Tommy Boy

I got a note from my old friend MOC recently. She was wondering about my feelings regarding Tom Cruise's recent travails. I wish she had had the same level of concern for my feelings when she broke my fragile 14 year old heart back in the high school cafeteria. But I guess that's water under the bridge, at least for her.

The reason I haven't written about Tom is that I've been too busy stalking his family trying to get the first pictures of Suri. I could sell those to People and retire from this gig and do what I really want to do, which is make a rap and reggae album with Paris Hilton. I heard she thought her first album was so good that "I, like, cried". When I read that I, like, puked.

OK, back to Tommy Boy. He and Sumner Redstone apparently didn't see eye to eye so they had a parting of the ways. There were conflicting stories. Who is a blogger to believe?! A short, whacked Scientologist movie star or a cranky old capitalist? I'm torn. Oh DJ, you're glib. Tom has clearly made some errors in judgment recently. It was a colossal mistake to hire his sister to do his PR. Before she took over, I thought he was a reasonably adjusted 6 foot tall actor. He's since hired a new PR person but some may say the damage is done. Recently my sources told me that he is now putting his money and influence behind the effort to resurrect the career of his brother Pablo's band. And the latest is that he's lined up financing from a group led by Dan Snyder, owner of the Redskins. Snyder has managed to operate a consistently mediocre football team with his hundreds of millions of dollars so I'm wondering what great movies this pair will produce. I'm going to try to pitch a script to them called "The Placekicker", with Cruise playing the lead role in a Garo Yepremian biopic. If things don't work out with this new partnership I think Tom will still be OK. I'm sure he's saved a few bucks. If not, he can get a job with Ethan Allen's quality control department as the head sofa jumper.

In closing, I'd like to address a recent comment I received. One of my faithful readers may have misinterpreted my remarks regarding CSI. I'm reasonably sure it was The Upgrade King since he referenced "HD and Dolby Digital 5.1". I'd like to assure him that I was not dissing CSI. I was dissing K-Fed. I don't watch CSI. I only watch PBS and the E Channel. I have to make sure I stay on The Upgrade King's good side. He has a house in Tahoe and he might be able to help me find a job in the valley once my current company fires me.

Say It Ain't So Elton

The following is a quote from Sir Elton John in a recent Rolling Stone interview:

"I want to work with Pharrell (Williams), Timbaland, Snoop (Dogg), Kanye (West), Eminem and just see what happens. It may be a disaster, it could be fantastic, but you don't know until you try"

I'm afraid it would be the former. Now exactly what the hell is he thinking? The creator of dozens of amazing tunes must be bored to death or craving the limelight so much that he's willing to tarnish what's left of his reputation. Or is he simply entering his dotage a bit early. In any case, I can't handle it. Can you imagine "Your Song" with a heavy bass line? Maybe he'll team up with K-Fed for a lollapalooza of an embarrassment fest. Elton, rest on your laurels, please!!

Speaking of K-Fed, it looks like he'll be on an episode of CSI next season. What does CSI stand for again? Crap Sneaks In? I'm busting my butt doing real work 10 to 15 hours a week and this guy gets to lollygag about busting rhymes and escorting his hillbilly heartthrob around. Life ain't fair!

Snap, Cackle, Pop

It ain’t easy being me. I would sometimes like to return to the halcyon days before my blog made me famous. I could just write for fun back then. Now the demands on my time are almost oppressive. Despite exhortations from my #2 reader to document our weekend, he needs to understand that a creative genius needs time. He must think this blog thing is a snap. But as W said eleven times during one of the 2004 presidential debates, “It’s hard work”.

I spent this past weekend up in Murphys, CA, gold country in the Sierra foothills, with #1, #2 and The Belgian. Our families came along as well but we managed to ignore them most of the time. Saturday afternoon the numbers and I did some wine tasting. I tried to impress them with the breadth of my oenological knowledge. When a Viognier was poured, I stated, with an air of insouciance, that it tasted like white wine. #1 spent most of the time schmoozing the winemaker’s brother, who carries the official title of The Winemaker’s Brother. It turns out #1 helped them get a new account in our lovely suburban neck of the woods. I hope that’s good for a few bottles of Zin. Just as we were leaving, The Belgian showed up. That guy has to work on his timing.

We went out to dinner Saturday night, with a couple bottles of red we had picked up on our afternoon tour. The men sat on one side of the table, the women on the other. The women got a little raucous but the guys took it in stride, though after a few stares from the other diners we had to quiet them. Somebody referred to the “cackle” a couple times, I can’t recall who, right before we made them pay for dinner. They’re off on a ladies weekend next month so they’re on their on, which means they’ll probably get kicked out of a few establishments.

Our hotel accommodations were stellar. They had a nice little pool that we dominated most of the weekend. The cement pond had a strict no food and beverage policy which we wantonly violated. My family rented the luxury suite, the only one in the place, which became party central. The suite came with a couch that converted into a deformed bed, a mini-fridge and sink. The kids spent a lot of their time there when they weren’t out at the pool or wandering around the town. We even had two TVs. We spare no expense.

We hit the road Sunday, but not before spending a few hours at a local park, which I think my wife may have described as “cute”. There was a stream running through it and some of the kids decided to wade in. There was a big crowd at another section of the park. We later found out that the Governator was due in town that day. We decided to bail out before he arrived to shake babies and kiss hands.

OK, my creative juices are drained so that’s a wrap. It’s time to go pour a pop.

Nothing

Seinfeld had a show about nothing so I can have a blog about nothing. I have nothing to say and I plan to say it at length.

You might want to go grab a cup of coffee because this post is going to be an especially dull one. Wait, maybe you should forego the coffee. Ah, go ahead. Can’t make up your mind? Join the scientists. I’m hearing from CBS that coffee can trigger a heart attack within an hour in some people. The New York Times tell me it reduces the risk of “diabetes, heart disease and cirrhosis of the liver.” Starbucks is giving away free iced coffee today. I guess I should run down there. Then again...

There’s been quite a spate of celebrity break-ups lately, including Electra/Navarro and Hudson/Robinson. And the dude from Blink 182 is ranting about his split on MySpace. Damn, he’s worse than that guy from DJ’s Detritus. He ought to give it a rest and go get another tattoo. But as one door closes, another opens. Kid Rock and Pam Anderson got married last month. That one’s a keeper. I don’t have much else to say on celebrities that are still alive. Today marks 29 years since Elvis croaked in the crapper. I remember where I was when I heard the news. I was picking up a case of beer in my old stomping grounds in upstate NY. Is beer good for you or bad for you?

Vacation’s All I Ever Wanted

We just got back from a two week family vacation to the East Coast. We experienced a little turbulence on the plane and a lot more trying to deal with each other 24 hours a day. The family that plays together dismays together.

We touched down in DC after a direct flight out of SFO. We were supposed to do a stop over in Vegas but that flight somehow got canceled, unbeknownst to us. They put us on an Austin/Denver/DC flight that would have consumed about a 25% of our vacation time so my wife sprung into action and got us on standby. She can be assertive when necessary, like when we started going out. I was shy 28 year old back then. Now I’m a self-confident family man. At least that’s what she tells me.

Our first stop was at my brother-in-law’s house in Maryland. We were only there for a couple days but visited Georgetown University. I wanted to my son to see a few good schools so he at least knew what they looked like, since he won’t be getting into any. After that both families drove up to the Jersey shore for a few days relaxation at their newly purchased beach house. They had some construction going on so no tenants were in it that week. That saved us a pile of dough so I bought the brother-in-law a bottle of his favorite vodka, Popov in a plastic jug. The cousins had a lot of fun playing together. I almost beat the seven year old in mini golf. We spent every day on the beach, where you can go into the water without a wetsuit. We caught the full force of the East Coast heat wave so the beach was a good place to be.

We also had a mini family reunion with many Philly cousins on my mother’s side, some I had not seen for 25 years. It was great to see everybody and I’m sure they really enjoyed seeing me. I don’t know how so much time passed. That stretch I did at Lompoc with Boesky only explains a couple years.

After the shore we headed up the Garden State Parkway to lovely Summit, NJ. My college buddy Wig lives there with his wife and four kids in a gorgeous turn of the century house, replete with carriage house. California’s equivalent is an Eichler with a carport. We interrupted the normal flow of family life at the Wig household but they all handled it with consummate aplomb. We had some great meals and spent a day at the pool during one of those 100 degree, 100% humidity days. We said our goodbyes on Wig’s birthday and headed off to the palatial Newark train station. The Wigs will also shortly be saying goodbye to son #2, who’s heading off to the University of Wisconsin this month. Bring your parka J!

We took the train up to Boston, where the record temperatures continued. It was a good day to spend four hours in an air-conditioned train. Our apartment was a short hop from the station and in the middle of a great neighborhood. There was a Starbucks right downstairs. I think that was one of the criteria for my wife when she planned lodging. She’s gotta have ready access to those quad lattes. We were on Boylston and the next street down was Newbury. Newbury St. has tons of restaurants as well as cute little shops where you can buy stuff that you don’t need. One thing that I did need was a screwdriver to fix my kid’s toy so I went down to Restoration Hardware on Boylston and Exeter. They couldn’t help me with the screwdriver but I did come out of there with some really nice Meyer Lemon hand soap with matching hand cream.

All the kids were troopers on the next day’s walking tour. It was still hot but we all did pretty well. We went to Boston Common, the scene of the children’s story “Make Way for Ducklings”. My mom used to read me that story every night until I was about three, which is when I requested some Dostoevsky. We took pictures by the duckling statues and then headed off to a nearby pub for lunch. That was an adventure. I went into the bathroom and found that the stall was occupied. In the crack of the door I noticed a leg propped up in a non-standard position for such a place. And it wasn’t moving. I politely explained to the bartender that perhaps one of the employees was taking an extended break. On our way out we saw two rubber gloved Boston PD officers coming in to address the issue.

The heat broke the next day, dropping 25 degrees or so, just right for a bunch of spoiled Californians. We took son #1 up to Boston College to take another look at what he ain’t getting. It was a very impressive school and the presentation and tours were student led. They all demonstrated a level of maturity I finally achieved in my late 30’s. We then hopped on the T and headed back to our temporary abode. My wife took the kids out in the afternoon, either to let me get some rest or to get the hell away from me.

Our last day there I got a chance to see my good bud The Wolverine. We have so much in common, which is disturbing. I suggested a nearby tapas restaurant. He was very enthusiastic. But then I had to explain, “Tapas, not Topless”. We had a good time nonetheless. The service was a little spotty. I had to haughtily send my martini back since it had an olive instead of a twist. The food was very good though. Gambas al Ajillo is the right stuff. That’s garlic shrimp in case you didn’t major in Spanish.

The next day we headed off to an airport hotel since we had a 6am flight the next day. I like to refer to this phase of the trip as “Intrigue at The Hilton”. We’re a family of five and you can only have four in a room. So my wife took the twins in to register while son #1 and I came in later. We saw the twins still waiting for my wife but we couldn’t make eye contact. We grabbed a seat in a different part of the lobby and communicated via cell phone. Once they were safely ensconced in the room, they called us with the room number. When we got up there I took off my trench coat and fedora and took a nap. Intrigue always makes me sleepy.