Move On Up!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Bite your lip and take a trip/Though there may be wet road ahead you cannot slip
-Curtis Mayfield



The Following words were written in 2 parts, you'll see what I mean...

I love my girlfriend but she wants to move in together and while she is handling this like an adult, I'm freaking out like a lunatic. We've been together for 2 years, everything is great and the first mention of taking that next step and I'm losing it. Why is this? I think it's because even as we push 30 and beyond, the threat of domestication is not cool. The term is arrested development, I believe, but I can't think of anything better than putting on some Pearl Jam and playing some NHL '94 on the Sega Genesis. See, right now living as a bachelor I can do that. But in my head, I fear that once we move in together I will be reduced listening to Fergie while making a salad. I can't do that! And it's not helping that almost everyone I know is either married, engaged or (gasp) has kids! Fellas, hook a brother up and slow down. I've got a few more games left to play.

Just days after I was holding on to the ultimate dream of playing 16 bit video games while listening to my favorite music from 1994, I told my girlfriend I wanted to move in together. GASP! And how did I do it? After freaking out and making the girl cry, I showed up at her place with a hanger and a bow attached to it. DOUBLE GASP! I made the plunge and I did it in a super gay way. Sometimes, you have to do what you do for love, even if it shows your vajayjay.
How did I do it? How did I go from running towards the hills of adolescent bliss to dinner parties and Saturdays at Costco? Simple: I actually didn't have to travel as far as I thought, and men are assholes.

In my younger days, I thought the male species could be broken down into two iconic 80s movie actors: William Zabka and John Cusack. Zabka (who played Johnny in The Karate Kid and every other asshole bully of the decade) was representative of every rich, good looking dick who got not just the girl but THE girl, was friends with all of the other other jerkoffs who got the other THE girls, and was also superior in every sport from football to bocce ball. Then there were the Cusacks of the world, the awkward, less good looking ones who were usually not very good in sports (except as a fluke maybe kickboxing), got bullied and had to play an overused Peter Gabriel ballad outside of a girl's window at an inappropriate hour to even have a shot at getting her. The Zabka/Cusack theory is a black and white one: good vs evil. I was Cusack (or most specifically, Say Anything's Lloyd Dobbler). I was the funny, sweet guy with unlimited potential to realize. I knew that one day I would get the girl, we'd get married, have a house in Jersey with a couple of kids, a million dollars and endless sex. Sooner than later I did get the girl. But then I got another one and another after that (Note: In no way am I boasting or claiming that I am pimp. I am 29 with no religious boundaries, if I don't have at least 2 gals under the old belt then oh, help me Jesus.). My point being that I just knew that one day, far down the road, I would be in a position where I was a grown up ready to make home with a woman. Now I am in that very position and I don't know where the time went. I swear to you, last month every day was a new adventure, full of fun and empty of responsibility. All of a sudden, I am a grown up and I have to decide whether or not I am capable of this new found responsibility. As men often do, instead of talking to my girl about my fears, I took my imagination to new heights. I went from sleeping in the same bed every night to never hanging out with anyone else ever and watching Dancing With The Stars while eating a roasted chicken for eternity.

As it turns out, I am an idiot and an idiot with no concept of modesty at all. When all of this came up, I learned that my girlfriend a) also has her concerns, being that I am a pain in the ass and b) not only does she not want to spend every waking moment with me but would lose her shit if she had to. Furthermore, apparently to move in is not to lose your individuality. Plus, you split rent.

Am I scared? Absolutely. But I now know it's alright. I also know that next time I should just communicate rather than have us at an IKEA looking for drapes while my lady shows off my balls in a jar. So I'm going to do it. As of March I will be part of a live-in couple. I'll even watch some Dancing With The Stars, just let me finish this period- I've got some Rangers Vs. Whalers action going.

Thanksgiving (But Thanks For What?)

My first Thanksgiving memory is driving to my aunt and uncle's house out on Long Island, my parents, my young brother and myself all singing along to Alice's Restaurant, Arlo Guthrie's second greatest masterpiece (the first being the grossly underrated Byrd's of Paradise). I used to close my eyes and smile in anticipation, knowing I was just minutes away from a gluttonous feast as we heard those sweet words. You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant.

Fast forward a divorce and two remarriages and I've found that you can get anything you want there because obviously Alice didn't have a blended family. I just came from my dad's for Thanksgiving and I didn't get much of anything I wanted.

I wanted a nice intimate family dinner, instead we were 17 people packed in tight like a prison mess hall. There's so many goddamn people at this dinner that I'm 29 and I'm still at the kiddie table. This must be a record! At one point, I saw my reflection in some glass and I felt so hip. I saw this messed up on purpose coif, scruffy beard and loosened designer tie and for a second I thought maybe I was at a sophisticated Manhattan dinner party discussing art and literature (or anything else I saw from a Woody Allen movie). Instead, I looked up and realized I was stuck listening to my 16 year old step sister, who has nothing to say that I want to hear. She even went as far as to criticize the talents of Kurt Cobain, this coming from a girl who desecrated her furniture with a Katy Perry sticker. Why does she even have an opinion on this? I have flannel older than you, young lady.

I wanted endless amounts of leftovers to savior over the next couple of days. Turkey sandwiches and stuffing to go along with a late night Die Hard marathon. Instead, I got a drum stick and three grapefruits. There's some hard adjustments when you're in a divorced/blended family but if there's one thing I've never gotten used to is how terribly I get jipped on the leftovers. Every holiday now, I have to fight over leftover ham, turkey, calamari, it doesn't matter. I am the oldest child, grandson, nephew, however you want to look at it. I've put in the time with these people, I should bring home at least half a turkey and a vat of mashed potatoes.

So, if anyone knows how to get a hold of Alice let me know. Greggy needs some peace and stuffing.

The Lick Show

Check out this brilliant video of me licking one of my favorite people in the world, Tanisha Slater

Baked, Alaska

Exactly two weeks after the election, it has finally been confirmed that Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska has not won his latest bid for re-election. Thank (*&()&) God. Alaska, I suppose there is a glimmer of hope for you, but I don't know. First, you gave us Sarah Palin and now it takes 14 days to figure out whether or not you elected a convicted felon? You better kiss Northern Exposure's ass, because at this point these people are the only respectable ones you have and they're not even real. The fact that the election was so close that you need 14 days to figure it out is insane. What concerns me most politically is how atrocious is his opponent, Senator-Elect Mark Begich, must be. A dude who is on his way to trading commissary points for cigarettes, a man who went from making laws to making shanks almost beat you. How bad do you suck? Whenever your mom brags about you being a Senator, her friends will give her crap. You will have a asterisk next to your name in Wikipedia, you are the Roger Maris of Senators. Alaska, may God be with you.