An Evening With Uncle Ted

It was a sweltering day in Baltimore as we made our way towards the Inner Harbor. The temperature was in the triple digits and the humidity was higher than Lindsey Lohan between rehab stints. But hey, it is summer time right?

Anyway, the evening started with a nice dinner at P.F. Changs on Pratt Street. I always enjoy it there, but predictably, about three quarters of the way through the meal, I found myself saying, "I'm stuffed. I can't eat another bite. Then, just as predictable, I ate several more bites.

After dinner, we (Tina, Toni, John and myself) headed over to Ram's Head Live. Although it was only about two blocks away, the 100 degree temperature made it seem like two and a half. Once we got inside the initial entrance, we had to stand in a line before we entered the actual venue. Not only was there no air conditioning in this area, but there was no air flow. So, everyone stood there sweating like Rosie O'Donnell on a tanning bed.

Once we finally got inside, we claimed our spot on the floor about twenty feet from the stage. Since we were going to be in this confined spot for the next few hours, I thought about leading the crew in some jumping jacks and mild stretching exercises. But I figured it would look a little strange. Plus, we would inevitably bump into people causing them to spill their $6 beers. So, there would be no calisthenics.

The opening act was a good looking girl from New Jersey named Lisa Bouchelle. She walked onto the stage as her band played the intro to the first song. Before she sang the first note, I couldn't help but think that she was high as a kite. As she grabbed the microphone, her eyes were half closed and she was acting a bit disoriented. Then, as she got into the meat of the song, she almost appeared to be possessed. I kept thinking about Linda Blair in The Exorcist. But I was totally digging it! After the first song, she came back to earth and followed up with several more pop/rock type songs including an interesting cover of CCR's "Midnight Special". I really enjoyed her performance. Oh, did I mention that she was good looking?

As we were waiting for Ted Nugent to take the stage, the "encroachment" ceremony began. This is the part of the show when Tina (and Toni, in this case) begins to complain, "If this girl bumps into me one more time...." As luck would have it, Toni had a tall blonde in front of her who kept flipping her hair and extending her elbows in Toni's direction. I knew this one had the potential to become another Ali vs. Frazier. I just hoped it wouldn't happen before Uncle Ted came on stage.

Meanwhile, Tina was fighting her own battle with guy who entered her no-fly zone. They got into a "You need to move up, you need to move back" routine. I've been through this too many times before. My job is to officiate and only intervene if any rules are violated. Trust me, Tina has plenty of field experience in these situations and is quite capable of holding her own.

As our two wives were fighting their respective battles, John leaned over to me and said, "We've gotta start coming to these things by ourselves."

Eventually, the wives got fed up and resorted to finding a more spacious spot near the back bar area. Aside from taking an occasional elbow and having beer sporadically spilled on us, we could finally relax.(Actually, the back of John's shirt wound up getting doused by a cup of warm lager complements of some asshole behind him. My casualties were limited to several Miller Lite foot baths).

Ted Nugent took the stage at 9 o'clock. The stage was set up with his customary big amps and a backdrop of a huge American flag. The stage also featured more than a dozen of Nugent's Gibson guitars and a few assault rifles strategically placed on the tops of the amps. It seemed a bit ironic considering that we were in the left-leaning, anti-gun state of Maryland. But hey, I'm pro-Second Amendment, so if Uncle Ted wants to display his guns, so be it...

Nugent kicked things off with a energetic version of Free For All. As the evening progressed, he played all of his classic numbers. Each one was accompanied by a profanity-laced, Nugent-esqe introduction. Ted definitely has a way with words and knows how to fire up the crowd. He's a very charismatic performer and actually quite funny at times.One of his more memorable statements was "God bless America and f*ck the rest of the world!" I don't know if I'd go quite that far, as I'm quite fond of the Irish. But I couldn't help but think that it would make a catchy bumper sticker. When it comes to speaking his mind, Nugent is the Ronald Reagan of rock and roll. And he never forgets to give praise to the troops.

The songs were filled with Ted's signature extended guitar solos. The guy can definitely jam and knows how to play to the crowd. I always thought that over the years, Nugent's playing ability got overshadowed by his wild stage antics and controversial statements. But there's no doubt that the guy definitely play a guitar!

A pleasant surprise was seeing Derek St, Holmes on the stage with Ted. A lot of people don't realize that Holmes actually sang many of the songs in Nugent's early solo career. He still has the pipes and it was great to hear him belt out classic songs like Stanglehold and Just What The Doctor Ordered.

Nugent ended the night with an encore of The Great White Buffalo. Adding color to the song, he traded in his cowboy hat for a full Indian headdress. The guy is a true showman!

I first saw Ted Nugent back in 1980 when he was played at the old Capital Center. After all of these years ,it was great to see him "up close and personal" at Ram's Head. He really hasn't changed that much. If anything, he's gotten a little wilder!

kw

All Juiced Up

Here we go again......

In my never ending quest to not become the "before" guy in the diet commercials, I have once again decided to implement some healthy changes into my lifestyle. Now, let's not get too excited. I don't plan on becoming a vegan and having sleepovers at the gym. I've got to take baby steps.....

Out of sheer boredom, I began to evaluate the all of  things that have been disguising themselves as food and wreaking havoc on my expanding waistline. I could spend all day telling you about all of the bad things, but let's try to stay positive. The one thing that seemed to be clearly lacking was my consumption of fruits and vegetables. In my defense, I do occasionally "order" an orange, but it's usually left floating in my Blue Moon draft.

So. I decided to make a conscience effort to increase my intake of all types of leafy and colorful natural foods. As luck would have it, I happened to tune into a documentary called "Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead". It's basically about a guy from Australia who comes to America and is determined to lose weight by "cleansing and rebooting" his body. Essentially, he buys a juicer and lives off of this nasty green vegetable juice for 30 days. His journey through New York City and into south is interesting as well as very entertaining. In the end the guy goes from 305 pounds down to 220. And his overall health shows dramatic improvement.

After going back the the land down under, the guy receives an emotional phone call from an overweight truck driver he happened to meet in the states. The Aussie offers to come back to the US and help the guy out. Long story short, the truck driver had remarkable results. If you get a chance, check out the film. It really is a remarkable story....

Ok, back to me......

Of course, after seeing the film, a low-wattage light bulb goes off in my head. I'm thinking, "Hell, I was going to do the fruit and vegetable thing anyway. I might as well buy a juicer!" So, off I went to Walmart....

The juicer itself was a pretty easy purchase. But when it came time to shop for fruits and vegetables, I was in over my head. As I strolled through the produce section of the local wholesale club, I felt like a teenage boy buying a girlie magazine. I was definitely a stranger in a strange land.

I eventually wound up gathering about thirty pounds of neatly packaged fruits and vegetables. I could hardly wait to get home home and juice them. I also picked up a bag of mixed nuts because, well, I'm just a nutty kind of guy......

I get home and take the juicer out of the box. I am a guy, so you know reading the instructions was totally out of the question. So, I proceed to cram about a pound of baby spinach leaves into the feed chute. I crank the machine up and wait for something to happen. Nothing. So, I add another batch of spinach and repeat. Again nothing. Then, I turn the machine off and, all of a sudden, A small amount of green juice starts dribbling out of the spout and onto the kitchen counter. It looked like thick green semi-gloss paint. And I'm supposed to drink this? And I can't help but think that, at this rate, it's going to take a truckload of spinach (or other vegetables) to make one glass of juice! Can I just order a Mojito and call it a day?

Well, as luck would have it, Tina came home just in time to witness my latest adventure. I figure she was going to go postal from the new green paint job on the counter. But instead, she starts laughing. Can you believe this bullshit? She tells me that I'm one of the funniest people she's ever met. Now, if I had just performed one of my legendary pool dives, I could understand it. But I'm trying to get healthy over here. What's so funny about that?

So, I gather up my vegetables (and what's left of my pride) and head out of the kitchen. I return later and manage to make enough juice to fill a glass. I transfer the contents to a plastic travel mug and put it in the refrigerator. I decide to take the drink to work with me and have it for lunch the next day. I figure it will be a healthier alternative to the 5-hour energy shots that I rely on so often.

Around noon the next day, I decided to go out to my car to retrieve the magic juice that's in a cooler in my trunk. I open the cooler and take the drink out and anticipate the instant boost that I'm about to receive. After taking the first sip, I realized that the taste wasn't quite what I had hoped for. It was rather nasty. And, as if this concoction wasn't already hard enough to swallow, there were chunks of carrot in the drink. I don't even think Captain Morgan could help this situation. But being determined to finish what I had started, I marched on. I would take a drink, hold it in my mouth for a few minutes, then shake my head back in forth before I finally forced myself to swallow it. I repeated this process several times until the entire drink was gone.

To people passing by, it probably appeared as if I was having some type of epileptic seizure. But they obviously knew nothing about a healthy lifestyle.

Well, after a few minutes, my stomach started to cramp up and I felt a little disoriented. At one point, I felt like I might actually pass out. My body had been deprived of vegetables for so long that it seemed to be rejecting my high-octane health juice. I seriously thought that I might be the victim of a self-induced coma!

Thankfully, after several minutes my head cleared up. But my insides still felt like they were twisted. I wound up heading over to the Walgreens to pick up some Tums. Hey, I never had these issues with a strawberry shake from Chick-fil-A!

If this is what healthy eating is all about, I think I'll just stay fat, dumb and happy!

kw

The Taxman Visits Yankee Stadium

Some things just never cease to amaze me. The latest involves the Yankee fan who caught Derek Jeter's 3000th hit (which happened to be a home run). Here's the link to the story that drew my ire:

http://www.nbcnewyork.com/news/local/Fan-Who-Caught-Jeters-3000th-Hit-May-Owe-IRS-Thousands-125406723.html

Here's a devoted fan kicking back, watching his favorite team, when one of the most famous baseballs in Yankees history* falls into his hands. In the short time that the ball made contact with Jeter's bat and the time it went into the stands, it's value increased several thousand times over. At a conservative estimate, the ball was said to be worth at least $250,000.

Now, most people would have taken advantage of the situation and impulsively swapped that piece of cowhide for a boatload of cash. And who could blame them? But this particular Yankee fan (Christian Lopez), knowing the historical significance of the ball, handed it back over to Derek Jeter. Kudos to him. It's great to see that not everyone is obsessed with money.

So, in appreciation for Lopez's kindness, the Yankees gave him a few nice gifts. They included luxury box seats for the rest of the season and some signed memorabilia. Sounds like a win-win for all parties involved.

But like an ominous thunderstorm, the IRS rears it's ugly head and now wants their cut! Why should they get a cut of the action? Yeah, yeah, I know there are certain tax laws regarding these types of things. But come on! I think think they need to cut this guy some serious slack. Hell, the IRS didn't even buy a ticket to the game!

Hey since the ball was estimated to be worth at least $250,000, shouldn't Mr. Lopez get a tax write-off for "donating" the ball? Hell, in this case, he should be be tax exempt for the unforeseeable future! Although Lopez said that he'll pay the taxes, I'm hoping that someone from the Yankees will step up and help him out. Hey, I wonder if that money would be taxable too?

I understand the need for taxes, but I've always had a particular isssue with the gift tax and death tax. In most cases, this is money that's already been heavily taxed. Why should the government get a cut just because it's passed on to someone else?

I think it was Ben Franklin who said that nothing is certain but death and taxes. After all of these years, it still haunts us.......

kw

*Amazingly, with all of the great players in Yankees history, Derek Jeter became the first one to reach the milestone of 3000 hits.

Did The Jury Get It Right?

The question of the day seems to be: Did the jurors get in right in the Casey Anthony case? From flipping through the various news sources, the majority of America seems to think that they blew it and let a child killer walk free.

Hey, none of us were there to witness anything, but you have to admit that Casey sure didn't paint a pretty picture of herself. I mean, who goes out and parties a few days after their child has turned up missing? I would think that a normal parent would be paralyzed with panic and anxiety. Hell, since we're all having such a good time, what do you say we enter the Hardbody Contest at the nightclub? Sounds like fiction, but that's exactly what Casey did. I wonder what place she came in?

And what's up with Casey and her boyfriend breaking into Daddy's shed to steal gas? First off, I can't figure out why two adults can't come up with a few bucks for gas. I guess the Hardbody Contest didn't pay off? But in any event, it just seems to add to whole mystique of the situation.

And what kind of parent waits a freggin' month before contacting the police in this situation? Was she waiting for little Caylee to magically reappear? Maybe she thought Caylee was catching up on some R&R at nearby Disney World. Hey, maybe Mickey Mouse had something to do with it!

Then, Casey makes up a story about working at Universal Studios. Then she says the babysitter kidnapped her daughter. (In an effort to explain Casey's peculiar behavior, the defense claimed that it was due to the fact that her Dad sexually abused her as a child.)

As the gears continue to grind, the presence of chloroform is found in the trunk of Casey's car (which had been towed to an impound lot). Playing the devil's advocate, this could have been produced by the combination of garbage and insects in the trunk. But back to reality, why was Casey riding around with loaded garbage bags in her trunk? And when the word "chloroform" shows up in the recent search  history of the family computer, Casey's mother steps up and says that she's the guilty party. WTF?? No wonder the jury is confused!

I have no idea what events led to the death of poor little Caylee, but I'd be willing to bet that the Anthony family knows much more than they're telling. What are they hiding? And why? Perhaps it was an accident which snowballed out of control due to an initial cover-up? Or did the real killer really get away with it? 

Will we ever know what really happened?

kw

One Day At The Liquor Store

Yesterday, I needed to stop by the liquor store to pick up some liquid refreshments for our annual 4th of July party. As I approached the store, I was already pissed about the recent 50 percent tax increase in alcohol purchases in Maryland (Courtesy of our wonderful tax-and-spend Governor, the alcohol tax went from 6% to 9% beginning on July 1). So, I really wasn't in the mood for any additional bullshit.

But as you have probably guessed, the bullshit hunted me down.......

As I walk towards the store, a woman who appeared to be either a crack addict or a guest star of Cops ambushes me. I immediately adapt and go on the offensive. As she starts her spiel, I cut her off and say, "Let me guess, You ran out of gas? You're in town for a wedding and your friends left you behind and you need money for a bus? You need money for to buy a can of Fix-a Flat? Am I getting warm?"

Confused, she just stares at me blankly for a few seconds. Then, she just comes out out and says, "I need two dollars. Can you help me out?"

Instead of just going about my business, I ask, "What do you need two dollars for?"

She says, "I need to get a beer."

In some twisted way, I admired her blunt honesty. Hey, I like beer too. It was kind of like an "honor among thieves" moment. But my admiration was short lived, then I turned into Dr, Phil and responded, "Well, if you have to stand outside of a liquor store and beg for beer money, you probably shouldn't drinking. Do you think that maybe, just maybe, you've got your priorities screwed up?"

Again, she gives me the confused stare and then calls me a slang name for the male anatomy. Can you believe this?

I leave the woman mumbling to herself and I walk into the store. As I walk through the door, the owner (who I happen to know, go figure) comes toward me and, in broken English, says," What dat girl say to you?"

I give him the five second version of the story. This sets him off and he goes charging outside. With arms flailing, he approaches the girl and says, "You go! I not need you bothering my customers! Silly bitch, you go before I call da cops!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the "silly bitch" reference......

He comes back in with a smile on his face says, "I take care of her. She bother my customers no more!"

I gather up my goods and the owner tells me to grab a couple of free bags of ice. He loads all of my purchases onto a hand cart. As if chasing the crack whore away wasn't enough, this guy takes my purchases out to my car for me. Now, that's what I call customer service! He wishes me a happy 4th of July and tells me to come back soon.

I think it's safe to say that I will indeed see my friend before too long.....

kw

Fast Food Reunion

Over the past few weeks, I don't I've ever eaten so much fast food. I know it's not healthy, but when you're busy, you just want something fast and filling. As a result, my blood probably has the consistency of a strawberry milkshake. But nothing a good night of drinking won't fix! If there's any truth to the old cliche "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", I should change my name to Hercules!

Hey, I know could do the smart thing and order a salad. But I always thought of eating a salad in a burger joint akin to drinking Pepsi in a bar. So, I will continue to fall in line with the portly masses.

As a result of my recent burger binge, I'm now going through an impromptu detox, which among other things, includes mega doses of Metamucil. For those who don't know about Metamucil, just think of it as a liquid pry-bar that goes through your digestive system with wreckless abandon. But enough of the biology lesson. Let me tell you about some of my recent fast food experiences.....

First off, let me say that Chick-fil-A still beats all fast food joints, hands down. This is amazing to me considering that there's not even one burger item on the menu. And let me add that their shakes are top notch too. The biggest problem that I have with Chick-fil-A is that are only two restaurants in the whole Glen Burnie/Pasadena area. Some guys dream about owning a bar. I dream about having my own Chick-fil-A one day.

Now, I don't really care so much for McDonald's. But in a pinch, it will do. When I stopped off at the Sun Valley Mickey D"s recently, I immediately had the pleasure of witnessing a five year old having a Chicken McNugget temper tantrum (I wonder if Dr. Phil has a diagnosis for this). The kid was jumping up and down, screaming, "Nuggets! I want Chicken Nuggets! Waaaaaa!" The mother, who was obviously conditioned for this type of outburst, just carried on her conversation as little Lucifer continued to annoy the rest of the patrons. Before long, the rest of us wanted the kid to have the McNuggets more than he did!

Anyway, the thing that attracted me to the McDonald's in the first place was one word: Angus. There's just something magical about this word. For me, it automatically triggers an impulse to hunt down something with beef in it. So, I step up and order an Angus snack wrap and a Strawberry-Banana smoothie from the non-English speaking counter person. She hands me my food and I head up the door. I soon realized that she gave me one of those new frozen Strawberry-Lemonades by mistake. Maybe the fact that we spoke two different languages had something to do with the mix-up. But I didn't worry about it. It was a hot day and the icy drink actually sounded pretty good.

After tearing into my Angus wrap, I took a generous drink of the cold, fruity beverage. And that's where the fun started. The brain freeze rocked me like an overhand right! I dropped what was left of my wrap and stumbled across the parking lot towards my car. A group of nearby landscapers gave me a concerned look as I staggered past them. It took several minutes to fell normal again. Once I got into my car, still a little confused, I gave myself one of those quick "how many fingers am I holding up" tests. Then, tempting fate, I  took a couple of more "mini-hits" of the frozen drink to test the waters. It hurt my teeth a little, but the pain in my head seemed to be at least manageable now. When they say don't drink and drive, I'm thinking that they might want to include frozen Lemonade to the list!

Another day, I dropped by a local Burger King. I approached the heavily tattooed employee behind the counter. He just looked at me. Actually, it was more like he was looking through me. There was none of the usual "Can I help you" banter. He just continued to stare. I almost did the double hand-wave thing to snap him out of it. During this uncomfortable encounter, I noticed what appeared to be the word "Thug" tattooed across the side of his neck. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I remembered seeing this guy on an episode of Gangland. Needless to say, I didn't wave my hands in his face.

Fearing an imminent shanking, I simply said, "I'll take a number one with a sweet tea." I instantly regretted using the word "sweet" in front of Penitentiary Face. With the faintest hint of a smirk, he relayed my order to the assembly crew. I sensed that he viewed the sweet tea as a sign of weakness. Hey, give me a break. I would have ordered a beer but it wasn't on the menu! When tattoo guy handed me my order, he finally spoke to me with a warm "Thanks, Cuz". Hell, if I had known that we were related, I wouldn't have been so nervous!

Now that things are finally settling down, I'm trying my best to steer clear of the fast food joints. As long as they don't tempt me with the word "Angus", I think I'll be ok.........

kw

Dropping By Walmart

With everything going on with my recent move, I needed to pick up a few items over the weekend. So yet again, I tempted fate and stopped off at Walmart. I know I've told several Walmart stories before, but you have to admit, this stuff never gets old.

My latest adventure begins out on the parking lot. As I turn into one of the parking aisles, the car in front of me slams on his brakes when he sees the brake lights illuminate from a parked car. Of course, there's a million other parking spaces, but the moron in front of me is adamant that he's going to wait for this particular one. I would have went around the guy, but he was right in the middle of the aisle where no one could get past him. And I would have backed up, but another bozo was directly behind me fumbling with his text messages. So there we sat for what seemed like an eternity. When it was obvious that the parked car wasn't going anywhere, the knucklehead in front of me finally gave up and pulled into a vacant spot about twenty feet away. Why didn't he do this in the first place??

When I eventually get into the store, I grab a shopping cart. I took about two steps and noticed that someone left a half eaten hotdog in the cart. I couldn't have this thing distracting me from the illustrious array of Walmart shoppers. So, I left it near the greeter and grabbed another cart. Although there was no food in this one, it did have a bad wheel. When I pushed it, it made this irritating "clumpity, clump, clump" banging noise. I couldn't deal with this. So, I left this one near the greeter as well. He gave me a funny look as I went out to retrieve cart number three. For some unknown reason, I felt the urge to moonwalk over to the new cart (but I didn't).

Once I finally got rolling into the store, the first thing I see is an obese woman wearing these tight pink sweatpants with the word "Guess" embroidered across the ass. I was thinking about 275. But, of course, that was just my guess. I hate to be cruel but this woman's ass had more nooks and crannies than a Thomas' English Muffin! It's anyone's "guess" why she would want to draw attention to that particular part of her body.

As I moved on, I saw a parent pushing what I assumed was his kid in a a shopping cart. The funny thing is that the kid looked like he could have been old enough to legally buy beer. I tell you, Walmart is very much like entering the Twilight Zone.

As I stroll past the electronics section, I overhear two knit-wits arguing over who's the biggest bad-ass: Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson or Vin Diesel. I wanted to sneak into the adjacent aisle and yell, "Clint Eastwood would kick both of their candy asses!"

When I finally make my way towards the checkout line, a woman who resembled Weasie Jefferson nearly knocked me over. Her time was clearly more important than mine. I bit my tongue and waited patiently as she paid for her Doritos and other nutritious goods  with a government subsidized credit card. I felt that she should have at least offered to buy me a Milky Way considering it was my tax dollars paying for her non-essential merchandise.

I eventually pay for my items and head back out to the parking lot. To my delight, I see Weasie Jefferson getting into a late model BMW. Isn't this the same woman who just used a welfare card to pay for a cart load of junk food?

I will never try to understand the people of Walmart. But, if nothing else, they make a good story....

kw