Category: Uncategorized

“White Christmas” – movie stinks, porno was pretty good.

“Miracle on 34th Street” – beat it Santa, this is a rough neighborhood for an old white dude.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” – never seen it, don’t want to.  Boo me all you want.

“How the Grinch Stole Christmas?” – getting warmer.

But the answer to the question: Greatest Christmas Movie?

ELF

For my frankincense, ELF is the best Christmas movie going.  It doesn’t even have swears, violence or nudity and I still love it.  Will Ferrell, and his ‘Buddy to Elf’ character, wearing stockings for 90 minutes and running around like a strung-out coke fiend is pure gold.  Not looking to play Siskel and the Dead Guy here but more so to express my concern for what happened to Buddy after the movie ended.

If you haven’t seen ELF (you should go straight to hell right now for starters), here is a quick summary.

Per IMDB…

Buddy (Will Ferrell) was accidentally transported to the North Pole as a toddler and raised to adulthood among Santa’s elves. Unable to shake the feeling that he doesn’t fit in, the adult Buddy travels to New York, in full elf uniform, in search of his real father. As it happens, this is Walter Hobbs (James Caan), a cynical businessman. After a DNA test proves this, Walter reluctantly attempts to start a relationship with the childlike Buddy with increasingly chaotic results.

You get the gist.  All ends well.  Buddy recognizes he is human, abandons the North Pole, reunites with his real Dad, woos the heart of a cute young lady and is now living amongst the humans in New York City.  The End.

Not so fast, midget.  It is not that simple.  Buddy has zero real life experience and suddenly is going to the live at the Top of the Food Chain; NYC?  No Elfin’ Way.  Think about all of the problems he is going to encounter once Sonny Corleone tells him to move out?

WORK:

Buddy has absolutely no skills except how to build an Etch-A-Sketch quasi-fast and decorate a damn Christmas Tree.  Sure that is helpful during the 30 days between Thanksgiving and Jesus’ birthday, but that’s it.  Come December 26, Buddy is in the unemployment line and God knows an Elf’s comp package is not going to be sufficient to survive in the Big Apple.  Before you know it, he’ll be on the street pimping himself out for Candy Canes and Maple Syrup.  Best case, he gets hired to be some type of weird fetish Elf sex slave for private parties by Asian businessmen, but that nevers end well.  Before you know it he is snorting Smarties off the fire hydrant in front of defunct FAO Schwartz,  giving Elf-jobs in the alley and screaming that he knows Santa Claus like a lunatic.  Buddy won’t see next Christmas at this rate.

PERSONAL:

Yes, he has a rich Dad and a seemingly nice Step Mom and Step Brother.  But you know how this will go, don’t you?  All of Buddy’s high energy, positive bullshit will get old, really fast.  Remember ‘Flowers in the Attic‘?  That’s what happens to step kids.  The real parent moves on with their life and the Steps get abandoned…or poisoned….or left to starve.  As it is, Buddy only lives on the four main food groups.

Now, lets just say that nice girlfriend says, “Hey Buddy, its OK, you can move in with me.”  How’s that going to go?  The guy can’t help with the rent.  He brings nothing to the conversation table except stories of fucking reindeer and woodshop.  Oh, and how about the bedroom?  Buddy has likely never had sex, right?  Even if he did, it was with a giggly midget she-elf (or SHELF) who probably cried rape to Papa Elf.  Let’s be real, if a man can’t bring home the bacon (or even Candy Corn) and doesn’t know how to use his ‘North Pole’; guess where he is headed?  Exactly.  Bye, bye Buddy.

And here we are again, Buddy is back on the streets trying to hitchhike a ride back to Santa’s Village in an attempt to re-insert himself back in to his old life like Richard Freaking Kimball in The Fugitive.  But guess what?  The Village doesn’t want you back, Big Boy.  You are a human.  They carried your ass for far too long.  Buddy, you are now a man without a country.

And so, I don’t want to drag everyone down just before the magical holiday of Christmas but, unfortunately, this tale does not end well.  In all likelihood, Buddy ends up on the business end of a long strand of licorice, hanging off the Brooklyn Bridge.

Please don’t make an ELF 2, Hollywood.  I beg you.  Leave well elf-nough alone.

But, here is a small, early Christmas gift from me to you…some of the best of ELF…

 

Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!

For those of you (dare I suggest dozens?) that have read my “stuff” in the past know you are usually in for a sarcastic, self-deprecating voyage into the silliness that crosses my mind from time to time.  Life is too damn short not to have fun, right?  So, with that said, I just wanted to comment on a subject just slightly more serious.

My wife and I had the rare pleasure of getting away for a night this past weekend.  Our three kids were safe and happy spending a night with my in-laws and we were able to enjoy a family wedding; just the 2 of us and my side of the family.

The wedding was great.  My much younger cousin married a great girl (first time I met her, but I think my instincts are correct) and we had a ball.

In addition to enjoying the great company of my large family of aunts, uncles and cousins, I got to spend some time with my parents.  Specifically, I got a solid hour of one on one time with my Dad.  That afternoon we had lunch together but shortly thereafter my wife and Mom took off to do a little shopping and it was just me and the most senior of the Franks left to hang out.  Just us.

We bellied up to an almost 200 year old quaint bar in rural Western Massachusetts and just sat, relaxed and had a drink together  No stress.  No distractions.  No “real” life to discuss.  We just talked.  Talked life.  Talked about anything.  And it was awesome.

I make no secrets that my Dad is as much my best friend as he is my father.  For those of you that know him; you know why.  He is fun, funny, interesting and certainly opinionated.  He loves to enjoy life and he really loves to do that most with his family surrounding him.  As his only son, I get inside access to his wit and banter on a regular basis.

We discussed life, politics, humor, the menu we are serving for Thanksgiving….and anything else that crossed our minds.  No filters.  No judgments.  Just the guy that taught me everything and I; pontificating on how we would run the world.  Pretty awesome stuff and, like the rest of you, its hard to find the quality time to do such.

Big Frank is the man.  Big Frank takes care of everything… for everyone… and is glad to do so.  He shoulders the burden of 10 people and the definition of what a real man should be.  I am proud of him.  I love him.  I hope you are all as lucky as me to have an influence like that in your lives.

Don’t let the time pass you by without having chats with people in your life like Big Frank.  You’ll regret it.

Thanks, Dad…

P.S.  He is also slightly batshit crazy, but hey….can’t pick your family.

 

 

  
For the last few years I’ve been facing a dilemma come this time of year. I’m 30. Single. No kids. I’ve realized I’m in a gray area when it comes to Halloween. So long are the days where I traipsed around campus half in the bag (okay, all the way in the bag) wearing next to nothing going from one house party to the next, and just the same I’m not yet ready to join my married boring friends (no offense guys?)  taking their children out then having a get together back at the house. So where does this leave me? Do I sit at home with my only other single girlfriend and watch scary movies avoiding the doorbell and incessant knocking of the trick or treaters? (They were pretty ruthless last year, I thought I was going to get egged when I didn’t answer the door). So this year, my single friend and I decided we were going to be social and lively- maybe even festive!- and we’re going to the local bar where there’s going to be a DJ, costumes, etc. This still is going to leave me home hiding behind my wine glass during the witching hour of 6-8 when the kids are running amuck, but at least I’ll be getting out after the fact and celebrating Halloween being on a Saturday night and I can get my drink on without the judgy looks at the office in the morning. (Yes we get it, you smell whisky every time I walk by your desk, no need to flog a dead horse.)

With this decision to go out on Halloween came the daunting task of trying to figure out a costume. Whats something that’s totally different from my day to day wear? Maybe something fun with a wig! I thought about this for days, and decided on the one thing that truly suited me. Anyone who knows me is just going to roll their eyes, but hello!? I’m the crazy cat lady, I’m going to roll with that and just go full out hair rollers, bathrobe, knee high socks, and stuffed cat animals in all my pockets. Pretty much like the lady from the Simpsons who’s constantly hurling cats at people. My friend decided she’ll be my pet cat. Hah. Cute. We’re all in on the joke, great. So off to iParty we go in search of little accessories for our costumes. We walk in and look around, and I’m gazing at the wall of costumes just mesmerized. Sexy cop. Sexy witch. Sexy cat. Sexy Freddy Krueger? Sexy Robin Hood? Are we taking this sexy thing a bit far here? I then came to the realization that at my age, any Halloween costume I’m supposed to be wearing has to have fishnet tights, stilettos, and a sexy twist to it. I should be going as Cat Woman- leather body suit, sky high ponytail, stilettos- not her crazy mu-mu wearing cat lady cousin. I end up just leaving without purchasing anything, and second guessing my original costume choice.

  
The more I’m looking around on Facebook, BuzzFeed, etc, I’m seeing more and more skank outfits. Sexy Gandalf? Sexy Harry Potter? I instantly have throwbacks to 7th grade where I showed up to the school dance in a stupid dress and everyone else was dressed all cool and casual in their Fila jackets and Timberlands. I can’t show up to a bar wearing a bathrobe and curlers when every other female there is going to be skanked out, can I??

I can. And I will. I’m taking a stand for the females. I honestly have no problem with looking sexy. And usually I would jump at the chance to wear fake eyelashes and high heels; however- I need to keep into consideration I’m going to a dumpy local bar, where I most certainly hope my future husband will not be. Why do I care if I have curlers in my hair? I will go as a goofy looking cat lady only exposing very little skin (it’s damn cold this time of year!) and my friend is going to stick by me and wear a cat costume. She’s even going to paint her face because we are REBELS, Dottie (Pee-Wee Herman reference) and we’re not going to freeze our behinds for the sake of looking sexy for 4 hours until we get sick of what we’re wearing and just go home.

To be honest, hair rollers and a bathrobe certainly won’t keep this girl from having a random make-out sesh on the way to the bathroom. I may be 30, but I can run circles around these youngin’s who can barely walk in their high heels. Who do you think is going to kill it at karaoke- Some Sexy Nurse singing Girl Crush, or the crazy cat lady belting out Come on Eileen dancing like Elaine Bennis? Let’s see these gals try and play a game of cornhole while dressed as a sexy army girl. Try taking a shot of Fireball without ruining your fire-engine red lipstick. Hah! Been there, done that, wrote a blog about it. Bye Felicia! 

 

On Thursday my wife took a look at this weekend’s forecast, saw that it would be in the 60’s & Sunny, and like the Swallows Returning To Capistrano, her natural instinct was to instantly demand that we go Apple Picking / Get Pumpkins.  I quickly tried to schedule a last minute colonoscopy but the nurse saying something about “not medically necessary” and my wife holding an 8 iron threatening to pull her best Elle Woods imitation convinced me to concede  So today we took the trek up to Parlee Farms. This is going to come as a shock but I had some thoughts while wading through the sea of humanity having a quintessential New England Fall Experience.

• God bless them but somehow Parlee doesn’t charge for parking.  Considering there were easily 1000 cars there, I’m thinking there’s a wasted business opportunity there.
• Speaking of parking. I felt like I was at the Burlington Mall in December. I had cars following me as I wheeled the pumpkins to the car. I had to tell 4 different cars that I wasn’t actually leaving just dropping off
• I could not believe the amount of High School Aged Basic White Girls in official BWG uniform (High Boots, Leggings, Puffy Vest) dragging their boyfriends around taking selfies.  Fellas if you’re reading this 2 things. #1. Don’t put up with that. Let her go with her friends, she’ll have a way better time. This is not the girl you’re going to spend the rest of your life with so don’t waste a Football Sunday getting dragged around.  #2. Why the fuck are you reading this?  It’s a blog by a bunch of Cantankerous Middle Aged white guys, who all think 2001 was like 4 years ago, and Leah, who is quite lovely, but A) you guys would consider a cougar and B) wouldn’t be able to pick her up until your knowledge of wine goes beyond Arbor Mist.  But I digress.
• How in the name of God is there not a bar here?  You sell apple cider donuts (fantastic by the way) apple crisp, and every other fall food item in the world. How on earth can I not get a Shipyard, an Octoberfest or even some Hard Apple Cider?  I would have paid $9 for a beer and not thought twice about it. And by the looks of it, every other guy there would have as well.  Next year when you see the Handsfactor Pavilion (21+) on the far side of the field, you can mention this blog post to bartender Leah for half off your first beer!
• This place should be called Parlee Farms subtitled “Hold Still” sub-subtitled “Look at mommy and say cheese”. Mother’s this is not you and your 2 girlfriend’s posing in the restaurant bathroom taking 42 selfies until you get the right one where your heads are at the right angle and your skinny arm is just so.  Your 3 year old in the pumpkin shirt doesn’t care if your frenemy is going to be soooo jealous when she sees your perfect little angel contemplating which pumpkin to choose or reaching for the Apple on the branch just out of reach (Hint: It’s not a metaphor for their hopes and dreams it’s something they want to throw at the back of your head when you’re not looking) on Instagram.  All your kid knows is Mommy dragged him out to the middle of a field surrounded by pumpkins lying in the dirt but she keeps yelling to stop touching them because they’re dirty and threatening under her breath and gritted teeth to smile and stop crying or she’s going to give you something to really cry about.      If you had a drink in hand you’d be way more mellow.
• Next year on your way in you may see Tobes and PistoffIrishman with a stand outside the grounds. While I’m not sharing the alcohol concession (Pistoff can’t be trusted not to drink our stock) I will toss them a bone and have them open a Starbucks franchise outside so all those BWG’s can get their Spiced Pumpkin Latte fix right there. For an extra $5 they’ll even throw leaves up in the air while you snap your selfie.

Now my fall penance is done as my wife thankfully doesn’t see the point of driving to New Hampshire for leaf peeping (we probably wouldn’t be married if she did) so now it’s back to weekends of football on the couch and crockpot meals. Two things I can get behind.

My next seasonal penance won’t be until after Thanksgiving. Rollie’s Christmas Tree Farm you’re on notice as to how to improve my experience *Hint – Hot Chocolate Stand with optional Peppermint Schnaaps*