"Sit on Down.....You are NOT the next one on The Price is Right"

     Well, this morning when I woke up, I was not in a brand new bedroom set. I did not wake up and play a game of pool like I thought I would do on my brand new pool table, I made coffee......but I did not add creamer from my brand new refrigerator and I am certainly not taking off this morning in my brand new convertible. Trust me.....I was soooooo hoping this blog would go differently today.

     For the one hour of nerve bending pricing games and prizes let me explain what goes on behind the scenes. Keep in mind, of all the warm days in sunny California we were attending on what could have been a New York winter day minus the 3 feet of snow. It was freezing. We were there with almost 30 people from the Cirque Du Soleil show (so I thought our odds would be good to get picked) and we all stood in line like cattle watching hell actually freeze over. We arrived around 11AM and took our place in line amongst the crowd. People baring shirts advertising their favorite Price is Right games, Plinko, Mountain Climber, hand written phrases like "Where the hell is Bob Barker", "Help me pay off my student loans", it was quite a site. The weirdest part is, I felt like I grew up with everyone in line. I could swear I had seen about half of these people on the show before.

     OK, so we enter the gate in numerical order based on the ticket number they give you and you are required to stay in that order for pretty much the remainder of the day. So "get to know your neighbor" is a bit of advice I can offer now. There is paperwork to fill out, birth name, social, and the written promise to turn over your first born child for a future prize on the show. So this is the second line we are waiting in with hopes that we will be in the studio in the next half hour. Not so much. Now we filter through an area with a green screen and blue screen to take pictures. Group photos, pictures with the "big wheel", etc. at $20 a pop. This must be where they get the money to give away at Plinko......which we DIDN'T get to play. Next we get issued our name tags.

     We're done right? Not a chance. After pictures are taken you filter into Line #3, in order, and don't step out of line or one of the pages will practically beat you back into place and it is time to await your interview. Interview?! Im an audience member! I considered myself lucky and was going to make the best of this. I have been applying for jobs for a year and a half now and haven't gotten an interview yet, so in my head......Im a winner! 12 people at a time meet with the producer as he interviews for contestants. I forgot to mention that it is now 3:30PM. We have been in the cold for over 4 hours so as you can imagine  my energy at this point resembled a half frozen deer in headlights watching a Mac Truck heading full force to discard me to the side of the highway. This interview.....this long awaited process of whether you would make it to contestant row or not.....this list full of questions.....well here it was......"So Joshua....what do you do?"......" I DONT HAVE A FRIGGIN JOB!!!!! Why do you think I'm interviewing?!" I completely forgot why I was there. My brain cells were frozen and part of me thought I was actually applying for a job with the studio. I was hungry.....cold......and hungry. Our interview lasted all of 1 minute as we were shuffled to Line #4......the other side of the building to freeze for another hour. The only thing that changed was the view. Metal detectors, scanners, irritated pages keeping the lines in numerical fashion, turn over your cell phone, and sit back down on another cold metal bench. (I know I can paint an ugly picture, this truly was a blast in some weird sadistic way but keep with me). So now we wait just a little longer, watching an old episode of Price is Right on the screens they had in the waiting area. I thought a good idea would be to trade the TV screens in for some heat lamps at this point.  FINALLY! 4:30 rolls around and we can enter the air conditioned studios. 5 and a half hours of lines and waiting for an hour of TV that the only participation I had in was to clap.

     Being in the studio and gracing the audiences of one of America's favorite game shows somehow made all the waiting a torture worth it. I do have to say, your energy starts off really high. Clapping, screaming, cheering for the contestant that "took YOUR spot" on contestant row, with hopes that your name is right around the corner. You could be next, so energy remains somewhat high. As things progress you feel your chances slipping away. So now you just clap really loudly, maybe let out a scream here and there, but as contestant after contestant gets called and it's NOT your name, you slowly are left with barely any energy and sore hands. But these people are smart. They keep your energy up until the end, because after the show is finished taping, they call one last name of someone who did not get to "Come on Down" and this person will be picked at random and win cash and a prize....but you have to keep the energy up. So I give it my all. One last vigorous clap, shouting at the top of my lungs for the cameras and as they call the woman's name who won it changed very quickly, you can only feign excitement for someone else winning so long....."Eh screw it! I didn't win. Let's go."

     Now, as treacherous as this sounded....I will go back. I will wait through the lines of anxiety once again. I will not let this stop me. I WILL spin that wheel! I WILL play Plinko and I will be the S.O.B. who overbid you by a dollar. I took with me the lessons I need to learn that you really need to be completely obnoxious and stand out in the crowd to be picked by the producer as a contestant. So next time.....WATCH OUT! I WILL be on. I WILL be the next contestant on THE PRICE IS RIGHT!!!

"Detergents, Canned Goods and Laxatives, 'The Price is Right Pre-Jitters'....."

     So tomorrow is the day. A large group of us including my best friend Jake and his mom, my friend Chris, his wife and his mom and a bunch of people I have yet to meet are mentally preparing for attending the Price is Right. I can remember as a kid, anytime you were home sick from school, the highlight of the day was couch, blankets, Cambell's Chicken Noodle Soup ($1.29 a can) and tuning in for the hour of The Price is Right. It was visual medicine for the soul. So, apparently they interview you in the beginning and all the contestants are pre-selected. So depending on how crazy you are.....you just may get selected to grace Contestant Row and have a chance to win some great prizes. With the crew I'm going with, I would say our odds are pretty stacked that at least one of us....one of us will be selected to partake. Should I be selected, here is what I am envisioning in my head as part of America's favorite game show.

     Da da duh daaaaaaa...da da duh da da daaaaaaaaa.......(Intro music) "Jooooooooosh Greeeeeeeco.....COME ON DOWN....You are the next contestant on THE PRICE IS RIGHT".....Making it to Contestant Row would allow me to put a check on my bucket list. Watching this show as a kid I have always wondered what it would be like, and I have a list of things I want to do on this show regardless of whether I win anything or not. First.....I want to be that jackass that either says, "I would like to bid $1.00" or....."What was the highest bid?" To which Drew would reply, "$750". And to that I would answer, "I would like to bid 751....dollars....please." Then look down contestant row with that snarky little smile like they all do. Should I come closest to the ACTUAL RETAIL PRICE without overbidding I would be beside myself. I may faint, I'll probably pee a little bit and Ill bum rush the stage with high hopes to engage in the following: Plinko! Is that not the best game? Pretty much guaranteed money. Either Plinko or the Mountain Climber guy that you hope doesn't fall over the top of the cliff by overbidding. "Yooooodel yoo oh weh he yoooodel yodel eh heeeee".....I can hear the music now as he stops short and I win a BRAND NEW JET SKI!!!!!

     Let's all agree on a couple of things. First, although it is so much more fun to win, just to be able to spin the giant wheel would be a year's worth of excitement in one turn.....one turn hopefully landing on $1.00. I want to spin it so hard it derails. I think it would be quite a site to see the giant wheel take off into the audience. Secondly, if I should be so lucky to make it to the Final Showcase Showdown aaaaand be the first contestant to bid, my mind is already made up. I don't care what they show me in the first showcase because usually it is some chinaware, a popcorn and pinball machine and then they try and hook you with either a cool piece of electronic equipment or a trip somewhere. Now, pinball would be fun and I know the taste of fresh popped popcorn is amazing, but the second showcase is ALWAYS better. Always! If they happened to offer a pool table in the first showcase....well then I have decisions to make. That would definitely alter my plan and I would need a commercial break to organize my thoughts. But more than likely....if I don't see a pool table.....I will lean down to the microphone in classic Price is Right fashion....look over to Drew Carey and utter what many a first contestant has uttered....."I'm gonna go ahead and PASS...."

     I guess in less than 24 hours we will be on our way to see what happens, But in my head I've already won a brand new convertible, $25,000 (that is including the bonus spin on the wheel after hitting $1.00), the jet ski, a trip to Italy (who knew....they put the trip in the second showcase).....and my pool table (also in the second showcase....It's a DREAM people...IT CAN HAPPEN!) But for now I am off to the grocery store to study. I need to brush up on the going rates for detergents, canned goods and laxatives.....

   

Blackjack, Bras and Burgers

     Let's venture to Las Vegas, shall we? (This is where my mother will stop reading. I can just hear her. Jooooooosh.....Vegas? You don't have money to go there. You should be applying for jobs.....) Well mom, you can relax, this story takes place a couple years ago so just find it's entertainment value and keep reading. We can pray for my soul afterwards. :)

     So my buddy and I decided to take the 4 hour weekend jaunt up to Las Vegas. It was the middle of August, hot as hell and we were both itching to ditch the L.A. scene for a day and try our luck at the blackjack tables. For any of you that have never been to Las Vegas, as fun as it is, August.....probably not the time to go. It was so hot out, that on the drive through the Mojave, my lips chapped 45 minutes into the drive. However, the roads were clear and we made impeccable timing. What should have taken around 4 hours took me 3 hours and 20 minutes and we were on Frank Sinatra Blvd. Two blocks from our destination, Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino. As they were building the new City Center, construction was at one of its worst I had ever seen. We literally watched the light change from red to green dozens of times before moving an inch. For the first half hour I remained calm....it's Vegas....nothing can bring me down. Well the next 45 minutes took that theory and shot the hell out of it. Do the math. 2 blocks....an hour and 15 minutes. That was more than a third of the time it took me to get from Los Angeles to Vegas. Not cool. I seriously considered parking the car in the middle of the street and abandoning ship. But alas, we made it. Checked in, grabbed a bite to eat and sought out our lucky blackjack table.

     Now, call me low class, but I feel no need to wager $25 a pop on a hand of blackjack, so I look for low limit tables. This kind of gambling to me is fun. You can play all night for the price of a movie and a popcorn and hopefully take home some winnings.....which I did. So that brings us to one of my favorite holes in the wall, Slots of Fun. $3 blackjack. Now I am not going to sugar coat this, or try and paint a pretty picture. This place always smells like someone farted their way through the entrance to the gaming area so again, this is no Bellagio. However, by the time we got there, waited for seats and started playing it was close to midnight. The crowd? Well you can just imagine.

     Two people we had met that night, Doreen and Russell. From Texas. They were in town to see the NASCAR race. From what appeared to be husband and wife, I later found out.....mother and son. Not gonna get into it, but none the less, there was high fiving when we got blackjack, hopping and hollaring at the table and a great energy. So in my book they were a lot of fun. Around 3AM, Doreen, in perfect redneck fashion, announces she is 'done near' hungry. "Done Near?" I asked. "Is that all one word? Spelling please?" She proceeds to reach down the front of her shirt, into her bra and pull out a pancaked burger. My jaw dropped. Im hoping fries and a coke aren't going to accompany this meal because God knows where those are gonna be pulled out of. As if nothing was out of the ordinary, she just starts eating it at the table. There was a good 5 minutes of staring, the blackjack dealer completely stopped dealing cards and I couldn't help myself....."Doreeeeeen! What the hell?! Did you just pull a Big Mac out of your bra?" Her son Russell just sat there. Probably wondered where his burger was and finally play continued.

     As if this image wasn't already singed into my brain, there was no forgetting what happened. Everyone who sat at that table from there on out was brought up to speed as Doreen piped from the table....."You guys missed it...about an hour or so ago I 'done near' pulled a burger out mah titties." And everytime I looked over at Russell figuring this has got to be weird sitting at a table with your MOTHER pulling food articles from her undergarments and telling everyone about it. Nope. He did not look phased by this. As a matter of fact it was like he was rooting her on and somewhat proud that his mother could make a blue collar meal appear like Houdini.

     Despite it all, we overcame what we had witnessed and played blackjack from midnight until 1 o'clock the next afternoon. I am not embellishing. I literally played through checkout and had to book the room another night so I could sleep. We watched dealers come and go, change shifts and return the next day. Oh the looks we got. "You are still here?!" some of them said. Now happily we all left quadrupling our money. I apparently was calling cards out in my sleep. "I need an Ace....gimme an ace....Zzzzzzzzzz...." I had to pull over on the drive back to L.A. as I saw images of the Ace of Spades and face cards floating by me on the highway. All in all it ended up being a really fun trip to Vegas. Definitely inherited a story to tell and it resulted in a pretty prosperous trip to the tables. Never judge a book by its cover folks. Two people that at first glance I thought to myself "Dear Lord these people are from another planet", ended up making one of the best times I had in Vegas. It takes all walks of life to make this world go 'round and you can learn something from everyone. Like.....how to keep a burger warm for 4 hours before you decide to eat it.......(Mom, if you made it this far.....I'll be expecting your phone call.....)

"Praying, Pasta and the Family Tree": Growing Up Italian in Endicott, NY

Before diving in, I have to say Endicott is a wonderful place to haveroots. It’s a typical small town of mainly Catholic Italians, each and everyonelike a character on the Soprano’s. For the most part it was safe, fun andthought there wasn’t a ton to do we have bragging rights to being the CarouselCapital of the World. I know, Huge!!! Just to give you an idea of HOW Italianour town is…..let me just fling out a couple of the last names starting at thetop of Oak Hill and working down toward Consol’s Pizza. I am not listing thesenames with any favorites in mind, just the first bunch that pop in my head soall you hot headed Italians that I don’t mention, my apologies. Here we go,obviously Greco, Fiori, Daglio, Pitarelli, Sementelli, Iacovelli, Roma, Bertoni,Tanzini, Fiaco, Giovanelli, Spinelli, (Im getting dizzy, or on my way tocomposing an Italian rap single.) Fiorini, Cieri, Lombardo, Conti, Corino, Nirchi, Rossi…..OK I’ll stop but you getthe idea.

One of my favorite things about being Italian as you can very wellguess, is the food. First off, youreally can’t call yourself Italian until you have your own meatball and saucerecipe, and you also have to be able to cut garlic cloves paper thin with arazor blade. Otherwise…..you’re just European…..not Italian. Secondly, you haveto know what the cornuto or ‘egorne’ is. For those of you that don’t, it’s theHorn pendent many Italians bare around their neck. Cornuto meaning “littlehorn”. This protects you against the infamous “evil eye” or malokio (TheItalian curse) that many scorned Italian women like to dish out. But I digress,back to the food. From pizza, to pasta, fresh baked bread from any of thebakeries (all owned by well known family friends) to mom’s homemade lasagne andchicken cutlet. Pepper cookies, pizelle and pizza fritte hand stretched, friedand powdered with sugar by the sweetest little Italian ladies you couldimagine. As for Italian restaurants, well take your pick. Every eatery isfamily owned and the food just as delicious as the next. Not really an Italianfood chain to be found in our hometown and honestly not necessary. Homemade isthe way to go. Another thing that brings recognition to good ol’ Endicott isthe spiedie. Originally marinated lamb chunks, grilled and placed in thefreshest slice of Italian bread creating what many people in Endicott refer toas a “sangwich”.

So now that brings us to the people, traditions and the “Italian”protocol. To keep this somewhat concise, Im going to paint a picture. It’sChristmas Eve (afternoon), everyone’s a bustle, and I don’t have a single giftwrapped. I get the first call from the Tanzini residence. It’s my friend Kristyinforming me that the chicken cutlets are done, Aunt Rita says hello andVincenzo (her father) is in full reclined position in the La Z Boy. I have no relation to Aunt Rita, but inEndicott everyone is your aunt, uncle our cugino (cousin). Then there isdiscussion of what time we will be meeting for Midnight mass. Do carols startat 11? Or 11:30? So I head down for a quick hello and a tasty bite to eat.Presents can wait to be wrapped. The Tanzini house is a blast as always but Ineed to head home and get ready for 5 o’clock mass. That’s right…this is thefirst church service we attend.

So I get home and grab a roll of wrapping paper only to have the phonering again. It’s the Fiori’sacross the street. More chickencutlets, lasagna, vino and a kitchen island full of Italian pastries andcookies. I can eat again. So I venture over with a bottle of my dad’s homemadewine and a plate of prosciutto that he made and hung in our basement. Beinggreeted at the door, it’s almost like a police line up. Rosemary and Vicwelcome me at the door followed by Maria, Lisa and Joe…..then there’s theextended family tree all in a line behind waiting for the introduction. And itgoes something like this. “Who is this?” someone asks from beyond. “Rosemaryreplies, “It’s Josh…….Greco….from across the street. Carmen and Kathy’s boy.”To which a little Italian lady steps forward and puts me through theinquisition. “Who’s your grandparents? Start with your mother’s side.” So Itell her “Leon and Betty”. “YourDad’s side?” she asks. “Agnes and Anthony…..people called him Hobo (only inEndicott). There is some silence, some scowling and then a giantsmile…..”AHhhhhhhhhhhhh Greco! Come in come in! You want some wine? Have acutlet…..try the pepper cookies I made them today.” So I eat…..once again, havea couple glasses of wine and now I need to get ready for church.

Our family attends service with more Italians mingling and catching upwith introductions much similar to the one I’ve described. It’s now time tohead home for OUR Christmas feast. Yeah…..we eat again…..Fish fry, stuffed shells,maybe some lasagna and of course more homemade wine. I work off the food comaon the couch, shoes off hand tucked in the front of my pants “Al Bundy style”and awake to realize I need to get ready for midnight mass. Midnight mass is arite of passage in the Italian community. And there is no getting out of it.Trust me. There is a test later from the grandparents. “Who said mass? Did youbring back a bulletin? What was the sermon about?” And if you fumble or stutterfor answers….you get a schioff. (That’s a quick slap to the back of the head)

So it’s now 1 in the morning, no presents are wrapped. I’ve been tochurch TWICE….eaten dinner THREE times and the homemade wine is starting topickle my sense of urgency to get the presents wrapped. So I need a helper.It’s been tradition that the Fiori girl (Lisa) comes over across the street witha bottle of her dad’s vino and I bring yet another bottle of my dad’s vino andwe hunker down for a wine tasting and gift wrapping session until about 3am. Nothing beats her showing up at my doorwith a Santa hat, sweats and high heels ready for the wrapping marathon.

This is a very small part of my roots and heritage that I have becomeproud of over the years. Thisdepiction is just a single day out of the year in the Italian way of life. Toreview some bullet points about being Italian. 1.) Go to church and don’tforget to put your offering in the basket. 2.) Know your family tree and 3.)…..andmost importantly especially in my book…….EAT!!!!!!!

Just Get Rid of it Already...

     So I've decided to get an early start on Spring cleaning. I'm going through clothing, souveniers, odds and ends and clutter. Sounds easy? Well, here is a bit of advice I can give you. Do NOT attempt this alone. One of the most important things to utilize when Spring cleaning is a friend. A friend who has no attachment to your things and a level head. Make a pact with them before the cleaning starts and tell him/her the following..."My dear friend, here is how this is going to go down. As we progress in this cleaning expedition I will be clever, cunning and down right vicious to hold on to each and every one of these belongings. I will argue with you, I will come up with outlandish excuses as to why I need to keep these things, but you have a job to do. Talk me out of it. Out of every 10 things I try to save, your goal is to talk me into getting rid of at least 5 of them.....or you're fired. You can still be my friend, but our time cleaning together will come to an end. Can you handle this? Are you ready? Then let us begin."

     Recently, my dear friend Heather manned up and took on the job. And boy was she good. It started with my clothing. Now to give myself some credit, I was doing good at first. I was at the point where I just wanted to downsize and get rid of things. So old jeans, flannels and courdoroy pants all made their way to the Goodwill bag. I got rid of so many things and it was feeling great. Now we work our way to shoes.....this is where things started to get ugly. "Josh," she said, "you have a pair of shoes for each day of the year! We need to get rid of half of these!" Keeping my cool, I smiled.....my heart started beating rapidly and I sweat a little bit. As I was inches away from saying, "You're fired!" I tried to look at things rationally. On the verge of a breakdown I grabbed the bag and made my way toward my shoes. Sly as ever I created a diversion. "Heather! Look at all these clothes I got rid of." I needed to pull attention from the shoes. Heather replied, "I know....you're doing great! The shoes! Where do you want to start?" (Damn! I told you she was good. She's on to me. She sensed the diversion and got us right back on track.) "What are we going to do for lunch?" I asked. (Food....always my go to) "Throw away some shoes and maybe have a sandwich." she said. (This was not going to be easy). So not to be outsmarted, I did what I knew I had to do. Everyone at some point needs to make a sacrifice. I looked around for the perfect sacrificial lamb...a pair of old Adidas. Laces busted and re-tied together, the material scuffed and muddied and the soles a thread away from complete detachment. This hurt. I tossed them in the bag. One pair gone. That's plenty....I thought to myself. "OK I said, I want to feel like we've made progress, so let's tie up the bags we've filled and bring them to my car so I don't start second guessing what I've thrown away." "Great idea!" she said. (Haha! I've got her where I want her now.) So wel haul some bags down to the car.....manual labor. Movement. The type of work that makes one hungry. After loading the car we both realized the progress I had made. "So what are we thinking for lunch?" Heather asked. (Yes! Success! I knew the remainder of my shoes were staying with me).

     My plan had worked. We ate lunch and made our way back to our cleaning frenzy and I suggested starting with the bins of clutter that in some way shape or form had special meaning to me. Stuff I have collected from around the world and my travels, or gifts people had given me. Bin after bin, Heather was adhering to her job. I was doing good, but occasionally would come across something I physically and mentally did NOT know how to throw away....."Heather," I said, "How am I suppose to throw away Jesus on the cross? I feel like it's sacreligious." "Josh! He has a broken arm! He's not even hanging on the cross anymore, he's just dangling there." So I contemplated and repeated myself, "Yeah, but how do I throw it away?" "Like this!" she said, as she opened the bag and gave poor Jesus a vertical drop of about 5 feet into the Goodwill bag. I felt faint. Like a bolt of lightning would come crashing through my apartment and strike me and burn half of my shoes. But much to my dismay, nothing happened. I think we were gonna make it through this. This gave me the courage I needed to keep cleaning. If I made it through tossing "wounded Jesus" in the bag, I certainly have no business holding on to my old fishing vest (which my sister still gives me a hard time about wearing), water bottles from every convention known to man and enough pens to drop Bic off the Dow Jones.

     At the end of the day, it was a success. I got rid of so much clutter, I felt like I had room to breathe and me and my shoes would now have a ton of space to roam clutter free. It felt great. I thanked Heather, as I wouldn't have been able to do it without her. I still felt uneasy about something and I couldn't quite put my finger on it but I chalked it up to having a long day and figured it was the aftermath of tossing our savior to the Goodwill bag. So Heather left and life goes on I guess.

     I know some of you are wondering, what was it that was making me feel so uneasy? Well, honestly, I should keep it a secret, but I will tell you this much.....right now I'm realizing I need to get ready for a meeting with my financial advisor. Im still on my porch writing and Im in my pajamas and I need to get showered and ready to go. I should probably post this blog, get up and head in to get ready.....and hopefully I don't trip over the soles of my worn out Adidas.

Blog on the Go - "Artisan House"

For those of you in Los Angeles. Highly recommended. Artisan House. At the bottom of the Pacific Electric Building in downtown L.A. Amazing food, great presentation, attentive service and pretty tasty cocktails. Monthly menu changes with some remaining classics. Just had a smokey Pimenton fried spicy chicken cutlet with greens, onions, saffron aioli and fresh baked pretzel bread. It was so good I kid you not I am ordering another one. If you are in the downtown area, check it out.

I Believe the Children Are Our Future.....

     .....I figured this was appropriate for recent events. For God's sake let the woman rest in peace. I love Whitney and all, she was and is a phenomenal talent taken too soon. But do we need to parade her body around like the pope? Believe me, there are millions of other things happening in this world today. Our troops are at war, there's a political debate that seems like it was drawn from a Three Stooges script and an economy thats one flush away from dumping into a National landfill. However, not what this blog is about.

     Back to the song....For many of you that know the next line in this song, Whitney said it the best. "I believe the children are our future." Now pay attention! "Teach them WELL and let them lead the way." I've got to say, as much as we want to blame the media, technology and entertainment content; the basis of who our children are turning out to be starts at home. To be fair, it's one of the hardest jobs I'm sure, and I can only speak from what I've witnessed as I don't yet have kids of my own, so as not to get on a high horse and knock those that are doing one of life's toughest jobs. Kudos to those that are great parents.

     But, I'm sure we have all witnessed at one point the epidemic of children running the household. Children "needing" the newest Playstation, or latest cell phone model, or designer clothing....WHAT?! It wasn't THAT long ago that I was a kid and there was this thing my parents used to tell me when I was craving some ridiculous new marketing trap, be it Nike pump sneakers, Super Nintendo or some other ridiculous device that we THOUGHT we needed to be accepted by our peers. Let's see, how did that saying go?.....My father said it well.....It started off simple and ended without room for argument. Ahhhhh, that's right......"No!" (There may have been some expletives used in between, but keeping this a somewhat tidy blog, I will trust you get the gist.) Now, not that we never got anything as kids but we were taught the value of it. Sometimes had to work for it, ya know....earn it. Kind of like the real world. Through this we learned to appreciate things and not take them for granted. Nowadays, parents go just a bit to over the edge when trying to tame the "little monsters" back at home that have demanded the latest and greatest and are firmly waiting for them back home, arms crossed, bottom lip in full pout until they see shiny new electronics come through the front door. True story: My sister worked some time at Target out in San Diego and literally had a woman get in her face after being told they were out of the Sony PSP (Handheld Playstation). Told her, "You don't understand miss! My kid NEEDS this. So where are they? You got them in the back? Did you reserve one that you aren't selling so you can bring it home?!" The audacity! The worst part was this was for an EASTER present. Not even Christmas! EASTER PRESENTS?! What happened to Peeps and a Cadbury Egg?! My sister calmly replied, "No ma'am, the status remains, we are still out of the PSP." My kid NEEDS this. No.....what your kid NEEDS is a swift kick in the ass and a dose of reality and probably a little exercise. Here's a whiffle ball and a bat. Send them outside to play and move around a little.

     I received a call one time at an office I was working at because someone from our number kept calling their daughter's cell phone. Here is how the call went:
     ME: "Broadcast Plus, Josh speaking."
     CALLER: "Hi. Someone at this number keeps calling my 7 year old on her cell phone and its uncalled for. Can you remove her number from your list?"
     ME: (What I actually said): "Im sorry sir, we will go ahead and make sure she isn't bothered again. Our apologies."

     ME: (What I should have said): "Im gonna go ahead and stop you sir.....did you say 7 year old? I believe what's uncalled for is that your daughter has barely learned what a prime number is, but she can speed dial and group text. That girl must have some well attended tea parties."

I was absolutely shocked. But we really should stop and look at what we are surrounded by. Our role models. Snooki? The Kardashians? The "Real" Housewives? First of all the only thing "Real" on any one of those shows is the script. OK, I know, Im going to step down off the soap box and try and keep it light. God knows I can go on about this.

     In closing, it's just the reality that Hide and Seek has turned into Hunt and Kill, family time around the table has turned into "I'll text you later", and ironically enough, the respect for Mom and Dad is dependent on labels and price tags. I can luckily say to my parents, "Thank You." It was a perfect balance of being treated to some material things but most importantly values and what's truly important. And once again, Whitney said it best....."I Will Always Love You."

Would You Like a TV with that Sir?

     I will start by saying I love my family very much. I wouldn't trade any of them for anyone. They are each their own character and over time you will get to experience each and every one of them through what I share with you. Now, obviously I can't share it all, but I can try and relay the comical depictions that are true accounts and will leave you shaking your head saying, "Now it makes sense. This explains why Josh is the way he is." Some of you may know my family and others....well....buckle up. Six Flags and Disney World combined couldn't put together a ride like this.

     My father, Carmen,.....where do I begin? 6'7" of pure unadulterated wisdom and hilarium all rolled into one lanky package. Lets rewind a couple months back to Christmas. Now, mind you, my father is one of the hardest people to Christmas shop for. He has more jeans and T-shirts than the Kardashian sisters have shoes. Every year we tell him, "Dad, carry a pen and paper and when you think of something you need, write it down for your Christmas List so you aren't fumbling for answers every year." But none the less, every year it's the same....."Uhhhhhhhhh......Jesus....I don't know. I think of all these things and then I can't remember them when you ask." (Hmmmmmm.....maybe you should write them down. Just a thought. Or maybe Ill get him pen and paper for Christmas.) So the fumbling continues and then we finally get some good solid answers out of him. You know what he wanted this year for Christmas? Only my father.....this was the list I got. Biscotti's, cheese balls, sesame sticks and cashews. What the hell happened to fathers wanting a hammer, or a new saw. I could throw in a dozen hot wings and I got Christmas and Fathers Day covered. So his Christmas list, closely resembled a shopping list for a frat house between bong hits. I guess it was better than the year he told us he wanted spinner rims for his truck. I was in awe. I wondered if he joined a gang, or moved to the hood.

     I found it hard to get in the Christmas spirit shopping for night time snacks so I went out on a limb and tried to offer suggestions. Do you need anything for your computer? He would reply, "No, I got enough sh*t in my computer area, I already can't keep track of it all." How about new slippers? "No, I haven't worn a hole through the ones I have. Hell, I haven't even duct taped the back of these ones yet." So now Im reaching for ideas. Beyond my price range but I figured if us three kids when in on it, maybe he would enjoy a nice new flat screen TV. I told him of my adventure getting a great deal at Target on a new 40" flat screen and a blu-ray player all for about $380.00. Little did I know where this was headed. He said to me, "Ohhhhh....well I got a TV already. I got mine for free." (Well how the hell did he manage that?) Let me indulge you.

     Good ol' Carmen goes through trucks, ironically, quicker than he goes through a pair of slippers. He was in the market to get a new truck. If you've never had the chance to sell my father a truck....well.....uhhhhh.....DON'T. Consider yourself lucky. This year at the dealership they do daily raffles giving away TVs and electronics to anyone that wants to come in, eat free hot dogs and sit in their lobby for the remainder of the day. So you can imagine the clientele that we are dealing with. My father doing his usual wheeling and dealing gets very close to buying a brand new truck from the dealer. What would put him over the edge and solidify the deal? Well, a brand new TV thrown in for free of course. He actually tells the lady at the counter as if ordering a #6 at Wendy's, "I'll take the truck sweetheart, but I need you to do me a favor. I want one of those TVs you are raffling off to go with it." She tells him, "Carmen, I can't do that. Those are prizes for our guests today." To which he replies, "Well then Im leaving. Call me when I can get the truck AND the TV." You see, my father, in his mind thought it was ridiculous (and now I kind of have to agree), that people who by no stretch of the imagination are there to by a car. Why should they get a free TV when he is purchasing a $40,000 truck? The pinnacle of this story is when my father is recounting this story back to me, he said to me, "Well I just find it ridiculous. I'm buying a $40,000 truck. Shouldn't I get a TV?!!!" I said, "No Dad.....you should get a $40,000 truck. That's like going to the grocery store and saying, listen, I just bought a $4.00 loaf of bread....shouldn't they throw in some salami and prosciutto."

     Well needless to say, I was wrong. In some twisted pattern of fate, when my father was at the dealership arguing with the poor lady behind the counter, I guess the guy who runs the dealership overheard what he was explaining to this woman. He calls my father and says the following, "Carmen, ya know, I went home last night and I thought to myself, Gosh, what an asshole. Then as I laid in bed your logic started making sense to me. Why ARE these people who aren't going to buy anything from us getting free stuff? I want you to come back in tomorrow, your truck is ready. And there's a present in the back of it for you."

     ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! He got his TV! He got his freakin' TV! Only my father would find a way to buy a truck and Super Size it with a new 42" flat screen TV off the lot. So that Christmas present idea was blown to bits and all I'm thinking is cheese balls and biscotti. To hell with it! Son of a bitch just got a brand new TV for free. He's getting snacks this year!

     Dad, you know I love you and I don't ever want you to change. Truth be told, you have taught me more than you know about some of the funny ways life works and have contributed a lot to who I am today and I'll never stop loving you for it. You truly are unique in the best way possible and I've enjoyed every minute of learning from you and gaining in your wisdom, albeit derelict and comical. Just do me a favor, when you finish reading this, I want you to start working on MY Christmas present for next year. I could use a shiny new pickup truck, something fire engine red with an extended cap and wide wheel base. Now I'm not asking for you to buy me a new truck, but I do hear Target has a sale on toasters. Get mom a new toaster and hell at that point, why SHOULDN'T they give you a free truck?!

 

My Apartment.....The Complex

     Im going to attempt to bring you up to speed on an ongoing saga and hopefully introduce a few characters to you from what I refer to as "My Life as a Sitcom". The apartment I live in, itself, is essentially it's own sitcom waiting to happen. From my landlord Diana, who vocally is nothing short of a female version of Hank Hill (King of the Hill), to Roger, the clairvoyant (or he will tell you claircognant, which I can't find spelling for, so that alone should tell you how good of a clair....whatever he is, he actually is) has lived here for I think 38 years, constantly gambles on horses and always has the same story of how he missed it by one horse and should be a millionaire that day. His apartment...let's just say the production crew for "Hoarders" would head for the hills and seek employment elsewhere. Then there are the few sane people that live in this complex who in passing we exchange eye rolls and exhausting sighs after listening to the insane babble from "Team Crazy". Is it wrong fort me to just want to have a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle on my balcony and not have to deal with a daily.....and I do mean daily distraction of how the woman below me doesn't have water pressure, and it's somehow tied to my apartment, and the plumber and...."Oh for God sake! What does this have to do with me?! What does she want? Tell her to soap up and Ill blast her with the hose, or throw water balloons at her until she's clean! Just let me have my coffee! Then in true Ringling Brothers Fashion, after ohhhhhhh I'd say an hour of torment from Diana (the landlord) and her artistic way of saying the same thing in about 90 different ways, over and over, when bottom line.....she could have said to me "Plumber will be here Monday at 9:30 and he may need to enter your apartment." Done! Fine! Great! Pass the cream and sugar, coffee is getting cold. Out comes Roger,.....(I'm going to stop typing right now, I kid you not, Diana is approaching.....I need to find somewhere else to write my blog other than my balcony.....I'll be back).....

.....Well that was nothing short of painful. Let me remove the pen I tried piercing my ear drum with and continue...where were we....ahhhhh yes! Roger! He will come out, on his way to do his black topping. He will mutter something that he thinks is funny, Ill give the courtesy chuckle and then he will just invite himself up the stairs to my blacony and fill me in on the same crap I heard the day before. How he missed again on the horses. He's doing a job in Pamona and the guy hasn't paid him yet and owes him 3000 dollars, women don't want him and the only women he can get are crazy and insane.....I'm sorry, one of these days I need to break it to him that like attracts like.....but it continues, then after about 20 minutes of exhaustion the vivid smell of vinegar hits the olfactory sensor. Yes, he rubs himself in vinegar.....EVERYDAY! Not sure if it keeps the bad spirits away, or human beings in general, or most likely women, ya know, that aren't crazy! He wonders why? First of all he's no Brad Pitt, you add that to someone who smells like Greek salad, come on. Yeah sign me up! Can't wait for that date!  But he has some theory that the vinegar helps the massive burn scar he has on his arm. Keeps the skin soft. I apologize, am I grossing you out?! Well at least you didn't have to touch it. Let's not mince words. I didn't WANT to touch it. I had no choice when he grabbed my hand and said, "Feel! See?!" "Ohhhhh yep!", I replied "So soft.....so soft. Im gonna be late for work I gotta quickly dry heave and then get to work".  (Daily basis guys....daily basis. They are lucky the rent is cheap.) So this kills another good 45 minutes to an hour of my morning peaceful time and my stress and anxiety builds as I just want to enjoy the morning and relax. Finally Roger leaves.

      I empty and refill my now cold coffee, let out a giant sigh of exhaustion, roll the eyes for exercise and make my way back to the porch to fill in the first word in my puzzle. Ironically, 1 across, Clue: Public Annoyance. (Well unfortunately LANDLORD and ROGER didn't fit.) I get a good solid 10 minutes of peace and the next one rolls in. Now, Nikki, I have grown to like. She's not all that bad. If you want to know where apples are the cheapest, who sells the softest toilet paper or where you can get 20 cans of Fancy Feast Cat Food for $5.99, it's better than smelling vinegar and hearing about Roger's erectile disfunction. (Yep, didn't mention that before, but there it is. That topic has come up quite a few times, no pun intended.) If you think I am making this up, come stay with me for a week. Some of you can actually attest to this, have witnessed it, or gotten lucky enough to have your palm read in passing and told that you are an altruistic warrior that sees the world in the way it shouldn't be seen, or can be seen, through the eyes of someone who sees what's unseen to the human eye....I know, it hurts.

     This is a dent in the stories that have compiled after 7 1/2 years of living in this complex. The only choice I have is to look at it comically, appreciate the material I am delivered on a silver platter and now share it with you as I can't enjoy this all to myself. This kind of material is meant to be shared. Hopefully you found a shred of laughter in the pain I endure day in and day out. There is plenty more where this came from so stay tuned. If you've read through this and laughed so hard your face hurts, two things,..... 1.) I've done my job and made you smile. 2.) Laughing causes wrinkles, but fear not, just slather on some distilled white vinegar before bed and they will be gone by morning. I heard that works.

 

When Josh Got His Hair Did.....

     Let me start by saying after reading this I am already aware, I know I can be an idiot. As a matter of fact telling this story I often think...."Really Josh, COME ON!!!".....Let me begin.....

     I am going to bring you back about 7 years to when I first moved out to Los Angeles. I had some money saved and was job hunting (fast forward 7 years and here I am job hunting again but Im not gonna get hung up on that....that will be a whole different blog).....I was living with one of my besties, we will call her Becky. Well Becky's sister Bethany was coming out for a visit and a week of fun and while Becky was at work I was more than happy to step up and entertain, see the sites and explore L.A. While Bethany was pretty open to adventure and exploring she had one thing she wanted to do, and that was get her hair done and experience the raved about treatments at Amadeus Spa and Salon. I had no job and and an empty crossword puzzle book so I said "Sure, Ill come chill while you get pampered.....for 4.5 hours." Now I need to preface this story with Bethany's uncontrolled urge to refer to me as John. NOt really sure why, we grew up in the same hometown, hung out plenty of times prior, but still she kept calling me John out of no where. No offense taken but it's a big catalyst to where this story is going. OK back to the salon...so we arrive, and mind you I've never been in quite a pampering mecca like Amadeus. My idea of a hair cut is a Norelco shaver and 10 minutes of my time so this was a whole new world to me.

     I find my comfortable seat that would become my friend for the next half day of my life and am enjoying the sound of gentle fountains and blow dryers off in the distance. Bethany is full of excitement awaiting her upcoming primp job. After maybe 10 minutes a door opens from the back and in a beaming ray of light as if the heavens opened between a snack counter and a waterfall, out saunters what could be compared to a mythological siren with scissors and a beauty tool belt, let's call her Melanie. Melanie approaches our chairs with the gait of a unicorn and informs us that Eduardo is ready to see her now. "Well if Eduardo's ready you better hop to" I told Bethany. "You don't want to keep Eduardo waiting." So Bethany disappears to the back and I am left to my devices of crosswords and an occasional nap.

     Must have been 2.5 to 3 hours when I was shaken from a comfortable slumber dreaming of rolling waves and a picnic on the sands of Malibu to yet another voluptuous beauty approaching me. "John...she said". (This is where things start to go downhill), "They are ready for you in the back". So wiping the dream drool from my face I chuckle to myself, "John....OK Bethany, very funny, the John thing has gone on long enough, but I'll oblige." I assume Bethany is nearing the finish of her pampering episode and is ready for viewing in the back of what can only be the Garden of Eden behind the pearly gates of Amadeus. So I am handed a latte beverage for my trip to the back and am thinking, this treatment is great. To hell with the Norelco, free drinks? Do they have food? What's on the menu? Yep the way to my heart is food and drink. So I am following this girl to the back and she turns to me and says, (now brace yourself) "Would you like to keep your clothes ON, or strip down before you put on the robe?" (I know, lights should have went off, alarms should have sounded, all sort of things should have been going off in my mind wondering why I had the choice to be NAKED to see my friend's haircut.) But none the less, let me defend myself. Like I mentioned before, I have never been in a place like this, this is L.A.....land of the beautiful people, so I wanted to blend in. I wanted to seem like I fit, I DIDN'T want to do anything STUPID.....so naturally, I ended up in Stupidsville as the mayor of Bad Choices and took the first step to possibly the most stupid thing I could have done. The only thing that would have made me feel like more of an ass is if I had ACTUALLY gotten naked and put the robe on. So no, I didn't get naked. Being somewhat conservative I replied..."Uhhhmmmmm I GUESS Ill keep my clothes on and wear the robe over them." I know, smart. Well Im a thinker.

      So we get to the back and it is just an ocean of sinks and salon buzz it was almost too much for the human eye to take in at once, so in my overwhelmed state I didn't realize what was happening next. I was being sat down at a sink and reclined back with my head under a faucet. In the split second I had to think about this, I thought, Bethany is playing a joke on me or telling them to give me the works while she is being tended to, how generous is she? Thats awesome. And if it was some sort of joke I certainly wasn't going to let her get the best of me. So once again, I oblige and relax back for my head massage of shampoo and conditioning. (I know.....IDIOT!) I honestly do feel like a complete jackass when telling this story. But I swear I didn't know! I don't know the protocol of these places so Just went along with it....with EVERYTHING. So all is going great, hands are massaging my scalp, warm water is pouring over my scalp, supple breasts are floating above my face and I am just enjoying the treatment. Cue the coworker from stage left who comes to whisper something to the goddess tending to me. There is silence. Then more whispering. Then a shadow eclipses my face. Thats when I opened my eyes. She staring at me and I back at her so I flashed her a beautiful smile....ya know, to let her know she was doing a great job, and she then proceeds to ask me, "Are you John?" Now, talk about split second response, I quickly replied back, "No, Im Josh." She said, "I am suppose to be working on John". THIS is when it hit me, like a ton of bricks. I know, I know, a little late in the game, but Im a quick learner and a fast thinker. So I said the only thing I had any right to saying and that was...."Oh, I thought you said Josh. My bad." Now THANK GOD my name is Josh and not something like Arnold, that has no similarity to John whatsoever. Could you imagine that? "Oh John? I thought you said Arnold." Wouldn't have flown!

     So at this point both her and I are feeling like complete idiots. We laughed a bit, agreed that if she saw me here again using fake names for free hair washes she would have to report me, and that this hair wash was on the house and finally that she had better go find John. So with my robe still bundled over my clothing and my well massaged cranium and wet hair we take the walk of shame to the front sanctuary together. Well.....there was John, on tip toes looking around as if trying to find a friend at the airport. John was pissed. But I did my best to ease the situation, as we approached John I shook his hand, and said, "John? Josh. Nice to meet you. She washes a mean head of hair. Enjoy yourself now. Here's your robe." He wasn't having my levity but I didn't care. I had clean hair! And.....some of my iced latte left. So luckily my seat was still empty so I snuggled back in and worked a crossword until Bethany was done.

     A little more time had passed and Bethany was done. (I realized at this point, they don't bring people back for viewings. When they are done, they send them back out to the front to pay and get in their cars and go home. I guess like everywhere else.) Bethany pays and comes to get me and as she gets to my chair I look up at her and I said, "What took so long back there?".....to which she replied, "Why is your hair wet?".....

Here I go Blah-ging Again...

     .....Again? I've never blogged before in my life. As a matter of fact I never thought I would. But here I am on a new quest of entertaining. Well hopefully entertaining.....well to be honest, if you don't find me entertaining this would be the time to turn back now. Grab your coat, gift bag at the door, valet is 5 bucks and be on your way. Still here? Good. You don't know what you're in for. Hell, neither do I. But welcome to my new outlet of creativity. Im looking forward to bringing you stories from the past, present, and let's face it my guess on the future is as good as yours but I'll do my best. Everyday life has it's stresses and tolls and my favorite way to deal with those is to make light of them, make fun of them and hopefully all have a laugh at the end of the day. I have THE BEST family in the world as whacky as they are, each is an individual character and hopefully over time you will get to know each of them, my mother especially.  Many of you know I also enjoy food (way too much), so there may be some random food blogs about recipes, great restaurants, or what honey mustard goes best with ham and cheese. (I can't remember the last time I had ham and cheese......) Basically this is an open forum and you never know what you're gonna get, so keep visiting and hopefully you find something you like.
   
     OK the truth behind starting the blog. I've always been interested in comedy and enjoy making and seeing people laugh. It's our best medicine.....for anything, so here's Dr. Josh. OK thats presumptuous but it's my blog, deal with it! But always loving comedy I have always had an interest in acting as well as writing, and as far as the writing portion I never really knew what to do with it and how to get it started. With the help of some friends I'm reading up on it and in the meantime here is a great way to at least practice.

     Still here? Wow! Maybe this writing thing is going pretty good. Well, that's my intro and I look forward to seeing you at my next blog. Im off to make myself a ham and cheese.....and the best honey mustard is homemade.....Frenches Yellow Mustard, Honey and Mayonnaise.....