Out Like A Lamb

I figured I had to get one more in this month. I’m still in competition with The Exec. He’s been cranking out posts on an almost daily basis since he re-introduced his blog a few months back.

We welcomed #1 to The Geezer Club this weekend. We had quite the soiree at his abode Saturday night for his 50th. His worlds collided when the village folks mixed with work folks, the Scout leadership team, and some of his pre-village pals. It wasn’t always pretty but there was enough high end booze and chow to keep a lid on things.

As is our custom, we put together a presentation to honor the birthday boy. Although The Exec was a driving force behind the project concept and TCG again asked excellent clarifying questions, I’m dedicating today’s post to #2. He spent countless hours cutting and splicing, or at least cutting and pasting, to come up with the final product. We’ll be at Sundance next year.

Welcome to the working week. I was on my way down to the cafeteria with a buddy today when I came up with a new diversion: elevator cage match. But since he’s about 6’5” and 240, I decided I would just introduce the idea as opposed to doing a demo.

This afternoon, I headed to one of my favorite lunch spots in San Jose, Hunan Taste. I highly recommend it. I often go with 4M but we’ve been on the outs lately. He has declined several pleas to be my Facebook friend. Then he knocked me for a loop a few weeks ago. We were supposed to go up to the city to see Lady Gaga. He calls me at the last minute and tells me he’s heading to L.A. for the weekend. I’ve invested 40 years in our friendship and sometimes it causes me nothing but hurt.

So, on my way to HT, I passed the Teamsters Local 287 on Fourth St. Milling about outside were four guys with turbans and long beards. I know we’ve got a global economy but these guys somehow don’t fit the typical Teamster image.

I went to the airport last week to say adios to my old man. He’s beginning the second season of his reality show, Geriatric Philippine Adventure. I bought some cashews to nosh on but he strong armed me for half the bag. Then they asked him for ID when he was checking in. He said “You talking to me? Who the hell you talking to? You talking to me?” His wife calmed him down and they got their bags checked without further incident. Then my siblings and I skedaddled while we had the chance. As I was pulling out of short term parking, I noticed the attendant’s name plate: CAM L. I kid you not.

Happy 64th Eric Clapton