A Tale of Two Cities - Part 1

It's been an interesting coupla years in Ladyland. We live about an hour from the Gulf of Mexico now, which has been an adjustment, to say the least. In Dallas we lived in a dry, moisture sucking, pizza oven, where we live now has moisture, vegetation, and steady tropical rains that are more akin to a sousvide water oven (look it up, kids). 

In other words, my skin looks amazing and hydrated, but my hair is a bit on the unruly side, and I'm in a constant battle with swamp ass. These days most of my outfits could easily be mistaken for swim suit cover ups, and I do not for the life of me, honest to John, remember the last time I wore socks.

This past year has dealt our family serious blows in the form of the deaths of two of my brothers in law. The good* ones too, Las Vegas and Syracuse. So I'm left with the two scarier ones, Miami and Knucklehead. Obviously this has been extremely stressful for MDH, who in the case of Las Vegas was left responsible for cleaning up after his god damned mess.

Last October, when my DH was in Austin with friends getting together and preparing to attend a music festival he got a call from someone from the Las Vegas police, to tell him that his oldest (and most seemingly normal) brother had taken an upscale suite with comped points from one of the swankier hotel casinos, where he stayed for 2 weeks before carefully laying out plastic lawn and garden bags on the sumptuous, king sized bed and blowing his brains out with a pistol.

Apparently his body laid there for 5 full days before the cleaning staff alerted hotel management. Apparently his head was, for lack of a better way to describe it, gone.

MDH upon getting the call immediately alerted Miami and Syracuse and it was decided that Miami would get on the next flight to Las Vegas to be with MDH and do things like identify the body, and sort out whatever needed to be sorted out, which turned out to be a fucking lot, and Syracuse would drive immediately to Boston so that the news of Las Vegas' death could be given to my MIL in person by someone she trusts.

So that happened.

Fast forward to November. Thanksgiving weekend to be exact, when I never wanted to run away and join the circus more in my life because Miami demanded that the absolute best time ever to have a memorial service for Las Vegas would be THE FRIDAY AFTER THANKSGIVING. Of course the absolute worst time of year for traveling. Of course the absolute worst time for someone who lives in the tropics and doesn't even own a coat anymore to travel to FUCKING BOSTON, where it's freezing fucking cold. Not to mention that frankly I really didn't feel like memorializing Las Vegas. I went because it was important to MDH, and that was the end of it. 

Syracuse had pneumonia and couldn't make it, which made me jealous, (why can't I get pneumonia and skip this stupid thing?) and infuriated Miami so deeply that he declared it unforgivable and that Syracuse was "dead to me", and refused to take his calls anymore.

Anyhoo... somehow I survived that ordeal, and it WAS an ordeal, because anything involving MDH's family is never without dramas, death threats, ridiculous unnecessary complications and drunken brawls. Somehow we also always end up footing the bill for all of this shit, which only makes me more angry. If anything, I was glad to get to spend some time with my MIL, and hug her, and cry together, and reassure her that she didn't have to ever do anything that she didn't want to do, like go to this insane memorial service.

Fast forward to late December, when we learn that Syracuse does not only not have pneumonia, he as been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and has about 6 months to live. He died** the 2nd week in March.

In between the 2 deaths, MIL came down and spent almost 8 weeks with us in Texas. She had been home for just slightly more than a week when Syracuse died. MDH was with Syracuse when he died, and had been there for about a week and a half prior. He had flown home with his mother from Texas, because she can no longer fly by herself, and then rented a car and drove to Syracuse to be with his brother in his final days.

Then he drove back to Boston. Knucklehead had been given the responsibility this time of telling my MIL about the death of her son, but when he arrived at her apartment he found her barely conscious on the floor next to the couch. Apparently she'd had a stroke the previous day, but just chose to lay there, her cell phone in her robe pocket, because she, "didn't want to bother anybody". 

This is the part where I scream.

And I've pretty much been screaming ever since. Starting with finding out that she had out right LIED to me while she was visiting about what medications she was supposed to be taking. Medications which included pills to lower her cholesterol, which she told her doctor in the hospital after the stroke that SHE decided she didn't need anymore.

It's now almost August, and she's still in a rehab facility in Boston. We're not sure what is going to happen next.

In Part 2 of this story, which I will try and write tomorrow, I will explain to you the evil, conniving nature of Knucklehead, and the various ways that he has been nothing but a piece of shit since all of this has gone down.


*Tolerable and mostly polite to me, but still misogynistic and unpleasant to be around for longer than a few hours.

*People die. They are dead. They don't pass, pass away, cease to exist, or whatever other sugar coated phrases people like to use. They die and they are fucking dead.

If You're Happy & You Know It WTF?

How's your summer been? Mine has been smashing. I can't think of any one thing that stands out that should cause me to make such a positive statement to describe my life in general, especially over such a long expanse of time since my last post, butcha know what? I'm happy. And I know it. Kiss my ass.

MDH and I have had a summer filled with friends, travel and just the right amount of family (except for Knucklehead) and house guests.

Probably the biggest news is that I have a new job. I know, I know, but calm yourself, it sounds more important than it is... It's a new job, but it's still at Large Corporation and I'm still a contractor. I sit at my same desk, have my same parking space, and earn the same wage.

The good points are:

• It's a job I applied for a couple of years ago and wasn't even considered for an interview.


• It's a more prestigious position - when I tell people what I do now they say things like "Ohhh...good for you!" As in I had no idea you were such a smarty.


• Somebody up there likes me, saw potential in me, and specifically asked to have me on the team.


• It gives me an edge to eventually getting full time work with Large Corporation as it's a job with much more exposure and potential to showcase my talents to people who have sway.


• I love my new team and more importantly I LOVE the new work (as I knew I would when I originally applied for the job).

The bad points are..., well, "bad" is rather harsh so let's rephrase that.

The bleh points are:

• Although technically it's a huge promotion, I'm getting paid exactly the same. Boo!
  
• There is still no reason to assume that it might turn into a permanent gig. Boo!

Here are some other bullet points to catch you up with recent doings and goings on in Ladyland:

Went to Boston to visit my mother in law for her 80th birthday. Highlights included:

1. Stayed at a hotel within walking distance to the North End and during the course of the week we ate enough tasty Italian treats to last us the rest of the year. I tried some new things that were surprising and delightful (beef carpaccio - I tend to avoid raw meat, but this was so finely sliced it melted on the tongue like cotton candy) and some things that were surprising and revolting (Campari and Soda - I thought it looked refreshing and chic, but it tasted like what I imagine drinking a urine sample over ice in an elegant glass with a twist of lime might be like).

2. Visited Peacefield in Quincy Mass., homestead of 4 generations of the John & Abigail Adams family, including John Quincy Adams, which brings my list of presidential homes visited up to a whopping 10 (how ya like me now CDP?). Peacefield is a short T ride away from the city. No car needed for this adventure. It is awesome. You should go.

3. Spent a gorgeous afternoon wandering leisurely around Harvard Square, popping in and out of shops, laughing and generally enjoying quality, wholesome family time with MDH and my mother in law.
(Insert record scratch sound bite here.)
At least that was the original plan. Oh, we spent the day wandering around Harvard Square all right, but it was hardly leisurely, wholesome or enjoyable because for some reason my brother in law Knucklehead wanted to tag along and turn it into a shit sack.

These days Knucklehead, fresh from his last tour in the can, is whacked out of his mind on prescription pain medications (which provide only a slight improvement to his behaviour since the days when his drug of choice was crack). So we spent a gorgeous afternoon wandering around Harvard Square with Knucklehead, who stopped every five minutes to smoke, hollered at traffic, loudly made rude comments about me, my mother-in-law, MDH and random strangers that he considered to be "fuckin' freaks and freeloaders" (he was able to recognize his own kind apparently), and generally embarrassed the crap out of us for about 4 hours. It was exhausting.

4. Oh, and now Knucklehead walks with a cane that he occasionally shakes in the air at people and cars and goes, "Baaagh!"

5. He's only 47.

6. Spent some great nights hanging out with my brother-in-law Las Vegas, also in town for the 80th birthday festivities, and his 3 grown boys and their various girlfriends. We're so proud of the next generation of little rakes, not a crack head in the bunch. Although my one niece, Knuckleheads daughter, poor kid, kind of reminds me of (I hesitate to say it) Snookie (only taller and pretty). MDH and I are keeping an eye peeled for her.

Went Up North With Friends:

1. Our friends R&R and their two kids visited us here from Washington DC and we were thrilled. They actually spent their summer vacation in Michigan. People do that. They spent two nights here at our house and then headed up north to Glen Arbor, where MDH and I joined them a few days later for the weekend.

2. I went tubing, which in Ohio means that you get dragged along, bouncing uncontrollably behind a speeding pontoon, piloted by my lunatic hillbilly cousin-in-law Bubby, in a murky brown lake which typically goes something like this:
But in Michigan tubing is something entirely different and I loved it hard. We floated gently, and safely if I might add, down a clear, clean river. I opted for a tube with a bottom so that I could sit indian style. I also snagged a paddle so that I could more easily steer myself away from any potential dirty muck or imagined crocodiles and river sharks. I will do this again.

Went to see Doug Benson last Friday night:

1. He's known for his pot humor, so it might be odd for me to love him so much, since I don't smoke it, but I love his podcast and am very excited for his new show coming to Comedy Central this fall, The Benson Interruption. I think he's one of those people who is just naturally funny and I love him, there it is.

2. Had the beginnings of what I thought was a bad cold, so hesitated to say hello after the show, as I didn't want to make him sick. I know a thing or two about what it's like to travel for a living and be sick when you're on the road, but MDH encouraged me to go up. I am not a gusher, but I assume that when you are an entertainer by trade that you appreciate hearing nice things about your work so I mentally prepared a little mini-speech. Something quick and simple, like, I love your podcast, I think you're so funny and can't wait for the new show and then I move along.

3. I got up there and he tried to shake my hand and I declined, so he gave me a little arm around half hug. Ok. Time for my nice words... here we go...

4. All I was able to say was "love your podcast" and the next thing I knew I was somehow cockblocked by MDH. Yes. You read that correctly. Well, maybe not. I mean I wasn't trying to hook up, just say hi, be nice and move on. And last time I checked I don't have a cock, but still, whatever you want to call it, my own darling husband, my love and partner on my path of life, who had encouraged me to go up and say hi in the first place... People it was freakish. The moment words of my prepared mini-speech started coming out of my mouth, MDH nearly pushed me out of the way to buy a CD, get it signed and started making pothead smalltalk with Monsiuer Benson as if I wasn't even there. If you didn't know we were married you might have thought we were strangers. It was bi-zarre.

5. The ride home from the comedy club was a bit chilly. I'm sure you can imagine.

6. Turns out I had a rotten case of the flu. I am just now recovering. I hope I didn't give Doug Benson the flu. I've been checking periodically on Twitter to make sure he is OK. Very out of character for me to give enough of a shit about anyone to check their tweets (I shudder to even type that out), but I feel a strong sense of personal responsability about this. So far I think he's OK.

Anyhoo... I hope you've been having a great summer too! Tell me about it in the comments please.

BTW: Here are a couple of other podcasts I've been enjoying while I perform my new job this summer (available for free on iTunes):

The Nerdist
Matts Radio

6th Annual Maybe It Doesn't Suck That Bad Award 2009

Since winter has creeped in, it seems that MDH and I spend most of our down time lazing around like a couple of exhausted walruses, he watching football and me playing video games, both of us overeating (it's so nice to do things as a couple). OK, it's pretty much like that year round except for him the sports change up seasonally.

But this weekend was different and our house was abuzz with activity like cleaning and stuff.

A few weeks ago I decided that I wanted a Christmas tree this year which involves some amount of movement and effort on my part with the preparation, cleaning and tree trimming and whatnot. It also involves movement and effort from MDH because he is the one who insists on a having a real tree so I force him to go with me to get it. Well, it started out against his will several years ago, but now I think he kinda likes it, although he may never fess up to the experience being anything other than a sharp shooting pain in his ass.

I think it's because he grew up with a bummer of a family and a white plastic kind of tree. Their tree was the kind that was a comically exaggerated pointy pine tree shape and permanently decorated with neon colored balls and flashing lights. The kind of tree that doesn't even pretend to be real and with each flash it shrieks, "I'm fake! I'm fake!" His brothers would drag the box down from the attic, pull it out of the box and simply plug it in. Boo-yah! It's Christmas!

I also prefer a real tree. They smell nice and we mostly had fake trees when I was growing up too but my mom bought the kind that attempted to look real. After a couple of years of use, and being repeatedly and hastily jammed back into the box after the holidays, fake trees start to look like they have hat head and no amount of "fluffing" can fix it. Also after awhile a branch or two seemed to have gone missing so you'd have to bunch it all up so that it looked more filled in or just arrange it so that the empty spot was facing the wall.

And by the way where the fuck could that branch possibly have gone? It made no sense. Obviously it didn't go wherever the ornament hooks ran off to because those wicked little things always seemed to turn up eventually although it was usually in the bottom of my bare foot the following July (the joys of 70's shag carpeting). As a grown up woman (with scars all over the bottom of her feet) I made an executive decision to never use ornament hooks and I tie all my ornaments with ribbon. And I always wear shoes in the house just in case.

Do they even sell ornament hooks anymore? Or did people come to their senses and send them to go live with the lawn darts and the electric space heaters in dangerous gadget land?

Anyhoo... MDH dreamed his whole life of a more traditional and rustic Burl Ives kind of Christmas and the cartoony jazz club tree just didn't represent. (You might have expected that I would say Currier & Ives, but in our generation Burl was the snowman narrator guy in that Rudolf Christmas special and you can't get more Christmas-y than that.)

When MDH is passionate about something he never goes halfway. Like I said, he is the one who insists on a real tree and then he insists that if we are going to have a real tree that we should have only the freshest tree possible so that it takes longer to dry out and is less likely to catch our house on fire and kill us all in our sleep. So we drive out to a tree farm and ride a tractor out to the middle of a field and MDH cuts down our tree with his own bare hands and a hacksaw he keeps in the trunk of his car for the off chance that once a year I may or may not decide that it's a Christmas tree year.

At least I hope that's what the hacksaw is for.

Whatevs... it seems to make him feel manly and puffed up to cut down our tree and we found a gorgeous one and it was only $35 so I splurged and got a wreath too and the whole event was so pleasant and easy it made me think of another reason that living here in the fucking tundra may not totally suck and that's kind of a big deal because so far I've only been able to come up with about one reason living here doesn't totally suck per year and we've lived here 6 years.

Drumroll (people dressed like marshmallows in down coats, micro fleece, and cargo pants are cheering, the crowd goes wild) ... The 2009 thing about living in western Michigan that doesn't totally suck is:

This place is lousy with Christmas tree farms so we never have to drive very far like when we lived in a city.

Previous years winners include, in no particular order:

• New shoes! Well, snow boots anyway.



• The air smells really fresh and clean.



• There is hardly any need for air conditioning in the summer.



• The squirrels are way prettier than back home.



• You can buy full strength booze anywhere.

By the way this is only our 2nd tree since we've had our cat Turtle and I forgot how much he loves to lounge around under there and drink the water from the tree stand. That's him up there with the devil eyes at the top of my post. It's so annoying because he makes this slurpy wet noise, he messes the tree skirt all up and his face and paws get all wet. Little weirdo. I suppose it could be worse as I seem to remember the cat we had when I was a little kid climbed and pissed all over our tree which is why my mom started buying the plastic ones. Christmas is so complicated.

I hope there aren't too many spelling and grammar errors because it's late and I'm justing going to hit publish and get my ass in bed.

Don't mind me, I'm just some lady who randomly wandered into your yard...

"My mutha, my brutha."

Then nothing.

It was more of a grunt really, followed by 2 nods, one in the direction of my mother in law and one in the direction of my husband.

This was the way in which my brother in law, formerly known on this blog as Syracuse and heretofore known as Captain Caveman, introduced me to his friends, neighbors and finally to the family of his ex-wife at the back yard barbecue they hosted Saturday evening to celebrate his daugher's high school graduation, which is to say not at all.

"My mutha, my brutha."

Then nothing.

After about the 3rd or 4th time I decided to officially move Captain Caveman from the column in the spreadsheet of my mind marked "Somewhat Rude Yet Tolerable" to the column marked "Economy Sized Asshole".

I would like to rise above these types of situations. Grin and bear it as they say, but a lady can only take so much.

My anger had been building up throughout the day after I had been forced several times to introduce myself in an awkward and overly cheerful lilt, realizing that Captain Caveman's six syllable introductions were never going to include me.

By the time we got to the graduation party at his ex wife's house late in the afternoon and the umpteenth fucking time of being totally disregarded in this manner and at the same time having had the epiphany that I didn't even merit a grunt or nod from my dickhead of a brother in law, I was steaming mad and blurted out the very words you see in the title of this post in a loud tone and the surliest of expressions.

At least I didn't stab him in the ear with a plastic picnic fork and scratch his eyes out as was my instinct, but even my surly outburst didn't phase him at all. He ignored me then too.

It pretty much summed up our weekend in upstate New York. MDH and I who are strapped for cash at the moment and PS I'm about to be out of a job, drove all the way to New York, paid for everything, including but not limited to our nieces graduation dinner on Friday night to which Captain Caveman had invited us, breakfast 2 days in a row and were offered nothing in return.

Not even a "thanks", which I might add is only one syllable and could very easily be grunted.

Get in line ladies - he's single!

Anyhoo... On a lighter and merrier note MDH and I brought his mother home with us. She's staying until after the holiday and she's lovely. I lucked out in the mother in law department. She's sweet and funny, does the dishes, makes her bed every day and swears up and down that she doesn't care a lick what we want to watch on TV.

I love her awful.

How she created such a band of baboons (except MDH of course, who is an angel straight from heaven) I have no idea. You can read brief biographies of my 4 brothers in law here if you want.

She has a very thick Cambridge accent:

Shawts = shorts
Sawks = Red Sox
Shawah = shower
Pawk chaps = pork chops

See what I mean? Adorable.

Floats Like a Butterfly, Stings When I Pee

I was going to use that title several months ago for a riveting post I wrote while recovering from a raging bladder infection. Aren't you glad I never published that post? (The answer is yes. Yes you are.) I deleted the unpublished post because it was crappy and not just a little bit personal and disgusting, but thinking perhaps I might later be able to craft another more amusing post around the catchy title.

I'm not that clever and have decided to use the title today for this very special post in which I inform you that I have returned from a fabulous vacation, after realizing I have been sitting here for a very long time, staring at my monitor, unable to come up with any more clever title than "I'm Back!" How dull. Stinging pee is far more engaging.

So there you go. I'm back. We had a fabulous 12 days in Kauai during which time I only had 2 or 3 small snits and one full blown irrational tantrum. Otherwise all was grand. What kind of dumbass vacation condo time-share thingy doesn't allow you to use an open flame barbecue?

Anyhoo... some serious and relevant things occurred while we were away:

1. MDH's grandma Nanny died last Friday. She was 101 and ready to leave us, so there's nothing to be sad about other than that we will all miss her very much. MDH felt a little funny about not going home to Cambridge, but realized that Nanny would have hit him with her shoe if he shortened his vacation. She did that. She would literally remove the shoe from her tiny (wicked small) Azorean foot and beat misbehaving grandsons with it. Oh Nanny.

As an interesting side note, my brother in law Knucklehead was allowed to attend the funeral in shackles, accompanied by a prison guard. I wish I was joking. Perhaps if Nanny had beaten him with her shoe more aggressively...

2. MDH has a job interview tomorrow in Cincinnati. So that's kind of difficult. Come home jet lagged after travelling for 16 hours only to leave again 36 hours later. Also should mention that he had been in Dallas for several days before we left, came home at 2pm and we left for Kauai at 5am the next morning. So basically the poor man has been home a little more than 1 day for the whole month of February. Weird.

Anyhoo... because of weird event number two I've got to close up shop on my blogging tonight. MDH needs the office to get ready for his big interview tomorrow. I have been trying to write this while he's away running errands.

Because I haven't had a chance to do anything with our vacation pictures except for the one at the top of the post, which is a view of the taro fields in Hanalei (and I'm quite pleased with myself about how it came out), and the one below sent in an email to my best friend Amy last week and like the title of this post has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject of this post. Perhaps some of you have seen it already or maybe Skyler's Dad has already included it as part of his bizarre tats series. Anyway... here you go:

The Dodgin' Bullets Hokey-Pokey

MDH came home from Texas on Friday only to leave me here all alone again this morning.

I don't mind. Go my darling. Have fun.

Yes. He rented a car and is driving to Cape Cod. Without me. Go my darling. Have fun.

I don't mind because first of all, that's a long fucking drive and quite frankly I've had it up to here with traveling (envision me holding my arms up to the ceiling, but not too close to the ceiling fan), as we have already been on 3 long weekend jaunts in the past 5 weeks.

Secondly, this trip to Cape Cod is occurring during week days and I have to work.

Thirdly, MDH is going to sleep on the sofabed of the cottage my brother-in-law Syracuse has rented for the week in Eastham. As glorious and high-falutin' as that sounds, I don't sleep on sofas, even if they do have the word "bed" tacked on at the end.

Now, to be totally honest, the real reason that this adventure is wholly unappealing to me has to do with my unsavoriest of brothers-in-law, Knucklehead, who has for the past several months been safely tucked away, enfolded in the gentle, loving arms of the Massachusetts penal system.

At first MDH and Syracuse were not worried about inviting my mother-in-law to the cottage because Knucklehead was otherwise occupied making license plates. But then after the plans had been made and Ma was already invited, Knucklehead was somehow released, all charges, having something to do with beating a co-worker senseless with a brick, dropped. He was now running loose once again in the world. At any rate he was back to using Ma's tiny apartment as a flophouse and she cannot be invited anywhere, let alone to a beach vacation by her other sons, without being upset if Knucklehead is not also included on the invitation.

So as much as MDH and Syracuse would have liked to treat Ma to a nice couple of carefree days at the beach it could not be done without Knucklehead bumming along for the free ride.

Then a miracle happened. Knucklehead, within no less than a week of his release from the pokey, was arrested and jailed yet again for beating someone senseless. I think it was someone different this time and I'm not sure if it was with a brick, but whatever it was I've never seen one family (minus Ma) so excited to have one of it's own behind bars. This time when Ma called around crying for bail money, nobody was putting up.

MDH and Syracuse were gleefully back to high spirited vacation planning. It was going to be great. MDH would drive to Boston to pick up Ma and then drive her up the Cape for a fabulous 4 days of relaxing on the beach, eating steamed lobsters and quality family time spent huddled around the TV watching the Red Sox.

Last Saturday however, a scant week before Cape Cod go-time, Knucklehead was released yet AGAIN !

At this point it is too late and let's face it you can't uninvite your Ma from a trip to the beach now can you? Well, if it were up to me I could, but I have chosen to distance myself from this situation by having said no from the start.

In Knucklehead's defense, after the moaning and grumbling from MDH and Syracuse about how he's such a free loader, Ma has offered this delectable tidbit - that Knucklehead will pay for all the food for the trip with the food stamps that he has been collecting and unable to use since he's been locked up. Fabulous. Wonderful.

How this is supposed to make up for the fact that my darling MDH is now going to be sharing the sleeper sofa of the cottage with Knuckehead, a deranged and dangerous criminal, instead of me, a person who has never been arrested for any crime or beaten up anyone with a brick (as much as I have wanted to I was able to restrain myself) and has never once threatened to kill him in his sleep however loud his snoring was, I have no idea.

So this is what I'm missing out on. Go ahead my darling. Have fun. Without me. Just don't turn your back on this guy or leave any sharp objects or blunt ended building materials within his reach.

The Boysh Are Back In Town or... Fuzzy Memories

MDH has kicked it into high gear this week as he plots a pilgrimage with 3 of his 4 brothers to Las Vegas for the Superbowl.

"But Lady", you might ask, "isn't the Superbowl in Tempe, AZ this year?" And to you I would reply, "Why, yes. Yes it is."

Here is the plan as I understand it so far:

MDH will fly to Las Vegas next Thursday, along with his brothers Miami and Syracuse to meet with their other brother LV, who I normally refer to in this blog as Las Vegas, because I have named his brothers by location (which wasn't so smart in hindsight because what if one or more of them moves?) with the exception of his brother Knucklehead (because he is a knucklehead wherever he goes and Cambridge sounds way too educated and important sounding of a handle to give him). For the purposes clearing up any confusion in today's post brother Las Vegas will be referred to as LV.
Are you with me so far?

Moving on then...

Where was I? Oh, yes, MDH and his slightly less knuckleheaded brothers are meeting in the city of Las Vegas next Thursday with the hopes that between the 4 of them someone will have been able to score Superbowl tickets. How this is supposed to happen, I haven't a clue. I assume it won't be above board, based on the thuggish character of his brothers, so I don't ask.

If the tickets are scored the group will (hopefully) sober up and rent a car with which to drive from Las Vegas to Tempe, AZ and attend the game.

If the tickets are not scored the group will remain hammered and watch the game together in one of their hotel suites or in the Caesar's Palace Sports Betting Lounge.

I have a feeling they will not make it to the game.

The last time they were all in Las Vegas MDH was having such a good time that he called me from what sounded like a combination of a Girl's Gone Wild video and a scene from Animal House and slurringly and lovingly asked if I minded if he stayed an extra day. He's a grown man, we have no children. What do I care? Go ahead my darling, stay an extra day. Party responsibly.

MDH: Hunna Bunna (Honey Bunny) me n' LV wanna shtay till tommmmma, tommma...

Me: Tomorrow?

MDH: yhu

Me: Why? What's up?

MDH: Otish Day n' the nights are playin and there'sh a toga party an Jenny McCarthy ish here n' Otish saysh for me to tell you "hi". (I had met some of the members of the band on a flight a few months prior and I'm sure they had no recollection of it.)

Me: OK.

MDH: yer smost wunnerful baby I wishyu were here right now I'd take yer mine armsn givya a big...

I could smell his scotchy breath through the phone from 2000 miles away.

Me: We can talk about it when you get home baby. Have a good time. I'm going to hang up now. Come home safe, OK?

MDH: Hunna Bunna, hunna bunna I jush wanna tell yoo shanks I love yoo soo mush...

He went on, but I hung up.

Half an hour later I received a call from the American Express Fraud Department about an attempted suspicious cash withdrawal of $4000 on the card from an ATM machine at Caesar's Palace.

Half an hour after that I received a call from Visa's Fraud folks on the same topic for the same amount.

I told them both to deny the transactions because MDH is really happy and generous when polluted and probably trying to buy a round of drinks for the entire audience at Cirque Du Soleil, but there was also the possibility that he had had his pocket picked by Miami's "date" or been robbed at gunpoint.

Anyhoo... I think it's pretty obvious that I'm not a jealous type, but don't fuck with our bank account. So next weekend I'll be manning the phone here at home, ready to nix the crazy credit card cash withdrawals hoping like hell Otis Day & The Nights have a gig elsewhere.

Here is a sampling of the amazing photos MDH took at the toga party:

Not sure.
No idea.
Kind of like when you point to something for a dog and it looks at your finger.

With regard to the photo at the top: Betcha can't tell which one is Knucklehead.

Much Ado About Knucklehead

And he didn't even show up.

Apparently Miami told him to stay away and so he did.

Everyone is a little afraid of Miami.

With that potential drama no longer a worry a mostly good time was had by all at the 100th birthday celebration of MDH's granny, Nanny.

On Nanny's big day it rained like hell and MDH and I had to drive all over Somerville and Cambridge on various errands as commanded by Miami, picking up cakes, cannolis, etc.. At one point MDH listened to a voice mail from Miami and said, "Miami now wants us to go down to the bar and pick up M & M's", and because of the typical naming structure of most of Miami's friends I said, "who the fuck is that?" Turns out he actually meant the candy. Miami had special ordered custom birthday M&M's for Nanny's party and had them delivered to the bar. What a relief.

My main concern was of course, my hair and make-up. Because of the rain and gusty winds I was on the verge of a potential beauty disaster and demanded to be dropped off at the door at every stop like a goddamned diva. I'm usually not this demanding or for that matter demanding at all, but we're talking about an all day event and having my picture taken every 5 seconds.

Once we arrived at the party it was pretty smooth sailing. Miami barked and grunted orders at everyone and we all did as he said. Nanny drank 3 glasses of Merlot, ate 4 stuffed quahogs and a giant piece of cake.

For some reason Miami thought it would be a hoot to give Nanny a g-string as a birthday present, and it kind of was.

MDH and I got her an electric kettle because she continues to boil water on the stove to make her tea although she has nearly burned the building down on numerous occasions, melting 4 tea pots in the process in as many years. She seemed to like it, but the look on her face when she opened the g-string was priceless.

I would like to state for the record: I probably won't need to eat Italian food again for the rest of the year or possibly longer.

Italian Food Items Consumed:

1. Napoli-style pizza with fried eggplant on it (dee-lish!!)


2. Spaghetti with a meatball the size of Detroit


3. Cannoli


4. Eggplant Parm


5. Anchovies drenched in oil on toast points


6. Carbonara


7. Mussels Bianco (sounds like another one of Miami's friends)

Due to a collective brain fart MDH and I spent an extra day in Boston.

We arrived at Boston-Logan Airport yesterday morning all puffed up and proud that we had made such good time. A major feat considering we had stopped by Ma's for coffee on our way and between maneuvering our way out of Cambridge, finding an open gas station and missing our freeway exit, we somehow got to the airport early.

Our pride soon turned to shame as we stood at the airline check-in kiosk with the screen displaying a message that took a few minutes to sink in, "You may not check in more than 24 hours before your scheduled departure time."

What the fuck?

Yes, our flight home was booked for the next day. We had each looked at the itinerary several times and neither one of us picked up on this. We had only booked a hotel thru Sunday.

We decided to make the most of it and not tell anyone in his family that we were still in town and got on the laptop and Hotwire booked a room at the Boston Intercontinental which now stands officially as the swankiest hotel I have ever stayed in.

You can take a water taxi directly from Logan to the Intercontinental for $10 per person and I highly recommend that you do so someday. You'll have the most spectacular view of the city. Even if you've been to Boston a million times like I have it will still take your breath away. We even saw some Harbor Seals hanging around.

We spent our bonus Boston day walking all around the city, from the financial district to the North End. Along the way we noticed lots of trailers and lighting equipment and followed the trail to a film crew staging and filming a scene for Pink Panther 2. Then we kept walking until we found ourselves at the Union Oyster House where we stopped in for some chowder and grilled oysters and had two very large Sam Adam's Octoberfests. Yum.

Later we (MDH) watched the Patriots beat the Colts from the humongous TV in our very glamorous hotel room. Features of our glamorous hotel room:

• Big giant flat screen TV (unfortunately NOT high-def)
  


• Intimacy Kit in the mini-bar (only $12 - our best guess was condom and tube-a-lube)
  


• A doorbell
  


• Electronic "Do Not Disturb"
  


• Reading lights that were all bendy and posable (we kept pretending they were microphones and sang songs in them to each other)
  

Enormous soaking tub with jets

• Enormous shower with real shelf space for products - also must note that steam kept itself in the shower so as not to fog up bathroom mirror
  


• Glam Fainting Couch AKA Chaise lounge
  


• 1 million thread count sheets (but they were Euro style flat sheets that come all undone and end up around your neck the second you start to have any fun at all)
  


• Brookstone alarm clock (not sure why this impressed me so much)

I thought I'd try something new and opened a Flickr account. You can see pictures from our trip here.

Love Means Never Having To Say "You're Spending The Rest Of Your Life In The Pokey Knucklehead"

Or at least I thought so.

Another Knucklehead Update:

Syracuse also informed MDH last night that Knucklehead is "in love" and still seeing the woman, we'll call her The Crackwhore, he's soon to serve time over. I won't tell you what the charges are, but I will tell you that he was already awaiting trial for allegedly beating a co-worker in the face with a brick when there allegedly occurred some rather serious brouhaha with The Crackwhore. Very serious alleged brouhaha. And they are still together?

I haven't met her and don't even know her name, but I'm on pins and needles wondering if he'll bring her to the birthday party (if he comes). Here is how I picture her:



Except I assume she'll be wearing more than photo-shopped pasties and probably not using a big doobie as an fashion accessory.

We should have a lot in common and get along just great. Maybe we'll head over to Filene's to buy pot holders and doilies, or have afternoon tea at the Omni.

Can you picture me in my cashmere and tweed making small talk at this party? Does anybody else find this as ridiculous and hilarious as I do? No one in the family thinks it's very funny.

Lady Goes To Cambridge - Cast of Characters

We are going out of town again this weekend. This time headed for Boston. Well, Cambridge really to celebrate MDH's grandmother's 100th birthday. It will be the first time I have ever seen MDH and all of his brothers together in one room.

MDH is the youngest of 5 boys raised by a single mother. You could play that song "One of these things is not like the others" to pick MDH out of a line-up with his family. They all have, in varying degrees of intensity, an element of thuggishness and one of them is an outright thug. MDH is the least thuggish.

MDH is actually the most (only) clean cut in the bunch. He's also the only one to graduate from college, the only one with no children, the only one to stay married longer than 5 years, the only one to have lost his Boston accent, and he is taller than the rest by about 5 inches.

Miami, in his late 50's, is the oldest of the brothers. He's a construction foreman who has never married but has grown children from unplanned pregnancies in his youth coming out of the woodwork. Miami is very family oriented and feels bad that he wasn't there when these kids were growing up so includes them in every event. He calls everyone in the family like clockwork every Sunday.

He is big into sports betting and drinks a lot. He likes to show off and show people a good time but is very demanding to waitstaff in restaurants which makes it difficult to look forward to dining out with him. He gets belligerent if the restaurant doesn't serve Sambuca with a coffee bean in it. He's a bachelor, a traditionalist and a loud boozy blowhard, but his heart is always in the right place. He violated his probation to come to our wedding.

Las Vegas is the postal worker brother we visited recently. He has 3 boys still living in Massachusetts with their mother. Before he moved to Las Vegas he was the primary looker-after-er of Nanny, stopping in at least once a week and doing all of her shopping for her. He may be my favorite of MDH's brothers. He's chivalrous, kind, sentimental and takes great joy in life's simple pleasures like laying around the pool at Caesar's Palace, red wine and thick steaks. He's laid back and a lot of fun to be around. He's also big into sports betting. He brought a date to our wedding.

Syracuse is the brother we have spent the most time with. He came to our house for Thanksgiving last year. He's kind of a geek and into computers so he and I have that in common, but that's where it ends. He is a huge Star Trek fan. He also talks about inappropriate things, like how hot Asian women are or what a bitch his ex-wife is, in front of me and his 16 year old daughter. He's one of those guys that says everything at the top of his lungs so that everyone can hear how clever he thinks he is. I will never think a story about how he cussed out a telemarketer is funny. Whatever it is you are discussing he is convinced he knows more about it than you do. Even having said all that, I don't dislike him. Not in the least. He's kinda funny and a terrific father. I adore his daughter. They drove to our wedding all the way from Syracuse.

Knucklehead is 3 years older than MDH and his polar opposite. He's missing teeth, brain cells, moral fiber, and money for bail. He is completely charm-free. He scares the shit out of me and I have asked MDH to never leave me alone with him. Ever. He was not only not offended by this but agreed that it was good and sound judgement. He has been especially destructive to MDH's mother who calls everyone crying and asking for bail or money to pay Knucklehead's attorney. He is 46 years old and lives with their mother in Cambridge in her tiny retirement community efficiency apartment. He's not supposed to be there and could cause her to get kicked out. In fact everyone is waiting for it to happen. He was invited but chose not to attend our wedding because no one would pay his way. He did not RSVP.

The whole situation and thinking about all of them together makes my brain hurt.

The last time all 5 brothers were together Miami and Knucklehead got into a big fight and Knucklehead came after Miami with a knife and threatened to kill them all in their sleep.

Oh the drama.

Miami is the one that has organized Nanny's party. He's an over the top grand gesture kind of guy so MDH has had to remind him several times that it's a party for a 100 year old woman and should really be kept low-key. Especially because Nanny herself has declared that she "hates a fuss", meaning loud music, noisy children and too much commotion. Miami has been calling us at all hours with suggestions for the party and to make incoherent demands. He's invited Ted Kennedy apparently. No one has any idea why.

There is a possibility that Knucklehead won't show up and in these situations that means Ma won't show up either in protest of the terrible way her other sons treat him.

I know this about Miami: he is one of those guys that always has a hidden agenda. You could be giving him a ride to a party and he'll ask you to stop at the bank on the way, and then he'll remember that he's left his bank book at his friend Mikey the Cat's house and would you mind waiting outside in the car while he runs in real quick to get it. Thirty minutes later you'll knock on Mikey The Cat's door only to discover from Mikey's mom that Miami and Mikey have left for the Tavern through the back door. Three hours later Miami shows up at the party pissed drunk and pissed off with you for leaving without him.

Or, on the other hand, Miami is likely to rent a Corvette or some other show-off impractical type of vehicle and then expect us to cart around everyone in his entourage since there's no room in his car.

Miami once invited MDH to the Sugar Bowl or something in New Orleans. He flew down there only to find out minutes before the game that Miami didn't really have tickets. So we're not even 100% certain a hall has been rented, etc. There may not even be a party.

Between Miami and Knucklehead you don't know what can happen, but it's guaranteed to be either annoying or life threatening.

I'm telling you all of these things in preparation for the post I am anticipating writing when I get back. I can't wait to see how it all shakes out.

UPDATE: 11-01-07 5:16am (Couldn't sleep anymore.) Syracuse called last night. Seems Miami is planning a big night out with the boys (his brothers, sons and hometown pals) on Saturday after the birthday party and thinks that I'm going to babysit all of the children. He just assumes I will do this? He has never been more wrong.

That's not why I couldn't sleep. I mean it's irritating and rude, but not worth losing sleep over. I just couldn't remember whether or not I paid my student loan payment this month. I did. Of course I did.