WTIT: The Blog

It has been a long few days. At work, as Massachusetts’ premier liquor salesperson, on Monday I started to see a new account.
Because it was a first time thing, my boss met me at the store to introduce me to the players. Because there was a blizzard and the store was almost in Vermont, it was a scary drive. That meant I drove from Connecticut for what would normally have been an hour ride, but it took closer to two. The major highway is I-91. Since this is New England the roads are usually in very good condition. It’s not like we are surprised we get blizzards.

Except, of course for the first one. Everyone drives here during that first storm as though it they never once saw the white stuff. There are cars sideways, cars rolling through stop lights and pretty much total chaos on our New England streets. That first storm, if you know what is good for you, you should just stay home and stay under the covers. It also helps if you pray that no one drives into your home. Why take a fucking chance?

Today as you read this I am going for my annual stress test. It was suppose to be in December, but I changed it. If for some reason I have a new problem with my ticker, why ruin Christmas? You can’t ruin January. Well maybe in Aruba, but not in New England. This is how it works here. Summers are great here. It is not too humid often, just usually great weather. But, then we hit Labor Day. It is as though we collective climb this huge mutha slide and on our way down you hear: Oops, there went Halloween. Wow we ate a lot of turkey. Merry, Merry. Happy Auld Lang Sine. Boom! It is January. It is a this moment when time suddenly slows down to a crawl. January to April takes about thirteen months up here. Thirteen lousy, bite you in ass cold months, just about as lousy as you can imagine. Time only returns to normal from April to Labor Day. Then the shit happens all over again.

My son James moved to San Diego a year ago August. I last saw him at Christmas in 2006. He flew in Monday night and is staying with my sister. Not with you, you might ask? He did live here until he moved. But since my sister paid for the airfare and a rental car, my son understands where the bread is buttered. I was surprised that I didn’t hear from him yesterday while I was working. But I didn’t want to call him because I didn’t know when he crashed so I didn’t want to wake him. On my way home from work last night I called my sister. I said, “James get in all right?” She said “Yes, and since it is 5 PM, he just got up. Some friends picked him up at the airport so he didn’t get here until 8:30 AM.”

I had planned to do a whole bit in honor of his return, about his band today. After talking to him I decided to put it off a day or so. A bunch of photos from a show his band headlined and sold out, are going to be posted on the band’s site by tomorrow. So we will do it soon. James told me about the show and said he planned to spend all day tomorrow with my daughter Jules. Jules is not doing well. She suffers from an eating disorder and will be returning to a rehab center this week. I am very glad they are getting some time together. So James and I will do dinner and perhaps an adult beverage or two, tonight. He also asked if he and a couple of friends could make their Tape Radio debut. He’s often said he’d like to give it a whirl. That could be a great night. WTIT: The Next Generation.

Since this post really doesn’t have a subject I’ll end with a rant. This occured to me as I got on the highway before I spoke to James. Why would some highways have a “no horses allowed” sign? I’ve met some really dumb fucks in my time. I’ve read about even more. (Lebron James gets arrested doing 120 mph and his public comment was, “It was fun. I can afford the ticket. I’ll do it again.” If Paris Hilton taught us anything, being rich does not make you smart.) Who the fuck would own a horse and say, “Today let’s go for a nice trot on I-95”? And if you were dumber than even fucking Paris Hilton, where the hell do you and the horse go once you’re on the damn highway? The next exit? Take down the fucking signs. A person that would think that was a good idea would have no hope what-so-ever. Once you’ve saddled and mounted the fucking horse, rode him on city streets to the highway, do you think this moron can read a sign? Even if you just put a horse and a slashed circle around it, this guy is still not going to understand. Let him ride the damn horse on the highway. He’d last maybe ten minutes before he and the horse are both killed. And if nothing else we will have thinned the herd from one big idiot. Hopefully, he will take the ride before he was allowed to breed.