I Did, part II

So we finally made it to Mexico, and as Porqchop said, Frontier is the way to go. The flight from KC to Cancun is as long as our drive from KC to Springfield. Do you have any idea how sick that made us feel? And we had no clue Springfield even had an airport. We take our bus from the airport to the hotel, and after finally checking in we see the ocean.

Just a gorgeous beach. But we’re still a little worried, because we read some not so favorable reviews. We trust my folks, but having a group of 24, we knew some could run into various issues. And they did. A stank room and no A/C, that doesn’t spell fun. But the issues were pretty much solved, and fairly quickly. We found ‘Chop and some other friends almost immediately, re-enforcing our confidence in choosing to get married at a smaller resort.

The next couple of days were spent lounging on the beach and by the pool, playing with the kid (who did an amazing job of warming up to everyone and getting over her shyness, as well as soaking in all the attention as the only child in the group). And then it was Game Time.

Saturday came, and off went Mrs. Hirp to get her hair done. I went to my folks room to get dressed, then hit the pool bar to get a beer for the nerves. Not nervous about getting married, just the attention. And by this time, the attention wasn’t just from our friends and family. We had become celebs of sorts around the resort. Thanks in large part to my mother, who announced we were getting married to every single person she saw. I heard plenty of “good lucks” and a few “don’t do it” cracks. This just added to the experience, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have happened had we been married in KC.

Then everyone finds there way to the spot on the beach where we were to take the giant leap. And they waited, and then waited a little more. Shit, the bride is running late. I said running LATE, not away. Turns out there were some communication problems with the hair stylist. So we started maybe 2 minutes late, and my mother was already crying. Hell, she was crying the day before at the rehearsal. And I don’t mean getting misty, she was crying. It was great. It helped that we had my brother, who was also marrying us, sing her favorite song “Sunrise, Sunset” which guarantees tears like the water in Mexico guarantees tears from the other end. Then we learned how hard it can be to walk gracefully in sand, luckily we were barefoot.

In no time I was standing in front of our family and friends repeating the vows we wrote. We must admit the reading about marriage wasn’t ours; we stole it from Paul Newman. Hey, if you’re gonna borrow (steal) from someone, there’s lesser man to borrow from.

And just like that, I was married. Suddenly everything changed, yet remarkably it stayed the same. Game over.

I Did...

I’m baaack. And I have a wife now. ( reading, typing and saying that still knocks me on my ass) It was a phenomenal week, and there are pictures to come soon. Most will be on our mywedding.com site.

But let me share the expiernce with you, and it started days before we exchanged vows. Not sure if you heard about it, but recently American Airlines decided they should ground some flights. Just so happens they grounded the model of plane we were scheduled to depart for Dallas on April 10th. So my dad calls the airline at 3pm on the 9th, and they said all things were a go. Good news right? Yes, but then 6pm came. When my now mother-in law called and said they heard the flight was cancelled. Needless to say, panic set in. Turns out, the flight was cancelled. Um, fucking shit comes to mind. The next 4 hours were spent trying to get a hold of someone at the airlines.

Finally that happens, and we’re faced with new decisions. How do we get to Dallas? Our flight out of Dallas leaves at noon, and it’s now 11pm. American has offered us a flight out of Springfield Missouri, just 3 ½ hours away. To make things even more complicated, there’s 7 of us on the flight. The plan is to rent a mini van and leave for Springfield at 1:30am. Then there’s a new hurdle, the car rental place at Kansas City International Airport closes at 12, and it’s 11:40. My dad is en route, but probably wont make it. I call, and of course there is no direct line, so I tell the operator for the company our story. She contacts the office and shares the story with them, and they stay open till 1am just for us.

That’s the type of customer service you see re-created in a commercial, I had no idea that stuff really happened. So at 1:30 we all meet at the airport, so we can have our cars there when we get home, and head out. The ride wasn’t completely uneventful, although I slept through most of it, just to be woken the few times my dad started to dose and ran on the edge of the highway. Had I been awake, I probably would have needed to change my boxers.

We made it though, but I won’t lie. The bride, as well as myself, were a bit nervous about what the week held for us after this start. And I’ll tell you about that later.

Been a few...

I haven’t blogged in a while, I know, and I’m sorry. That’s a bad Hirp. I guess I’ve had a bit of writers block of late. Instead of thinking of things to bitch about, I have been pretty focused on this whole wedding thing. And no, the feet aren’t cold. They aren’t luke warm, nor are they heating up from getting so close to the flame. In fact, I’m not at all nervous about getting married. And I am, by nature, a pretty nervous guy. I often meet the expectations set forth by the stereotypical Jew. Have you seen Brighton Beach Memoirs or Biloxi Blues? That could almost be me.

But I’m not at all nervous, just totally out of my mind excited. Excited about everything really, from the ceremony to just hanging out on the beach having drinks, to just making a life with this woman (this very brave perhaps confused, woman.) I’ve come up with a character I do at home, I guess it’s a character. It’s how I envision myself as an old married man. Asking if she’s seen my pills, complaining about having to pee again, yapping endlessly about the good ole days. I’m actually looking forward to that. Really, the one thing I’m not looking forward to is when the kid starts dating (or the teenage years entirely)

So I haven’t blogged much. And I think, at least for a while, the blog may change a bit. From what I hear, it kind has already. I still have plenty to bitch and moan about, but if you could only see how the conversations during poker games have changed. You’d think on the one night a month the guys are free of the wives and kids, free to play cards, drink, watch porn and crack jokes, they’d do exactly that. Well, it happens, but not like it used to. So as the table talk has turned from tits to tots and downing bottles to warming bottles, I think it’s safe to assume the blogging will change too.

Many, well most, don’t know this tid-bit. But it turns out; this blog helped me tremendously with winning the girl over. Before she and I met, some friends of mine who worked with Mrs. Hirp got her to start reading this little spot on the web to get to know me. And some how, by the grace of some thing or someone, she liked what she read and wasn’t scared for her life. Well, she may have been scared, but she also liked it.

No Complaints..

Yesterday morning, Mrs. Hirp and I were watching my mom’s show on CBS. It’s Sunday Morning on CBS, it’s been my mom’s show for years, and I think they will be changing the official title to “My Mom’s show” in the near future. She only refers to it as “my show.” She really thinks it belongs to her.

Anyway, they did a story about a church right here in the Kansas City area. This church has started a bit of a movement, and I guess it’s catching on. Again, there’s wrist bands involved like the Livestrong phenomenon. But there agenda is to get people to stop complaining. The theory is that complaining leads to more complaining, and if we can stop, our brains will actually forget to complain. They also are trying to stomp out criticism and even sarcasm(?!) Obviously, this is the work of the anti-cHirpst. No complaining, criticism or sarcasm? Just shoot me.

Seriously, this is an awful idea. Those practicing this, or attempting to practice this act of lunacy are supposed to just accept things. Getting shitty service from a waiter, just accept it. You’re food will come. Never mind that you’re losing time and money, you won’t complain. Stuck in traffic, hey, no worries. This is taking, “Don’t worry, be happy,” to a new level. Bobby McFerron used Robin Williams in the video; so his head wasn’t shoved up his ass like these folks. What would we have left if this world had no more complaining, criticism or sarcasm?

There’d be no more comedy, no good movies or music. No blogs, that’s for sure. The only upside, might be Sprints stock going up again. They’d love for their customers to adopt this. But imagine an advertising campaign built around this philosophy. “Just do it, or hey, it’ll get done later.” Just doesn’t have the same ring to it. What about election campaigns, would they ignore things that need changing?

Living in a world where there’s nothing to complain about sounds pleasant enough, but to not complain when it’s the only logical response, that’s just flat out stupid. Not to say there aren’t plenty of jerks that complain too much, and when they really shouldn’t. No, those people should be poked with a fork for every offense. But don’t lump them in with rational thinking men, women and children who enjoy a good (as my people would say) kvetch. (I can’t believe Word knew that one!)

And really, we need another colored wristband for a cause and ribbon bumper stickers like Britney needs another kid.

Lil Bit of This, Lil Bit of That

It’s a good thing the writers strike is over, I had been reduced to actually watching “Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant” and “High School Reunion” and I even liked them a little bit. But last night marked the return of two dependable shows “2 and ½” and “How I Met Your Mother,” so the great reality crisis of ’08 is over and the damage was minimal.

The Scott Baio show turned out to be not only watch-able, but somewhat enjoyable. Okay, I liked it. Bite me. The guy might not have a lick of talent, and the fact that he doesn’t have any talent makes his transformations believable. Have a life long bachelor, who spent most of his adult years getting tail because girls had crushes on him when they were just hitting puberty. Now he’s getting married and having a kid, freaking out is the only logical response (for him, I’m talking about him, Scott Baio, not Hirp. My calm is calmer than your calm. Your excited owes my excited $20) Seriously, Baio never grew up, and never apologized for it. Now he’s totally and completely turning his life upside down. Basically, he’s like a real life Joey Tribiani. I like it, damnit, and I’m not (that) ashamed to admit it.

Over the weekend I introduced the kid to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” I know, you almost called child services when you read a sentence that stated I introduced a young kid to Michael Jackson, but stay with me. She’s a big fan, as is her mother, of the movie 13 Going On 30, and there’s a scene in the flick where there’s a lame party that suddenly makes the jump to “the party” when the Thriller dance is introduced. So she knew some of the dance and the song, and I felt it was time to show her the real thing. Gotta keep it real and kick it old school, that’s just how I roll. What I didn’t consider is just how scary it could be for a 6 year old. Luckily the special effects back then were so bad, she really didn’t notice.

Best question of that afternoon, was asking if Jackson would turn back to himself after becoming the werewolf. No, he turned into a white man. And according to Obama’s pastor, there’s not much scarier than a white man.

That whole thing is ridiculous. (nice transition, huh? Yeah, I got skills.) Did his Pastor say some stupid shit? Sure. Does that make it inaccurate? No, not at all. And if he’s going to catch so much shit for what his religious leader believes, well let’s just keep in mind just how much weight the religious right carries with the Republican Party. They tend to make some pretty harsh comments that are about can divide a room quicker than a silent but deadly fart.

Obama just started his speech on race, and unfortunetly I can’t watch it. But this is a huge opportunity for him. No one is going to disagree with him, and there’s no way Hillary gets to give a speech on race. Race is a touchy topic, but for all the wrong reasons. Everyone holds their breath when it comes up, and goes into shock just because it comes up. Geraldine Ferraro gets headlines for saying that race has played a role in Obama’s campaign, and you know what? No shit. So now we’re in some racially charged debate. But didn’t race play a role in every other election? Does George W get elected if he’s Hispanic? Does Bill Clinton get the job if he’s Muslim? Does Ronald Regan become President if he looks like Bill Cosby? Hell to the no! Race, religion, sex and class play a role in every single issue, every single second of every single day. That doesn’t make things unfair or wrong, although it can, but ignoring this fact helps make it an issue. Being equal doesn’t mean being the same. If you have a ton of feathers, it might weigh the same as a ton of bricks, but they aren’t the same, and you wouldn’t say they are.

Hirpolitics

My phone has this neat little feature called “On Demand” there’s nothing dirty about it, I assure you. It’s just a feature that lets me read the news and latest sports stories, and it comes in pretty handy on the john when there’s no newspaper to read. First story I opened this morning was about Hillary Clinton, and I’m positive the writer and editor were just cracking up when they penned the opening line.

“Hillary Rodham Clinton proved again Tuesday that she does her best work when her back is against the wall.”

There’s no way they were not going for the double entendre, anytime you talk about a woman doing her best work and mention anything that relates to a position her body can be in at the time of this work, the comment is dirty, and you know it.

If the sentence is about a woman, and it starts with “she was” and ends with “Pushed into a corner,” or “bending over backwards,” or “belly up,” then 90% of those who read the statement, will at least go to that place for a second. Whoever wrote that about Clinton, knew what they were doing, and I’ll bet my paycheck they were doing so because they knew most readers would then make a joke about Bill, if only in their own heads.

“If that were true (her best work is done with her back against the wall), Bill wouldn’t have messed around on her.” And nothing could be further from the truth. The evidence is all there, Bill was never about quality, just quantity. So maybe Hillary does her best work on her back (there’s a visual that’ll give America nightmares).

Frozen Hirp

We’ve all heard those commercials before, and I know you thought about calling. But I did it, and this isn’t those networking commercials you see at 1am, with the scantily clad skank that just wants to talk to cool people. No, this was the bullshit pitch about getting a free stay in Vegas. I had to do it, I went out to my car this morning and I couldn’t have been colder if you dipped me in dry ice, and then I hear about a trip to Vegas. I would have done a triple lindy into a pool of lava, but that wasn’t an option.

And it can’t be all bad, Alan Thicke answered the phone. If it’s good enough for Mr. Seaver, it’s good enough for this boner. Now I’m wondering, if we ranked celebs that need money the worst by what crap they sell, where would hawking time shares rank? Did Alan Thicke audition for a Viagra add, and fail to rise to the challenge? Is he to out of shape to do a commercial with Chuck Norris, but too fit to do something for Slim Fast? Is he not famous enough to sell condoms in Japan? And shouldn’t he be like a god in Canada? There’s Michael J Fox, Michael Myers, and Alan Thicke, I though that they were the Canadian holy trinity. Or is Alex Trebek the 3rd? Guess not, eh. Last thing about Alan Thicke, does it say more about his parenting skills, our society or the talents of his son, that his son has become a significant R&B singer. How does a rich white kid from a famous Canadian dad get more props in the R&B world than Boyz II Men?

Anyway, I really doubt we’ll be going to Vegas. They still want us to pay for the airfare, and I really wanted a free ride. For a non-practicing Jew, I’m not a total disappointment to my faith. I find good deals like Robert De Niro finds bad screen plays. I’ve caught some flack in the past for bitching about the weather, and I might again, but screw it. It’s just too damn cold. When you’re half considering using the lighter in the car to start a small fire in the passenger seat, you’ve crossed some line of frozen tundra. I’ve been at work for a half-hour, and I still haven’t removed my hat.

37 days, that’s all I have to get through. Then we’re sitting on a beach, drinking a few cocktails and making jokes about all the potentially great McDonald’s employees are in the vicinity. Really, does crossing the border and getting a job here have the same feeling as a minor league baseball player getting called up to the majors? These are things I think about. I should so be getting paid big bucks for this blog. Or be the focus of some study group.

From the Hirp

So here’s a little story that gives me more reason to want to banish teenagers to Idaho until they have fully evolved. It comes from an anonymous source, but it’s entirely true. That’s right, I’ve gotten so big that I now have anonymous sources.

Anyway, girl goes to see the doctor for some adominal pain. They do a pregnancy test, and yep, she’s preggers. Oh yeah, and she’s 19. She’s all excited, informs the staff that she just moved in with her boyfriend. The staff notices her insurance is provided by the military, so they ask if her boyfriend is still in the military. No, he never was. That insurance comes from her husband. That’s right, husband. Not ex-husband, this kid is married. She’s married and has a boyfriend she’s moving in with, I can’t emphasize this enough.

Someone slap this girl. So she says the military has asked wives to not tell their husbands things like this, because they already have such a high suicide rate. And she says, “he’ll just have to deal with it when he gets home.”

I wonder if they’ll tell this part of the story on the news after her body is found. I’m not justifying it, or condoning it, but this is the stuff that snapping seem like the only logical or expected response.

To recap, here are the facts:
• She’s 19 and married, probably not a good idea
• Husband is away, so she’s going to play. Definitely bad news.
• Husband is trained to kill, not the kind of guy you want to cross
• There’s another guy here, who has so little respect for others, that he has no problem getting into a situation that is going to leave four lives ruined. Don’t discount the fact he might end up catching a dirt nap too.
• And to top it all off, there’s a baby on the way. That’s just fantastic. This only gets worse if the baby daddy is the soldiers’ brother or best friend.

All this adds up to support my belief that there should be someone (preferably me) who has to give couples permission to reproduce. I would have stopped her parents, and his, from getting together. Not only should these idiots not have kids of their own, they shouldn’t be taking up space in line at QuikTrip. Or maybe that’s a little harsh.

Rant

I just watched a video on CNN.com about two 18 year old girls who were escorted off of a plane, and according to them, it was because they were pretty. One of them said they felt that “no one else on the plane looked like them.” The morons felt that they were discriminated against for “how they look.” Bitch, please. First, you’re not that cute. The fact that her friend and she had some loud, vulgar conversation about the state of the restroom probably played a role in how they were treated.

These two idiots gave CNN photos of them in various revealing outfits, so I’m sure they’re intentions are sincere. Yeah, and their hair color is natural too. I’m sure there’s a lawsuit to coming in the near future, and I’m hoping they can get a legal ruling that “you aren’t that cute, and you’re a bitch.” That’d be some justice. I know they are just trying to stand up for the beautiful people everywhere who have faced discrimination for years, and the blacks think they have it hard.

As a matter of fact, bratty teenagers haven’t had it hard enough. Here are some new laws I’d like passed, regarding those horrible thing we call teenagers:

• There should be laws to regulate how much squealing can be done in IHOP, I shouldn’t be able to hear you if I’m not at your table.
• Those shits standing around before and after the movie, should only be allowed to so if they’ll wash my car.
• Writing anything on your windshield should be a felony.
• Starbucks should start adding alcohol to all of their drinks, just to prevent anyone under the age of 21 from entering.
• Adding rhinestones to a cell phone should be diagnosed as another form of retardation.
• Growing facial hair prior to graduation should result in a daily swift kick to the nuts.
• Minimum wage, that’s all you get. Provide poor customer service and that customer can fire you on the spot. Just because you live in a rich suburb, doesn’t mean you should make more money flipping burgers than someone who is doing so in a different town, and needs to feed their family.
• Don’t speak unless spoken to, maybe you should just not speak.
• Any kid violates any of these laws, and all of them are sentenced to Idaho until they’re 21.

I’d vote for Bill O’Reilly if he ran for President with this in his agenda, I shit you not.

Write Now

Today is a big day for me. No, I didn’t get engaged again, or hear the other two words that forever change you (I’m late) Nothing like that, but this has been talked about for ages. For a long time now I’ve talked about one day writing a screen play, but never did it. I’ve never even started one, more than writing down the premise. Ideas came and went. Sometimes I mulled them over for months before feeling it was too similar to this movie, or just utterly stupid. Sometimes they were discussed with friends before I saw the story already had more holes than my dad’s golf swing. (I’m not even sure if his swing has any holes, but if it didn’t, I’m sure he’d always be in a good mood after playing 18)

But recently an idea came up from a conversation with Mrs. Hirp, and it felt like a solid idea. Of course I won’t get into the details here, but it’s something I feel everyone could relate to, it has the potential to be both funny and personal. Not in the Juno sort of way, but I can dream. And I know this will never make it to the big screen, and there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t even finish it. But a start’s something, right?

So here’s what I think I have to look forward to: Writers block, trying to write dialogue so that there aren’t x amount of characters who sound just like this blog, self doubt, hair loss (shit) sleepless nights (sorry, Mrs. Hirp) and occasionally feeling I made solid contact and even knocked one or two out of the park. That pretty much erases any doubts that I’m actually not a sick bastard.

But I also get the dreams, the pipedreams that I can get lost in all day. Sort of like the “if I win the lottery” dream we all have. Dreams like, what they might write if this actually ended up being made.
“He wrote the majority of this while working at ___.”
“Move over Matt and Ben..”
“Another short and bald neurotic Jewish screen writer, move over Woody Allen”
“Hirp has been commissioned to write The Godfather Four”
“Zach Braff to study at the school of Hirp”

Yikes

Yesterday out of boredom, I Googled my pops. What I found proved to be a bit unsettling, and no, it wasn’t images of him on some gay porn site. No, its worse, or I think so anyway. Turns out my dear old dad just passed away. And I just saw him Sunday morning, he looked fine. Oh, there’s a twist too, he’s a she. That really threw me off.

I’m not sure what to think, my father is a mother, and he/she is dead. And for twist #2, he/she replied to an email. I was always unsure about whether or not there was an afterlife, and now I know they have a high speed connection. I wonder if there’s a need for spam box in the after life.

I hope mom doesn’t bring a date to the wedding, I think it’s too soon. And I want some answers, like who is my real father. I’ve been called a bastard for years, I had no idea it was accurate.

Truth

So driving into work today, I was listening to my show, Mike & Mike, and they were getting into a pretty heavy subject in the wake of Roger Clemens appearance in front on Congress. The heavy subject at hand, was should you lie for a friend.

Here’s the skinny, Clemens’ former teammate and supposed good friend, Andy Pettitte was also named in the Mitchell Report a couple months ago. The two used the same trainer, and while Clemens said it was completely untrue, in regards to the allegations against him, Pettitte came out and admitted that the allegations against him were in fact true. Interestingly enough, he first claimed to have used something at one point just a couple times, and then also acknowledged that his dad supplied him with HGH just once in 2004.

Pettitte also testified that he knew Roger used, based on some conversations they had, and that he had to tell the truth because one day he would have to answer to God. Love it when people do the right thing because of a fear or love for God, even though God didn’t prevent Andy from cheating in the first place. So now the debate is, should Andy have outted his friend or not. And Mike & Mike broke it down to the simple question, would you lie for a friend in that position. God damn, that’s good stuff right there.

Part of me likes to think, hell yes I would. Death before dishonor and all that. But wait a second, by doing so I’m setting myself up for a perjury charge, and if this is such a good friend, why would they allow me to do that? Especially when there’s a good chance that we’d both end up facing charges. Now Roger never came out and called Andy a liar, instead he said he “mis-remembered” conversations or didn’t recall them correctly. This makes Roger a giant pussy. Maybe he still wants to be buddies, and can’t stomach the idea of questioning the guys’ integrity in front of the world, but he did so with the words he chose anyway.

Look, we have all lied and we will all lie again. I was once told by a “friend” that he used hanging out with me as cover to his girlfriend, for a night he was, well not hanging out with me. I didn’t like it, and I told him not to do it again, and that if I was questioned I wouldn’t lie for him. But at the same time, it wasn’t the honest thing for me to keep that to myself. We’re no longer friends, and that situation helped set up the collapse of our friendship. But yeah, I lied there. And I’ve lied plenty of other times, usually to cover up for a friend or save myself some embarrassment. I’ve lied to my friends, bosses and parents. 99% of the time they’ve been white lies, but a lie is a lie.

But let’s be honest (ironic, right?), there is a certain amount of honor when you lie for a friend. “Did (blank) come in late?” “Nope, he was right on time.” Feels good, you covered for a buddy and hope he’d do the same. “No, it wasn’t a lame party at all, everyone had a great time.” Or “I swear dad, I’m working on cleaning up my credit.” Okay, no honor in the last one, that’s strictly for saving yourself from a lecture and a headache, as well as some shame. But we all do it.

But would I lie for a friend if I was in the same situation as Roger and Andy? Shit, that’s tough. I don’t think so. Not because I’d want to rat them out, or screw them over, but because I’d want to save my ass. And I’d be damn pissed if they continued to lie, because in doing so, they’re calling me a liar. And I went through a situation somewhat like that back in my LC days, although it wasn’t really a friend.

This chick forgot to lock the gate one night, and I opened the store the following day. Leaving the gate unlocked just happens to be a big no-no, go figure. So I mentioned it to someone, wondering if there was a legit reason. I didn’t go to the higher ups, because I wasn’t looking to get her in trouble. But the story made its way to the asshole in charge, and before long we’re sitting in his office explaining what happened. Her story went like this:

She had to borrow someone else’s keys because she forgot hers, but she locked up with them. She came in the next morning to leave the keys in the store, and she saw me in the back. This was pretty much in direct opposition of my side, which stated that I came in to work, and the gate was unlocked. In the office were the keys which were borrowed. So I said, that her story couldn’t be accurate. And she said I was mistaken, that she came in with to return the keys, and I was already there. I specifically recall her saying “I’m not saying Gregg’s lying, but he’s wrong.”

By her not owning up to it, she was calling me a liar and she didn’t even have the balls to use the word. Being that it wasn’t a friend of mine, I sure as hell wouldn’t lie to cover for her. Had it been a friend would I have lied? Yep, I’m pretty sure I would have. But if it got to the point t hat we were both under oath, and they were going to stand by their story? Well, I might and I might not continue on with the lie. Depends on how confident I am that courts know the truth, and also if that friend is willing to tell the truth if I tell the truth. If I’m confident we’re busted, and the friend won’t own up to it, well now they made it a “me or him” situation, and it’s going to be me. Not because I’m only out for myself, but because anyone who would throw me under the bus isn’t going to be my friend the next day anyway. That’s how I deal with ultimatums, whoever gives me one is out. If my girlfriend had said to me, “I don’t like this friend, it’s him or me.” Well, it would have been the friend. Just like if a friend had said that about her, he’d be 86’ed.

Loyal friends don’t make you choose. So Andy, I said fuck Roger. Besides, Clemens has always been an asshole.

Hirpservations

Coming back from lunch today, I spied a vehicle in the parking lot, and I knew instantly that I would dislike the owner. This vehicle happened to be a souped up (strike 1) pick-up (foul ball) with a K-State license plate and a Boston Red Sox plate frame (and you’re out). Now, I should probably be a bit ashamed by jumping to such a strong conclusion. Really, knowing I’d actually dislike this person sounds like a pretty big jump. But we’ve already started off so poorly. I know we disagree on just about everything already, plus their arrogant enough to flaunt their stupidity. We could never be friends, and I almost feel compelled to leave them a note saying so. Only I have my doubts they can actually read.

Things I’m sure of based on the observations stated above:
The driver is male, he’s a republican, he’s over compensating (he purchased a big bad pick-up, but thought it wasn’t enough, and had to give it the worst paint job since Michael Jackson’s face) he jumps on bandwagons (I believe he went to KSU, but there’s no way he grew up a Sox fan)

Wild guesses:
Up till three years ago, he had a Chiefs bracket around his plates. He’s single and he has a Budweiser poster framed over his futon. Has a dog named Dale, and they’re way to close, and he purchases Jiff but never eats PB&J.

But really, never judge a book by its cover. Speaking of, read the story below for more life lessons. And you thought Amy Fisher couldn’t end up being a decent human as an adult....

February 11, 2008 -- THE silicone in Amy Fisher's new D-cup boobs must have gone to her head - or why else would the Long Island Lolita say she couldn't care less that Mary Jo Buttafuoco still has the bullet Fisher fired in her brain?
"Mary Jo is a nonentity. People are angry at me because I'm a millionaire. But guess what? So is Mary Jo! She made more millions off of what I did than what I made," the heartless Fisher (see photo, next page) rants in an interview with Chaunce Hayden in this week's Steppin' Out magazine.
"I feel no sympathy for Mary Jo the multimillionaire! The fact that Mary Jo has a bullet in her head means nothing! I still have silicone in my boobs, and you don't hear me complaining. She can't feel her bullet, and I can't feel my silicone."
Fisher's remarks come just one month after the soon-to-be-remarried Mary Jo blasted her on a Web radio show for releasing a hardcore porn video to make a fast buck on her faded notoriety. Sixteen years ago, high schooler Amy, who was having an affair with Mary Jo's sleazeball husband, Joey, shot the unsuspecting and defenseless Mary Jo in the head - a cowardly act that put Fisher in the slammer for seven years.
"She's no Jenna Jameson, she's just a porn star . . . She tried to kill somebody, and now [she's] making money off it," fumed Mary Jo, who's penning a tell-all about her ordeal. Fisher fires back to Hayden: "She's trying to shop and peddle her wedding for money and she's trying to sell a book, OK?" Fisher now admits she recently lied about Joey being her boyfriend again just to get a reality TV show and to "p - - - Mary Jo off. I
know how to use the TV shows. They want ratings. It's all a business, and they made millions off of me."
But the bimbo claims she and Joey did have sex in the not-too-distant past. "But having sex with Joey wasn't that great 17 years later. I was like, 'Ewwwww.' It wasn't good at all," she tells Hayden. "When he was the older man 17 years ago, he was just 33 years old. But now he's 50 . . . He didn't take care of himself at all. He's got man boobs. So I quickly got sick of having sex with him. Our recent fling only lasted for a week."

Funny Guy

Coming to Lawrence April 2nd

Age Old Question

Watching the Super Bowl half time show by Tom Petty, who was pretty fantastic, I couldn’t help but notice how old he is. And there’s just something funny about seeing these old guys rock. The Stones, Springsteen, Aerosmith, Neil Young, U2, The Eagles, and the rest of ‘em. Hell, Madonna is almost 50 now. And then I started wondering if we’ll see rappers sagging their pants on stage, grabbing their crotches and rhyming when they’re grandparents. Will Snoop tell us about Gin and Juice when he’s 55? Will Eminem play "Lose Yourself" when he can no longer control his bladder?

I’m not sure if it’s really cool that these guys haven’t ever really grown up, or if it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. When we see an athlete play past his prime, and we’re forced to see a guy who has become a shell of what made him great (think Jordan) we wish they had hung it up and left us with the fond memories of their greatness. When actors age, they can no longer play the same roles. Just look at Al Pacino, think he could pull of Michael Corelone or Scarface now? No way, and no one wants to see him try.

It isn’t that all the talent is gone, but what’s really the point? When Van Halen or the Police get together for a cash cow tour, aka a “reunion,” no one is going to see hear new stuff. It’s all for the sake of nostalgia, and I wonder if that really works. Remember the old Van Halen video, where they had actors playing the guys as kids, I think it was “Hot for Teacher.” I imagine that seeing them now is like seeing actors play the guys as old farts. Where in that is the warm fuzzy feeling of remembering yesteryear?

Why is this important? Well, now I’m a parent and I’m not sure if it’s possible for a parent to actually be cool. Do we just give up, admit we’ll never be cool again, and if we’re hoping to remain cool, is it because we actually are, or is it just for nostalgias’ sake?

Keep on rockin’ in the free world, bitches.

***

So Congress is now taking an interest in the NFL/Patriots’ “Spygate” scandal. Are you serious? They have an awful lot of time and energy invested in whats going on in professional sports, and seem to have zero trust in how both leagues are being run. Why should they? The NFL and baseball are setting income records every year, and the nations economy is headed for the shitter. The only thing they should ask of either league is, “how?” How do you make all that money? How do you guys get things done? How can we run our nation like you run the NFL or baseball? They don’t need to check up on cheating or scandals. Cheating and scandals are two areas thing our government could probably give lessons on.

Super

I’m not a huge NFL or football fan, there’s no getting around it, but the Giants are my team. I do admit, however, part of me wanted to see the Patriots win. Just to witness history, it’s made easier because I genuinely like that team. But it didn’t happen, and although we know who the better team is, clearly, from what I saw, the team that deserved to win last night did so.

The coolest thing to me is that today there will be kids everywhere who rush out to recess, or after they get home from school. Hit their local backyard stadium, the yard where all the games are played, and try to re-enact that Manning to Tyree pass from the 4th quarter. We’ve all grown up on Super Bowl highlight shows, but to know the split second after a play is over, that it’s going to be in every show going forward, is really pretty amazing.

The Manning family is pretty easy to dislike. Peyton seems so obsessed with winning; I can picture him jeopardizing the health of his children just to finish a crossword puzzle. He’s the southern American version of Drago from Rocky, he’s just a machine. And Eli comes off like a country bumpkin, who seems to not even realize he’s in the shadow of his bigger brother. And their father Archie has been the poster-child for psycho soccer dads everywhere. But that all went away, at least for a second, when we saw how proud Peyton was for Eli in the 4th quarter. When celebrating the success of his little brother seemed to make him happier than his own successes, that’s when we caught a glimpse of a family we all want to be a part of.

Couple Things...

Another day and another actor found dead. Is this going to be the theme for 2008? I knew the writers strike was bad, but seriously. Okay, no more kidding, it’s kind of rude to joke about the dead. It’s actually very sad, but there is some irony. Heath Ledger is the new Joker, but the Joker from the last movie is still alive. So tell me Batman, how is Jack Nicholson still with us? Riddle me that.

*

Shia LaBeouf, give me a call. I found your next role, and you get to play a bad guy. You’re Marine Cpl. Cesar Laurean, the guy that killed a girl he raped and has just been seen in Mexico. As far as movies go, this has it all: a rape, a murder, some cover up, guy on the run, a wife at home and we can Hollywood it up. He could really be innocent and really trying to find the real killer, like Dr. Richard Kimble or OJ. And if you don’t take it, I’m afraid Justin Timberlake will.

Ouch

I’ve posted about my carjacking, and I’ve posted about my back breaking bus ride, two of my favorite posts. And this week I referenced two other injuries/dramas, and I think it’s only right that I give them their proper attention.

The first one being the wire in the cheek incident, and this has nothing to do with sitting on some ancient mattress. This was back in 1991, and for some reason I remember I was watching a Cincinatti Reds game on ESPN, I think they were playing the Dodgers, but I’m not for sure about that. Anyway, I was rockin’ the metal mouth look back then. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the “grillz” look had yet to surface, so there was nothing cool about a mouth full of metal. I remember one bracket; I think that’s what they are called. You know, the individual pieces on each tooth? Well, one had fallen off. So there was just this one tooth that was free from braces hell, and running a few millimeters over it was the wire that connects all the brackets or whatever they’re called (for now, we’re sticking with brackets). Anyway, for some reason I was compelled to play with the stretch of wire that was free of a bracket. In doing so, I was able to pop t he wire away from my tooth, then pop it back into place. It didn’t seem to do anything, since the wire stayed in the brackets around this area. Just one of those stupid things, like picking at a scab, that boys do.

Well this fateful summer day, my parents were off and running errands. I remember it was a Saturday, and this comes into play in a minute. Anyway, I’m watching the game and popping the wire. Then suddenly it pops, and it pops in a bad way. It frees itself from the other brackets going to the back of my mouth, and the wire sticks into the inside of my cheek. It nearly poked through; in fact I have a small scar on the outside of my cheek. We’re talking instant intense pain.

So what do I do? Not much, sadly. What could I have done? Well, my close friend across the street had a dentist for a dad. Did I go over there? Of course I didn’t. Instead, I waited till my parents got home, at which time I held up a piece of paper that said, “take me to the hospital,” and then pointed at my cheek. Being that it was now Saturday evening, my orthodontist wasn’t at work.

We ended up calling him some how, and meeting him at his office, where he removed the metal from my cheek. End of story, right? No, not so fast. Turns out when mom tells you the mouth is full of germs, she isn’t kidding. That little wound ended up getting infected, and my face became a little swollen. They put me on some drugs, and that should be the end of it right? No, not so fast.

Few days later, mom is on her way to visit her family back in Cleveland. She comes up to my room to say good-bye, but doesn’t see the other side of my face which was still on the pillow. When I finally woke up, I saw the left side of my face was huge. So I soon find myself in the hospital with a nasty little infection, so nasty in fact that they plan to keep me a few days. That’s just how I wanted to spend my summer vacation, only not.

But the story isn’t over, it’s about to take a turn for the depressing. My mom lands in Cleveland and her brother isn’t t here to meet her as planned. She waits and waits, and finally I believe it was her Aunt and Uncle that meet her. Something had happened to my grandmother, and she passed away. Luckily, I had seen her a few months earlier at my Bar Mitzvah. And to top things off, I missed the funeral, because I was unable to travel because of the infection, as did my pops, who stayed with me. I should have sued.

My other entertaining injury story is about a dog bite. A year earlier, I was playing football with some friends in the neighborhood, pretty close to where Porqchop lives now. We were playing in a different backyard than usual, I guess it was a road game for us. I don’t recall the play, but t he ball ended up in the yard next to us. No biggie, happens all the time in backyard football. And there wasn’t anything intimdating about this yard, there was just some medium size dog on a chain under the deck. This was by no means a dog like the one in The Sandlot.

So I go over to get our ball, and suddenly it’s man down. This little fucker had decided to run up and bite my ankle, and when I dropped he bit at my thigh too. I freed myself from the jaws of this homicidal-Cujo in ‘burbs and stumbled back to the field. My once white sock, a rarity for me then, was turning red right before my eyes.

Made my way into this kids house and his mom took a look at it and called my mom. Then I realized my sweatpants were damp against my thigh, and for the record it wasn’t because I had pissed myself. I looked and saw, well a not so pleasant site. That little mutt had taken a chunk out of my thigh. There was blood, jagged edges, fat and anything else you may see on “E.R”

And so it was off to St. Joe’s for some stitches, which hurt like a bitch. They had to give me an injection in the wound, and cut some flesh away to make for a neater stitch job. And no, you can’t see my scar.

Ringer Etiquette

Yesterday I spent a good chunk of the day in a waiting room at the hospital; the mother-in-law to be was having some surgery (everything went fine). And as if a hospital waiting room isn’t painful enough, with the stress of waiting for an update, the almost comfortable yet still un-comfortable chairs, and awkward glances with others. Well, then came something else, repeatedly, to make the wait more awful. Adults who have chosen this as the time to test out the different ring tones on their cell phones, and without the slight courtesy of turning their volume down. Seriously, in two hours time, there were two seemingly normal adults (one man, one woman both between 40 and 55) who went through their entire ring tone library. You might expect this out of a 14 year old girl, and even she should suffer a painful death, but these two deserve no mercy.

The Hirp Factor

Here’s a quick top five of my most painful physical injuries of my life:

5. Broken thumb- age 15
4. Cut on forehead, required one stitch, done with fishing line- Age 5
3. Dog bite – age 15
2. Wire from braces into my cheek- age 14
1. Broken back- age 15

And now I may have a new #5. I wasn’t in a car accident, didn’t crush a finger with a hammer, and I didn’t shred my hamstring playing PlayStation. No, I had an un-impressive ingrown toe nail. And that motha hurt. But that probably wasn’t the most painful part of the experience, no that moment came when they gave me an injection right in my big toe. Which I’m sure you will all try to step on next time I see, so here’s a preemptive “asshole” for you.


***

Since losing ESPN Radio I have come to love listening to Bill O’Reilly on my ride home. It’s like I can tune into something that gives me road rage, no longer do I need to wait for the a-hole who thinks having a blinker on means change lanes at his earliest convenience. Anyway, dickweed was rambling on about how HBO should have a conservative show like the Bill Maher show; he said the ratings would dwarf Mahers show. And this hasn’t happened because HBO is a part of the “liberal” media. He likes to point out how well his show does, as if that proves something.

Lets enter the Hirp No Spin Zone for a second Billy. The reason your show, and Fox itself does so well, isn’t because everyone loves right-wing propaganda shows, it’s because there’s a limited target audience for it, and if there were many more outlets for that shit, his ratings would go in the shitter. Olberman doesn’t get the viewers O’Reilly gets, because like minded viewers have more choices, and there’s more of them. I’d bet half of O’Reilly’s viewers are liberals, who like myself, enjoy getting angry at the doofus. If more networks had conservative programming, O’Reilly would take a big hit. He’s one of the few choices they have.

He was also talking to a guest who was recently on the Maher show, and O’Reilly mentioned how rudely he was treated. This is the same guy who is reduced to name calling when someone disagrees with him, and feels he has the right to physically move someone because they are blocking his cameraman’s shot. Those aren’t “rude” behaviors, just criminal. Oh, and leaving those pleasant voicemails for the ladies, that’s pure class.

***

• Okay, so now the news outlets are reporting the layoff rumor. But I’m more confident that it won’t be me or anyone I know.
• In a March 13 post, I said made reference to actors and entertainers taking steroids. Well, there’s a story linking 50 Cent, Timbaland, Mary J Blige and Tyler Perry to an illegal HGH ring. Hot damn, I’m good.
• I remember a time when “black on black” crime was the talk of the nation, but what is up with this “white on white” kidnap/murder epidemic? Seems as if every week another perfectly good white girl disappears. Luckily, it’s only cute white girls and the rest of the population is safe. I think, I mean that’s all I hear about, so that must be the case

The Jay Oh Bee and Shrimp

My line of thinking has been that after the wedding, I’d start looking for a new gig. Not that hard-core, gotta find a job as soon as possible, can’t take it any more urgency. Just the, let’s see whats out there, and try to get some more money. And hopefully a job I like more, or even at all. But there’s been some rumors flying around work, about some impending layoffs. And today is supposedly D-Day. As you can imagine, I’m a bit nervous.

There are a few things in my favor; number one being my department has actually been growing at a pretty impressive rate. But regardless, I’m not uber-comfortable with things. Leaving a job, in any fashion, is a bit unsettling. But the stakes are higher for me now, having the fam and all. So we’ll see what the day brings. I’m also worried about some friends (well, all the friends I work with. To only worry about some friends, would be a real dick move) But one of the things that worries me the most, is if heaven forbid I’m one of the un-lucky ones, how would I compete in a market with 7,000-10,000 others when the majority of them have degrees and more experience than I have hair? I guess the fact that I’d be willing to swallow my pride and take multiple shitty jobs, is a notch in my favor.

So this is part of being an adult? Well, it sucks. And really, I wonder how horrible massive layoffs would be for Kansas City? Real-estate is already in the shitter, and it isn’t as if there’s an abundance of jobs around town.

***

Well that last rant was a bit somber, let’s take it up a notch. I done good this past weekend, real good. I actually tried a new food, SHRIMP! Ignore all the obvious short jokes, this is huge. Who knows, I just might make a habit out of this, but probably not.

Hirpasms

Here’s something I’m not fond of: when a saleswoman or cashier calls me either “sweetie” or “hun.” I know it’s supposed to be pleasant but lady, I don’t know you. I don’t really care for “sir” either, but it’s a definite step up from the terms of endearment. We just met, our time together has lasted roughly 46 seconds, and the only thing we have in common is this transaction. Where in that brief encounter did you get the idea that I’d like for you to call me “hun”? From now on, my response will be “no problem sweet tits.” Unless, of course, I’m cranky.

***

I got home yesterday just in time to catch the Roger Clemens press conference. It was pretty interesting stuff, the type of drama that would make TNT proud. They know drama, ya know? He’s a guy I’ve always suspected used, the parallels between his career and Bonds are pretty eerie. I couldn’t help but notice how much Roger speaks like President Bush. The same pissed off, can’t really formulate a thought, but the anger and frustration are so prevalent they can’t be ignored and they try hard to intimidate an entire room.

And I tell you what, there may be some holes in Rogers story and doubts raised by the audio tape of his conversation with his accuser (doubts on both sides) but I think if my integrity had been questioned and I was innocent (of course I’d be innocent) I’d be just as pissed off as Roger is. Imagine you were faithful to your spouse, and someone said they saw you with someone else. You can’t easily prove your innocence, and those accusations are fucking with what’s dearest to you. Yep, you’d be livid too.

But here’s the catch, his anger came late. This all started with the Mitchell Report, and that came out weeks ago. If you’re that angry about something, how do you control yourself for weeks? Maybe he’s just angry all the time, that pesky roid-rage.

***

There have been numerous occasions in which I entered a stall at work only to find someone was kind enough to leave a little something behind. Be it a full toilet, pee on the seat or short and curlies scattered across the seat. Basically, it’s never very pleasant. But for the second time, I walked in to find someone left the sports page. That’s a good Samaritan.

All Over The Place

I love DVR, I do. I think it’s the bee’s knees, but sometimes it can really piss me off. For example last night, I wanted to record “60 Minutes” so I could watch the Roger Clemens interview. Sounds easy enough, I open up the guide and go to the show, select record. Done, looking forward to seeing what he has to say. Oh, the football game ran late. I’m thinking that might be a problem, and you know what? It was. Since the game went late, the show started late, and the DVR only recorded until “60 Minutes” was scheduled to end. Which ended my viewing of the interview in mid-sentence, and for this, I blame Clemens.

***

Watched A Mighty Heart over the weekend, pretty solid flick with a great performance by Angie “the home-wrecker” Jolie. (that’d be her name if she was a WWE wrestler). Intense movie, that feels more like a documentary than most actual documentaries. Jolie is Oscar-worthy, and I even forgive her for The Good Sheppard. Interesting aspect of the movie is hearing them talk about these different areas of the city they are in, then hear the same areas mentioned on the news in the wake of the Bhutto assassination.

Okay gang, quick sidebar about that heart warming story. In a segment on “60Minutes” that I saw, you know, before DVR kicked me in the nuts, I saw the Prime Minister of Pakistan actually blame her for getting killed. Okay, she may have ignored some warnings and put herself in a pretty dangerous situation, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t set off any bombs or fire and rounds. I don’t have proof, it’s just a feeling I have.

***

I’m waiting on a file I need to show up on a website, clicking refresh has replaced waiting on a pot of water to boil. Every time I hit refresh, my keyboard should jump up and slap me. Sometimes I try to out think it, so I close Windows and re-open it and head back to the reporting site. I haven’t won yet.

***

New award I’d like to present this year, “Most Annoying Person in KC” And it doesn’t even get handed out to the last asshole wearing a mullet and Chiefs’ Zubaz, he’s just a moron. No, this years award goes to Shorty, of “Shorty and the Boyz” She sounds as if she’s been smoking three packs a day since 4th grade, she loves to laugh at her jokes (which leads to “the boyz” following suit) and the flaw here is: she’s never once said anything funny. She’s super excited about every little thing that happens, and it’s nauseating. I think when she shits; she acts like the mother of a new born, only she adores her own poo. This woman needs to go away, far far away. If this Kansas City was “Survivor” she should be the first one voted off. If KC is pregnant, she should be aborted, even a partial birth abortion. I don’t care if it’s a hangar in a back alley off of Independence Avenue, she’s that annoying. I just grossed myself out.

Way too Hirpsonal

It’s easy to take shots at Britney Spears, and I’ve taken more than a few. My shots at her kind of makes me a giant asshole, or is at least more evidence to the asshole that is I, because I have experience with a lot of the shit she’s going through and putting her kids through. It’s not exactly first-hand, for that I think it would mean I either lost my kids because of a drug problem or that I was removed from the custody of my parents. But my sister has lost custody of her kids because of her drug problem, something I’ve touched on here from time to time.

So this latest Spears-ident didn’t inspire me to poke more fun at her or bitch about her parenting, it just made me sad. I know what everyone thinks about her, and I think it too, but that also means everyone thinks those things about my own sister. And you know what? It’s mostly true. Aint that a bitch? I love my sister, but I’ll never understand how she let things get so far gone. Or maybe I’ll never understand that she never let anything happen at all, and I’ll never comprehend just how badly drugs can fuck someone up.

As I’ve said before, I know plenty of people who have taken all sorts of drugs, and they have still lead productive lives. Which makes this all more confusing, and that much easier to play the, “if they loved ___, they wouldn’t allow things to progress like this.”

I’ve been beyond angry at my sister for all the pain she’s caused, and all the horrible decisions they made. And I still hold her accountable for everything, even if at times I wonder if she’s had anything that even resembles control. And with Britney, it’s easy and logical, to feel outraged because she has all the money in the world, so she doesn’t have the same stresses at every other parent. She doesn’t have to worry about paying for daycare, saving for college, finding a sitter, paying the mortgage all while juggling a career. But money doesn’t come with a brain, and kids don’t come with instructions.

Oddly, it’s become suddenly apparent what fucked Britney up so much, her mother. I am not saying they didn’t love her nor do the best she could. But they didn’t view her as a child and nothing else; they viewed her as a meal ticket. This is evident by the fact that baby sis is with child, and mom is cashing in on the baby pics and publishing a book on parenting. To have two kids make identical mistakes, and make money off of both? That’s the most criminal aspect of all of this.

I don’t know this for sure, and it’s obviously some Monday Morning Psychology, but I think something similar was the start of my sisters’ problems. She was adopted, and for that to happen, she had to be put up for adoption. Which seems to me, could easily lead to feeling abandoned. No matter how hard our parents tried, they were up against a big unknown. I have other friends who were also adopted, and they’ve turned out fine, or as fine as anyone else. They’re happy; they’re good parents with fantastic families. And they never got caught up drugs.

Then I get all this guilt when I point the blame at the parents, like I did with Britney. When I know damn well my parents aren’t the reason or even a slight cause in all that my sister did. It brings up all sorts of nature versus nurture questions, and frankly I wish I had paid better attention in psychology now. You’d think after taking it three times, I’d know more. But I think I know enough to be a shrink, and learned directly from shrinks, not those silly professors.

So yeah, Britney Spears is easy to make fun of. She’s a complete fuck up, who had it all and pissed it all away in the most horrific and captivating way possible. And it’s sad, just sad. It stopped being funny or entertaining a while back, even though we were still laughing and entertained. And my sisters’ situation, is just fucking sad too. And neither will end in our lifetimes, because there are kids involved. And they are affected today, and will affect the lives of their children and so on. So, Happy Friday. And oh, how ‘bout them Hawks?

Rambling Hirp

This isn’t a weather report, but today I heard it was 10 degrees and minus 5 with the wind chill, I’m sure that’s different than the “feels like” number they like to use, but I’m not sure how. Anyway, one thing I’ve learned this morning is, it’s absolutely impossible to type when you can barely feel your fingers. This makes the first hour of my day a complete and utter waste, when it’s this cold. This leaves me only 7 hours to accomplish 30 minutes of real work. I deserve a raise for overcoming such obstacles, for I am by far more inspiring and courageous than any Special Olympian you’ve ever seen on PBS.

***

With all the advances in technology, all the amazing things that make life easier, shouldn’t we be able to purchase a pair of black socks that don’t produce little fuzzies every time I remove my socks? White socks don’t seem to have this problem, is this a racial thing? Are black socks just sloppier than their white and brown (that are just occasionally messy) counterparts?

***

I broke out the camcorder for Christmas, and was reminded how much I hate my voice. I said I sound like Corky, but Mrs. Hirp disagreed. I think she has to, at least for the next few years. Also, after viewing the tape I just can’t understand what Paris and those other celebs were thinking. I don’t like how I sound on camera, how much ego must one have to video tape the deed and show it to people? They had to show it, no one broke in their house and just happened to find the right tape, and that tape only. Unless it was labeled, otherwise someone would have been selling home video of Paris or Tommy Lee and Pamela playing air-guitar or at a school play.

***

Time for Hirps Top 10 movies of 2007:

10. Zodiac
9. Ratatouille
8. Shrek the Third
7. Knocked-Up
6. Breach
5. Hot Fuzz
4. SuperBad
3. Death Proof
2. I Am Legend
1. American Gangster

Movies I haven’t seen yet which could very well crack the list: Michael Clayton, Gone Baby Gone, We Own The Night, Bourne Ultamatum, No Country For Old Men, Eastern Promises, Into The Wind, A Mighty Heart, Lars and the Real Girl, Juno, Atonement, Charlie Wilson’s War, Sicko.

Best TV Show of 2007:
Californiacation-Showtime

Best Concert of 2007:
Neko Case. Lawrence KS, April 6th

Best Song of 2007:
Gym Class Heroes- Cupid’s Chokehold

Personal Highlights from 2007:
A top two, although I could list about 270. March 25, October 2nd.

Excuse Me

So I was reading some reaction to Jamie Lynn Spears’ pregnancy on CNN.com, and some woman from California made some points about how her daughter realized the pregnancy would impact Spears’ career and life, but then she suddenly went stupid. She said that Spears’ has a good job and “makes a lot of money and has the resources to make sure the baby is taken care of.”

Um, was this the first time she’s watched the news in a few years? Britney has proven to us, money doesn’t mean a damn thing. If you’re not ready to be a mom, it doesn’t matter how much cash you have. A bad mom is a bad mom, and a good mom is a rarity. Having money can just make for a poorly raised, troubled kid-spoiled brat.

In the same story, which is all just readers reactions to the story, I saw more t han a few parents talk about how their kid is too smart, too responsible and would never make such poor choices. Sounds like some stupid ass parents to me. Of course every parent hopes their kid knows better, and most kids do know better, but they still make mistakes. Hell, adults make stupid mistakes all the time. We just don’t view those as great tragedies, but I wonder how many of these parents of honor roll students are going to be surprised when it’s their daughter that’s knocked-up. Or their son that’s about to be a dad, or gets a DUI, or goes to MU. Kids make stupid choices, even the smart ones.

The biggest mistake in this whole mess isn’t even that she got preggers. It’s that she is selling the babies first picture to a tabloid magazine for a million bucks. A kid is going to whore out her own kid. That’s a mistake of grand proportion, and should be a crime. Wonder how long it is till Jamie Lynn is a grand parent, I give it 14 years.

***

I hit Target yesterday for one last toy, and it wasn’t even busy. Just a regular Sunday night in the ‘burbs. But what the hell is wrong with people? Just three words, ex cuse and me. That’s all they have to say, but it seems to have vanished from the English language. Forget that I wanted to say “fuck you” to those strangers who wish me a Merry Christmas, I now want to just knock-out the idiots who can’t say “excuse me,” or “pardon,” or some other variation. Even a friggin’ head nod will suffice. And that 5 year old that ran into me yesterday, I’m looking for him. For Christmas he’s getting a can of whoop ass and so is his dad, who was no where to be seen or apologize for his little shit kid and poor parenting.

Spear Me

The apple doesn’t fall far from the trailer park. Mother-of-the-year, Britney Spears, has a 16 year old little sister, Jamie Lynn, who looks exactly how Brit did when she was that age (complete with a show on Nick which I’ve been forced to watch) and she just announced she’s preggers. There’s following in the footsteps of your big sis, but that doesn’t mean you have to follow them when the prints are on the ceiling.

Here’s a snippet from the article I read “She (the grandmother) said her actress daughter, the telegenic heroine of her popular Nickelodeon series, has known Aldridge (baby-daddy) for years and began dating him in high school.”

Oh, they began dating in high school. Well then, it’s no big deal is it? What the fuck!? Do they think the public is THAT stupid?!? 16 is still high school aged, although I don’t think many 16 year olds with a baby on the way stay in school very long. I guess she could teach Brit a thing or two about long-term relationships. At one point I even had a little respect for the kid, when I saw a clip of her telling a Malibu neighbor of her big sister she wasn’t welcome to, “fucking move then!” I thought the kid had spunk, I guess I was sorta right.

Note: It’s the right time to be a part of a scandal, with the writer strike you don’t have to worry about Letterman or Conan taking shots at you.

***

KSU fans love to make jokes about KU and Lawrence being homo-sexual friendly, right? Has anyone noticed that they are the school with a built in lisp? Never mind the whole purple thing…

***

What’s the difference between “family values” and just plain ol’ values?

***
Found this on IMDB.com:

“Oscar winner Jamie Foxx will take over Las Vegas' JET nightclub on Friday to celebrate his 40th birthday. The Ray star has been planning the party for months and plans to recreate his favorite film, Boyz N The Hood, at the bash. In a recent interview Foxx said, "I want to dress up as Wesley Snipes' character Nino Brown in an electric-blue suit, without a shirt on, carry a bottle of Dom Perignon (champagne), have some rottweilers next to me... I can't wait."

Everyone knows Nino Brown was in New Jack City, right? I mean, those two movies aren’t even close to the same thing. It’d be one thing if he was dressing up as O-Dogg from Menece II Society, and they said Boyz N The Hood. You can recreate Nino, but if you try to recreate Boyz N The Hood, well Mikey said it best in Swingers, “Haven’t you see Boyz N the Hood? Now one us is going t o get shot.” Boyz is as similar to New Jack as I Am Legend is to Men In Black.


***

The Mitchell Report proves nothing and accomplishes nothing. Supposedly, it covers the last 10 years of baseball. Which means 86 (the number of players named) represents less than 2% of all that have played in that period. It’s not a legal document, and those named have no real way to clear their names or recover. The report blames the players, teams and MLB itself for the problem, and Commisoner Selig has said he’ll treat those named as “users” and punish them case-by-case. If he had balls, an ounce of integrity, and actually gave a shit about the game he would accept responsibility (as he wants players to do) and he’d step down. He should also fine himself.

Seriously, how messed up is Major League Baseball right now? On one hand they are bragging about how aggressively they are going after cheating. And on the other they are bragging about how the game has never been more popular and that the game brought in $6 billion in 2007. That’s either amazingly arrogant, that they don’t see the correlation between juiced up players and the bottom line, or frighteningly stupid. Neither is a positive for leader of any organization. And we can’t lose sight of the fact that Selig called for this report, which is nothing but McCarthyism. Are we to assume that those names left off the report are innocent?

If they are trying to “right the wrongs” they can start by lowering ticket prices. They went up because of supply and demand right? Well, demand went up because we thought we were seeing amazing accomplishments, and now they are telling us we saw enhanced players and that their accomplishments aren’t so great.

And I’m considering legal action against hundreds of players. I haven’t won my fantasy baseball title, but I’m certain it’s because I was playing with only clean players, and was at a significant disadvantage. Also, I think all sports video games should now offer the choice of whether or not you want to juice your players.

How do you say "Oy vey" in Spanish?

I made the big move to the campus today. So I feel like both, the new kid in school and also an adult. The new kid, because I’m lost on this huge campus. This is Porqchops’ dream come true; I can visit a new toilet everyday till our stock goes up or hell freezes over. And I feel like an adult, because well frankly, there are a lot of grown folks around here. Some I even know.

Anyway, I have a few likes and dislikes to go over. Let’s start with the restroom. Okay, automated urinals are one thing. No one really flushes those things anyway, but an automated toilet? I don’t know about that, I’m just not sure if I’m comfortable with their being a sensor pointed at my backside. How easy would it be for that to be replaced with a lipstick camera? Admittedly, they’d have to change the name from “lipstick cam.” We also have sinks and soap dispensers that have sensors, ah technology. But we have good ol’ manual paper towel dispensers. This seems inconsistent to me. Once again, I’ve found vending machines that lack the necessities. I’m starting to feel discriminated against as a Starburst supporter. Toss the health food snacks, if you’re spending less than a dollar on a snack, you aren’t getting anything healthy nor should you.


***

Been in touch with the resort in Mexico a lot lately, and realized I should have paid attention in Spanish class in junior high and high school. Talking louder and ending every word with the letter “O” doesn’t work like I thought it would.

***

The first section of this post was written around 9:30am, I just found a vending machine with Starburst, so we can call off Sharpton and Jackson. Over lunch we made a run to the McDs on Metcalf, which is like Capital Grille compared to the McDs we were running to while working downtown. But I realized working so close to where I spent my teenage years is a bit depressing. I suddenly felt like I never got away at all. I remember when they built Rosanna Square, and I worked at this Best Buy when it opened. Now 15 years later I’ve come full circle.

Happy Holidays...

I was never a huge fan of Christmas, not to the extreme that I wanted laws that forbid any signs of it in public, just wanted things toned down a bit. And on my ride home last night, I was listening to the worstest person in the world, Bill O’Reilly, as he rambled on about how some leftist members of the media were rallying against such displays. Simply said, O’Reilly is a jackass.

He claims his show is the “no-spin zone” but that’s even misleading. No spin, only because it’s just straight up propaganda. Anyone who disagrees with his opinions, are interrupted and called names. At best, he’ll just call them irrational, if he’s being nice.

It isn’t that I’m offended by Christmas, in fact it’s now very important to me, but if you want people to be accepting of your beliefs and take your feelings into consideration then you have to be willing to do the same. O’Reilly had beef with those who would prefer the greeting of the season be “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas.” He continued to drop the phrase, “its accepted tradition” and state that 70% of Americans agree with him. Fine, so be it. Does that mean we shouldn’t give a shit about the other 30% or care what they think? How can you have zero respect for their feelings based on the fact that you feel they don’t respect your feelings? Hello, Pot, meet kettle.

If “Merry Christmas” is so acceptable, than so is my response, “fuck you.” Seriously, I don’t mean any disrespect, just as I’m sure anyone saying “merry Christmas” doesn’t mean any disrespect. But both phrases can be disrespectful, or uncomfortable. It probably isn’t something a Christian would give a second thought to, but when you say “Merry Christmas” to a Jew, or for that matter an atheist, Muslim or anyone else, you’re putting them in an uncomfortable situation. Go back to my religion as sports philosophy, and think for a second, how a MU fan would feel if someone came up and said “Go Hawks.” That’s the same as telling a Jew, “Merry Christmas.” The Tiger won’t be happy, even if there was absolutely nothing malicious intended. It’d be the same as going up to one of Bill O’Reilly’s followers and assuming they love Keith Olberman.

Those who are offended or uncomfortable are undoubtedly the minority, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get a say or their feelings aren’t important. To think so, well that wouldn’t be in the Christmas spirit as I understand it. I hear words like: hope, joy, peace, giving, and sale. How does that go along with being inconsiderate, ignorant, arrogant, or O’Reilly?

We have freedom of religion in this country, but that doesn’t just mean the freedom to practice whatever religion you choose to. It means the freedom to not practice any, and also to not be ostrizied if you don’t agree with the masses. And O’Reilly or you, or someone next to you, might not realize that when you throw Christmas in the face of someone who doesn’t believe, you’re doing just that. A simple, “Merry Christmas” puts me on the spot. Should I wish you a happy Hanukkah in return, nod and smile, or return the pleasantry? Or should I follow my gut and go with the “fuck you.” That’s what the Tiger fan would say to the Jayhawk.

And best of all, O’Reilly some brought up how he has issue with the fact that schools aren’t supposed to be supporting or celebrating Christmas. He suggested school assemblies with carolers and such. And for those that aren’t comfortable with that? Well, they can have their own assembly at the same time. What is next Bill, arm-bands and tattoos?

And know this, I’m an agnostic Jew who has a Christmas tree and an apartment full of Christmas decorations that I really like. Because it means a lot to two very important people, it means a lot to me, and we also have a Menorah and celebrated Hanukkah. The difference here is they respect my beliefs and wishes, and I respect theirs. We don’t follow O’Reilly’s thoughts that the minority has to accept Christmas; I accept it out of respect because I’m given the same respect. It’s that simple.

Questions and a Rant

What kind of vending machine has neither Starburst nor Skittles?

If the temperature is 29 degrees, how can it feel like its 19? This logic isn’t allowed in anything else. My $20 can’t feel like $100. My quarter tank of gas can’t feel like a full tank. This whole “Feels like” deal, smells like a bunch of bullshit. And according to whom? I want that job. I want to walk outside, ignore the thermometer, and say “hmm, feels like 30. Check please.”

What is it about “jeans day’ that gets people so excited? They really aren’t that much more comfortable than other pants. Is work easier in denim? Or is it the site of your boss wearing jeans, white socks and penny loafers that makes this day an unofficial Holiday?

***

I love people, and when I say love, I mean hate. Not all people, just stupid, ignorant, annoying, foolish, rude, assholes, double talking jackasses. You know, to be specific. So I moved, we’ve covered that much. My old apartment told me they were letting me out of my lease, and that I’d receive my deposit in 2-3 weeks. A month passes, and no check has shown up. So I call Friday, and they tell me corporate will call me on Monday. No call on Monday or Tuesday, so I call again today. Again, I’m told it would come from corporate, so I get their number and give t hem a ring. Turns out the apartment manager hasn’t submitted anything for a deposit. Corporate is going to call the manager, and a check should be cut this week.

A few minutes later I get a call from the idiot apartment manager, who informs me that the lease I signed runs through May. Um, yeah. I know this. That was the point of me asking to GET OUT of said lease, which one of her employees informed me would be just fine. I let her know this, and I’m told, “Corporate is above (blank).” Great, then why do you hire people? Did this manager check up on the paperwork, which I’m sure she saw? So she tells me she’s going to talk to corporate and try and get me off the hook. Oh hell no, try nothing. I’m not paying them a dime. They might keep my deposit, which I didn’t expect back until their employee told me I’d get it. SO I might give up that money. But if they think they’re getting me to pay rent till May, they can kiss my touchas. (Yiddish for ass)

Oy Vey

Had a total “dad” like moment the other night, the stuff Hallmark commercials are made of. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and no one else knew about it. I was just in my car on the way to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for the rug rat. The car seems to be the place I most often feel like I have a family. Typically, I get the feeling when the three of us are going some place. And most often, it’s when the little one is dosing off in the back.

So yeah, this blog has sure changed its tune of late. Not that I lived like Hank from “Californiacation” but it’s safe to say, and I’m proud to say, my life is without question more domesticated. Just yesterday the kiddo came home after spending some time with her father, and one of the first things she said was, “we have to light something.” Now, I’m pretty liberal, but I’m not THAT liberal. She didn’t mean anything illegal; she wanted to light the Hanukkah candles. So after she told us her dradel story, we lit the candles. And it’s pretty well documented that I’m one of the worst Jews alive, but I had this sense of pride as well as amazement, when I helped her light the candles and had her repeat a prayer in Hebrew.

The dradle story I didn’t share with her, is one that’s very telling about ol’ Hirp. Back in second grade I ran into a little trouble at school. No one was suspended, or even had their parents told, but it speaks volumes about me. In the back of the class, during free time, two friends and I broke out the dradle. Harmless enough, right? Only we weren’t playing for chocolate (as customary), no we were playing for pennies. Hey, this was the early 80’s, money was hard to come by. Anyway, our game gets broken up. Point is, I was 7 years old and organizing gambling. Maybe it’s a good thing I left New York; I might have been involved in organized crime by 6th grade. Running book through junior high, shake downs in high school. That means I could be Boss of Bosses by now. Hmm, fuhgetaboutit. Greggy the mench. The Hirpino crime family. The Hebrew Hammer, shit, that’s taken. Then again, if I got pinched in second grade, maybe avoiding a life of crime was a wise decision on my part. You know, I am pretty smart.

Random

I’m not really an idiot savant, probably an idiot, but pretty sure it’s without the savant. So I don’t go all Charlie Babbit when someone messes with my routine, but it sure does irk me. I get in the car this morning, to drive to work, and flip the dial to listen to Mike and Mike in the Morning, only to find out it’s been changed. I haven’t been t his bummed about a radio station changing its format since the Lazer sold out back in ’98.

I spent my morning drive hitting the damn search button, which I thought was reserved for road trips, pre-iPod, and rental cars. I couldn’t find ESPN Radio, although I Googled it first thing when I got to work, and I think I found it on 1510am. But I’m not real confident about this, the ESPN Radio page lists this as the station to hear my show, but the stations site doesn’t mention the show.

It better turn up some where on my dial, or I’m going to start hitting myself and yelling about hot water burning baby. Definitely.

***

I just want to give a giant, “up yours,” to MU. Mazel tov, bitches.

If the chick from the resort in Mexico doesn’t return my calls, I’m going to go down there and drag her ass across the border just so I can get her deported.

Well, another weekend and another birthday party. What happened to pizza parties?

Evil Knievel passed away, I haven’t heard if the cause of death is known or not. But it better not have been something silly, like he fell in the shower or down some stairs.

What makes a McDonalds cup so much better than any other cup? You can knock your drink over and the top stays on. Burger Kings top comes off without reason or warning. We need engineers like that working on auto safety.

Speaking of poor design, what’s the deal with Orbitz and their packaging? The pieces of gum on the edge are always such a bitch to get out.

Something else I hate: taking a sip of my refreshment only to find out they gave me diet or Pibb.

All Over The Place

I still stand by my claim, that nothing really surprises me anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m immune to being floored. This past weekend I was called, “daddy,” and in the most G-rated way possible. I had thought about the possibility of my soon to be step-daughter using that word on me, but I didn’t really think it would happen. It’s the most flattering, yet terrifying word she could utter. And I never took to the time to Google how I should handle the situation. Truth be told, I kinda wish I could be “daddy” but, she has a father and it’s his right to be the only dad in her life and I have zero interest in getting between them or doing anything to undermine their relationship. I’m not sure how to make her understand this, and I pride myself on being able to talk to kids, but maybe that’s just because I can look them in the eye without bending down.

***

I very much dislike the feeling of sitting on a cold toilet. I’m sure there have been some studies that have concluded the shock to one’s body from sitting on a cold toilet seat is on par with brain freeze. But to sit on a warm toilet seat has to be one of the most disgusting things a human can legally be put through.

***

The on going debate in our home has been; which is the correct way to stir. The lady stirs clockwise, citing the earth’s rotation and professional mixers as evidence that her way is correct. Other evidence introduced is the fact that her mother and grandmother also subscribe to the clockwise motion. Now I stir counter-clockwise, also known as the “correct way.” It just makes more sense. How do you draw a circle or write the letter “O”? You use the counter-clockwise motion of course, unless you’re left-handed, but then you don’t really count as a person anyway. You just pull the spoon, or whatever utensil you may be using, towards your body. It’s more economical, and although I have no proof, I’m sure it’s also more effective. So powers at be, I ask you, please offer a grant so that some University can research this matter and officially back me up on this.

***

Now I’ve been working the same job for a little over a year now. And when people ask me what I do, I’m able to give them my title “Program/Project Manager” and a broad explanation of what it is that I do here. It isn’t that I don’t want to get into it. No, I really don’t know. It’s starting to bother me, and I’m getting more and more stressed by this fact. It won’t be long till I actually do something about it, like you know, try and learn my job. But if they’re gonna find out and fire me, I just hope it’s after the wedding. You can’t fire someone whose planning a wedding, can you? That’s one tier below firing a pregnant woman.

***

Speaking of work, I was recently assigned a new project. So I was starting to stress about it, so much in fact that I didn’t sleep well. So poorly in fact, that I woke up at 4am. So awake in fact, that I drove my ass to work at 5:30 so I could start working on the project. It actually went better than I expected. And I really don’t hate going in that early, it’s a lot easier for me to go in early than it is to stay late. I spend the entire day with one eye on the clock, waiting for the time where I improperly shut off my laptop, grab my shit and head for the door. Just so I can get home and hit the couch, but I move like I have a real purpose. So needless to say, last night I was tired as hell. And that’s a dangerous cycle to mess around with. I really don’t want to start coming to work at 5:30. Leaving the house at 6:45, as I normally do, is early enough.

***

So I was reading a story about this little girl in Texas. Her body was found, and for months they didn’t know who she was. Well they found out who did it and arrested her mother and father, if that isn’t losing a couple of terms loosely then I don’t know what is. Anyway, this won’t sound right but stay with me. It isn’t that I can accept when a parent snaps, and does something awful and it results in the death of their child, but I can somewhat understand it. Something snapped, they obviously weren’t equipped to handle having a child and they fucked up and did something horrible. I can understand that to some extent, but to torture a kid like these sick fucks did? It’s beyond twisted. On the totem pole of pieces of shit, the parent that snaps and kills their child is at the bottom. But parents like these? They deserve their very own totem pole. Even though I don’t believe in it, I hope there is a hell, just so they can go there.

Case of the Mondays

Whoever designed the packaging for children’s toys needs to be tied down, and have their toenails ripped out one by one while listening to Billy Ray Cyrus’ Greatest Hits. This weekend was my first stab at hosting a birthday party for a kid. Kids literally salivate at opening a new toy, and these sadistic bastards make it a 30 minute process which leaves little pieces of box, ties and tape scattered throughout your home for you to find over the next 4-5 months.

Used to be my trick too, I used to give my nieces, nephews and my friends kids gifts with tons of little pieces. It was hysterical to me, now it’s not funny. Sure I had it coming, but wait till I get your 10 year-old a subscription to Playboy. Or share with them the secrets of sneaking out. Let’s see how you like it when I let your kids listen to my entire Tupac catalog. Wonda why they call ya bitch, great song for a 7 year old to learn. It’s an evil game, and I never should have done it. But that was my gig, try and make me pay for it, and I’ll spend my life one upping you. I have that kind of time. As long as my wife says I do.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saw American Gangster over the weekend. Quality flick, fell a little short of meeting my expectations, but worth seeing and owning. Denzel should shelve the good guy and Detective roles for a while; he really plays a great bad guy. Josh Brolin, in a role that seemed tailor made for Ray Liotta, did some scene stealing. I don’t think I’ve liked him since Goonies.

Childs Play

As a kid, I was never a huge fan of animated movies. I loved my Saturday Morning Cartoons, but the typical Disney movies didn’t interest me. Not until I took my niece and nephew to their first movie, The Lion King. That movie kicked ass. Since then, while I haven’t made an effort to see all the kid movies, I’ve seen most of the big ones. And they have been some of the most creative and entertaining movies of the past 15 years.

So yesterday I went with the wife-to-be, the kid and some friends to see Bee Movie, for which I was really looking forward to seeing. And it didn’t disappoint. It’s great to see Jerry Seinfeld doing something again, and he’s a genius for taking so long after his show went off the air to get back in the spotlight. And even a greater genius for taking this route. He knows and we know, he’s no great actor. So he didn’t try to reinvent the wheel with this, he just tried to entertain us and the kids.

And the cast is nothing short of impressive. Matthew Broderick, Renee Zellwegger, Chris Rock, Larry Miller, John Goodman, Oprah (I didn’t realize it till I imdb’d it) Megan Mullally, Rip Torn, Michael Richards (which makes it almost like career rehab) Larry King, Sting and Ray Liotta (three of the more interesting cameos you’ll see). I can’t skip the animation staple, Patrick Warburton, formerly known as Puddy from “Seinfeld.” This guy has been in almost every kids movie and show your kid has seen. You know the voice; you heard it in The Emperor’s New Groove, “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command”, Kim Possible, “The Tick,” Chicken Little and now you see him in the very under-rated “Rules of Engagement.”

So check it out, and also rent Surf’s Up. Yeah, I don’t see myself growing up anytime soon. I think being of the stature that I am, helps me get away with being a 30 year old kid.

The movie wasn’t the extent of my child like weekend. There was the birthday party, of which most of my readers were also in attendance. This place, My Gym, fantastic. Never mind the kids, I want to go run around and play. It was like “American Gladiators” out there, complete with a round of joust. This should be available to adults; it’d be a great “Team building activity” and an even better way to whoop your bosses’ ass without getting canned.

For a while, I made a real effort to kind of watch my language on here. But now that more and more of my posts deal with family related activities, I feel compelled to drop a few “fucks” or “shits” from time to time, its hard to maintain one’s edge when talking about weddings, animation and birthday parties. However, it’s pretty easy to say “fuck” when a kid is being a world class shit.

Ten Commandments

Police in Italy recently found the Mafia’s Ten Commandments, which of course I am obligated to post here.

First, the preamble:
“I swear to be faithful to Cosa Nostra. Should I betray, my flesh will burn.”

And now the 10 Commandments, never mind those 10 found atop a mountain:

1. No one can present himself directly to another of our friends. There must be a third person to do it.

2. Never look at the wives of friends

3. Never be seen with cops.

4. Don’t go to pubs and clubs

5. Always being available for Cosa Nostra is a duty – even if your wife’s about to give birth.

6. Appointments must absolutely be respected.

7. Wives must be treated with respect.

8. When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.

9. Money can not be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families.

10. People can’t be part of Cosa Nostra
• Anyone who has a close relative in the police
• Anyone with a two-timing relative in the family
• Anyone who behaves badly and doesn’t hold to moral values

The Good Ol' Days

I Care

So there was recently a story on ABC News that I viewed on yahoo, about the quality of eyewear you find at the large chains. Well, the story didn’t exactly make any exec’s very happy, and it probably didn’t make most customers very comfortable either. Well let me assure you, it was completely true. I made glasses for over 7 years, and I was responsible for more than a few pair of shitty glasses. A lot of the blame goes on me, but you get what you pay for. Not the customer, you paid out your ass in most cases, unless you knew me. But the company, they pay nothing and treat their employees like crap.

Here’s the situation, at one of the larger chains. You work in an environment where time is the motivator. The sales team promises customers eyewear the same day, even with in an hour. And if the lab fails to make them in that time, or fails a pair and needs to remake them, they are penalized financially as well as professionally. So passing an iffy pair of glasses pays better than putting an emphasis on quality. Add into the mix the fact that you’re not working with the best machines, you’re not given the time or means to adequately train nor allowed to properly staff the lab and you get what you pay for. Never mind that they are marking up the frames and lenses as much as 300% at even the cheapest stores, the lab guys only see money if their glasses are done on time and without having to fail a pair and start over.

So really, I’d suggest you take your glasses in and have them checked again. This doesn’t go for the friends I made glasses for, those standards were much higher than the company standards. But if you’re going in for a pair in the near future, I have a couple of suggestions:

• Don’t go in right before closing time. If you hit a restaurant right before the kitchen closes, do you think your meal isn’t rushed? Anyone that has been on their feet for 8 hours wants to get out of work as fast as possible.

• Go to more of a boutique, such as Romanelli Optix, which is a proud sponsor of FromTheHirp.com. Smaller boutiques take more time, and put more of an emphasis on quality. They simply can’t afford to treat customers like cattle. I send my own family and friends there now, and not just because the owners are friends. I know what goes on at the stores in the mall.

• Think of it like this, they are basically a pharmacy for your eyes. Do you feel more comfortable going to a pharmacist where you see 18 year old kids behind the counter, or well seasoned professionals who aren’t smoking weed or lighting small fires in the back of the store? True stories, and I might have taken part in the latter story. Maybe, I might have, once or twice…

November Rant, Part I

• At what point will Christmas become a year round annoyance? I saw “holiday” decorations in various retail establishments before Halloween. Are we thinking 2011, or sooner?

• I never dress up for Halloween, but that doesn’t keep me from coming up with ideas for a costume if I ever were to do so. My all-time favorite has been “Jew-Pac,” even though I googled it once and found someone else had come up with the same idea. Asshole. But my idea for this year, is regional as well as original. I’d walk around with a golden parachute and a bag of money, about $55 million. That’s right, I’d be Gary Forsee. Wonder how that would have gone over at our office costume contest. Would I win, or get fired?


• Worst apology of the week: “My sincerest, heartfelt apologies go out to every person I have offended for my regrettable use of very inappropriate language. I am deeply disappointed in myself for speaking out of anger to my son and using such a hateful term in a private phone conversation." He was on the right track, although he was full of shit, till he had to mention that it was a private phone conversation. Just a little something to make us feel bad for ease dropping? This is the guy who makes his money invading peoples homes, he’s a sensitive bitc-er..dog. Wonder how much help he’ll get from the community now, when he’s trying to catch a con. Best of all, he even said he didn’t want it coming out to the Enquirer that he was using such language and have that cost him his career. Oh the irony. And hey, get a friggin’ haircut, ass wipe.

Chapman: Don't care if she's a Mexican, a whore, whatever. It's not 'cause she's black. It's because we use the word "n_____" sometimes here. I'm not going to take a chance ever in life by losing everything I've worked for for 30 years for some f____ n_____ heard us say "n_____" and turned us in to the Enquirer magazine -- our career is over. I'm not taking that chance at all, never in life, never. Never. ... If Lyssa was dating a n_____, we would all say f___ you. And you know that. If Lyssa brought a black guy home ... It's not that they're black. It's none of that. It's that we use the word "n____." We don't mean "you f___ scum n_____ without a soul." We don't mean that s___, but America would think we're meaning that. And we're not taking a chance and losing everything we've got over a racial slur. Because our son goes with a girl like that, I can't do that, Tucker, you can't expect Garry, Bonnie, Cecily, all them young kids ... 'cause I'm in love for seven months, I ... f___ that. ... So I'll help you get another job, but you cannot work here unless you break up with her and she's out of your life. I can't handle that s___. I've got 'em in the parking lot trying to record us. I've got that girl saying she's going to wear a recorder. ...

The phrase, “never say never,” comes to mind.