Curse of a Superhero?

I’m struggling over the title…

Should it be Curse of a Superhero
or Karma
or Timing?

I think bad timing is a curse; karma is a thing of faith. If you do whatever crappy thing you want to and things work in your favor every time, you probably don’t think much about karma or timing. If you constantly do the right thing and nothing works the way it should, you think about it quite a bit.

…. and after you think about karma, it seems to eventually lead back to timing.

I’d really like some feedback on this one… I think I’m chasing my tail?

As a superhero, I HAVE to believe in karma. If I didn’t, why would I do the good deeds? I wouldn’t continue to help the downtrodden….the oppressed… the needy…. the huddled masses. I’d stop letting mom-mom go first at the four way stop. There would be chaos.

And THAT my friend… is the curse.

Are Box and I superheroes because of the curse? Are we cursed because we are superheroes? Chicken? Egg? Aren’t all comic superheroes cursed or in internal turmoil of some sort?

Lately, I have been thinking about timing and choices, as a number of my close friends are doing. Why do some people get away unscathed after doing unspeakable acts…see politicians/ Murdock Village… and some of us get burned every time on the slightest marginal decision? Why do some people not see the obvious choices right in front of them? Why do some people continue to travel down the wrong path, even though everyone around can tell them they are making a huge mistake? Why do some people just never seem to win, while others seem to win every time, even though they didn’t even pay for their ticket?

Is it karma or just bad timing… or are they just superheroes in disguise?

I don’t remember seeing them at the meetings.

The question tonight that started it all was why I don’t have a full time job….

The answer was that I can’t afford it. It seems I am the only human who gets a W-2 with a negative income. You see I have the unique ability to magically find these jobs that take all my effort while actually costing me money. Honestly, if you figure my hours in on some of these jobs and time worked, the children of China laugh at me.

Ah… the examples…

I once worked for free for two weeks helping to manage a bar, promised a job at the end of the term. Granted… it was my idea to do it for free (of course it was… (superhero)!...duh). After the two weeks and extra hours… the bar closed.

I’ve done countless catering jobs, where I’ve lost money, because I wanted the function to be successful, even though the person throwing it was not as concerned as I was.

I’ve offered to help people out of binds time after time…always successful, always not for profit, always struggling to get paid to break even at best... always ending poorly.

I’ve done literally hundreds of artwork jobs for free.

I’ve done print jobs where I’ve put up the time, the money, the art and the labor…

And lost money.

I’ll do just about anything for a free beer… that I could probably get for a dollar at happy hour.

I’ve put friends through high school, college, tech school, med school, and culinary school.

The ones that have gotten to me of late are the ones that just don’t stop and look at what they’ve gotten from me for free and have not said thank you. Not only have they not said thank you… they’ve acted as if I’ve wronged them! Now, don’t you all feel like I’m referring to you, because I’m not! Some of you DO thank me… and you are my friends…. And you keep me wearing the cape.

But some of you…. I’m a shakin’ my head again.

Think about what you got FOR FREE!!!

FREE.

Free.
Wow…

Irony…

I’m listening to Pink Floyd’s “Dogs”…. and at that sentence… the line was… “gotta admit; I’m a little bit confused; sometimes it seems to me as if I’m just being used.” Tell me that’s not irony….. or is it the curse?

But alas, back to the timing.

Maybe it’s all just timing. I listened to a conversation tonight between three single guys and two large breasted females looking to continue drinking after the bar closed. The three geniuses argued about where they were going while the two ample females swayed…and the final verdict came from the lasses, they were just going home because it was late. Now is that timing? Or karma? Or we’re they superheroes?

I don’t remember them from the meetings.

Maybe the answer comes from a very dear friend from my past. Her name was Sarah.

I will name a boat after her. It will be called the K Sera Sarah.

She died of breast cancer and she taught me that whatever will be, will be. She taught me to wear the cape. She taught me that life is ….well just life. It’s karma, it’s timing…. It’s random. It’s life. Suck it up Cindy.

I remember her from the meetings…

I’ll be funny again soon ‘Box….

I promise…

right after you put some pictures on this blog!

To the All You Can Eat Mobile!

PreHab

Let’s get back to it it then.
Apparently melon collie and the infinite sadness doesn’t rate. I love Smashing Pumpkins…and the band’s not bad either.
OK, back to funny?
Yesterday Superdarlin’ put me thru the ringer! She FORCED me to help her out…
Actually, I was glad to do it. We Super Heroes have to stick together. League of Injustice? Alfredo the Butler told me to do it. My cape became an apron.
Thank you Eve/Eva/Paula/Patty for giving me the drugs to make the pain subside. Thank you Bruno for buying me the first drink to aide in that process as well. Thank you Matt…. For just being Matt.
Here’s some more insight about me… I love to cook. I do it as a hobby because if I did it for a living, I would probably hate it….and it would kill me. It makes me feel like a project manager. It has a start and a deadline and when it’s over, I always celebrate. I LOVE the thrill of the job. I think it has to do with the crazy. I worked kitchen for a while and Anthony Bourdain wrote about it perfectly in a book called Kitchen Confidential. In short, you have to be Krazy (yes darlin’ I used the K for u) to work kitchen. By working catered functions, I can remind myself of that without working kitchen. I can’t imagine going thru that hell every day. Really, only if I was side by side with J-Bo would I even consider it. Never having enlisted, it’s the closest I can imagine to war. To be successful, you have to have a military mentality and you have to have addictions. Semper Fi.
So after the function yesterday, I had to celebrate like a sailor on leave and LunchBox was kind enough to join me.
We’ve been discussing what blog will come next. There is a beauty coming about ruining songs… but not today.
There is several in the works about the perfect happy hour and there’s definitely one about Quitney aka Triple Nipple. But…
We’ve been talking about the idea of PreHab for a while now.
Insurance pays for ReHab…. Y not PreHab? ‘Box and I would be glad to teach this course and charge an exhorbitent amount of money. We could take your celebs and your athletes and give them 28 days of learning about how to drink. We could teach you how to behave in public, how to tip a bartender, how to avoid embarrassing situations, how to not get in fights, how to blend in… basically how to maintain. Every meeting we would sing Amy Winehouse’s ReHab ( No No NO!) and we would recite the 12 steps of drinking (see the blog coming soon)) and we would try to make the bar a better place.
Imagine Pre Habilitation… no more obnoxious jackasses in the bar.
Can’t you see it…. Paris, don’t order the double shot of Jager… it won’t work out for you in the end.
Brit, don’t bring the kids to the bar… I don’t care if they have a Golden Tee. (Sean Preston, let the other one play!)
Lindsey don’t wear the loose tank top without a bra… the puppies will get free…and for God’s sake… just call a cab.
PacMan try Charlie’s… it’s just as much fun but no bouncers to shoot!
Is there a reason Andy Dick’s last name is Dick?
Can I have a gene removed so I can become a Baldwin?
If these people pay Dr. Drew for rehab, wouldn’t their money be better spent paying ‘Box and I to just follow them around and say…. Ummm… bad idea?
Sweety/Dude…. No one wants to see THAT. Christ, how hard is it to just wear panties? Is everyday laundry day at Brit’s house???
Honestly… rule one.., if you have to ask yourself, do I need one more…. The answer should ALWAYS be NO NO NO.
Why can’t people just be fun? If you are miserable, just get your drink on, stop at Quickie Mart on the way home, buy a twelve pack of Milwaukee’s Best and cry it off in private Nancy….

Preview of the 12 steps of PreHab… there is NO crying at the bar…..EVER…. unless the Flyers win the Cup (wow…. I have to think about capitalizing God but I don’t think twice about hitting shift for the Cup…. Geez) Ok….

My ADD kicked in.

Let’s go in this direction… Last night ‘Box and I decided to name a few new drinks…

A Lee Harvey Oswald….. 3 shots of Jack.

A JFK Jr….. A Skky and water.

A Kennedy Momma… Bourbon and wild Irish Rose.

A Princess Di…. Crown on top of a wallbanger.

An Obi Skywalker… an alec Guiness with Skyy and Johnnie Walker.

A Natalie Holloway….”Do hers” on the rocks

Of course…. A Brittany Spears… Mad Dog and RedBull….
With a pickle. (spears…. Duh!)

A John Wayne Gacy…. “Stole he” and Lime (a bag).

A Clay Aiken… anything… but it comes in the can.

And so ends my Molsen Prison Blues!

Thanks again to all my friends who make it all worthwhile.

Just Seemed to Fit Today

This one seems to work for so many of my friends right now…
And me actually.

It is the lyrics from a great songwriter… his name is Colin Hay. I bet you know him.

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow,

feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down down down, on me

And you say,
be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

When I awoke today,
suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams,
I slew the dragon

And down this beaten path,
and up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my old footsteps,
once again

And you say,
just be here now
Forget about the past,
your mask is wearing thin

Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Any minute now,
my ship is coming in
I’ll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine,
there's sure to be that call

It's gonna happen soon, soon, soon
It's just that times are lean
And you say,
be still my love
Open up your heart,
let the light shine in

Don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin


He was the lead singer for Men at Work in the 80’s.

If you have a way to download this song… it is a beautiful acoustic version and speaks so much louder than the lyrics.

Just for the record... I'm not always funny...
sorry Lunchbox.

Super Heroes

So now LunchBox is all mad at me. Apparently I have to include him in all my blogs. I guess he’s right, after all it is the adventures of beerman AND Big Mike. You’ll notice…still no pictures.
Let me start by saying, if you’re reading this it’d be nice to know who you are, so take the time to leave a comment you lazy bastard.
Anyway… LunchBox and I have decided to become superheroes. We need a little help on the names, but we are thinking of Fatman and Gobblin’. We could be known as the Titanic Duo or the Caked Crusader and the Boy Wonder Bread. We could rush off to the Fatcave (which would be the fridge)and have all kinds of neat toys in our utility suspenders, like a can opener and maybe some buy one get one free coupons.
We could have arch enemies like Salad Bar and Jenny Craig. Can’t you picture us headed for the All You Can Eat Mobile?
Do you see how my mind works now? This is what we do on a daily basis. The other day we laughed about some silly jokes we made a month before. I was scrolling through my text messages and it reminded me of some of the silly things we’ve done. For a couple weeks we decided to text each other as Brittany Spears (way back before she was LEGALLY crazy). Imagine getting a text out of the blue in the middle of the day that made you unexpectedly break into laughter. I remember my favorite was still “Sean Preston, go break your pork bank, Momma needs a RedBull” or the classic “Sean Preston, you watch the other one. Momma’s going drankin’”
So as super heroes, I’m guessing LunchBox and I would be assigned to fight depression by making people laugh. I’ll accept this mission wholeheartedly. I truly think the world is a better place when people are smiling, laughing, and being silly. There are no wars when you are giggling. Divorce is not as painful when you are not thinking about it. Funny is free and doesn’t get billed. Bottom line to me is, avoid reality. Live in my fantasy world.
Ok, maybe it doesn’t work all the time, but it is fun to visit.
The other day LunchBox and I had a long discussion about the important topic of how great it would be if South Carolina played Oregon State in any sport. Why you ask?
If you know sports, you’d know South Carolina goes by the name of Gamecocks… or ‘Cocks for short. Their gear became all the rage when they started calling themselves the ‘Cocks. Oregon State’s teams are the Beavers.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
Of course you do!
LunchBox and I already have a half dozen t-shirt ideas.
“Cocks suck!
Beavers Stink!
We also spent a solid half hour on headlines for after the game.
‘Cocks blow it early.
Beavers pounded.
The possibilities are limitless.
Pretty much every day LunchBox and I spend together involves some kind of crazy story or funny scheme. Yesterday we discussed how great it would be if everyone had thought bubbles above their heads, and then of course we went around the bar and figured what everyone’s would say. We followed that up with closed captioning a conversation between two man-hating women at the end of the bar. It still makes me laugh when I think back on it.
I’m off to prepare for the Great American Race… but if things are bad and you need the help of some superheroes, just turn on the Fat Signal.
It’s shaped like a turkey leg.
If we can’t get there, we’ll send Super darlin’….
Maybe I’ll save that for the sequel.

The Flip Side of Crazy

My last blog revolved around crazy and expressly crazy women. Last night I got my share of the flip side of crazy.
I ventured out to see a friend’s band and ran into male pattern crazy head on. Honestly ladies, how do you put up with it?
I was lucky enough to have the company of Super Darlin’ (as she now wants to be called!). She’s a new friend and one that I like a lot. We share a common limitless sense of humor and had quite the interesting time to say the least. Let me preface the story that SD was dressed to the nines or as she put it “dolled up.” (Who says that???) I must admit she did look pretty darn good.
Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s Day or maybe it was a full moon, but the cast of geniuses at the bar was all-star. It started early with friendly conversation from an older gentleman who had the misfortune of being short. Now when I say short, I mean front yard holding a lantern short. Not tall enough for this ride short. He seemed nice enough, but as the night progressed he got slurry-ier and slurry-ier and clingy… more so on me than the Darlin’. At one point, she offered him a hug and he declined yet I’m pretty sure at one point when he was talking into my ear he kissed me!
Darllin’ and I had fun pointing out mock celebrities up and down the row and found a dead on Jeff Daniels from Dumb and Dumber and an even closer Salmon Rushdie. (SD had to google image him on her i-phone to believe me!) Then there was the usual cast of posers. Does the guy wearing his baseball hat slanted with a giant gold dollar sign around his neck EVER get chosen? Or does the greased hair, leather jacket, cologne wearing guy have better odds.
In the middle of the evening, the bartender informed me that the gentleman across the way had offered to buy SD and me a drink. The second time that night that complete strangers had done this. We actually had commented earlier that he looked like Dennis Miller and I’m guessing he caught us looking. He eventually worked his way over to us and said we looked like we were having a good time….
Huh?
Someone explain to me why in a crowded bar you send drinks over to a couple who look like they are having a good time? Also, while you’re explaining, how does Mr. Cologne lean over SEVERAL times to whisper in Darlin’s ear? All in all, SD got hit on by at least 5 different guys even though we were separated by less than a foot all night.
Ladies… you have my sympathy! How do you tolerate this? I asked SD and she said it was flattering.
I was caught just a-shakin’ my head.
The crowning point of my night had to be when SD left me alone at the bar and the white guy with dreadlocks who was blatantly dealing crack leaned over and out of the blue asked me, “how do you do it man?”
I said, “do what?”
“Get a girl that hot”
The answer was quick and obvious.
“I’m hung like a mule”
It mad me laugh!
At the end of the night, I told Super Darlin’ that I didn’t think I could hang out with her anymore. She was too hot for me! I’m a nice empty, quiet bar barfly who appreciates nice conversation with mom-mom- and pop-pop who are a little tipsy not trying to figure out why Mr. Cologne is pawing up what could be my date and Dennis Miller is sending us drinks while a drunk midget is feeling up my leg.
But…
After sleeping on it…
I kinda like SuperDarlin’ and it was definitely amusing. And if I didn’t hang with her again….
What would I write about?
Oh Wait… I live in the middle of the asylum.

Crazy Came to Town

Some days you feel like going out and letting loose. Some times those days turn out to be fruitless. You travel from bar to bar having the same conversation with the same people that you’ve had time and time before. Beer gets bought, money spent, time wasted.
Some days you don’t want to go out, but Big Mikey talks you into it.
I didn’t really want to go out, but there was nothing on the tube. Tuesday there’s Reaper and Thursday there’s Celebrity Rehab, but Wed. there’s nothing. Turns out I forgot one of my commandments for Port Charlotte. I’ve often said in this town you really don’t need cable tv, the entertainment in town is free.
Wow, was it ever. The purpose of the evening was to deliver a rap sheet on a potential stalker to one of our treasured bartenders. Simple job… in…a beer…out… Didn’t work that way.
I’m a single guy, having done my time in the penitentiary known as marriage and been paroled. I do still on occasion like the company of women though. On this particular evening, the bartender pointed out a nice tall leggy blonde who had a boyfriend that she considered subpar. Ms. Bartender thought the gal could do so much better. I questioned M&M (our tender) about suggesting me as a potential replacement. Seems she never thinks of offering upa sales pitch in my direction or LunchBox’s since he’s single too.
The next trip to the bar for an order found M&M with the chance to offer up kind words about either I or LunchBox and Miss Blonde took the bait and ventured over talk to us. She seemed like a nice gal. Easy on the eyes, no screechy voice that only dogs could here, new to the area, no visible scars… totally worth further exploration.
And then CRAZY came to town. It got there pretty quickly. Much faster than I had expected. It came out of the blue. It came rather matter-of-factly.
It appears spirits had followed the blonde from up north and were keeping her up nights dismantling the inner workings of her bathroom facilities. M&M suggested some bizarre remedies involving sleeping in a salt circle and taking a vinegar bath….
And I couldn’t help wondering exactly how crazy got into town. Did it take the bus? A plane? Why did it feel the need to visit this particular blonde?
I constantly hear cute gals complain about no good men left in this world. Of course all those gals are attached to the wrong men and refuse to leave them. Now the flip side… all us princes (or toads waiting to be transformed) which includes LunchBox and I are stuck dealing with Crazy.

Not So Super Sunday

Super Bowl Sunday. Really, what’s so Super about it? I always make it a point to leave the house as early as possible because I really can’t take the ten hours of hype. Honestly after the first hour, what is there left to talk about? Big Man and I were having a discussion with Darlin’ at the Golf course about the difference between all the pre-hype for the Super Bowl and all the pre-hype for Daytona, which I’ll sit through for hours and hours. You see Daytona has 43 DIFFERENT teams trying to win, not two. Every car has a story, especially the ones in the back. I really can’t wait to see if James Hylton will make the race this year at the young age of 73! Please, oh PLEASE hurry up and get here NASCAR.
It wasn’t an eventful Sunday, but if I don’t blog about something this page is gonna be pretty darn dull, now isn’t it? We decided to keep Darlin’ company out at the clubhouse. Kind of a good thing we did too, since it was a tad on the slow side. She wanted to impress us with her culinary skills in the wing making department. I was curious how this was going to go, since what she passes off as a kitchen is not what I would call a kitchen. Long story short, she passed with flying colors. I have to admit the chili-lime was a flavor I’d never tried before and one that I’d recommend.
Now I have to admit, I like Darlin’ cuz she’s been in every bar around here, just like Mikey and I. She’s qualified to join in the discussions involving why there are no really good bars left in town and why we have to search so hard for good bartenders in a town whose main industry is hospitality. It’s always been my dream to someday own a bar and run it the right way… yes that would mean absolutely NO NOTRE DAME fans….EVER!!! I think Darlin’ would be the kinda gal who would fit right in to my place. All these crawls and articles for the paper are hopefully setting me up to someday steal all the good people in town and run the Chucky Cheese of all bars.
We did talk Darlin into following us to Nav-A-gator for a few cold ones and a chance to say hi to Jess the elf who was my bartender of the month. Oh yes, she’d get recruited too. LunchBox and I like the Nav-A-Gator, it’s just too far out to be a regular hangout. If someone has the time, maybe you can explain to me why in a town the size of Port Charlotte, we can’t have one decent bar to hang out and have fun in? One decent sports bar where the staff and customers have the intelligence to talk sports. One bar where everybody knows your name… where a beer is waiting for you…where you don’t have to tell them what channel the game’s on. A bar where we can bet the coin flip, the over under on the anthem, and what Tom Petty’s last song will be. A bar where you can get a good pit beef sandwich without blowing the weekly budget. A bar where you can get good chili lime wings?
If anybody out there has money lying around and wants to get into the bar business, Lunchbox and I are willing to put in 23 hours a day, 7 days a week if you’ll let us make it the kind of place we’d want to hang out in. We promise to have midget night once a month where drinks are half off for anyone under 5 feet tall. We promise to have food auctions and politically incorrect drink specials. We promise to always have good music playing, which means NO jukebox. Customers are allowed to suggest music but can not be trusted to CHOOSE music. We promise to bet on anything that moves. We promise to keep a running list everyday involving some random joke. At present, we are still compiling people we would vote for BEFORE Hillary Clinton. Paris Hilton is beating out one of the American Gladiators for the top spot right now… with my personal favorite of Carol Channing close behind. We promise to be silly and playful everyday and to throw out anyone who doesn’t want to play along.
Any takers?