Longest Week of the Year

The long angry week: half days with no lunch, four fucking days of spring parent conferences-- unheard of anywhere except East Brunswick-- tennis practice, then back for conferences from 5 PM - 8 PM . . . and Route 18 is all fucked up on both sides so it's white-knuckle middle-finger-flipping chaos to get back and forth from tennis practice in Highland Park to the stupid night conferences . . . and I just got the Rutgers expos essays . . . I should have been a librarian or a hedge fund manager or grifter.

El Orfanato plus Being John Malkovich Equals?

If you're looking for a horror novel with serious puppetry, Being John Malkovich level marionette skills, then check out the new Grady Hendrix novel How to Sell a Haunted House . . . some of the scenes get a little long winded, but the book is very scary, very funny, and very Southern gothic (and once again, set in Charleston) AND there is an amazing bonus flashback set piece chapter set in Boston back when one of the main characters dropped out of college and joined a radical puppet collective with demonic and anarchic tendencies-- brilliant stuff . . . and Pupkin is a worthy villain and the book has a satisfying (and fairly logical, considering the subject matter) resolution . . . Grady Hendrix is a national treasure.

Wild Times

I was going to run over to T.J. Maxx today and buy some athletic socks, but instead I ordered them on Amazon.

Thus Endeth the Streak

I played pickle ball today and tennis Thursday and Friday, and I did not fall down on any of those days . . . good times.

NCAA Weirdness Has Selected New Jersey

Rutgers doesn't make March Madness but Princeton and FDU move on . . . a New Jersey minor miracle (after a St. Peters major miracle last year).

Tennis: First Day!

Whirlwind day: reverse schedule because of testing; Cunningham had a mental breakdown because of the positioning of her horizontal oblique fetus, and the fact that she needs to buy a car, get married, do a million parent/teacher conferences, get married, plan all her classes, and grade all her stuff . . . all before the baby pops out (although if she gets chased by a fungus person, it will pop out faster than you can say "Ellie) and while I'd never wish a mental breakdown on someone, it did make me less stressed about our first tennis practice . . . things went well, I raced out of school, drove home, let the dog out, made some coffee, and made it to the courts on time-- we only had ten kids out today but that's not bad for the first day, expecting a few more; we focused on the forehand today and did two forehand games-- one where you CANNOT hit a winner-- you can only score by hitting deep topspin forehands, past the service line, until the other person screws up-- and you get TWO points if they hit the net; the other where the server only gets one serve and the returner gets THREE shots, including the return, to win the point-- so in one game you consistent heavy forehands, like Nadal, until you wear your opponent out-- in the other you try to hit forehand winners-- very fun (and I got to play and absolutely crushed it . . . although I didn't play Ian or Ethan, who will be one and two) and then I got home fro tennis and Catherine was at the chiropracter so I got right to work on dinner and made some delicious homemade meatballs (with the help of Hello Fresh) and she was very appreciative-- and now all I need is Auburn to win and I'll be in good shape.

What The Kids Are Up To . . .

On our ride home from the Catskills, my son Alex gave me the lowdown on college-- apparently fraternity hazing still happens, as does the use of various narcotics-- he also told me that college kids are very protective about their TikTok For You page . . . apparently by college the TikTok algorithm is so precise and addictive that letting anyone else scroll on your For You page would reveal all your secret peccadilloes and personality quirks-- I checked with my high school kids and the were not as defensive in regards to their personalized TikTok feeds . . . some kids said they wouldn't want people to see it (one girl said her feed is mainly "random teenagers crying") but other kids said they would be fine sharing-- so maybe it takes a few years for the algorithm to really pinpoint your personality-- who knows-- but Alex took all the social media off his phone so he could focus on school: he's been waking up early; studying a lot; and playing loads of intramural basketball . . . I also learned that he did NOT watch two shows that my students were into when they were young: Victorius and Jane the Virgin-- neither of my kids watch them, nor did they watch Grey's Anatomy, another show that is a favorite with my current students . . . and THAT is what the kids are up to.

Mark Leyner vs. The Internet

 

Take a trip back to the '90s in my new episode of We Defy Augury . . . the internet didn't quite work yet, but the movies were awesome.

Back to Belleayre (But Better)

Last spring, Alex and I took a trip to Belleayre Mountain to do some snowboarding in celebration of his acceptance to the Rutgers Engineering Program but the weather was weird-- rainy then balmy then frigid and icy-- so we did more hiking and eating in Phoenicia than snowboarding but this trip was far more fun . . . we were luck to get ANY snowboarding in this year because the winter was so lousy for snow so my son was very happy that things worked out-- he's on Spring Break and tennis season isn't ready to start yet because of the weather; anyway, we drove up to Kingston on Saturday night, ate some cheap pizza and crashed at the Best Western-- we had to have our room moved because 

1) our window claustrophobically faced an indoor arcade/pool courtyard and all the kids were screaming;

2) the people in the room next door were chain-smoking cigarettes and it was seeping through the door-- we ratted them out and the management put us in a very quiet room with a window facing the river;

Sunday was sunny and beautiful on the mountain and there was still fresh snow from the last storm and it really didn't get that crowded until after lunch-- we put in a long day and my feet and calves hurt-- first time using those muscles this season-- and then we drove down to Phoenicia, wandered around some, and ate at Brio's Pizzeria, which is highly recommended for incredible pizza (with sesame seeds ont he crust!) and beer and pulled pork burritos and everything else-- we watched some college basketball and then headed to the Starlite Motel to crash-- but first we learned that Rutgers would NOT be making the Bog Dance-- very sad but they didn't have enough out of conference wins and crumbled down the stretch in the Big 10-- this morning, we woke up to a wonderful surprise-- it snowed a bunch on the mountain, so we got to ride some fresh powder . . . so we ate our leftover pizza and headed to the mountain and the place was empty-- a great trip (aside from when I slipped and fell on some ice while getting on a lift and nearly got decapitated by the chair-- but I was able to pop back up and the lift attendant slowed the chair down enough so that I could hop on without injury or mishap) but the ride home was ugly-- the snow turned to rain and I'll actually have to deal with the stupid time change tomorrow.

 

Socks Suck

 Enough said.

My Boss is the Best

Yesterday, I had leftover tilapia for lunch and I needed some gum before I went back to class and breathed on the students and even though my boss was on the phone when I barged into her office, she fished some gum out of her purse and gave it to me (she said she went into multi-tasking mode, like she does when dealing with her two pre-school age children).

Cold Times in Laramie

If you're looking for a grim, bloody, disturbing podcast that investigates the unreliability of memory and the possibility that all first-person accounts are distorted and tainted-- a podcast that will make you question your own memory of the life you thought you knew, then check out the newest Serial production: The Coldest Case in Laramie . . . but it's a fucking bleak story set in a bleak place and I've listened to seven of the eight episodes and I doubt there will be a satisfying resoution.

A Podcast is Worth 10,000 Words

I converted one of my podcasts to text (using Otter.ai) and then cleaned it up and made it into a blog post and it turns out that a podcast is a lot of words, a whole lots of words . . . so if you want to read a whole lot of words, here it is: "Tomorrow I Will Play Video Games, Tomorrow."

Adulting 201

Lynn Steger Strong's novel Flight is a reminder of how difficult it is to be an adult-- to deal with money, finances, children, death, real estate, discussion about money and finances, substance abuse and parenting, and complex relationships within a family . . . the book reminds me of an ensemble cast Robert Altman movie-- Short Cuts or Gosford Park-- in the opening moments you don't think you're capable of keeping track of all the characters, but then, inevitably you do.

Delayed Reaction Dave

So I was going up for a rebound Saturday and some kid continued to box me out, even though I was in the air, and I took a hard horizontal fall but I felt okay yesterday-- good enough to play pickle ball (but not soccer) but this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a train-- mainly on the right side of my body, where I hit the floor, but I was also having trouble turning my neck-- but after trudging through my day, I went out with Ian and hit some tennis balls and then we played a game of 21 and though we weren't playing hard, i almost beat him-- got to 19, made one free throw and then missed the next one, sending me back down to 11 . . . anyway, I'm drinking a Swamp Donkey Pale Ale right now, and hoping when I wake up tomorrow I feel a bit less sore.

Anyone Seen This Guy Lately?

A couple of pictures of me circa 1993 (courtesy of my buddy Neil) when we went out to meet our buddy in Tahoe-- apparently thirty years ago the hair on my head hadn't migrated to my chest and I was still light enough to get some air on a snowboard (although I did jump up and slam a pickleball today). 

 

Yikes

I went up for a rebound today while playing four-on-four basketball with my son and somehow got my legs swept out from under me and hit the floor hard-- and my body was horizontal-- I think I came down on my right elbow and right arm and my right hip . . . I hot so hard my glasses flew off, but-- miraculously-- I did not hit my head on the floor and after a moment to shake it off, I was able to get up and continue playing-- but I might be sore tomorrow.

Sports: The Great and the Terrible

I got one sporting birthday gift for my birthday, and one sporting slap in the face:

1) Alex and Ian played together in a volleyball tournament yesterday and they did NOT get into any kind of altercation . . . unlike the last time they played some sports together . . . so this made me very happy, the fact that they played together on the same team, cooperated, and had a good time-- wonderful stuff;

2) then, once the boys got home, we sat down to eat chicken parm and watch Rutgers basketball close out the Minnesota game-- Rutgers had a comfortable lead the entire game, and we were all sitting there-- like old times-- so our dog Lola was incredibly happy and content to have her entire pack together at last-- and then Rutgers imploded and there was much yelling, even from my wife, and Lola got scared and Rutgers blew a ten point lead in the last minute-- I'm not sure why they didn't pressure the ball at the end of the game, or why they had guys in the paint when the only way they could lose was the three-pointer, but they figured out a way to squander that lead, it was like the fever dream of Reggie Miller when he scored 8 points in 8 seconds to beat the Knicks.

Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes

The day has arrived,

the day of my birth--

The day Seuss and I

debuted on the Earth;

And while the good doctor

has passed from this place,

I'm still hanging on

still running the race,

still working the job,

still writing the posts,

still chasing the lob,

still taunting the ghosts--

I've been knocking around

for fifty-three years,

my knees are a wreck,

I can barely quaff beers--

but while I can walk,

stand and not fall,

I'll remain in the game

and play pickleball.

Various Kinds of Door Decorating

 

My older son Alex turned nineteen today (WTF!) and my wife slipped out of work at lunch and went to his dorm and decorated his dorm room door (and dropped off some cupcakes) which was lovely (and my brother took him out to lunch) but it does remind me of some "door decorating" that we did in the fraternity house in college-- my friend Whitney and I threw apples at a door every single day, until a thick crust of apple residue built up on the door and the floor in front of the door, and then we framed another guy so he took the blame; someone else painted a door pink, and the person's whose door got painted pink took a drive and found some roadkill, bagged it, brought it back to the fraternity house, and nailed it their door for revenge.