Bride and Prejudice

I wrote this out in my head on a synaptic cocktail napkin while attending my cousin’s wedding in York, PA. I had planned a whole series on weddings involving tips and other anecdotes for couples looking to get married but decided against it in favor of a little advice and wisdom to my two year old who is dancing with her cousin to a God awful Dance House remix version of Journey's “Don’t Stop Believing.”

I know. It’s blasphemous. I expected more from a DJ chosen by a couple who first met at a hardcore punk concert called, “Kill Your Idols” and now culminated their courtship by entering into the reception hall to Joey Ramone’s cover of “What a Wonderful World.” While the bride and her attendants were more traditional, the guys donned red Chucks to match their red ties.

Song and shoe selections, aside, I have only a few pieces of Fatherly wisdom for my little one as I dread the years to come that will be filled with boys and men and headaches and heartaches. If only I could lock her away until she’s 30. Undoubtedly, being my child, she’ll be able to figure a way out using a bobby pin and a duct tape.

First off, little one, as I refer to her in the blogosphere, elope. We’ll give you the money from the wedding to start off on your new life together or at least put a sizable down payment on a house.
Weddings have been done to death. You spend a lot of money and time trying to find all the pieces to this ornate puzzle and it all gets ruined by some weird thing. Not to mention you don’t even get to enjoy the day because you are being pulled in so many different directions that when all is said and done, you don’t even remember those pictures of you being taken. Go, get married on a beach or in a small ceremony and enjoy a nice time alone. These days, weddings are more a show for family and friends than they are about commemorating an event. If you are dead set on a ceremony then fine, but if there is a hint of doubt, I’ll try my best to save you and that boy the anguish of all that planning gone to waste.

If you do plan on going through with a ceremony, do it in the early to mid Fall. Everyone and their sister gets married in the summer. It’s hard enough trying to schedule everything as it is, having to deal with the peak wedding season is ridiculous. Also, it’s freaking hot, although the Summer of 2009 panned out to be unseasonably cool and wet. If you wait until Fall you get cooler temperatures and better colors with the foliage. That is if you plan on getting married around here. The wedding we were just at was at a place called Lauxmont Farms in Wrightsville, PA. It was a beautiful reception in their Rotunda but at three hours away, we were ready to make you walk home after being a little cranky for two straight days.

Don’t get hung up on the details. Before you know it the deal is done and you don’t remember any of it, anyway. Hell, I remember going through the whole ceremony only to suddenly forget my left from my right when it came time to put the rings on. I handed your mother the wrong hand and she didn’t even think twice about it. It wasn’t until we went down to hand the flowers to both sets of parents that my Father laughingly whispered into my ear, “ You’ve got the ring on the wrong hand, genius.” I covered but if he noticed, I’m sure someone else did.

Let’s just realize that bridesmaid’s dresses are perhaps the ugliest thing in the world no matter how you slice it. Again, I bring you back to point one as it is a stupid dress that no one will ever wear after the wedding day. You can’t take them back and you can’t resell them because who in their right mind would want such an ugly dress. So, just remember, you are the star and you don’t need to make everyone else around you look worse by dressing them in loud colors with unflattering angles.

Go on your honeymoon and don’t skimp. Your Mother and I opted to try and be a little frugal by going to Niagara Falls for four days since we were a month from Christmas. She spent most of the time sick as a dog in bed and the weather was cold in Canada in November….go figure. It’s been five years and since you came along, the odds of us being able to go on that official honeymoon I promised her are about as good as your Grandmother actually having that yard sales she keeps saying she’ll have. Honestly, my mother has loads of boxes in the garage labeled “Yard Sale” They’ve lived in that house 25 years and those boxes were from 20 years ago.

Lastly, do me a favor and marry someone you can feel comfortable with before you get married. Realize that while 50% of marriages may end in divorce, a good percentage of the ones that do survive do so out of fear of being a statistic. Settling for someone is never an answer and anything that you find intolerable as a couple before you get married won’t change afterwards. Men and women go through life letting their parents’ set the tone for how they perceive a partner. “You have to train a man.” “Remember, he’s dumb and doesn’t get it.” “You’re the one who is really in charge.” “Women are too concerned with the little things.” “Women shop and aren’t very smart about things.” These are stereotypes that are a product of all us growing up in the shadow of our parents. While your Mother and I are not exactly carbon cutouts of our parents, I believe we got the best parts and will try to at least pass that onto you. Just remember, it’s easy to get married, it’s hard to stay that way.

So, as I sit here watching you twirl around on your toes to this horrible version of a beloved classic I am saddened that someday you will grow up and you will get married. Although, I’ll be happy that you’ve found someone to love and that loves you, the sting of being replaced as the man in your life will hurt all the same, if not more. I can only hope that we can teach you well in this world and that you find that one person that gets you and can make you happy. My parting advice is this. Treat each other with respect, be friends first then lovers, and for the sake of all involved, don’t subject us to the Electric Slide.

Have Terrible Towel, Will Travel

Here We Go: Part One

With the anticipation mounting for Super Bowl XLIII, finding a nice spot to enjoy the game might be a daunting task. If you can’t make it to Tampa, and are a Steelers fan, have no fear. Steeler Nation is a phenomenon that is rampant everywhere. The Pittsburgh Steelers have probably the most expansive fan base. Some credit the collapse of the steel industry as being the genesis of the movement. When the steel mills closed in the region, folks were forced to move away to find jobs. While their addresses may have changed, their love of the blue collar style team didn’t. They raised their families abroad loving the Steelers.

And Pittsburgh is a town that loves and remembers its roots. It’s a microcosm of immigrant America. The area is rich in varied backgrounds and even though the size of the city isn’t close to places like LA or New York, the population is just as diverse. Pittsburgh football is a testament to this culture. We’re the mutts of the NFL. We’re not the flashy, “bling” style of ball club like you find in Dallas or New York. The Steelers are hardworking, hard playing, and beloved across the nation.

In fact, at one point in time, NFL films offered the Rooney’s several titles that would market the Steelers much like The Dallas Cowboys, who are considered America’s Team. Dan Rooney turned down several saying “We’re Pittsburgh’s team.” Well, if the unofficial title bestowed upon Dallas’ club is America’s Team, then surely the Steelers must be “World’s Team” as evident by their symbol, The Terrible Towel being well recognized and documented all over the globe. And shame on the NFL for trying capitalize on a charitable cause by introducing the Trophy Towel. This cheap copycat is going to be draped over the winners of Super Bowl XLIII and then be available at retail outlets for $25.

What you may not know is that Myron Cope came up with towel as a gimmick to garner media sponsors. The towel was introduced in 1975 during the playoff run for The Steelers second Super Bowl win. 20 years later, Cope gave the rights to the towel over to the Allegheny Valley School. Sales of the towel have raised over $2 million dollars in the last decade for the school which cares for over 900 physically and mentally disabled people, including Cope’s own son, who has autism. The fact that the NFL is trying to piggyback the popularity of the towel in order to make a profit is deplorable.

So, if you find yourselves out of town for the big game take a look at these sites and see if you can find a local establishment that welcomes the sons and daughters of the black and gold.

Steelers Bars.com
From The Pittsburgh Post Gazette

Terrible Towel Sightings
On Saturday Night Live
At The Beijing Olympics
Even In Space

Piss On LEGO

Ok, perhaps you’ve been wondering what the hell this post is all about? Perhaps not. Some might have come here thinking they’ve stumbled onto a fan page for Mega Bloks intending to diss LEGO.

Nope, this is just me turning over the blogging reins to the man who begat Mongo in order to share a Christmas tale of woe from the perspective of a Father who shops on Christmas Eve, or as the holiday is officially known in my family as Piss On LEGO day. I could try to give you an explanation but it just wouldn’t be as good. I think I’ve mentioned on more than one occasion that I love a good story. In fact, I’ve used that same line in both The Coffin Story and The Baseball Story. What can I say, I come from a long line of storytellers. You see, my Father has the ability to spin and weave a beautiful tapestry of details and facts with enough gravitas to make Morgan Freeman wish he could narrate it. Then, he yanks the rug out from under you with a punch line that you never see coming. The man is that good. So, for me to try and recreate the story of Piss On LEGO would be like having Britney Spears recite Shakespeare. I wouldn’t let here read Dr. Seuss. Now, occasionally, I may bust in with a footnote or some exposition to highlight the details but in order to not detract from the flow, I will add a note and the bottom of the page will reference those. Now, without further ado, I give you the origin of Piss On LEGO.

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away¹, two brothers would go Christmas Shopping. Only one of the brothers had children at the time, and the other brother would go along for moral support, and to drink beer at Bud's² later.

It was a very difficult task for the older brother to purchase gifts of a quality suitable for the wonderful, highly intelligent, and generally superior children that he had begat.³ It came to pass that on a cold and snowy evening late in December the two Brothers odyssey came to a crucial impasse at the Ames store at the Uniontown Fayette Plaza⁴. Having not yet found the suitable gifts that his children deserved, the dejected Father walked up and down the aisles searching for his elusive quarry.⁵

In utter and abject futility, the hapless Father cried out, " I just don't know what to get those kids for Christmas" The younger brother, ever helpful said "Why not get them LEGO"? The older Brother, without thinking, and not realizing that he would be coining a phrase that would live through the ages, said "Aw, Piss on LEGO" and from that moment on, every Christmas shopping trip became a mission to Piss On LEGO.⁶

1. Ok, I realize that it didn’t take long for me to have ruined the flow, but I had to jump in here and point out that Dad is partially the reason I’m so warped. After all, when you can recite the Dead Parrot Sketch before you learn the pledge of allegiance you’re doomed for life. In any case, opening with Star Wars just goes to show where I get it.

2. Bud’s is a local pizza and beer joint in my hometown. If you are very familiar with the Pittsburgh area, you’ll know what a Vinnie Pie is. Bud’s is the equivalent, save for the cigarette ash. Either way, you could take the empty box home and lube up a Ferrari with it.

3. That’s a pretty bold statement. Between my brother, my sister, and myself, I’d say we were more enthralled with the boxes toys came in then the actual toy. In fact, pretty much every toy we got, that had internal parts, was disassembled by my brother and rebuilt with more power. Of course, I ended up breaking them soon afterwards.

4. Now, for the sake of authenticity, it is very possible that my Dad meant Hills. I could be wrong. I’m a little fuzzy on the geography of the Uniontown Fayette Plaza circa 1979-1984. I was only aware of Hills being the major store there at such a young age.

5. Well, it was Christmas Eve. What would one expect? We’re lucky we didn’t end up with the Alex P. Keaton Christmas Gift Extravaganza consisting of Beef Jerky and a TV Guide from 7-Eleven.

6. I can’t make this stuff up. This is really what he calls Christmas shopping. I don’t know if he still waits until Christmas Eve to do it, but for the longest time this was the running gag.