I learned a lot about my Grandma today.

We played cards together and she was livid that the hand she held had eight cards to my two. She was even on the verge of cussing. I have never heard this wrinkled lady say anything dirtier than “Holy Moses” or “Awww Shucks”. She has fallen down steps, burnt dinner, and struggles to get up from a chair. Yet, the one thing that makes her audibly more mad than anything is a card game. She picked up a card and after surveying the play area she lets out a repressed, “DAMNIT.”

My gramsters was starring at the TV while a soccer (futbal) game was going on. The Euro Cup to be specific. And she’s all like, “Are those boys playing volleyball?”

No Grandma. Those boys are playing the opposite of volleyball.

She transfers milk from the carton to a smaller glass to make room for her stockade of Jell-O molds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her make any, and I know I stopped eating them long ago so I can only imagine what use those are put to. 80% of sewer Jell-O is from my grandmother.

Today we ate some home made wedding soup together and insisted that I eat with the smaller spoon. I don’t know where in her upbringing she was taught that using the small spoon is a privilege for the guest, but I felt flattered. Perhaps she can still manage to teach me things from the “old world” that I can apply to my current gen.

She just called my laptop a “lap computer”.

In the swirl of Mr.Magooness and old timers naievety she can provide some odd insight that turns my young brain on its side. As I was leaving her home to go play some cards with the gang she asked me, “What did you mother ever see in your father?” I looked at her in disbelief. Did she really ask me such an oddly personal question?

She may struggle to get around the house but she reeks of honesty. She tells me how fat my dad is getting, how it’s terrible to get old and that I should never attempt it. She isn’t afraid to talk of her death, and sometimes she is almost too accepting of it. As old as she is, she actively ignores the lady up the street who calls four times a day to talk to her. She’s a Grandma and here she is ignoring people! I would have never thought that was possible.

So now I wonder.  Am I going to be a replica of her one day?  Where I have no idea what sport those crazy kids are playing?  Will I try to give my grandthing more mashed potatoes because when I was their age I wanted more mashed potatoes?  I can see myself sitting across the room from my grandchildren with their super holographic/brain contraptions wondering what the hell is happening, and when I’m going to die.  Holla!

Ive been doing dishes by hand for a while now. It was not always like that. Back when I first got my feet (or should I say hands!) wet doing some dishes I’d simply wash off some debris, turn on the terrifying garbage disposal and pop those lil’ circular rascals into their watery vault. It was a nice life for me full of luxury. I felt like the king of dishes. I was bossing them around, throwing any evil doers into their dungeon, then I’d wave my hand and they’d be splattered with boiling water then they’d learn their lesson and never be dirty again. Until next time…

Those days ended. My kingdom went on the decline and I was forced to wash them by hand…

Now I’ve formed more of a human bond with these dishes. I gently caress them with a sponge saturated with the newest fanciest of dish soaps then place them onto the drying rack to sit for later use. We were all getting along all fine and soapy. That is until the other day when I encountered the most difficult of foes.

The Collinger.

How do you wash one of these? It’s made out of wire and water can’t get it’s grip around the Collinger. It’s amazingly pathetic how many times I’ve tried to wash this fellow, and failed.

I have left this colander in the sink for days on end. I can’t even make pasta anymore because I can’t drain the water safely. It haunts me in my sleep and I can’t figure out a way to get the little debris of food out of its tiny tiny holes. Do I have to buy a new colander every time I cook now? I fear that those days of disposable colanders are awfully near…

Many of you young students wake up every morning with a head fresh with new dreams. Dreams of conquering some athletic endeavor, maybe making groundbreaking discoveries in history and finally figure out who was really on that grassy knoll that fateful day in Dallas, or maybe you dream of becoming the top CEO of some company that sells a great variety of bread.

I’m here to let you down gently, though not completely crush you. The outside world is full of possibilities, many vast wild unfulfilled possibilities, but they take a lot of work and dedication.

While you wake with dreams as fresh as the clouds in the sky, I awake from dreams where I have on the wrong shoes, no pants, no job, borderline homeless, no car, no food, or a millions responsibilities and no way to fulfill any of them. Nothing but sheer paranoia all the time. Some thoughts that commonly race through my mind, in no real order, are:

• What flavor of Ramen noodles should I eat today
• Should I buy a gallon of gas or some groceries
• Am I overdressing for this internship, or under-dressing?
• Why am I working for free?
• Why is a box of cereal four dollars? I’m not buying the stuff in the bag.
• Why wont a simple franchise hire a man with a degree?
• I’d make more money begging for change on a street corner.
• I hope I don’t get fat now.
• It’s all downhill from here.

Some of those things seem a bit critical and awfully depressing, but when you’re out in the world all by yourself there are so many options about everything it can be overwhelming. Only if you let it though! The power of positive thought it amazing. Sure I eat boat loads of Ramen Noodles, but BOY are they tasty! So many flavors too! And making no money means there’s nothing to worry about buying! You can’t spend money on dumb things if you don’t have any money to spend. Talk about a problem solver!

While I would make more money being a hobo, I am ecstatic to have a world of opportunities. For all we know you may never hear of me again since I could pick up and hop freight trains to New Mexico and work at a small bicycle repair shop the rest of my life! I will keep you folks updated on a graduate’s lifestyle so you have something to look forward to. Or maybe avoid.

The month of April is filled to point of busting belt buckles with fun and jokes, why else would it begin with a day dedicated to fooling your folks.  Some good ones to use for next year (or April Fools part 2 on April 11th)

•  Let out all the hens/pigs/cows out of the barn yard.  Blame babe who should be use to guilt after being accused of killing Ma.
• Sour up the milk with some soy sauce so awkward glances will be thrown around the table until Pa excuses himself to end the cow’s life.  Fooled!
• Replace the chicken’s eggs with snakes and scorpions!  Everyone wins here
• Go up to the roof and glue the roosters mouth shut.  That was just a joke going on way too long.
• Cook a waffle and then cook the waffle into the pancake.  Give it to your sister and she’ll never know what hit her!
• Poop your pants.  
• Cover yourself with flour and shake pretending to OD on cocaine!

These are just some great examples to kick April off with a bang.  A farm may be required for some of these hit tips so get growing now so next year the farm will be ready to go.  I haven’t stopped having fun this month starting with sleeping through important meetings, recording fantastic radio shows, e-mailing friends, spending money and to top it all off I made some meatballs today.  Is anyone else having as great an April as I am?

Robots are popping up all over the place this day and age.  What might look like a small lovable toaster on Wednesday is actually X54T4, a Cyborg who hacks into your internet every Sunday morning to send progress reports to the mainframe G.I.R.L (Great Idea Researcher and Learner).  That was long ago and but science has only advanced like an army of ants advancing on your annual diabetic picnic extravaganza.  So what are humans suppose to do about these robots taking over our lifestyles?  Nothing, of course.  Robots are only as smart as we make them, but we make them too smart without knowing it.  Who knew that giving them the ability to make other robots and flirt with other machines was a bad thing.  It was scientist’s way of studying the art of picking up women but it has backfired big time.  Now robots do more than flirt.  They talk.  They listen.  They discuss.  I fear I am discussing with one of their own.

I recently found a piece of paper on my “roommates” desk that read, “<IAMROBOT>”.  My gut tells me this is self explanatory but my brain wants to believe this is his idea of being trendy or a band name he is tossing around.  Always one to air on the side of caution, I went with my gut.  It all makes so much sense now.  He is always cleaning because he’s a cleaning model.  His room is constantly clean no matter what happens due to his cleaning programs, when he drinks booze he vomits because Robots are not yet capable of processing liquor, he rarely eats because Robots don’t eat people food and that is just more debris he has to clean out of his system during “showers”.  His “showers” are extremely long and always emerges dryer than I think is possible.  Does he even get wet or is it just a trick?  Candles are always lit in his room, perhaps to hide the fumes of his Robot antics?  He claims he is “gay” which solves the problem of why he does not hit on or demean women!  It all makes sense.  My roommate is a robot.

The solution is clear; do not let them know you know.  Play coy.  Try doing the opposite things you would normally do to throw off G.I.R.L.  Do dishes for once, be polite to them, throw up on the carpet, don’t get extremely wasted and pee of the roof, study vigorously.  Opposite actions will throw off the robo-roommate buying you more time until the harvest.  Good luck. 

North Carolina is a wonderful place full of wonderful people.  Wake Forest in particular is more amazing.  I was recently there for a track meet where I baked in the sun and burnt my scalp to a crisp, but it was much more fun than it sounds.

I feel as though Wake Forest is the breeding ground of friendship.  They have roads called Friendship Circle (right off of Polo Drive) and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone walking alone there.  Everyone is always laughing, chuckling and just enjoying one another.  My friends and I were no exception.  On our warm up for the immaculate 1500m race, my friend Dan (not a doppleganger) started playing a game where he would rejoice when guys ran by and boo when girls jogged by us.  It was incredibly amusing especially when he decided to jump off of logs flamboyantly and scream out loud.  Kevin, another kid warming up with us, found out what was going on and declared “this is fun”.  It was fun.

Later after the not-so-immaculate 1500m race, we were on our cool down when he discovered Friendship Circle.  We immediatly felt tighter as friends so we grasped hands and skipped for a great length.  Can’t you just imagine three skinny boys wearing nothing but short shorts while holding hands and skipping?  They must see that everyday on friendship circle!

Boy am I envious of those folks who were inspired by us skipping.

My spring break so far has consisted of some fun times.  Some people go to exotic locales like Florida, Texas, North Carolina, pretty much anywhere south of the ol’ Mason Dixon (if that wasn’t there who would know where the south began or end? Subsequently, where rules exist or do not since there are no rules in the south?)  I travelled from my small state college, Bloomsburg, to the great city of Pittsburgh.  In the blustery snow.  Has Spring Break lost its meaning much like Christmas and Flag Day?  Also, I was in a squeaking car that is doomed to fail on me anytime now.  It was also my Birthday.  Did I get a digital camera?  No.  But I did get a harmonica and the parallels there go on forever.  What better way to start off spring break than by going to court?  There isn’t a better way,  Co-Eds be damned.   I was found not guilty of not driving with a registration which I don’t understand.  I was clearly driving a car that was no registered and I had proof of my registration going into effect AFTER I got pulled over for it.  Regardless, I celebrated by going to DeLecua’s for breakfast. This is arguably the best breakfast in Pittsburgh according to their wall made out of plaques starting from the year plaques were invented.  It was cheap and filled me up so I can’t complain. Other than that I’ve been playing Super Smash Brothers Brawl with Patrick.  Best spring break ever?  The break is young, my friends. In other news this new fangled WordPress refuses to format paragraphs.  Is it on strike because of some sort of union contract?  I don’t know, but I’d be willing to up their pay in order to get some nice paragraphs in my post instead on one large one. Bigger isn’t always better WordPress.  Gosh. 

It’s March Mustache time.  MARCH MUSTACHE time.  Quit reading and start growing.  Golly.

I get to run a 800 meter race tomorrow as fast as I can. In preparation? As the saying goes, “The hay is in the barn, don’t burn it down” and what better way to prevent something from burning by freezing it! My legs are frozen.

Wish me luck.

If you have ears I have a show for you. I guess you’ll need working ears because just having ears sometimes is not enough.

I have a radio show that I’m trying to turn into a podcast and i think people might enjoy. (I see I did not capitalize that ‘i’ back there and I’m not going to go back and correct it because it’s just too late for that kind of care and tenderness)

On this episode we had a friend attempt to drink a gallon of milk in one hour. 45 minutes into it he complained of severe build up of lactic acid and parallel feelings of being drunk. He did not throw up ( ) but he was entertaining. We had guest callers. One was gay so we have that key demographic (Is that a hard demographic to capture on radio?) and one told us to play music. He was incredibly mad for 1 am. I didn’t think people could get mad that late, but I bet he’ll have a hard time going to bed.

My room mate is currently in his room with a girl. All I can hear is them giggling like a couple of kids peeing in a ball pit at chuck-e-cheeses. It’s ridiculous. They must be practicing their stand up routines on each other. I’m going to have to go bed now cranky. THANKS.