...that's what it's all about

This first.
Easter is a religious Holiday.
Jesus died for your sins. Emphasis on YOUR...not mine...YOUR sins.

 



There now that I've got that out of the way, I'm going to talk about what most people think about for Easter (other than that bunny and those eggs).

Easter Candy.

Let's start with the peripheral candy and work our way up.
(and I'm not talking about comparing brands...or quality...I'm talking candy hierarchy)

Coconut Creme Eggs


I don't know.....do they even make these anymore? I remember as a kid, working on one of these for weeks...gnawing off a little bit each day (or more likely, a couple of times each day). It seemed like these things weighed about 4lbs when I was little...more likely it was about 8oz. I think this picture is exactly the same egg I would have found in my Easter basket circa 1974 or so....and if that coconut egg from 1974 was still around today, I'm sure it would still be edible. Wow, I haven't even thought of these in 20...30 years.
Blast from the Past

Jelly Beans



(If you look closely there's a hidden image of Jesus in there)
Never a huge fan of the jelly bean...but Easter has to be the prime season for them, doesn't it? They would always eventually get eaten, but not until all the other candy was gone. These were usually harvested by digging through the plastic shredded green "grass" that filled your Easter basket.

Chocolate eggs





I'm talking the foil lined chocolate eggs. Didn't you hate it when the foil wouldn't come off the egg with the first try? Success was always getting the entire foil wrap in one piece. That was always the ploy to eat "just one more". Nobody wanted to be left with a partial piece of foil on that egg. That meant having to go back in and delicately attempting to get that last piece off by surgically removing it with your finger nail. This always resulted with scraping the chocolate with said fingernail, resulting in getting said chocolate under your nail. Nobody wanted this, but that's what happened...every time. Balls.

Fruit flavored tootsie rolls




Sorry, don't know how these got on here. These sucked.

Candy eggs


I don't even know what these are properly called, but you know what I'm talking about, don't you? Candy shell...chocolate on the inside. Sure you do. Love the crunch before getting to the chocolate. If I'm not mistaken, as a kid I recall trying to just eat the hard shell off before the chocolate on the inside. Obviously not as concerned with getting chocolate all over my finger tips as I was getting it under my fingernail. Oh, and in case you were wondering, egg shaped malted milk balls DO NOT fall in this category.

Easter M & M's



C'mon. M & M's are probably the King of all candy. Plain, peanut, peanut butter, dark chocolate, it doesn't matter what type (except maybe pretzel...sort of the ugly step child in the M & M family), M & M's are the perfect candy. Who hasn't found themselves dipping into the bowl full of M & M's more times than they should have?
Remember, they melt in your mouth, not in your hand. (not that they've ever spent enough time in my hand to prove this out)

Reese's Peanut butter eggs



Sorry, these are my favorite. Notice I had to show the bag image vs. just a single image. I have to think of them in plural. These have gotten so popular that they've now branched out to peanut butter eggs shaped like Christmas trees for Christmas (obviously)...pumpkins for Halloween...groundhogs for groun...well, I think you get the picture.

Cadbury Creme Eggs


Do you remember the first time you saw one of these? FREAKY. Break it open and it looks like a raw egg. Then you eat it. This has to be the sweetest of all of the Easter candies on the list. A dozen of these would put you in the hospital.

Peeps




Have to admit, not a fan. Maybe that explains why I chose this picture, at least subliminally. I don't know, maybe it's because I don't really like marshmallow...maybe it's the coating on the outside...maybe it's just because they suck. Peeps are huge now....every color, every holiday. You've got people with websites devoted to peeps. Everyone has their opinions..."Oh, I like them when they get hard" or "I like them fresh out of the package". Let me tell you folks...I've got a package of peeps in the back of a drawer in my kitchen from about four years ago and I'll bet they taste just as "fresh" as they did when I got them ...ABOUT FOUR YEARS AGO.

Alright, let's put this post out of it's misery with the top Easter candy.

Chocolate Bunny



OK, probably not the best...but this is old school Easter candy we're talking here. I grew up with these hollow chocolate bunnies...by no stretch, not top quality chocolate. I'd always start at the ears and work my way down, how about you? If candy has a plastic equivalent, it's whatever those eyes are made out of. Over the years I've occasionally upgraded...you know...maybe Lindt...or solid chocolate...or whatever...nothing beats these cheap hollow bunnies. At least for taking up space in the Easter basket.

That's it...I'm going to dig out those four year old peeps and do microwave experiments with them.

Peace and love. Have a wonderful Easter and celebrate it however you choose

My day with Christopher Walken - part two

In case you didn't read part one...you need to ...now, or this will make no sense to you.

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-day-with-christopher-walken-part-one.html

...and just to help you visualize how the rest of the story goes, picture this every time Chris speaks. This is exactly how he sounded EVERY time he spoke...that off kilter delivery..the slightly odd pronunciation. All the time. All day long.

So here's the scene. Chris Walken and I sitting together in the front seat of a classic black cadillac parked at the end of Custom House Wharf. Saying nothing. Just sitting and staring out the front window. He hasn't even started the car yet. I'm starting to feel uncomfortable....

Chris' eyes are closed, but they're fluttering. He's moving his head like he's having a conversation with himself, then he starts gesticulating like he's punctuating his thoughts ...moving his shoulders...pointing his fingers. This is enough for me so I start to slide across the seat towards the door and I reach for the handle. Just then he opens his eyes and speaks.

"Donut time".

I say, "Donut time"?

He says, "Donut time. You know? Time for donuts". 

"Where do we get a good donut in this town. I'm not talking about no Dunkin Donuts...no Krispy Kreme donuts...no grocery store donuts. I'm talking honest to God donuts. You like a good donut, don't you pal?" (He would call me pal all day).

So I say, "Well there's Tony's Donuts. It's a little bit across town....."

"Stop", he says. He points at me and says, "Tony's it is. Let's roll"

Chris starts the car. He pushes in an 8 track tape. Yes, an 8 track. It's the soundtrack to "Liza with a Z". Kid you not.

"You like music, don't you pal"?, he says as we pull out on to Commercial Street.

"Sure I do", I say.

Chris then talks about Liza Minelli for the rest of the ride to Tony's Donuts. I don't say a word, other than occasionally answering with a "yes" or "no" when he sometimes ends one of his long dialogues in a question.

Something like this...(time to picture Christopher Walken in that video clip).....

"Liza Minelli, now that's some real talent. She was the total package...sing, dance, act. She was it. Cabaret is my favorite movie. You know, I was there the night they filmed this (pointing at the 8 track). May 31, 1972. Lyceum Theater on Broadway. Jesus, the costumes she wore. She was a real trooper. Best show ever. I mean EVER. You've seen this show, haven't you pal"?

"Yes"

"Sure you have pal. You know, I have a donut every morning. It's my one vice. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I don't stay up late. I allow myself one donut every morning, but it's got to be a good one. I'm partial to donuts with a little something extra. Not just your plain or your chocolate. I'm looking for something more out of a donut. Glazed...sprinkles...crunchies....filled...(he emphasizes each type of donut, slow and methodically). I don't do the powdered though. No powdered for me. Do you like powdered donuts pal"?

"No"

"Of course you don't. Too messy. Who wants to eat a messy donut".........

Get the picture?

Ten minutes later we pull into Tony's. Come to think of it, I never had to give him any directions. Somehow he just knew where to go.

"No eating in the car", Chris says. "Let's roll".

We get inside and instead of racks of dozens of different donuts the only thing we see are powdered donuts.

Chris says to me, "What is this some kind of a joke"?

I say to him "Oh geez, what's the date"?

He says, "April 1st"

APRIL FOOL'S DAY !!!

Did I get you?

Now go and get someone else.....

Peace and love.

My day with Christopher Walken - part one

Let's try this one...

My friend Christopher Walken

What you are about to read is unequivocally...indisputably..irrefutably..100% accurate or my middle name is not Francis.

FIRST - THE MEETING

I got to spend a day with Christopher Walken once. My first year out of school I was interning for Simon and Schuster. Their big name author was Steven King at the time, hence the need for a local boy on the roster. I would do things like send out photos to fans, read through his fan mail and pass on the occasional letter that I thought he would like to see (remember, this was the early 80's, people still had to write letters), but mostly I would pick people up either at Logan, Portland, or Bangor and bring them to his house...wait until their meeting was done...and bring them back to the airport. Usually I wouldn't know the person, but occasionally it would be a celebrity.

Most were decent, fairly friendly, and were cool as long as you didn't bother them and minded your own business. Chris Walken was different. Not bad, not unfriendly (actually the extreme opposite), just different.

This is how the day went.

I was told to be at the airport at 6:00AM. The odd thing was that I wasn't supposed to deliver my passenger to the King's house (which was not being reverential...just a shortened version of "the king of horror" that he was labelled with at the time) until 5:00PM. It only took two hours to get to Bangor, which is where the King lived.

When I asked what I was supposed to do with the additional nine hours I had to kill, the answer was, "Your guest has some things he'd like to see". Good enough. I was never told who I was picking up until on my way to the airport. The instructions were always the same when picking up a passenger in Portland.. Go to the Maine Aviation private terminal, park at the front door, go in to greet the guest, take their bags, and bring them to the King's house.

On my way I found out I was picking up Christopher Walken. "That's cool", I thought. He was a great actor and seemed like one strange dude. Little did I know how strange.

So, I get to the airport, and within five minutes Chris walks off the plane. He has no luggage. He comes straight to me, extends his right hand, and says, "Good morning. I'm Dr. Michael Anthony Brace"

OK......

I didn't know until later (much later) that he liked to go by the name of his last character that he played for seventeen days after filming wrapped up. That was the name of the character he played from the last movie that he was in. Why seventeen days, who knew, but that would be one of the more normal occurrences from that day.

So, we get into the car and Chris says to me, " Do you know where the Porthole is?" I say I do. "That's where we're going." Not knowing why, I drive to the Porthole. Oh, and by the way, Chris is sitting in the front seat with me. Not just with me, next to me...literally...right next to me. His left leg is touching my right...his left arm is pressed against my right. Strange. I say nothing. Neither does he. I get to the Porthole and Chris says, "Park the car right over there". He points to an open space at the end of the wharf that the Porthole sits on. I do.

"OK, this is where we get out. See that car over there?" He points to a pristine black Cadillac. Black on the outside, black on the inside. All the chrome had been taken off of it except for the bumpers. It looked like a bullet. "That's my car. That's what we're taking. I'll drive and you be my wing man. Are you ready to have some fun?". So that was that. Christopher Walken had arranged to have his car delivered to a pier on the waterfront of Portland Maine so that he could drive it up to Bangor. 

This was the beginning of a big adventure.

NEXT- THE ROAD TO NOWHERE.......

Can you write about more than two wrongs?

Let's get started...
Here are two, quite popular vices

I won't tip my hand as to which one I prefer...some things need to remain a secret.

So....vices.

I left work early today...picked up my daughter...then got an ice cream cone..BEFORE SUPPER (Gasp!)

Any vices broken then? I think not...it was 80 degrees here today...here being Maine...today being March   22....usual temperature for this day in Maine is 45 degrees. Today was HOT...or as we say here in Maine...a wicked friggin' scorchah!

Is drinking a vice? Don't know, but if it is, good for me because that's one I don't abuse. Although full disclosure here...I am writing this while enjoying a Gritty's Pub Style...and I may have another before I'm done (and if this gets tough, maybe even another). Once again, me drinking a beer or two has less to do with this being a vice of mine than it does with it BEING A WICKED FRIGGIN' SCORCHAH today.

How about swearing. OK, I'll own up to this one. I do this one. Seldom around the house...more so at work...frequently with friends. I think I prefer profanity used as an adjective rather than a noun. Swearing with verbs would be my second favorite use. Curse words that are nouns are vulgar, and I'm not a vulgar guy. Curse words used as adjectives are colorful...and surprising...and fun. Go ahead try swearing to yourself...first as nouns...then verbs....then adjectives. Which do you prefer? Thought so. Isn't the English language a fucking riot?

Then you've got wrath, vanity, and weakness. But I'm above all of those, and you can shove it where the sun don't shine...unless of course you don't agree. You're probably right and I'm wrong.....

There's jealousy, but that's not me, unless of course I see someone doing something that I wish I was doing...

Greed doesn't really apply. I'm always happy with what I have (as long as it's more than the next guy).

I never brag or am arrogant....except when I feel the need to point out my superiority to inferior people. If I even choose to speak to them.

Anger's not even in my vocabulary, well it is now obviously. Thanks for pointing that out. I never would have done that to you. EVERYTHING DOESN'T NEED TO BE PERFECT ...EXCEPT FOR YOU ...JUST DROP IT, OK? FORGET I EVEN BROUGHT IT UP,OK. JESUS, ENOUGH ALREADY. LET IT GO.

How was that? Believable? Didn't think so. This is the only mad I'm comfortable with...

Alright...two beers down, best to stop now, or I'll have to do some heavy editing tomorrow morning.

As the Doobie Brothers (the awesome version of the Doobies with Tom Johnston and not the the benign version of the Doobies with Michael McDonald...if you doubt me, do yourself a favor and do some research) album title from the mid 70's said...

Once Were Once Vices Are Now Habits

Oh, by the way, I hear it might snow on Monday.

Ain't that a kick in the fucking pants.

Peace out.

This is a bunch of blarney....

St. Patrick's Day...

That's right. Thin Lizzy. Irish band all the way. Even though this is called the cowboy song. Listen to it while drinking a shamrock shake if that makes you feel any better. I could have gone with the obvious...Van Morrison...U2...the Pogues (who I actually had the pleasure to see back up U2)..the Chieftains...the Irish Rovers, but I'm choosing Thin Lizzy.
Enough already.
Carry on.

I remember (back in the day) when Mr. Bagel would give out free green bagels on St. Patrick's Day. I'm not just talking about going into one of their shops and buying one, I mean stopping at a red light on the corner of High and Congress and having someone walk up to your car...knock on your window...and hand you a green bagel. Times were so much simpler then.

As a kid you always wanted to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day. I remember asking my Mom how much Irish we were once. How much Irish we were? What is that? That's like asking the Smith's how much human they are...or asking spaghetti how much boiled dinner it is...or coffee how much beer it is.

That doesn't even make sense.



But, I always wore green to school that day...even if it wasn't visible.



Why risk the wrath of all of those other non Irish kids pointing out that you weren't Irish because of what color you were (or weren't) wearing. God forbid you wore orange...because that meant you HATED Irish people. Actually that's a kids version of an over simplification of the green favored by Catholics and the orange favored by Protestants.

I think.

Maybe not.

Actually I don't know.

You know why I don't know?

BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH.



Then there's that crap about St. Patrick being responsible for driving the snakes out of Ireland. While true, there are no snakes in Ireland, but that has as much to do with leprechauns or four leaf clovers as it does St. Patrick. Once again a symbolism thing...equating snakes to the pagans that were driven out of Ireland to make way for Christianity. Again, with the religion, but you know, I'm not really sure about this one either BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH. REMEMBER?


Speaking of leprechauns. I'm a little fuzzy on the whole leprechaun thing.
Are they good?
Are the evil?
Don't they make shoes?
How do they get that pot o' gold?
Do they live at the end of a rainbow or is that just where they hang out? What's the best way to catch one?
Do they eat lucky charms?
Are they taller than a gnome? How about an elf?
Do they all wear those funny leprechaun hats?
Do they have to have red hair?
Once again, I don't know these things BECAUSE I'M NOT IRISH. REMEMBER?

Then there's the beer.

This is the hook for most people. Maybe St. Patrick and his buddies would sit around the pub at night and talk about creating this mystery holiday. There was a poll once that asked "Which holiday do you most associate with beer?" No surprise St. Patrick's Day came in first, followed by Cinco de Mayo, and then, surprisingly, Flag Day and Groundhog Day.




Why don't you join me and my friends down at the Griffin Club, say about 5:00PM or so?

Around 7:00 we plan on making the Fore river turn green. Although that plan was hatched by a Flaherty last year. Let's see how that goes.

So get out the green gear...find your shamrock decorations...root for the Celtics..have a Guinness or two...and enjoy your St. Patrick's Day...EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT IRISH!

would you do it for a scooby snack?

first this...

now this...
Fashion etiquette test.
Wearing your pajamas in public.

I just went to the local bakery wearing my pajamas.


Should I have? I figured quick in quick out...make no eye contact...talk to no one. It's a Friday morning when I had the day off, but I'm usually at work...everyone else must be as well, right?
Well...no.

First there was the woman with the petition to sign...actually three women with petitions to sign. Apparently one of them was running for state senate...or the mayor of willard square...or ambassador to Bug Light..or some such thing. All three of them acted a bit entitled to be harassing a guy in his pajamas. I signed their petitions...one of them as Stu Pididiot, the second as Phil McCracken, and the third as Harry Paratesties (I'll let you mull that one for a minute).

That took care of them.


Inside the bakery...once again not expecting to actually run into anyone I knew I somehow managed to have conversations about...
Dweezil Zappa...


sweet potatoes....


Dr. J....


R. Crumb...


and bacon cupcakes...yes, that's right...bacon cupcakes




30 minutes later, I had finally paid for my bagels and was leaving.
...only to be accosted  by the head petitioner.
It went something like this..
Her -"Would you like to sign "
Me, not letting her finish-"Already did"
Her, not listening -"I'm running for"
Me, interrupting again - "Already did"
Her, pushing forward - "blahbady blah blah"
Me, (sighing) - "Where do I sign"
I sign and hand back her clipboard
Her - "Thank you Mr. Dover"
Me - "Just call me Ben"




None of these folks noticed..or cared ...I was wearing my pajamas.
So the juries still out.

One thing I do know... the pajamas in public test went much better than the clown suit in public test





Peace, love, and bacon cupcakes.

Nothing from nothing leaves nothing

My specialty..a whole lot of something about a whole lot of nothing.

Billy Preston the (one of the many) fifth Beatle
..and there is some impressive hair in this band !

..although I don't think they really classify as a hair band.

THIS, would be a hair band

This is Ratt ( I think). Yes, Ratt with two t's. What can I say other than it was the 80's.
I actually shared a hotel with Ratt..or at least their tour bus was in the hotel parking lot, I think it was at my brother in laws wedding, or maybe not. I don't recall seeing any Ratts walking around the hotel, but it was about 20 years past their prime, for all I know this could have been a picture of the members of the band. If I recall, these guys were quite a handful.

...and the ladies loved them.

Switching gears...
I had a super hero dream last night, although I don't have total recall, it involved most of the superheros I loved as a kid. Somehow, I was the Flash, with one exception. I wasn't fast. So I don't really know how that was working out...all my other superhero friends still had all their super powers, but not me..I just had my "regular powers".


All my other superhero friends never noticed, they were flying, and stretching, and hovering, and flaming on, and getting all invisible and so forth. I remember saying to Batman ( I think it was the George Clooney Batman), that I wasn't good for long distances, but I'm ok with short bursts of speed. Well, that, my friends, would be a lie. I'm not a runner, never was, never will be. Even when I was a fairly decent athlete... when I was younger (emphasis on fairly), I was never a runner. I don't get it...running is not fun, people that run are nuts. Lot's of my friends like to run, and somehow, they are still my friends.
Does this look fun to you?


No, you're right, it doesn't. So why?

The last running I did was running down to the store, but that involved getting into my car and driving.






Switch.

While vacuuming today I realized I'm a much better guest than a host. Don't ask me why it came to me while I was vacuuming, but it is very true.

Next.

So I've told you about my brush with death...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one.html
and
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-is-one-twoor-this-is-one-tooor.html

...but I had a couple of others.

One involved me, two friends, a canoe, a whole bunch of beer, and a pea coat.


Did you know that a pea coat can absorb nearly 600 lbs of water?

Another involved two friends (once again), a Ford Escort, an icy road, an 18 wheeler, and at least one poor choice. This one deserves a blog of it's own...but here's a clue


...and then there was that episode of Glee. I thought I was goners during that....

On another note.

You know I can't dance.
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-was-travelling-down-road-feeling.html
and I'm ok with that.

But you know what I wish I could do?

Sing.

I love music...I often post about music...I've (sort of) learned to play the guitar..I can (sort of) read music...I bet I could write a decent song or two. But I can't sing.
Anytime I try it sounds like a cross between Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, and Tiny Tim.

         

How's that for the three caballeros?

In my mind, this is what I dream of

Well, As Steven Tyler said...Dream On.

That's about enough nonsense for now.
I'll leave you with this....

Best of luck Jason Varitek,
thanks for getting traded to the Red Sox for Heathcliff Slocumb...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/12/whos-guy-that-writes-those-books.html

thanks for those two world series championships...


and thanks for feeding A Rod a mouthful of leather



Peace.