Wednesday, June 30, 2010

And The Winner Was.......

On May 19, 1994, Jackie O died in her Manhattan apartment. I learned this as I sat at the foot of my luxurious twin bed watching the details unfold on my 13 inch TV. I cried a little. Its safe to say, I was most likely the only 4th grader in Coolidge, if not Arizona, to do so. It was a Thursday.

one of my favorite photos of Jackie O

As a child, I had a crazy obsession with dinosaurs and the Presidents of these United States. Naturally, this obsession included the First Ladies. I had somehow convinced myself that I would meet her one day. As if one day she'd be passing through town and I'd see her leaving the Gallopin' Goose on my way out of Shope's IGA and we'd exchange double kisses. She was one classy broad. Sadly, Nancy Reagan still trolls the earth.

The next day I managed to pull myself out of bed and start a new. It's no wonder I'm an alcoholic. After a grueling day of 4th grade coming to a close, it was time to kick off my shoes and have some fun, so to speak. This wasn't just any Friday, it was Miss Universe Friday! The World Cup of Hair Extensions for crying out loud! Before the pageantry called high-waisted early 90's bikini bottoms could begin I got sidetracked in neighborhood shenanigans. This ain't a stickball in the streets kind of story.

Across the street from my house, beyond the giant open lot, there was a sea of concrete pipes, dry grass and tumbleweeds. It was a young boys ultimate playground. Actually, when I stop to think about it, that place really could have been a vagrant rapist's Marriott oasis. We used to play like gerbils there and that day was no different. Along for the fun times was my little brother Ralph and Carlos "Hondo" Ybarra, the funniest humpback I had ever known and trust me, there has been some stiff competition over the years.

Like any sensible idiot in a field of dry grass, Hondo was brilliant and brought a lighter. We took turns lighting patches of dry grass and nothing would seem to remain lit. Before I know it, we were all standing around a large tumbleweed singing O Christmas Tree as we tried to burn it. I don't know what the hell we were thinking. Who the hell does that? I blame Ralph. For some reason, that damn tumbleweed just would not burn. You have to understand my shock when Ralph picked up that tumbleweed and tossed it over a patch of dry grass. That's when the shit really hit the damn fan.

We tried to light so many different patches of grass and sort of given up on the idea but when Ralph threw that tumbleweed the grass burst into flames. Now, Hondo wasn't the smartest guy I had ever met but he did give me some sage advice that day that I chose not to take. He simply said RUN! I decided to stay and try to put the fire out. So like I said before, I decided to kick my shoes off to have some fun. By fun, I mean taking my shoes off to beat out the fire. Seemed like the thing to do. When the fire got as big as my front yard is when I decided to run. We were so close to getting away but the fact that we were only 4 blocks from the police station really didn't help our flight.
Next thing I knew we were standing in front of my house with a police officer and Miss Congeniality herself, Mary Reyes, emerged from 408 N. 1st St. Her look said it all but in all actuality her words did. I will always remember what she said to that cop. It still echoes in my ears. Officer, you can arrest me now because I am going to beat these kids black & blue. With that, the officer left without saying a word. Lucky us. We got told to go to our room. We all know what happened next.

With butt cheeks clinched tight, the belt went a flyin' back and forth. Honestly, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I don't think Ralph did the clinching maneuver as he cried a lot longer than me. Mary left us in the dark and told us to go to sleep. Then I heard her car start and head off into the direction of the police station. Sensing she would be gone for some time I had the common sense to turn on my TV. Perfect timing. The winner, for the first time ever, was Miss India.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

How Do Things Like This Happen?

How the hell did Andy Cohen get his own show? As one of my best friends pointed out to me a few months back, Andy has less personality than Terry Schiavo. When I watch him it is complete and utter torture. I mean, how do people who have fetal alcohol syndrome make it onto television? He has the personality of sea kelp. Please tell me how this happened! Is it because he's jewish? If so, my shot at television stardom is just a hop, skip and circumscion away.


It's uncanny! It's like the Parent Trap!