Off you go, college boy

An open letter to my brother-in-law Richie Demato, who just graduated from St. Augustine High School and is now headed for the University of Central Florida. So you’re a college boy now, huh? Think you’re pretty special, I bet. Like you’re on top of the world. Well … you are! How I wish I was going back to college. People send you money there. That spigot shutdown for me a long time ago. But I thought I would pass along some of my hard-earned wisdom that I think can help make your college experience much better (or at least more interesting). Here are a few things to keep in mind: • Personal hygiene and laundry are not for wussies. It’s for people who don’t want to end developing five kinds of fungus, including a portabello mushroom farm on their back. My roommate in college, a good friend named Don, did not wash his bed sheets for an entire year. Not once. They began the year navy blue and ended a color that had never been discovered before. Investigating scientists named it College Crud 186. Young Don was also not known for doing laundry on a timely basis. As the No. 1 cross country runner at Flagler, this often meant some creative running outfits. One day I remember him rushing in to get ready and realizing he had nothing but a paper towel to wear for a shirt. Having already worn the paper towel the day before, and too fashion conscious […]

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It Can’t Be Hurricane Season Again

You have got to be kidding me. Did the front page of the paper really say it? Hurricane season starts in less than two weeks. Did my eyes deceive me? We just went through hurricane season, the worst we’ve ever known, and it nearly separated our great state from the mainland. We just barely survived, and now there’s another one coming? Don’t we get a rest? A get out of jail free pass? We get nothing, accept the chance to buy more bottled water, potted meat and assorted knickknacks we don’t need. You ever stock up on D batteries, only to sit around in the dark with your head in your hands because you don’t have anything to use them in? A year later, they’re still in the pantry, leaking battery acid all over your wife’s favorite embroidered napkins — the ones passed down from a great aunt in Denmark. So we’ll do it all over again. Do not pass go, do not collect $200 and put the big bullseye back on your roof that reads, “Hurricane parking, $5.” While the heart of the season is still months off, the predictions don’t look good. The story I read said 12 to 15 tropical storms with maybe seven to nine becoming hurricanes. At least two are expected to team up and charge through the Atlantic like twin buzzsaws, one will learn how to rain fire and another is expected to be rabid with a case of measles. My prediction is that […]

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City dogs and country cousins

I call them the country cousins, even though they live in the city and should be more sophisticated. My mother ran them through her own version of charm school, but it didn’t take. They’re my brother’s dogs, a couple of American mutts who know how to make a wild time wherever they go. They’re much different than my dog, Chase, a city dog with refined stylings and cosmopolitan tastes. The country cousins have bad habits. They drool, smoke and spit. They chew tobacco. When they ride in the car with the windows rolled down, their heads stick out so far that they nip the ears of people passing by. They make crank phone calls, and don’t use deodorant. They scratch a lot, in the most uncouth areas — it’s not pretty to see. They drip dirt, never know the right thing to say, and generally turn mayhem into an artform. Did I mention they shed like a stormy sky rains, and barbs on their fur stick tight to everything, like Velcro? When the country cousins get dropped off for some reason or other, we have to get ready. We put a big sheet down in the middle of the floor, sprinkle a nice layer of sand to make them feel at home, and buy extra paper towels. We notify the authorities, pre-apologize to the neighbors and do some stretching exercises that were specially designed for such occasions. And then we close all the windows when we go out. We learned […]

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Gas Prices Ain’t Getting Me

So gas prices are approaching the cost of college tuition. It’s now cheaper to fly first class to France than it is to drive that SUV down to the convenience mart and pick up a quart of milk. And soon, mark my word, you’ll be caught in a dark alley and hear from the shadows a low voice mutter, “OK, buddy, give me all your gas.” That’s the fuel-dependant world we live in. But I feel pretty unique because I don’t live more than a half mile from work. In other words, I haven’t needed to take out a loan yet to cover my gas card bill. Sometimes my wife and I drive to work, and other times we walk. To mix it up, sometimes I drive, forget the car is there, and then walk home. This makes it interesting when my wife looks out the window and screams, “Where’s the car?” It prompts me to scream, “Oh no, those blammin’ jimmy-ammies stole it again!” A moment or two later sanity taps me on the shoulder and I turn to my wife to admit that this isn’t nearly as bad as the time I put my underwear on over my pants. But think of all that gas I’m saving. We’re extremely lucky. We’re not adding rubbing alcohol to the tank to make it last longer, or having to lose weight to make road trips more economical. People tell me how they’re spending ungodly sums of money each week, and I […]

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