower. It’d be a lot of responsibility and obligation, and I just don’t think I possess the chutzpah. It’s a good thing there are people out there like the characters in “Kick Ass” to make the world a better place.

all copyrights reserved by the original author

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SUPER MULTI ETHNIC MULTI TALENTED HOMEMAKER GRANDMA

Tony — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 07:05:00 GMT

All hail The Duchess of the Blogworld….

Ann Imig from Ann’s Rants is one of the most amazing people that I’ve never met in real life, but through her blog and various emails I have to say that she is like blogging royalty. I would say she is the Queen, but when I think of a queen I think of an old lady with man hands and Ann is much too pretty to be an old queen, so I think of her as The Duchess.

Ann is not just a blogger, she has become a friend who has helped me out in many ways during my time blogging - she’s always there to give a hand or spread some praise when I felt like I needed someone to just say, “you’re doing a good job” She is one of the few people I’ll go to when I need help with my own blog and I know that no matter what she’s doing she will find time to help me. I couldn’t have done any of this without her

Thank you Ann for the guest post

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SUPER MULTI ETHNIC MULTI TALENTED HOMEMAKER GRANDMA

By: Ann Imig from Ann's Rants

The very day that Tony asked me to guest post about being a superhero, I was party to a bank hold up. Seeing a dude jump behind the counter and command us to “Get on the floor” exceeded my quotient of live action/adventure for the next four score and many years. No, if I had super-powers I would put them to beautifully mundane, yet practical use.

I’ve often dreamed of having my own, live-in set of Grandmas. Wait--Justice League of Grandmas sounds more super-heroic. After weeks on end of soup and sandwich meals (read: cereal and milk), I’ve longed for Grandmas authentic to the cuisine we prefer. Monday night? Italian Mamamia cooks spaghetti Bolognese. Tuesday? Enchiladas de Abuelita. Friday? Roast chicken ala Bubbe. My Justice League of Grandmas could live in their own multi-unit Grandma commune next door—sort of like Golden Girls but much more focused on the needs of my family. I guess that would make them Beholden Girls.

Now that awesome story-telling Tony has granted me my own superpowers…enter my alter-ego: A salt and pepper once a week salon-set hairdo, and a faint eau de cookies scent….I’m…SUPER! MULTI! ETHNIC! MULTI! TALENTED! HOMEMAKER! GRANDMA!

My alter ego spends only $100 a week at the store—shopping only on that infamously healthy perimeter, buying natural ingredients in bulk. She cooks three meals a day from scratch, pouring patience and coziness into each serving (as opposed to, say, boiling pasta AGAIN accompanied by deli turkey AGAIN with a side of ONCE AGAIN baby carrots).

Did I mention that SUPERMULTIETHNICMULTITALENTEDHOMEMAKERGRANDMA truly enjoys some zen-scrubbing? She spends her days scrubbing floors, because my fictional alter-ego loves to clean with non-toxic and once again made from scratch, vinegar/bakingsoda/grandma magic compounds. No sighing. No passive-aggressive whistling. No negative comments about the hereditary-on-your-Dad’s-side lack of pee stream/toilet water coordination.

Then, once my home is made, she powers up her super-never-ending-energy-for-children. In one mystifying swoop, which might look more like a hobble punctuated with a loud “OOF” she gets on the floor and holds my children in her lap and weaves stories of days gone by. Stories they are enchanted by (as opposed to, say, bored with due to many umms and long pauses where the storyteller kindasorta drifts off)

My SUPERMULTIETHNICMULTITALENTEDHOMEMAKERGRANDMA is also very crafty and gleans great pleasure in setting up projects for my children—from sock puppetry to burlap millinery! Yes the children forget about screens altogether in the presence of such authentic downhominess.

And when the day finally winds down, my children conga out the door behind her—all to the tune of Beastie Boy’s Boomin’ Granny.

Thank you Tony. Make it come true, Tony. Say you will.

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