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Clarence Oddbody, AS2...Angel Second Class

I'm not going to say, "Bah, humbug!" I'm just saying that we are not in the mood this year. Are we bad people?

I've said it before, right in this here blog, Christmas ain't what it used to be for us big kids.

Even my little Loretta, holiday decorator extraordinaire, is boycotting the home decor festivities this year. She has boxes and boxes of Christmas do-dads that normally adorn our abode just after Thanksgiving. Those porcelain Santas with eight tiny reindeer...the red and green pine cone-shaped candles...lighted wreathes...the miniature Bedford town complete with music and lights and snow...they will all remain in their cardboard crypts somewhere in the rafters of the garage. And that really cool fake tree with 1500 Italian twinkly lights we got at Costco a few years ago...still neatly sequestered in it's original box we've managed to maintain over the years...will wait for another time to display itself.

And yours truly. I will enjoy a season without the worry of near fatal incidents while stringing the outdoor lights. Climbing our rickety ladder or lying cantilevered over the raingutters a couple dozen feet about the driveway is something I will not miss. Enjoying the look on Loretta's face when we plug in the lights at night for the first time...yes, I will miss that. But, it's just not going to happen this year.

For one, I will be gone most of December. The last week of November through the middle of December, I will be in Toronto for work-related training. Upon returning from the Great White North, I will be fully involved with a new restaurant opening. Long days and nights, seven days a week for the most part. Loretta will be working longer hours as well. Being empty-nesters, there is no kid factor to be concerned with. Our four spoiled indoor dogs could give a rat's ass what time of year it is! There are no holiday visits planned. No one is planning to come visit us.

One thing we will do this year though is watch one of my favorite holiday movies. We will break out the DVD of It's A Wonderful Life. I'm reasonably sure we haven't seen it for a few years. It is the quintessential take-stock-of-the-good-things-in-your-life-and-stop-whining-about-the-bad-things movie. If I wasn't on this Earth, are there people who would miss me? I say, "Yes, dammit!" My creditors would miss me for sure. But there are others whose life I may have impacted positively who may shed a tear or two. I'm quit sure I have an angel on my shoulder.

Considering some of the places I've been and the situations I've been placed in over the years...there has to be a Clarence Oddbody hovering over me. And this Angel Second Class got his wings years ago. In fact, he is probably been promoted many times for watching over me. He's is most likely a Master Chief Angel by now! Might explain all the bells I've heard ringing in my head. And I just thought I needed to increase my medication.

Just because we are not hanging up all the Christmas stuff doesn't mean we don't know and appreciate the meaning of this season. We are two very lucky individuals.

A ring-a-ding-ding!

Are dogs self-conscious?

The Marquis de Sade had to be a dental hygienist!

I went to the dentist for the first time in umpteen years last week. There was nothing particularly pressing dental-wise...it was just time to go. The exam results were a good news/bad news deal. Good news: You're at the dentist finally. Bad news: What the hell were you thinking waiting so long? My teeth (what's left of them) are in pretty good shape (no cavities). But, the gums gotta go! Shit, we used to joke about that years ago.

So, today, a week later, I had my first treatment...a long-overdue cleaning. Check that. It's called a Deep Cleaning. It's something that needs to be done when #1 - You've waited way too long between visits. #2 - You've refused to floss your entire life. #3 - You have a lot of plaque and calculus on your teeth, (evidently calculus is something worse than plaque, not an elective in high school). Geeze, how can that be? I used to get those Gold Stars from Sheriff John for brushing my teeth!

At 11:30 am, I reluctantly checked into The Hostel III Dental Clinic and Torture Parlor. They led me back immediately and strapped me into a plastic covered chair with a view of the parking lot and Wal-Mart in the distance. Should people be watching this sort of thing? A pleasant-sounding lady introduced herself behind me as Elizabeth...she may have said, "I'm Madame Elizabeth. I'll be your guide into the world of S & M. Would you prefer a painkiller...or not?" I was too nervous to remember. I couldn't tell you what her face looked like, she was wearing a surgical mask, industrial strength protective goggles, and a shiney, skin-tight black leather suit the whole time.

"Hmmm", Madame Elizabeth exclaimed while viewing my recent X-rays, "This may take a while, James. You've been a bad, bad, boy!" I could hear the crinkle sound from her leather outfit as she settled into the heavily embroidered buckskin chair behind me. She smelled strangely like my first set of Harley chaps mixed with Estee Lauder and garlic cheese bread. An Air Supply song came on the office Muzak system...I'm All Out Of Love I think.

Her stiletto-healed boot stomped on a small petal under my chair, sending me backwards immediately into a prone position...now looking up directly into her masked face and one of those saliva splatter-stained lights...she said, "Are you ready, James?"

My first dental treatment in many years commenced. After at least 15 minutes or so of novacaine injections, it managed to numb my entire left side. Not just the left side of my mouth...but the entire left side of my body!

Madame Elizabeth drilled, scraped, buffed, picked, ground, and assaulted my teeth. At one point, I could have sworn she strattled me from the front, and placed her stiletto-high-heeled boots on my chest for more leverage. This excrutiatingly painful torture party went only for 45 straight minutes with no let up, save for an occasional pause when I began to gag on all the water, spit, plaque, and blood running down my throat. "Are you O.K.?", she asked with feigned sincerity. "Ahhggg!", I responded with a slight nod. The suction tube continued it's watery, gurgling, suction sound, the roto-tool screamed and transmitted that high frequency dental office drill sound into the room and through my teeth into my brain. "Isn't this harmful to my already 'Navy-jet- roar-damaged' ear drums?", I asked myself. "What if I cough and gag and she drops that lethal drill thing into my throat...then what?"

I could see geysers of pink water shooting into the air highlighted by an already stained dental lamp overhead. The spraying geysers went higher and higher, covering my face with a coating of liquid that smelled like burnt teeth, novacaine, and blood. How come I didn't get to wear goggles? It was coming down in my eyes! Cheryl Crow's All I Wanna Do (Is Have Some Fun) was playing now. How strange. This is as far from having some fun as one could get! Madame Elizabeth was relentless. continuing her masochistic tirade on my mouth. I began to pray for a power failure...a tornado...any emergency will do at this point!

And then...it stopped. Was she simply pausing to unwrap some new implement of pain not yet used? Did she need to administer more novacaine for the really bad part? Was she answering a cell phone call from the dental board informing her they made a mistake on her exam and she had failed to get her license? No, it was actually over. Done for now.

Madame Elizabeth informed me that she wanted me to floss. She wanted me to rinse with warm salt water when I got home. "It will help your gums heal", she said in a calm, comforting manner. Help my gums heal! What the hell happened to my gums? I'm not looking at any of this in the mirror when I'm done.

She led me out to the reception desk, she had removed her mask, goggles, leather outfit, and stiletto-healed leather boots. Elizabeth was very pleasant looking, she had a smile on her face. I tried to smile...only one side of my face managed to move. I looked as if I had just had a stroke. Maybe I did. I just wanted to get out of there...until next Wednesday when the Madame will do the right side. I was only half done.

Copacabana by Barry Manilow was playing on the speakers as I stumbled out the door to my car.

Just call me MunDanish.

You know, I've always been very proud of my heritage. My mother is 100% Danish, my father was Danish/English. So, I guess I am about 3/4 Danish. That sound about right, Mom?

Throughout most of my adult life, my hair (what's left of it) has been very dark, almost black now. And, no, I don't dye it! Even though I was a total toe-head until age nine or so...then light brown, then brown, etc, etc...I am Danish. When I told people I was Danish, they would always say, "Hmmm, really. How come you're not blonde?" My 100% Danish mother had very dark brown hair when she was young (it has since turned a bit "lighter"). "Maybe you're thinking of Swedish, or Norwegian. But I'm not convinced all of them are blondes either".

In Holland, our European neighboring land of similar-looking windmills, wooden shoes, boring food, and grumpy attitudes...there is a huge contingent of Indonesians. They are many brown-skinned Netherlanders originating from the South Pacific (New Guinea, Malaysia, Philippines) . They speak Dutch and Portuguese and have been there for a long time. Figure that one out!

So why is it so hard to fathom someone from Denmark with dark brown hair, not fair-skinned, and has no freckles? I've been told that one of reasons Danes are so diversified in their ethnic origins is because they have been "conquered" so many times over the centuries. Plundering, bedouine hordes took over around the turn of the century (the first century to the second), and left a lot of genes from their raping and pillaging. Danes are natural pacifists. We're lovers, not fighters. We, of that tiny little principality of Denmark, have survived because of that. So, if some of us resemble Ghengis Khan or Christopher Columbus or Saxo Grammaticus...so be it. We are Scandinavians, but we're not all blonde-haired. We are a proud bunch. Grumpy, hospitable, with a very dry, cynical sense of humor, but proud.

We've even managed to preserve our culinary culture over the centuries. It's called mundane. Recipes consisting of two or three items, usually some sort of meat plus salt and pepper, abound. How this happened with those wacky French so geographically close is anyone's guess. I love French cooking, but their pompous chefs have turned the basic staple of life into a science, a religion that no one can agree on. Sorry Monsieur Escoffier. Of course, we are well known for the pastry thing. Can't beat a traditional danish and coffee in the morning while reading the paper and complaining about anything and everything in the world.

I have yet to visit the land of my ancestors. Hopefully, I will before checking out. The school-taught second language in Denmark is English...that says something about their good-naturedness, welcoming attitude toward the New World.

Regarding Danish cuisine, I'll never forget my Grandpa Carl Christiansen teaching me how to make frikadeller, a spiced up ground meat dish similar to meatloaf or meatballs, but fried in patties. He was a cafe owner in South Dakota for many years after coming from Denmark. His wife, my Grandma Melita Christiansen (the person who nicknamed me Skip), lavished me with affection and attention from day one. I think she even taught me the appreciation for a good, strong cup of heavily-creamed-and-sugared coffee at a very young age, allowing me to take a sip or two from her cup.

Grandpa Christiansen also introduced me to cigars when I was about seven! He got a kick out of watching me take a drag, turning green, then coughing my guts up. I guess I wanted to be like him.

The Danes are a simple bunch. Being MunDanish (as in mundane, regular, ordinary folk) is not a bad thing at all. I come from, good, strong, stubborn, friendly, Northern European stock. We are indeed pacifists...but don't piss us off! And don't forget, it was the Vikings who really discovered America long before Chris Columbus laid claim.

Tak. Goddag til mit verden...Thank You. Hello (welcome) to my world.

Ace in the Hole

Just a quickee....


Steven Spielberg's favorite movie is Billy Wilder's (writer & director) 1951 Ace in the Hole starring Kirk Douglas. Check it out sometime on Netlfix, or TCM. By the way, it's not a western. But a character-driven drama set in Albuquerque, New Mexico when a small-town local is trapped in a cave-in under some Native-American ruins. Douglas plays a ruthless newspaper writer who milks the story nationwide a bit too far.

My favorite line from the move comes from Jan Sterling's character (the trapped man's wife) to Kirk Douglas, "I knew you were hard-boiled. But you - you're 20 minutes!".

Check out some other lines from this gem, it's what good script writing is all about.

Give this classic a try sometime. By the way, Billy Wilder also did (among many others) The Lost Weekend, Sunset Boulevard, Stalag 17, Sabrina, The Seven Year Itch, The Spirit of St. Louis, Witness for the Prosecution, Some Like It Hot, The Apartment, Irma la Douce.

Fact or Fiction?

I often get sucked into taking those little on-line trivia quizzes embedded in my browser's news headline section. Quizzes like Pick the Celebrity Siblings, World Records, or Weird State and Municipal Laws (the one I just wasted five minutes on). The promo'd question that drew me into this "too much time on my hands waster": In what state is it illegal to sleep in the nude? Answer: Minnesota...ya'!

In my many travels, I've accumulated a Top 10 list of strange "facts" from around the country and the world. These may or may not be true as some were acquired (or observed) while sitting at a bar under the influence of alcohol, recreational tobacco, extreme fatigue, or a combination of all three.

True or False...you be the judge.

10. In Taiwan, I watched a demonstration of "Hard-boiled Egg Baseball" played by two naked ladies in an exotic bar. BTW...they didn't throw the eggs with their hands.

9. You can be arrested, thrown in jail, and "caned" for spitting on the sidewalk in Singapore.

8. In Millington, Tennessee (just outside Memphis), I saw signs in front of many houses that read, "Sailors and dogs...stay off the grass".

7. In Idaho, it is illegal for a woman to eat a kielbasa in public.

6. In one city just outside Seattle, it is illegal to say the name, "George W. Bush".

5. Gorgonzola cheese has been outlawed in Alaska because it smells exactly like dog shit.

4. If you leave Spam on the kitchen counter overnight...it will melt.

3. I ate soup made from frogs, lizards and cacti during a survival course in the Navy.

2. I once worked at a restaurant that had four foot long dried bull's penises for sale as walking canes in the gift shop.

1. I once had an intimate moment with a girlfriend in a 1972 Fiat 124 Spyder at 70 mph on the Ventura Freeway...I was driving.

As a buddy of mine reminds me quite often, "Man...please tell me you're taking your medication!"

Get ready for a Firkin' good time!

If World Class Fish & Chips, Beef Pot Roast & Yorkshire Pudding, Shepherd's Pie, Bangers & Mash, Guinness Steak & Mushroom Pie, and Chicken Curry sound interesting to you...then get ready for a Firkin' good time...coming very soon to Tracy.

Besides the traditional pub fare just mentioned, you'll find more of the most unique menu items in an authentic British pub atmosphere this side of the Altamont Pass at Firkin and Beaver Pub in Tracy. Among other things, this will be my new home as General Manager/Chief Cook & Bottle Washer and Head Cheerleader. I just bought a new Army cot as I will spending a lot of time there. It will be the very first of this relatively new pub concept to open in our area (Stanislaus & San Joaquin Counties). Several others are already in the works.

Yes, I am shamelessly self-promoting myself and our new restaurant on my blog! What's your point! Seriously...this is one of the most interesting career/business endeavors I have been involved with. I'm all a twitter with excitement, anxiety, and a feeling of adventure. No hives yet...I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Check out our Firkin and Beaver website for more info, construction photos, location map, and a complete menu. I will also post more info here from time to time, ie, our exact opening date, photos, and so on. In the meantime, I'm off to Toronto, Canada very shortly for training, eh! Ya' think I'll need a coat?

I'll bring the ol' iBook with me. I'm pretty sure they have the internet in Canada.

Could anything be worse than a trip to the DMV?

The answer is a resounding, "Yes!"

Another demeaning, government, stand-in-line-even-though-you-have-an-appointment experience: Getting a passport. Ah...you can't pay for that kind of fun...but, I did pay dearly for it. I paid $157, plus gas to and from San Francisco (a lovely 2 hour and 45 minute drive each way in bumper-to-bumper traffic), plus lunch, not to mention hanging around for 5 hours so I could get it that day.

I know what you're saying. You're saying, "What the hell is yer major malfunction numb-nuts? Ya' just go down to the post office, git yer pitcher taken, then wait around for a couple of months fer it to come in the mail!" That's fine, as long as you don't need it within a short amount of time...which I do.

Since some government dumb-ass with nothing better to do with his time suggested that we all need passports for Mexico and Canada, the process takes a bit longer now. If you go to, say, a post office where they issue passports, it takes about four to six weeks after forking over about $100. If you go to a post office and tell them, "I want an expedited passport", it takes about three to four weeks after forking over $120. If you go to one of them there regional passport offices (like I did), you need an appointment, $157, and your head examined. But, it only takes a week or so in the mail. Or, like numb-nuts here did...hang around all day after turning in your paperwork, and pick it up in the afternoon. I got me a passport (my first)! Considering I will have to travel to Canada for my job in the very near future, I needed one...soon.

So here's Skippy with about five hours to kill in downtown San Francisco, another check point in my life (like getting a passport) I experienced for the very first time. And strangely enough...it was kinda fun! I got to fart around by myself for hours in one of the most interesting cities in the country. On Halloween no less, making it more than difficult to pick out day-to-day attire from Halloween costumes. After all...it's San Francisco!

I did many second-takes, "Hmmm...vampire costume...or everyday goth? Annie Hall lipstick lesbian...or turn-of-the-century newsboy costume? Drag queen...or, drag queen? Conjoined twins...or newly engaged Bruce and Todd out for a stroll at lunch?" Not that there's anything wrong with that...!

I chose not to bring my camera (another dumb-ass move), so I took a ton of shots with my cell phone. Unfortunately, getting those image files out of the camera and into my iMac takes an act of God. Probably not gonna happen.

Loretta and I are planning a day-trip there someday soon. It will be fun to walk around and hang out in downtown S.F., if not just for people watching. And, there are a lot to watch!