Brothers

 

This is me with my brother Mike.

He's four years older than me but we shared a room growing up so we sometimes act like twins.

Even though he lives in Pennsylvania and I live in North Carolina, we pretty much talk just about every other day.

He's probably one of the funniest guys I know.

I can't recall a family get-together where we weren't cracking each other up for reasons that would seem unexplainable to everyone else in the room. And we usually get the spousal lectures before family visits that include the caveat: "you and your brother better behave yourselves...'

He is a simple guy with simple needs: he gave up wearing underwear years ago when his waistline no longer fit into them and he deducted shortly thereafter that one doesn't really need to use underwear. It was his first philosophical breakthrough regarding consumerism.

He also told me once how he doesn't like that feeling of being wet after he takes a shower and often blow dries himself with a hairdryer.

Back in the day, he was like Richie: he taught me how to sneak out of the house and the proper way to egg cars and was sort of a hoodlum in junior high but by the time he got into high school he was too consumed with sports and girls and didn't have much to do with me.

The whole dynamic really took a turn when he went to college.

That's when suddenly it became my job to go retrieve him when his semesters ended at West Chester. The drive was about three and a half hours from home which made it more encouraging to get there, sleep over, and come home the next day. Picking your older brother up from school was a cool thing so I often enlisted the help of my friends to ride shotgun.

One time it was me and my friend Kevin. We had arrived early and neither my brother nor his roommate Jerry had come home from school yet so a guy who lived below them offer to let us stay with him until my brother came back from his last class. It was everything off-campus housing should be: cassette tapes everywhere, empty beer cans littering the coffee table and the rank smell of pot in the air.

When my brother came home we asked him if he'd buy us some beer. So he went out and got us a six-pack of Genesee Cream Ale. After playing a few rounds of darts with my brother and Jerry, Kevin and I decided we wanted to venture out and see the campus. We walked down the three flights of stairs and made the trek to High Street. It was night time and most of the campus had already started to shut down for break so - dejected - Kevin and I made our way back to my brother's crib. When we reached the third floor and the door of his apartment, the hall light was out which made it pitch black and rendered us blind. We had to feel our way with the key to the doorknob only we had no idea which key it was which made our efforts even more of a challenge.

At some point I guess I was trying to line up a key to the hole with Kevin standing right over my shoulder squinting in the exact same position as me, when we suddenly heard the click and the door opened. But the key was stuck in the handle. I yanked it out and ended up butting my elbow into Kevin's nose which quickly exploded with blood. By the time we got to the top of the steps inside blood was everywhere. When my brother saw Kevin's face he jumped up and hollered, "Jesus Christ what happened?" Much to my dismay, Kevin uttered, "Somebody sucker punched me."

"What!!??" screamed my brother.
"Where? Who? " he said.
Then he turned to his sleeping roommate and said, "Jerry get the fuck up. Someone tagged Greg's friend in the face."

Now Jerry was a Marine who took up boxing and could lick any body's ass in two quick seconds.

"Where is the guy?"

It was then that Kevin realized the seriousness of the situation and 'fessed up that it was a joke and that I had bashed his nose with my elbow.

But it also was one of those defining moments when you realize that despite what differences you might have or the beefs you got into as kids your brother had your back: that he would kick some body's ass for kicking yours without question.

Of course, neither of us have ever had to ante up on that, I mean we're Italian - we are as they say, "lovers not fighters."

So this year I was super excited to be able to vacation with my brother and his family. It had been almost 15 years since my brother and I got to hang out at the shore with one another. So in honor of that, I reprised a look I had 20 years before and went and bleached my hair for the occasion.

This time around, only one person managed to come up with a witty Billy Idol jab...

Anybody See Any?

My 8-year-old got me up at about 5:45am this morning.

We saw maybe three shooting stars before we decided that it was getting chilly (and my neck was starting to hurt from looking up!).

But there's always tomorrow morning.

Hopefully I'll have the same luck this person had last year:

Set The Alarm Folks

It is coming.

Of course, there's always this to consider.

Another Puzzler

This one irks me even more than that JC Pennys ad.

Dear Budweiser,

I've never really liked you.

I think your beer sucks.

Mostly because your alcohol is rice-based and rice-based alcohols, like sake almost always leave me with a headache whether I have consumed two or ten drinks.

But now you have gone and sold your soul to Belgian-based InBev yet still claim you are an American lager.

How can that beer?

The people have spoken - you can no longer stake that claim.

In all fairness, brewing beer wasn't an American invention - especially lager so your claims are comical at best.

Now could you please stop with the Great American Lager campaign already?

Really, first it was Ford trucks (with their Mazda engines) and now you Bud are coming at me with this.

I don't really care about the sale or your beer.

Maybe I should be taking this up with the ad agency?

And don't me started on the radio spot about how important the glass is to the Bud experience...

Early To Rise?

It's time for meteor showers folks.

So if junior or the little miss are early risers, try bottle feeding outside and looking up.

Or set your alarm clocks.

I've been fascinated by the night sky for as long as I can remember.

Especially moon shadows.

And anything moon related even though some days the moon can make me feel like going bat shit crazy.

One day I will own a really tricked-out telescope.

Hopefully before the aliens abduct me.

Add Delete

Had to tidy up the Blogroll today.

Some bit the dust and others were welcomed to the family.

Sacrilege or Pure Genius?

Has anyone seen this?

I never thought I'd be the one coming to defend director John Hughes much less some teen flick movie but something about this just rubs me the wrong way.

And I'm not the only one in an uproariously confused state about it.

These people are as curious as me as to what fucking tweener out there will be able associate with "we're different but all in this together" subplot.

My guess is that they are selling kids clothes through the parents because it is mom and dad's credit card that's footing the bill but what teenager wants to by clothes their parents think are hip?

Advertising, you've failed me again.

I'm sure Whit has something to say about it.

Or maybe Chag.

Too bad Rock Star Mommy doesn't still blog.

I know she'd have something to say about this, especially the shitty Simple Minds cover.

Not Feeling It

 

Some days you just feel like throwing in the towel.

Or maybe just throwing sand in the face of that which irks you.

It's been a long summer.

Very long.

And even though I love summer, sometimes it can even give you the blues.

I want the summer to end because I want to put all the voodoo behind me.

Yet when summer ends in just a couple of weeks, it will usher in a new phase in my life: my youngest will start kindergarten and I will begin the inevitable transition back to working full-time.

I want to work and look forward to it.

But when my youngest told me he was going to miss snuggling with me it took all of my strength to keep back the tears.

So here's sand in the face to a shitty summer and a little hardcore ditty to lift the spirits:

Against My Better Judgement

I let my boys watch a few episodes of Wildboyz.

Mostly as a cure for boredom as it has been nearly one hundred degrees the past few days, that and the boys are still going through a delousing from the whole head lice debacle which pretty much keeps them stuck inside for the better part of the day.

Yesterday we got the thumbs up to go swimming but with the temp so high in recent days, the pool was like bath water.

God knows what kind of communicable diseases you can get from bath water.

So after tiring of video games, on came the Wildboyz.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Today a black mamba woke me up.

Jackassworld

I Can't Make This Shit Up

 

Shiver Me Timbers

 

The big joke between my wife and I since we got back from vacation is that when people ask we say, "we went to the shore but didn't go in the ocean."

And it's true.

The water was freakin' cold.

Arctic cold.

Frigid you might say.

Somewhere in the high 50s/low 60s.

But that didn't stop this dude from tuning blue in the name of fun.

I think I went in twice in 10 days and only know am I starting to feel my balls and the tips of my toes again.

I think a road trip to Wrightsville might be on deck for Saturday.

The current water temp there is 79...

I Didn't Even Take This Picture

 

But I totally dig it.

Donut Burgers

 

Getting donuts on Sunday after mass is a Barbera family tradition that goes back as far as I can remember.

So when I was at the beach and I didn't see my brother around after mass on Sunday morning, my nephew Michael told me he went to get donuts.

"Creme donuts," he said.
"Ever had 'em?"

"Yeah I've had creme donuts before," I told him.

"But these have special creme," he said.

"Oh, you mean the kind that makes your teeth itch?" I said.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It's a Pop Pop term," I said and explained how my dad uses that term for things that are sweet.

My brother and sister-in-law returned, put the donut box on the table and then I opened it up.

Sweet jesus.

Would you look at those things!

My nephew referred to them as "donut burgers" because life for him is full of Simpsonalia.

These of course, should not be confused with these donut burgers which couldn't possibly be more disgusting.

Although I bet Homer would eat one.

R'n'R Beach

 

A Sea Isle City Sunset

 

Technically, it's probably Townsends Inlet.

The Cowtown Cowboy

 

Once you get over the Delaware Memorial Bridge, you hang a right on 40 and head east to the beach towns.

There's not much to see during this stretch except endless rows of corn or maybe the Jersey Devil which is known to inhabit the Pine Barrens of south Jersey.

And then there's Cowtown.

When I think of Jersey, rodeos don't immediately come to mind.

Nope, more like The Boss or Yo La Tengo maybe some Silver Queen corn or Maxwells in Hoboken.

I definitely don't think of cowboys and rodeos.

Cowtown has always intrigued me.

We should have stopped.

I always want to stop but am always too eager to get to the shore.

You'll know you are in Cowtown when you see the cowboy.

Of course it came up on us sooner than I expected and what with the digital camera taking forever to boot up and my wife's lead foot, I managed to only capture a sliver.

But I like the sliver.

Because that's just one of my patented typos away from silver.

And silver always makes me think of this junkie cowboy chestnut...

Weeeee!

 

Shortly after experiencing the joy that was the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel, my kids lost their bridge virginity on this bad boy.

It's the world's longest twin suspension bridge and going over it, according to my 5-year-old, was like a ride at the NC Sate Fair.

I Heart Baltimore

 

Most of our family trips involved a direct line to three places: North Topsail Beach, cabins in Ashe county or going home.

Going west or east in the state of North Carolina, there's not much to see. Sure on the way to the mountains to get to pass by Winston-Salem which at least gives the kids something to look at besides trees and going east you get, well, you get to see not much of anything.

So when we saddled up to do vacation this year, the kids were jazzed at the prospect of staring off out their windows at something else.

They screamed when we entered the Harbor Tunnel in Baltimore. They've heard the stories for years about Baltimore from my wife and I. Both of us went to school at Towson University which is located north of Baltimore.

I used to ride my mountain bike down Charles Street into the city and people watch at the Inner Harbor or maybe take a trip to the seedy side of town.

When were were courting, you could often find my wife and I seeing hair metal bands at Hammerjacks . I think we saw Slayer there. I remember I almost got thrown over the balcony's railing because apparently where I was standing had good sight lines and some metal head wanted that spot.

And of course they had heard many (censored versions) of rugby tales over the years that involve the Charm City.

So when we saw the city's skyline on the horizon with the harbor to the right of us, we debriefed the boys that the tunnel was a-coming.

If you find yourself with some time on your hands in Baltimore, don't forget to get yourself some pie from Rodney.

Souvenirs

What do you like to bring back from your family vacation?

T-shirts from the boardwalk?

Check.

Sea shells combed from the sea shore?

Check.

Sand in your car?

Check.

This year we decided to add something else to the fold: head lice.

Yeah.

Fuck me.

At one point during our stay at the Jersey Shore my son complained about an itchy scalp and how he had found a bug in his hair but I chalked it up to sand and told him to wash is hair a little better.

But after that I noticed he kept scratching his hair behind his ear like a dog.

Wednesday we took the ferry from Jersey to Delaware and made our way to Ocean City, Maryland, to see the in-laws. We crashed early and got up the next day and hit the boardwalk so the kids could do the whole skeeball-in-the-arcade and rides thing (which every kid must experience once in his lifetime) and then retreated to the condo to rest.

My wife took a nap while I entertained the kids by initiating some PS2 because even though me and the old lady were bushed, the kids took a cat nap in the car on the way back.

At some point Spencer scratched his hair again and pulled out a bug.

"Here," he said.
"These are the bugs I have been finding," he said.

It was as big as a grain of rice.

I took the bug into the bathroom, called my wife and mother-in-law in and we all looked at it and said, "head lice."

Then the mad scramble to delouse his ass began.

My wife darted off to CVS and purchased some lice killing shampoo. When she washed out his hair a good 60 to 75 adult lice floated down the drain. [The wife said I was exaggerating and should reduce the number in half - ed.]

After the shampoo (i.e. a pesticide) you are required to take a fine-tooth comb and comb out every possible strand of hair to remove the bug... only my son has a mop of hair.

It was painfully clear that he needed a haircut as we're talking total infestation.

And he acted like Samson.

I called Jersey and gave them the news but as we looked deeper into the how, why and where of it all it became painfully obvious that he probably had them before we left and that he probably had them for awhile.

The life cycle of head lice is about 40 days and you can't see an adult until after about 20 days.

Ad therein lies the psychological disturbance of it all: they could be everywhere.

Beds, blankets... you name it.

I've heard of people having head lice but never has the full scope of it been communicated to me: the three-times-a-day combing of hair to find nits and nymphs, the endless washing/drying everyday of everything your head has touched, and the overall pain in the ass of at least seven to ten days combating it just to wait and see if you have got them all.

Re-infestation is common.

So for the last day we have been delousing the homestead, the kids and ourselves.

What a way to end your vacation.

Enough already.

Really.

Somebody bring the good news, I've had enough of the bad...

Just Got Back...

... from a very long vacation which involved beaches and shores, bridges and tunnels, and even a bridge-tunnel.

Until I can pull my head out of the sand, let's take a look back at previous summers had here at the House of G.

In 2005, it was all I could do just to survive the summer with two kids, my oldest on the brink of kindergarten.

By 2006, summer was far more enjoyable but it took me weeks to post about it. Expect the same this year.

Last year, I was quicker on posting about my vacation exploits, but still wrestled with the art of Blogger and its pic-posting cousin Picasa.