Monday, December 31, 2007

The closing of the year

I'd like to say that I have some fantabulous idea for a New Year's post... but I don't. Honestly, I'm just really fucking bored at work. So, a couple of random notes:

Our anniversary dinner... it... I still get a little excited thinking about it. Zebra's in Medfield, MA. If you're ever in the neighborhood, you owe it to yourself... to baby Jesus... Hell, you owe it to America to eat there. Seriously. All in all, a wonderful night.

Saturday... I'm not gonna harp on it. I'll just say a single word, and move on.


Sunday. I played what can probably be called an unhealthy amount of Playstation 3. Peppered with watching some football. Hey, if you've gotta be home alone on a cold Sunday in December, there are worse ways to spend the day.

And now I'm stuck at work. Sweet.

OK, this post really blows. I'm not feelin' it. But I hope you all have a spectacular night tonight. Be safe, have fun. We're having sushi with friends, and then maybe a late cocktail at their house. I'm perfectly happy with that plan, frankly.

Happy New Year.

Friday, December 28, 2007

You've got the cool water, when the fever runs high.

Anyone who tells you that an beautiful, stunningly smart Philly girl who loves science, documentaries, knitting and Broadway musicals can't get along with a math-impaired, sports-obsessed Boston boy who loves video games, comic books, punk music, and science-fiction movies... Well, let me tell you a story.

About twelve years ago, I did the smartest thing I've ever done. I ignored the voice in my head that told me it couldn't work.

About nine years ago, I did the dumbest thing I've ever done. I broke up with her because I was scared. It only took her a few weeks to talk me out of it.

About six or so years ago, I did the second smartest thing I've ever done. I asked her to marry me.

Five years ago today, she did just that. I can say, hands-down and without reservation, it's been the happiest five years of my entire life.

Happy Anniversary, babe.

Yours Forever.

Listening to: Paul Simon - St. Judy's Comet

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Christmas is all around

OK, here's the obligatory post-Christmas post.

The good:

*The drive to Philly. Made it in less than five hours. The dogs did not pee in the car.

*The playlist I made for the drive. Featuring the greatest hits of Journey, Foreigner, Pat Benatar, Boston and Kenny Loggins. Cheezalicious.

*Seeing our friends, who are all doing well, with the exception of my friend B, whose dad died suddenly two weeks ago. But I hung out with him, and he's doing better, all things considered. I brought one of my dogs over to console him (his dog also died recently. I know. Rough few months.)

*Cheesesteaks. I can't help it. Those fuckers are good.

*Mrs. TK's parents. Who are crazy, but overall, a fun crazy. They keep their house heated to about 100 degrees. They watch TV at deafening volumes, then shout at each other because it's so loud (but make no effort to turn the volume down). Here's a verbatim example:

I'm watching TV (and slowly going deaf) with her mom. Her dad has to work the next day, so he's upstairs. He comes downstairs, and...

Dad: I need my glasses so I can set my alarm.
Mom: WHAT?
Dad: WHAT?
Mom: WHAT?

(I swear, it's like living in a sketch comedy show. They're sweet, and very good to me, but hoo-boy. A little nutty.)

*My new, shiny, pretty Playstation 3. It takes a special woman to buy her husband something that is guaranteed to distract him for... well... forever.

The bad:

*The temperature in the in-laws' house. Like I said, it was easily 100 degrees. And dry as the desert. I thought I was going to wake up completely dessicated. Seriously. At one point, I was lying in bed and I swear I could here myself blinking.

*The terrifying car accident we got into on the way home. I was driving Mrs. TK's car, in the left lane on the PA Turnpike. A Mercedes SUV came flying up behind us and proceeded to drive about 4 inches off my rear end. I swear, I could smell the guy's breath he was so close. So I pass the truck next to me, and change into the middle lane. The SUV pulls up next to me and starts SCREAMING at me through his open window. I make a "whatever, man" gesture, and he DELIBERATELY SWERVES INTO OUR LANE, SLAMS INTO OUR CAR, AND TAKES OFF.

I am not kidding. Thankfully, despite having a mini-heart attack, I managed to get us to the breakdown lane without smashing into any other cars. We called the staties, made out a report and all that, but I'm sure they never caught the crazy motherfucker. So Crazy Motherfucker in the Black Mercedes SUV - I hope you die in a fiery crash, you worthless bastard. People like you are a danger to the rest of us, and should just be taken out of the gene pool altogether. You almost killed me and my wife, and scared the hell out of my poor dogs, on the day after Christmas, no less. So burn in hell, you stupid fuck.


[deep breath]


Anyway, other than that, it was a wonderful trip, and a very good Christmas. How was y'alls?

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

You sexy thing.

Hey there, hot stuff.

How you doin'? You're lookin' good, that's for sure.

I've been lookin' forward to meeting you.

Yeah, seeing you on Christmas is just what I needed.


Friday, December 21, 2007

It's the most wonderful time of the year

And I mean that. Seriously. Christmas is hands-down my favorite holiday, and no amount of cynicism can change that.

But I gotta get movin' and packin', since we're heading to Motownphilly tonight to spend Christmas with Mrs. TK's family. It promises to be a great weekend. So I hope you all have great holidays, where you get lots of shiny, pretty things. Make sure to eat and drink your faces off, and be careful out there, OK? Whatever you celebrate, be it Christmas or whatever the Jews do or some sort of zombie-hybrid Chrismukkahzaa, celebrate the ass off that bitch.

Happy Holidays, everyone.


Monday, December 17, 2007

I hope this letter finds you well out of harm's way

Open letters... return!

Dear Winter:
Listen, you overeager motherfucker. It's December 17th. You are supposed to stay away for FIVE MORE DAYS. So seriously, back the hell off. Enough. 16 inches of snow in the last five days? Four and a half hours to drive home? 11 degree weather? What the hell? ENOUGH ALREADY, you overzealous bastard. Wait your fucking turn.

Your pen pal,

Dear fire alarm in my office that has been going off incessantly for the last two hours:
Seriously. Knock it the fuck off. I feel like there's a gigantic mosquito in my head. And if there are two things I despise, it's mosquitoes and gigantism.

Eat shit and die,

Dear co-worker who I accidentally crashed into and knocked over and sent flying into that table with the printers and stuff on it when I came stampeding out of my office because I am sometimes careless and tend to walk too fast and without looking and with heavy feet and you're kind of small and I didn't see you:
Um... sorry 'bout that.

Apologetically yours,

Dear Rilo Kiley:
Um, I'm not sure how to say this. Because you know I love you, and I think "Take-offs and Landings" and "More Adventurous" are spectacular albums, and I think "Portions for Foxes" is seriously a song that I can listen to on an endless loop, especially the part where you yell "Come here!" All of that said... "Under the Blacklight"? Kind of blows.

Disappointed but not angry,

Dear chipmunk that has taken up living in the ceiling above my basement:
OK, apparently you didn't get my last letter. I know you're still in there, you fucker. I'm warning you. I killed three of your cousins, and I am coming for you next. Get out while you still can, or I swear on the swollen belly of Buddha you will suffer.

Waiting to see the whites of your eyes,

Dear Ipod:
Please don't die. Please? I love you so. And then I'd be forced to get some overly fancy new Ipod that plays video and massages my hands and... shit, I don't know... speaks four languages and knows how to satisfy a camel. And frankly, I don't need any of that. You're fine. You're better than fine. But... you're kind of shitting the bed right now. You freeze up for hours. I've needed to wipe you clean and start over twice. And there's that creepy death rattle that comes out every now and then. I'd really rather not have to replace you. Plus, I kind of dig that you're old-school in that cool-like-Donkey-Kong kind of way. So, please don't die.

Hopelessly devoted to you,

Listening to: Rilo Kiley - Portions For Foxes

Monday, December 10, 2007

We interrupt this blog for a special announcement:

Dear Michael Vick:


*This message is brought to you by Ceili the Wonder Dog and Audrey the Three-Legged Beagle.
**Picture courtesy of With Leather.

Listening to: The Soggy Bottom Boys - In The Jailhouse Now

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

There'll never be a better chance to change your mind

I read about this over at Kerstin's, and decided to give it a run. By the way, check her site out. Good stuff.

Anyway. The premise: compose a letter to your 13 year old self. That's it.

Dear 13 Year Old TK:

Hey there. Yeah, I know this is weird. But I think there are some things you need to know. It's currently 1988, and you're in the middle of Junior High School. So let's start there. I guess your sister is in high school and being an insufferable bitch. You probably just moved into the new house, which will be your favorite house ever until you're... oh, about 30 years old. In a couple of years you'll be jumping off the roof into the snow banks.

That blond kid with the glasses? Don't waste your time being friends with him. Eventually, you're going to get busted for shoplifting and he's going to blame the whole thing on you (and Dad is going to knock you around pretty badly for it). Yeah, he's kind of a dick. But it should make you feel better to know that if you do go through with it, when you're 17 or so and have grown a lot more, you're going to beat his ass. He'll totally have it coming.

Speaking of growing... um... the next few years? Are going to be kind of awkward. The good news is you don't have to worry about being the small kid for much longer. I know you're only 5 feet tall, but trust me. Your enormous feet should be a good hint. In the next 2-3 years, you'll grow about 14 inches. Seriously. It's hard to believe, but it's true. So... um... eat more. Or else you're gonna be painfully skinny. Yes, I hate to admit it, but Mom is totally right about this. She's also right about not buying you nice clothes, since you're going to need new ones every 4 months.

OK... I'll tell you this, but I don't think it's going to matter. You're going to hurt yourself. A lot. And soon. I'd tell you to stay off your bike and don't go play football when you get the call in 8th grade, but the truth is, knowing us as I now know us... you're gonna find a way to hurt yourself no matter what. So don't sweat it. But you should really do the physical therapy after you break your left arm the third time, because now it's not terribly useful.

On that note, you're going to break your thumb soon. Badly. I mean, you'll snap that fucker right in two. I'd tell you how it's going to happen, but it's much more fun as a surprise. Plus, it'll make for a good story later in life. And it'll get you out of history class.

By the way - wear your damn glasses more.

High School is going to suck. But it sucks for everyone, so don't sweat it. But my two biggest pieces of advice are: go to class more, and no matter what you do, DO NOT GO AFTER EITHER OF THE CURLY-HAIRED GIRLS. Only heartbreak will ensue, and it will take you a long time to recover. Trust me on this. There is one curly-haired girl who will make your life great, but neither of them is her. Stick with the tall blonde, she's perfectly nice and won't mistreat you. It'll ultimately fail, but that's high school. Also, be less of a jerk when you break up with her.

Don't sweat the drugs. Seriously. Just go ahead and try them, have fun. You're going to end up fine. But... maybe don't drop acid that Thursday morning in homeroom, because that entire day was a disaster. And I guess you should avoid trying the hard stuff. Nothing bad really came about from it... but it just wasn't a great idea.

Oh, right... Hey, Mom is gonna fight with you about your clothes, your hair, and your earrings. My advice? Let her win. Seriously. It's no big deal. You're gonna get some goofy haircuts in college and then get a bunch of tattoos anyway, so just let her have that small victory.

Listen. About Dad. This is the hardest part, because I know you kind of hate him right now. But try to be patient with him. It's not going to be easy, and you've got another year or two of scattered beatings before he stops. But he will stop. Although... he'll still be a pain in the ass. Look, he's... he's a pretty angry guy. And he doesn't really know how to handle these things. But he'll learn. I promise.

It's... hard to explain.

And... he's going to apologize eventually, believe it or not. It's going to be one of the top-five weirdest days of your life. You're not going to know how to react, because it's going to be blurted out at dinner. And when he does? Do me a favor... Get up and hug the sonofabitch. It's going to be his most vulnerable moment, and he's going to need it. I regret never acknowledging that to him.

For God's sake, drive safely.

College is going to be an unholy mess. I'd tell you to drink less and go to class more, but I don't think it'll do any good. Amazingly, you won't have any serious girl-related drama. Incidentally, the curly-haired girl you meet in college? THAT'S "the one". But you're going to know it right away anyway, so don't worry about remembering this. Try to be less of a pretentious asshole, and for God's sake, stop making fun of the Midwestern kids, because that East-coast ego is going to earn you some enemies.

Also... the hardest time of your life is going to be the summer of 1996, when Mom and Dad move. It's going to be brutal. I have no advice, nothing that can make it easier. It'll get better, but never heal. But I guess that's why you should be nicer to them, because eventually, you're not going to have them around, and you will be amazed at how much you miss them.

Your sister will continue to annoy you. And you'll continue to love her in spite of it. Deal with it.

After college - you're going to panic. You won't have a home or a job. Relax. These things will work themselves out, though I'd advise avoiding that first apartment in Allston. That place will turn into a nightmare. And believe me when I tell you that you'll be surprised at the direction you'll go in, career-wise. Let's just say there's more of Dad in you than you think. The good parts, that is.

That's about it. Nothing too earth-shattering, right? Oh, three final things:

1. Your two best friends in high school will probably be your two best friends forever.

2. Don't give up on the Red Sox or Patriots. Just... trust me on this.

3. Don't get your hopes up when you hear about new Star Wars movies.

There you go. Enjoy the next 19 years until you get to here.


PS - Oh, fuck it. Eat more damn vegetables, OK? I mean it.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007


Two short, unrelated, but somewhat funny things:
The scene: My TV room, last night, during the Patriots game. Patriots are up 3-0.

Mrs. TK comes down to watch with me. The Ravens score. "Uh oh," she says. The Ravens score again.

I begin my usual routine when my team is losing. Namely, swearing constantly, standing up, sitting down, stalking around the room, swearing some more, and throwing things. Mrs. TK says "OK, you're freaking me out. I'm going upstairs."

She leaves. The Patriots promptly tie the game.

Now, I'm not sayin'... I'm just sayin'. You know?

Impromptu IM with A Lover and a Fighter that demonstrates that I am not alone in this world:

11:30 AM L&F: i have squash soup in my hair
11:31 AM send help
me: oh dear god
L&F: i know
me: how did you... what did you...
11:32 AM L&F: i am eating lunch
and it is squash soup
11:33 AM me: no, you are apparently accessorizing with squash soup
L&F: and it is hot
so i put some in my mouth
and then went "blarghgh"
me: uh huh
L&F: and it fell out of my mouth
and into the cup
and splashed
11:34 AM with some amazing hang time
and landed in my hair
the end
me: were you eating it upside down?
i mean... were you upside down when you were eating?
11:35 AM this reminds me of the time a friend found General Tso's chicken on the brim of my baseball cap.11:43 AM L&F: i can totally see how that would happen
11:45 AM me: i knew you'd understand


Last but not least - FUCK it's cold.