I AM COMING TO TERMS...

With the fact that one day, I will be BALD.  This is harsh reality to face.  Isn't it bad enough that hair turns gray?  Balding can be tricky.  It creeps up on you... Excuse me, creeps away from you.  One day in High School your forehead is just a few inches above your eyebrows, a few months later you have a Widow's Peak like Count Chocula, before you know it you look like Larry David, and finally Mahatma GANDHI.  Bald as the day you spontaneously combusted into this world.  Such a shame.  What's even worse is when baldness hits you from the back, in what I call the REVERSE YARMULKE.  This is when your hair recedes from back to front, giving you that dreadful bald spot making you look like you've been at a Bar Mitzvah every day since you were 12.  Now that is way scarier than walking around with a Tyra Banks-like forehead.

I get it.  It's not cool to lose your hair; it just happens.  I'm not exactly delighted that the only brush in my future is one for my teeth, but what can I do?  This is nature's way of letting some men know how small they really are.  You think you're a pretty boy?  How does BALDNESS SOUND?  Boom!  It's just another way to keep us grounded.

Now, the delusional behavior that follows a man with MPB (Male Pattern Baldness) is disturbing.  Rugs, implants, Rogaine, and comb-overs... do you think we don't know?  Donald Trump, for example, has the whole comb-it-forward thing going.  It's ridiculous.  You have to be shitting me, Trump.  Don't get me wrong, he is THE MAN.  He's wealthy, not as bad looking as he could be, and he can have any woman he wants... On the Planet... FACT.  But let's be honest here Donnie, give it up man.  Peel your cap already.  I'm sure you'll look fine.  Maybe he's trying to hide some gruesome scar he got back in the 80's when he was banging a cocktail waitress in one of his Casinos and he hit his head on a SLOT MACHINE.  It's possible.

Look at Bruce Willis... He went bald and what did he do?  He shaved his head.  And the guy looks great.  I have to tip my hat to the fellow New Jersey Native.  He did it right.  My dad did the same thing when he was a little over 50 and he still looks good.  My Mom's not a fan of the baldy, but it looks better than the horseshoe that old men love to rock.  Then again, I'd take the horseshoe over that fucking comb-over ANY DAY.  The comb-over is flat out embarrassing.

I can't imagine looking at myself in the mirror and deciding how much gel to put in my SIDE hair so that it will look thick when I carefully place it over my shiny top.  I would never do that, I say now, but let's hope it never comes to that.  Gene Keady, the former PURDUE basketball coach, is the greatest example of rocking the COMB-OVER ever.  Google him.  It's absurd.  Great coach.  Great man.  Even greater insecurity.  You're 70-something years old!  People understand.  Let it go, Gene.  If Rose could let go of Jack, you should do the same with your hair.

What about RUGS?  Hair pieces are insane.  Remember Maury from Goodfellas?  He's the guy that wants Jimmy (DeNiro) to pay him back.  He has that commercial for the Wig company where he jumps into the pool with his hair piece on.  It's quite amusing.  Watch it again.  If you haven't seen Goodfellas, please make a fist with your right hand, lift your arm and punch yourself in the face as hard as you can... because you are an imbecile.

When a man wears a RUG, it's so blatantly obvious.  Give me a fucking break.  If any of my balding friends decide to wear a rug, I will most certainly put some Mach 3 Turbos in their stocking that year as a parting gift... cause our friendship will be over.

My brother has been shaving his head for about 10 years now.  He loves it.  It's HIS look.  He thinks he's going bald, but he's not.   We just have big foreheads, or 8-heads as I like to call them.  He may go bald in the next 20 years, but we'll never know because he will continue to shave his head as long as he has the strength to glide that razor over his cranium.  I'd bet my life on it.

When I was in college, I used to shave my head too.  Bald.  As the people in the bald community like to call it, BIC'ED.  BIC'ING your head means you put a razor to your dome as you would when you shave your face or legs for the ladies out there.  I Bic'ed my head for about 2 years.  Then one day while running the razor over my head in the shower I thought, "FUCK, what if this shit doesn't grow back?"  I knew I needed to hold onto my hair for as long as I could.

So what causes baldness?  Some experts say it comes from a gene passed on by your mother's father.  If that's true, thanks a lot GRAMPS.  Others say it comes from stress and some say it happens if you wear hats too much.  Well, I have a problem with this one.  I like to wear hats.  And maybe it's not helping my cause for keeping a full head of hair...  That's just too bad, because hats happen to look good on me.  And if balding is the result, that sucks, but so be it.

There are a lot of ballsy bald men out there.  One of my favorites is Danny Devito.  I love how he rocks the horseshoe with a ponytail.  It's hilarious and awesome.  You don't see him trying to comb-it-forward or over.  He's given up, accepted his fate, and rocks what he has... more power to him for that.  He's a masher.  Larry David is another good example.  He's made the most of his situation.  He's got a skinny head, so maybe he can't shave it off cause he'll look like Beaker from the MUPPETS, minus the orange top.  The curly horseshoe works for Mr. David.  Honestly, he can do whatever he wants because I love the guy.

The time will come for me, when I have to decide whether to rock the horseshoe, get implants or a rug, use Rogaine, or shave it off.  So many choices.  I'm pretty sure I will BIC it, since I've done it before and that's how my brother and father roll.  I used to worry about it, but I don't really anymore.  If it's in the cards for me to be a bald eagle, I can deal with it.  I've been holding on for quite some time now and let's knock on wood... I think I have a good 20 years left before I have to make that choice.  That's good news because not everybody is so lucky, but when the time comes I'll be ready... Perhaps to head on down to MAURY'S WIGS... cause they... "Never come off!"

I AM DREAMING ABOUT...

a great deal of weird shit lately.  I've never understood how people don't remember their dreams because I've always been able to recall my own.  Well sometimes I can't put the whole story together, but the pictures in my mind always come back.  I have many repeat dreams, which I'll get to in a moment, but lately my mind's eye has been witnessing some strange incidents.

Two nights ago I was doing UNGODLY things to CHER in the bedroom at the Roosevelt Hotel.  She was LOVING it.  I remember feeling a tad uncomfortable for a moment, then I just went for it.  Wait, not in REALITY... this was a dream (or a nightmare) you sick maniacs.  It was quite the romp until I suddenly woke up.  I looked left... right... I giggled a bit, grabbed the remote and turned on the telly... And what movie was on?  "MASK" starring Eric Stoltz as a disfigured teenager named Rocky Dennis (Remsburg).   Who plays his mother you ask?  None other than the free spirited CHER!  Do you believe in life after love?  I do.

Now last night I was dozing off to the movie "SNATCH" (keep that in mind).  I kept rolling over with my glasses still on my face, so I knew it was time to call it a night.  I turned off the tube and immediately drifted off into wonderland.  Suddenly my Boss, my old roommate's cousin and I were arguing over driving a caravan we just bought across the country.  We were standing at the dead end of ALBEE LANE.  Albee Lane is the street one of childhood friends grew up on.  He wasn't in the dream but interestingly enough we were in front of his house.  

After the argument died down, I decided to drive the shitty pickup truck with the caravan attached out west.  The skies opened up.  It began to pour.  I waved goodbye, hurried into the car and turned the key.  The car started.  Phew.  I hit the gas to make a u-turn at the dead end, but for some reason I was going too fast.  Somehow I lost control, so I turned the wheel and the truck began to flip.  I immediately did a WALTER-LIKE (Lebowski reference for you simpletons) roll out of the car and hit the ground safely.  The caravan was flopping my way.  Just before it landed on me... I rolled left and BOOM!  It smashed to the ground.  I jumped up, made my way through the wreckage and my boss and my old roomie's cousin were standing on the front lawn of my friend's house with the entire cast of SNATCH holding up their middle fingers in my direction.  I smiled.  Seconds later I was wiping drool from my favorite pillow.  Crazy right? 

So I figured in light of my ridiculous dreams I would give you all a top ten of my most frequent dreams. 

10.)  I'm surfing on an IRONING board with wheels down FORD AVENUE into oncoming traffic on ROUTE 1 all while laughing my ass off.  Anyone who knows those streets knows that is no laughing matter.

9.)  I'm being chased by FREDDY KREUGER on the runway of an airport.  I run toward the hangar and hide behind the wheels of a plane when... BANG!  I take a bullet in the shoulder.  I have no idea who the hell shot me.  I hit the ground writhing in pain and... Freddy is suddenly standing above me screeching his knives on the metal of the plane prepared to end my life.  As he leans down to chop me into bits; I pull out a DIRTY HARRY-LIKE 44 Magnum and blast his fucking head off.

8.)  I'm sitting in my childhood bedroom playing the LEGEND OF ZELDA on snow day... I can see particular levels that I loved conquering (6 and 8) and I always wake up before beating the game.  In real life I used to kick that game's ass.  I still love it.

7.)  In this one, I'm in the middle of a college football game at Lehigh and I am performing like Deion Sanders.  I'm a star.  I'm crushing opponents, running back every interception for a touchdown and the crowd loves me.  This is way better than I actually was.

6.)  I'm building a deck with my father in the backyard of my childhood home.  At the end of the day, the deck is completed, my old man thanks me for my services and heads inside.  I stay outside until the middle of the night and then I lay on one of the rails we built staring at the stars listening to the sounds of nature... in peace.

5.)  Flying.  I dream I'm flying high above the city (none in particular).  Floating on I take it all in... I begin to pick up a head of steam and I can't slow down.  I see dark clouds up ahead.  I start to get scared.  More speed.  Then as I'm about to head into the black clouds... I wake up.

4.)  I'm 12 years old and about to kiss my girlfriend for the first time.  We're standing right before the Jewish Cemetery I used to walk through to get home.  I lean in... She does the same and... WE DON'T KNOCK TEETH!  And it is glorious.

3.)  The sex dream.  Everyone has them.  In mine, I'm always intimate with people I have shared special moments with in the past.  Sometimes it's a girlfriend... Other times it's CHER... and the rest are people I wish I could have had more time with.  In every case the dream always ends in a good way... if you know what I mean.

2.)  I'm stepping off a CURB and just as I'm about to hit the ground... I wake up.  This one's always quick.  It usually occurs when I doze off... At school, at work... or watching the tube on Saturday afternoon.

1.)  I'm in my childhood basement.  It was my favorite place as a kid.  I spent long hours down there boxing with my friends, playing hide and seek, tackle NERF football and Basketball, darts, pool and raiding the toy closet.  In this particular dream I get to the bottom of the stairs and stop.  I reach for the light switch and only half of the lights go on.  They flicker.  I see the toy closet in the distance cracked open.  I try to step toward it, but I can't.  I cannot move forward.  I'm walking in place.  And that fucking toy closet keeps getting further and further away.  It's as if the other end of the basement is moving.  Suddenly it looks hundreds of yards away.  I walk faster and make no progress. I reach out for it, but it's too far away.  The only sound I hear is the furnace behind my Dad's work room.  All I want is a Damn toy.  Then I stop trying to move forward and everything stops.  Then... I wake up.

Happy Hump Day Kids!  I'm going to work on getting CHER out of my dreams and into my car!

  

I AM IN 2ND GRADE...

LAUREN was her name.  Blonde hair was her game.  I loved her with every ounce of my being and I was only 8.  She was the one to end it all.  As an adult I've never been much of a blonde aficionado, but as a little whipper snapper gold locks could bring me to my knees.  Valentine's Day was on the horizon...  Wait a second... Let's backtrack.  A few years before on the day of my graduation from Pre-School (I was 4 or 5), I kissed KAREN.  She smiled.  Heaven.  It was only on the cheek, but it was certainly life changing.  I thought I could get a ring from a Gum-ball machine outside of the A&P for a quarter, ask her to be my wife, and then I would be set for LIFE.  Well obviously it didn't work out the way I'd planned.  We went to different elementary schools and I didn't see her again until 6th grade.

Back to 2nd grade and Lauren...  She was the cutest thing.  A few days before Valentine's Day Mrs. Ragucci told us to start thinking about making our cards for that special someone.  I knew immediately who was to receive mine.  As the day drew closer, I hoped she had the same feelings for me.  I hoped she was planning the perfect Valentine for me.  I thought, "The clock was ticking so she had better stop answering all the god damned math questions and get her mind right."

The BIG DAY came.  I was prepared.  I had scissors, plenty of red paper, and glue to place hearts carefully on my card.  When Mrs. Ragucci finished up our spelling lesson near the end of the day; she told us to take out our art supplies.  Little did she know I had surreptitiously been working on my Valentine all day.  I learned nothing in school on that particular day.

As the rest of the class quietly worked on their cards, mine was finished.  I thought receiving a Valentine from me was as coveted as a degree from Princeton.  I looked around the room with a shit eating grin on my face at the rest of those saps who thought that had a bleeding chance in hell at my lady.  She was mine for the taking.  We were in CCD together.  Our parents took turns carpooling us,  yet I don't think we ever said anything to one another.  I was just working my game and waiting for the perfect moment... and this was it.

With my head on a swivel, I watched all the other guys closely.  I wanted to see who thought they had a drop on my future baby mama.  It was looking good.  You see, the thing was... Lauren was a sleeper.  She wasn't the class favorite.  She was number 2.  A girl named Christine was everyone else's heartbreaker.  I didn't see it.  I only had eyes for Lauren.

At the end of the card making session I took a deep breath, tied my little Jordan's tightly and prepared myself for the walk over to her desk.  Then Mrs. Ragucci made an announcement, "Okay kids, I'll come around and collect all of your cards, and I'll hand them to your Valentine."  Shit.  What the fuck was that all about?  She wanted us to turn them in so that SHE could redistribute them to protect our anonymity.  I was pissed.  I get it, she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but how did she think the funny looking kids felt when she was standing over Lauren and Christine's desks handing them all the cards?  Furious.  I wanted to give her the card myself.  So in a freak out moment when Mrs. R got close, I signed the card... "Love, Your Secret Admirer."  What an idiot.  When she took the card from me I was deflated.  Later I saw her handing Lauren 10 or so cards and I knew I was a goner.  I had no shot.  She'd never know... Story of my fucking life.

I waited until 5th grade to tell Lauren I loved her.  She was so shy, but apparently she liked me back.  All that time we wasted!  Our torrid affair lasted for a week or so before middle school started.  I think we held hands once or twice on the crosswalk.  That was it.  I got more play in Pre-School.  Then once middle school started everything changed.  There were more options for the both of us.  We drifted apart.  I always wanted to go back to 2nd grade and tell her everything.  I wanted to tell her we could run away and live in my parent's basement, but I never did.  I moved away after middle school and who knows what could have been if I'd only sacked up.

So this Valentine's Day... Let's not miss the boat fellas.  It's time to make your damn move.  Otherwise you'll be spending a Friday writing about some chick you haven't seen since 2nd grade.  And hey ladies, don't be scared to make a move yourselves... I mean what's the worst that could happen?  You might get shot down...  So what... My feelings are more deeply hurt watching one of those suckers get kicked off American Idol.  Remember Valentine's Day can be like it was in 2nd grade, just with a little more communication I hope.  But nothing can replace the wonderment you have as a child.  Damn I miss my youth.  Happy Valentine's Day to everyone out there... Especially you Mom.

I AM FASCINATED...

by the unbelievably large SQUID that are appearing off the coast of California.  Have you seen them?  If not, Google it because I don't have time to drop the link.  They are GIGANTIC.  I've always liked fried calamari, but I couldn't imagine one of these sonofabitches on my plate.  You'd have to dine on the hood of your car.  These carnivorous cephalopods can weigh up to 100 lbs and squirt nasty ink when they're pissed.  Can you picture yourself jumping into the ocean and seeing these phallic-like creatures swimming toward you?  They look like John Holmes' dong on steroids... with tentacles.  One second you're going for a dip in the ocean, the next you're in a Jules Verne/Michael Crichton novel/70's porno flick.  I would lose it.  Isn't it bad enough we have have sharks to be afraid of?  Granted, shark attacks are highly unlikely... But if one of those suckers ever gets a hold of you... Kiss your ass goodbye.

When I was a kid I loved swimming pools.  At one point we had one of those above ground pools that you've only ever seen on TV in New Jersey.  For me, it was like having the Atlantic Ocean in my little backyard.  Pools are a safe place to swim.  No sharks.  No giant squid.  No waves.  No undertow.  All I had to worry about was my big brother and his friends dunking me.

I remember my parents taking us to the SHORE when we were young.  My brother and I loved the ocean.  Personally, I wasn't a big fan of the sand or too much sun, but the water was my sanctuary.  I thoroughly enjoyed navigating underwater.  I pretended I was a deep sea diver... In 4 feet of water.  Then one weekend in the mid 80's I saw a little film called "JAWS".  Maybe you've heard of it?  And suddenly everything changed.

Even though my father used to swim out as far as he could without getting whistled by the lifeguards; I worried about him.  He's not afraid of anything though.  My old man thinks he can kick a shark's ass.  He probably could.  

As I got older, I went to the beach more often, but shied away from being in the water for long periods of time.  I'm not sure if I was just scared of sharks or more simply... THE UNKNOWN.  The problem with the ocean is... you can't see very far down... Especially off the coasts of the US.  And that scares the shit out of me.

I have the same problem with LAKES.  Lakes are creepy as hell.  One time in High School, I was staying with a friend who lived just outside of Scranton, PA.  There was a huge lake in front of his house.  They had a dock and this awesome homemade raft tied to it.  He and his father built the raft out of wood planks and barrels.  He asked if I wanted to take the raft out.  I said, "Sure" cause I didn't want to sound like a sissy.  So we jump on, untie the rope, grab the oars, and paddle out to the middle of the lake.

It took a while to get out there.  We picked a nice, serene spot and dropped the anchor (yes, this thing had an anchor; it was that big).  If Jack and Rose had this sucker on the Titanic, that bullshit story would have been told from a man's perspective and definitely rated R.

This place was beautiful.  Robert Frost poems were running through my mind.  Other people were far off on boats and rafts.  I was thinking, "Man, this is the life."  We proceeded to take our shirts off to catch the day's last rays of sun because it was going down.  We were out there less than a minute when I said, "What the hell are we supposed to do out here?"  My buddy shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah, this sucks... let's head in."  I say "Okay." 

As I turned around to pick up an oar, I hear a splash.  He jumped into the water.  I scream, "Where the fuck are you going?"  He turns to me and says, "Let's swim in... I do it all the time."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" I yell.  "Don't be a pussy" he replies... and starts swimming in.  FUCK!  I was not a happy camper.  There was no way I could paddle this MONSTROSITY to shore by my lonesome; it was a two man operation.  I started to freak out.

As I watched my asshole friend, who was on the swim team by the way, move with relative ease through the water I thought, "You can do this."  Then I looked up and saw how far away the dock was... Bad news.  At the very least it was a quarter of a mile, probably way more.  I'd never swam that far in my life.  My diaper needed to be changed immediately.

I took a deep breath, stepped back, and with a running start dove into the dark abyss.  Honestly, I don't think I looked up once.  I couldn't hear anything but my breathing.  I pushed forward and kept my head moving side to side while my arms made quick strokes.  I was like Michael Phelps cutting through the calm water of a Beijing pool.  I felt like something was chasing me.  I'm obviously insane.  Before I knew it, I was feeling muck and underwater plants touching my arms and legs.  I stopped swimming and stood up.  I was in less than a foot of water and had mud all over me.  The dock was two feet from my face.

Up on the dock my buddy was laughing hysterically.  I looked up, shot him a death stare and said, "Go FUCK yourself."  He looked down at me and said he'd never seen anyone that scared in his entire life.  He also said it was the quickest he'd ever seen anybody make it back from that far out.  I didn't give a shit.  I was pissed.  If he was in the water, I would have drowned his ass.

Two years ago I went to the Galapagos Islands.  I swam with penguins, sharks, dolphins and all kinds of underwater creatures for hours.  I was scared, but I figured this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.  It was an amazing experience.  I also climbed a 60 foot cliff with the natives and jumped off, but that's another story altogether.

I owe thanks to my buddy for stranding me in the middle of the lake that day.  I conquered fears I never wanted to face.  And what happened was... I realized it was okay to be afraid of the unknown, but you can't let it hold you back from experiencing what's out there.  Life is all about experience my friends.