After the Memorial Day Bar-B-Que

After we ate dinner, then we went for ice cream. Max got a Darth Vader Pop.

Memorial Day Bar-B-Que

We had the whole family over the house for Memorial Day Weekend. I left the pool heater on overnight Saturday. The weather was gorgeous both Saturday and Sunday. The pool water temperature was 84 degrees. After the swim, I cooked two big-ass steaks on the grill.

Max: Mommy, I want some of your soda.
Olive: It's diet Coke with lime.
Max: I like to swallow the cream, can I have some more?
Bluto: Cream? Max, it's not cream, it's foam.
G-man: Good, because I was getting worried.
Olive: Come on! He's only four!
Jawbitch, pointing forked fingers at Bluto and G-man: If there's problems later on in his life, I'm blaming you two.
Max: Can I have some more?
Bluto: Max, just so long as it's foam and not cream.

Traveling to the Prom

We decided to take the Cape May ferry to the prom. Needless to say, the ferry company canceled the ferry when we got there. So we had to drive around -- a mere 180 mile detour. Along the way, jawbitch and I made mental notes:

• Bring a stencil of the Letter "Z" and a few good cans of spray paint, so that we can desecrate all the signage in Cape May from the Menz restaurant & bar to the Delaware Memorial bridge. For example, some of the signs will become "Chainsawz sharpening," "Junior's Tirez," "Daily Queenz," "Quincy's Farmz," etc.
• Never plan to take the ferry whenever it is raining.
• Instruct everyone in New Jersey that the car IN the rotary has the right-of-way.
• Don't ever accuse G-man of stinking up the car when driving through NJ. Even though it smells like he had a bad night at Taco Bell, those smells are indigineous to NJ and a part of their Dutch Oven fund.
• Be sure to yell at the proprietor of the Wagon Wheel restaurant for not having wagon wheel pasta.
• Don't stop to eat at Isabel's Casual Victorian Dining, unless half-clothed and willing to eat jumbo shrimp with New Jersey Cowtown cowboys.

Mannerless Max

Max and Gillian spent the week with Bluto and Olive Oil while Jawbitch & I were away at the prom. They go to Sports Plus, which is more or less a Chuck E. Cheese for bigger kids. Max decides he needs to take a leak, so Bluto brings him into the bathroom. Max drops trou and begins to do his thing:

Bluto, sidling up to the urinal: Geez Max, you don't even have to unbutton your pants, because you have no ass.
Max, now finished, pulling his pants right up, turns toward Bluto: Wow Uncle Bluto, you have a big penis! How come it is so red?
Bluto, now completely unable to do his business due to Max's eye-level attention to his member, just stands there with stage fright: Ummm, uhhh, just go wash your hands kid.

Alias

My DVR did not record the double feature last week, because it was too full of cartoon & shit I recorded for the kids. I hope it works this week, I'm going to a law review dinner tonight.

Learnings at OCS

There are several things I learned at OCS, a few of them actually useful. I learned that if you can't stay awake, you can always stand up and drink coffee in the back of the classroom (although this one served me well during lawschool). I learned that excellent physical condition can actually be a detriment, after sitting in the bottom of the pool with my brother black shipmate during a ten-minute, so-called floating drill. I learned the official government designation "nurdle" designates the unsatisfactory collection of dust beneath one's rack (bed). I learned that one can actually figure out where one is, by merely knowing what time it is and by observing the azimuth and altitude of a particular celestial body, but that doesn't help when you're several hundred feet under water. We had liberty Wednesday and Saturday nights. One can actually navigate the elaborate form-up, march-in, salute and report-in process on the quarterdeck in a absolute drunken stupor.

The Prom

We went away to my firm's "prom" last weekend. We left the kids with Bluto and Olive Oil. Gillian was excited, because Bluto wanted to take them to go see Star Wars. Max, however, was not happy at all. He transferred his sorrow to a year-old memory of our last parakeet's death.

Max: I miss little bird. Wahhh. I did not get a chance to spend enough time with him. I miss his little cage. Wahhhhh. He was just so cute. Life is just not the same without him. Boooooo hooooooo.

Jawbitch, descending the stairs: Max, go to bed. You've been crying for over an hour now. Do we have any Kaluah or something to put in my coffee? I need a drink after this kid.
G-man: No, but we have scotch.
Jawbitch: How do you make Irish Coffee?
G-man, blowing the dust from a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label: You put whiskey in it, like this.
Jawbitch: But that's not whiskey.
G-man: Read the label, it says, "Blended Scotch Whisky"
Jawbitch, pouring: let me smell it.
G-man: I may have to join you.

Bloodsport

For several years, I ran a Tae Kwon Do school on Long Island. I transmitted my love for The Art of Korean Karate to many students, and even motivated a half-dozen to achieve the rank of 1st Dan black belt.

I also love to watch others in real live combat situations. Personally, my favorite technique is running away, which I've successfully employed several times to date, which is why I admire all runners, like IA and THB. Did you ever see the original Ultimate Fighting Championships? Uneducated laypersons of the law (read: dumb ass legislators, like McCain in this case) characterized these contests as "human cock fights," and they were subsequently banned in New York. I can recall a match between Royce Gracie and Dan Severn, where Dan was on top of Royce, and two times Royce nearly choked Dan out, and finally did so on his third try. Like the legislators, even the announcers couldn't see or understand what was happening. As the link above shows, apparently they are making a comeback.

But this incident in Cambodia takes fighting to another level. Too bad they didn't videotape this match:

Cambodia Midgets take on a Lion

I wonder what they would charge on pay-per-view? I think I need to adjust my Netflix Queue.

Prone Position

I pay $90/month to lease a parking space in a private lot adjacent to the train tracks. Doesn't the motivation to enforce a right of exclusivity seem proportional to the amount paid for the right?

As I was walking to my car last night, I found a woman lying face-down behind the shrubbery in my lot. Another patron, armed with a cell phone ready to dial 911, was standing near her. The woman was wearing a sweatshirt, sneakers, and stained jeans. Between her crossed arms, her shoulder-length hair, and the ground, her face was completely covered. My initial impression was that she chose an odd place to take a nap, but because of the patron's concerned puss, I knelt down next to her and took action.

G-man: Are you alright? Do you need help?
Woman, turning head slightly: Uhh, yes, ummm, no.
G-man: Would you like me to call an ambulance or something?
Woman, slurred: Ummm, no, I don't think so.
G-man, to the growing patron gaggle: She doesn't want any help.

Suddenly, I flashed back to torts, remembering that since she wasn't kin, I had no duty to help her. So I got up, walked to my car, and drove home. She seemed like a drunken fool who was passed out, soiled herself, and just didn't have the wherewithall to get up and leave. I'm fairly certain patron #1 called the police. But I sort of felt bad leaving her crashed there, especially without asking her to chip in for rent money.

Alias Tonight

Boy am I psyched! A double episode of Alias is on tonight. I got to leave work after the summer associate reception and catch them both. I'm glad that Joel Grey business is over with, he was just oo kooky to play Sloane. I'm also glad the bullshit radiation sickness Jack had is over too. So unrealistic. Call me a geek, but I can't stand watching stories with technical inaccuracies. Such baloney detracts from the plot. From the description on ABC's website, it looks like Dixon takes a beating in the first episode. I just wonder what Sloane and Jack have been hiding from Sydney and Nadia, and what all the pieces of the Rambaldi device amount to?

The Oysters

On my way back from Chicago last week, I took advantage of a chance encounter I had with Bill, a fellow who went to Officer Candidate School with me about twenty five years ago. Bill recognized my reference to the jetway as a "p-way," and told me he first heard that word in King Hall at OCS. After doing a little research, I was disappointed to learn that the Navy split up the Office Indoctrination School (OIS) and the Officer Candidate School (OCS), moving the latter from Newport to Pensacola. The OIS folks ("Oysters") were all graduate students who joined up after becoming doctors or lawyers, and were commissioned immediately as Lieutenants without enduring the least bit of boot camp training.

We mere college graduates, known as "indocs," had to pass our course before we earned the rank of Ensign (two pay grades below Lieutenant). Lore has it that, if you didn't pass OCS, the Navy would bust you to the rank of petty officer, and you would spend the rest of your career chipping paint on a sub tender. Needless to say, the intensity and focus of the two courses of Officer training were quite different. We found the Oysters to be sloppy in their appearance and attitude, which is probably why the Navy split up the two schools, to avoid having the OIS rub off on OCS candidates.

Thanx Max

Max: I love you, daddy ... because you smell like cheetos.

After My First Deposition

My deposition went very well, tyvm. I succeeded in getting the deponent to authenticate a video clip of a presentation he gave that I found on the Internet. You'd think the other side would produce such things. I decided to ask the partner, DS, if she'd like me to second chair at her depo of the chairman.

G-man: I don't know when you are taking [the chairman], but since he is the proverbial dead end to many of the questions asked in previous depositions, I thought you might like some help. I'm willing to go along if you'd like and offer any technical assistance you might need. Please let me know.

DS: Only if you can come up with another video clip--perhaps of Congressional committee testimony?!?!

G-man: I'm sure something like that can be arranged.

DS: And I want the equivalent of the negatives!

DA: Just don't let my secretary make your traveling arrangements!

DS: Oh my...perhaps I shouldn't even ask....

DA: Let's just say that my secretary doesn't like to use the Travel Service and booked the flight and hotel herself, so we flew out and into Newark and the hotel was so bad that we checked out within an hour and had the Travel Service find us new accommodations.

Let's also just say that we left the first “hotel” in such a hurry that G-man forgot his scivies and had to go back later, and on the way to the new hotel he got shat on by a bird! Good fun all around ; )

DS: Sounds like the screenplay for a Chevy Chase movie!

G-man: Yep, that's pretty much the story of my life.

DS: Maybe Owen Wilson can play you in the movie.

G-man: Yeah, like from Dumb & Dumber. Now that's just too funny.

DS: I was thinking of Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers, but.....

G-man: My favorite part was when I waived to DA from the p-way when I boarded the plane, while she remained corralled behind the fence with the rest of the cattle.

DA: yeah, that was my favorite part too. G-man was sucking up to another Navy guy so he could get on the plane faster. Don't trust G-man, he'll leave ya in the dirt if he can.

G-man: Well, my conversation with a fellow shipmate worked, didn't it? I hadn't seen that guy in 25 years, since OCS, which used to be in Newport, Rhode Island. While you were moo-ing behind the fence, I was taking advantage of the opportunity to board early, afforded to almost everyone else besides ourselves, and that was the only way I could think of to get my trusty, wheeled suitcase (which served you well this trip) into the overhead compartment, so I wouldn't complain too loudly (although the look on your face was priceless when I was waiving goodbye :)

DA: It is true, G-man was the baggage handler for the entire trip. I guess that was worth early boarding.

G-man: And, to cap it all off, the car service did not arrive until after a full half-hour had passed. They of course sent my driver to the wrong terminal. He blamed it on the office, but your driver was there waiting for you, so once again, I guess you win.

Before My First Deposition

Sorry, blog. Duty calls, and I have neglected you. But in my absence, I've accumulated much to tell you.

The senior associate, DA, and I had reservations at the Hyatt in Chicago, now called the Blake Hotel, for a set of depositions. When we arrived, we had some trouble finding the front door to the Blake. We weren't sure how to get in from all the construction. Eventually, we gained entry, and the desk clerk assured me that our floor, the sixth floor, was renovated.

When I got there, I found the hallway was indeed recarpeted and freshly painted. In my room, the bathroom had this kool old TV mounted on a pole. But that completely describes the Blake's good features.

Poor qualities were numerous:

• The hotel was undergoing extensive renovations, and the lobby was
  destroyed/the restaurant closed.
• A distant ICE machine might be making ice, on the 12th floor. I had no
  idea whether it worked.
• The whole premises had that really old smell, like my grandmother's
  house.
• But the last straw prompted me to phone the front desk clerk and check
  out - no Internet access.

He was quiet appologetic, and not the least bit surprised we were leaving. In fact, he sounded a bit lonesome and disappointed. There's nothing worse than travelling for most of the day and arriving in a shithole. So, I called the travel service, who booked us in another hotel, named the Monaco. The agent told me it was a mere 3 minute walk from the Blake.

We walked about 20 blocks in twenty minutes, and I got bird shit on my shirt collar.

DA: that's suppose to be good luck.

G-man (remembering this): I don't think so. Bad things happen in threes, so watch out.

Finally, we arrived, finding the Hotel Monaco to be very nice. They had free wine in the lobby. Kool suites. A sanctuary. Perhaps the bird shit was a harbinger. Little did I know that the third bad thing had already happened. We checked out so fast from the Blake that I forgot my drawers were still in a drawer. I walked round trip 40 minutes to go get them and come back. But not until I polished off a huge burger and a pint of pistachio ice cream.

More Brief Tension

Oftentimes our senior partner confuses who is who, especially when he is pressed for time. G-man takes advantage of the email traffic to create amusing situations during such crises.

Senior Partner: Apparently version 3 of the document does not contain many of the changed I made over the weekend. DS (a female litigating partner, whose first name starts with the same letter as the senior associate, DA) will work on getting those changes into the system tomorrow morning. The so revised brief will be sent to everyone then.
DS: Me [insert DS's first name here]?!
G-man, wisely leaving the senior partner out, but not the litigating partner: Me Tarzan, you Jane.
DS: There are not enough Advils in the City for me to deal with [the senior partner's] document creation/revision methods!!

Then, DA, the senior associate, enters the fray

DA: No, he means me, DS.
DS: I'm taking Chitah and going back to the jungle!
DA: I'm going with you.
DS: No you aren't dammit; there's not enough room in the tree house!
DA: You're not implying that I'm spacially challenged, are you? P.S. I'll bring wine.
DS: Spacially challenged? No, not at all. It's that I don't want to share Tarzan. BUT if you'll bring the wine, I may reconsider (as long as you don't fall out of the tree house!).

Sea Stories, Vol. 1, No. 1

Sit right down, kiddies, and let papa G-man tell you a bedtime tale of legendary lore from his days in the Silent Service.

One day, the old man, the XO, Eng, myself, and the crew set sail somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, taking the submarine out on sea trials. We called submarines "boats." I was standing a shift (we call that "watches") in the Maeuvering Room. The "Mo Room," is a little room in the Engine Room (ER) near the back of the boat (aft) where all the panels are kept which run the nuclear propulsion plant to move the boat. In a flash, a human form streaked past the starboard side doorway. And then another. Normally, I'd think nothing of it, because it was probably just some of the crew goofing off. But I was on edge, because for the first time, we were taking the boat down to test depth, the deepest depth that the boat is ever allowed to go down to. Horseplay is not authorized at such times.

I thought I recognized one of these characters that flew by. He sort of looked like either Humpty or Dumpty, one of two brothers in the crew, but I wasn't sure. So, I checked with the Engine Room Supervisor, my right hand man in the ER, on the sound powered phones. He said he hadn't seen them.

Slowly I watched a bead of sweat drip from the throttleman's upper lip area as we carefully reached test depth. I thought everthing would be alright now, so I began to relax. Just then, I heard the hatch to conerland slam shut. We folks in the ER refer to everyone who dwells forward of the ER bulkhead "coners," because the boat is shaped like their heads. Next thing I know, XO bolts into the Mo Room, after first asking to come in through the chains at the doorway, of course.

XO: Lieutenant G-man, did you see Humpty and Dumpty come back here?
G-man: No sir XO.
XO: Very well, carry on.

And he left. Now, my curiousity was peaked, so I made some inquiries after I got off my watch. Naturally, because any one man could sink the ship, but anyone could save it, a crew becomes very tight. But eventually, after much repeated effort, I learned that Humpty and Dumpty had a certain reputation about them.

I've always known that, like the coveted Oxford comma, experience is a valued commodity in the U.S. Navy, and also, test depth, test missile firings, and initial submergence are unique and fairly rare events. Oftentimes I've heard one sailor brag to another, "I got more time at test depth on the shitter than you've got at sea." What I didn't know was that Humpty and Dumpty were widely known to the crew as the "beat-off" brothers. They had purportedly earned this reputation for holding the bragging rights to the most number of ejaculations at test depth. And they always did the deed in front of an independent witness, so that they could have another to authenticate their success. The XO was bent on catching them in the act, red-handed (literally), and taking them to Captain's mast. Apparently, they outmaueuvered him once again, because a few minutes after we left test depth, he left the ER empty handed.

Cinco de Mayo

Jawbitch: Is our financial planner taking all the money in our account? How much money do we have in our account?
G-man: Which account, checking account?
Jawbitch: Yeah, I gotta pay some bills.
G-man: He doesn't "take" the money, he invests it. What bills?
Jawbitch: I have to pay my credit card for our vacation we took in February.
G-man: How much is it?
Jawbitch: About seven thousands.
G-man: Well, it would help if you could wait a week or two, so we can cover it. I'm going outside now to look at my new $3G gas grill, just to remind me why I'm working so hard.


G-man, thinking to himself -- ahhh, I feel better, now that's a grill!

Who is the Tooth Fairy?

Jawbitch: GG's thought the tooth fairy was coming last night. What happened?
G-man: I got too much on my plate, and I forgot. You gotta leave a note on my pillow when I'm this busy, otherwise, I'm worthless.
Jawbitch: She's really upset. You're in really big trouble. What are you going to do?
G-man: What do you mean me? It's the Tooth Fairy's fault.

Later that evening:

GG: Daddy! You're home!
G-man: Yes, but let me tell you something. Last night I got home really late, and when I came into your room to give you a kiss goodnight, someone swished by me and ran out.
GG: hhhuuuhh!
G-man: I think it was the Tooth Fairy. She dropped this: $
GG: Really? Maybe that's why she didn't take my tooth!

Now, if only we can keep faith in Santa Claus for one more year....

Atlantic City

I went to Caesar's this weekend, all by myself. I tried to get my posse to come after the family's confirmation (which I opted out from), but they all had excuses, some legitimate, some not so legit -- you decide:

Uncle Smelly: I don't want to drive at night in the rain.
G-man: But you live in NJ.

Steppin Bro: You got some cash for me, cause I didn't bring any, and I don't have my cash card?
G-man: Sure, however much you need -- you can pay me back later.
Steppin Bro: Oh, I forgot. I got to take care of the kids.

Bluto: I not going there all dressed up in this monkey suit.
G-man: But you can get anything you want here, even new clothes.
Bluto: Yeah, but Steppin Bro will make me drive.

So I ended up playing 2/4 Texas hold'em. I lost $50 before I learned that, unlike no-limit, you can't bullshit your way out of a bad hand.

My new pic

So, do you like my new pic?

http://photos6.flickr.com/10737620_be2681edd6_o.jpg

I stole it.