Let me tell you about a recent experience I had on a cruise ship... You tell me if it's creepy or not... I honestly can't decide.

We were on a 7-day cruise from L.A. to Mexico a couple weeks ago on Princess Cruise Line's Royal Princess. I love cruising. Unpack once. Take me to different places (even though I hardly ever get off the boat), feed me well, and entertain me the entire time. I know it's not for everyone but I love it.

On Princess Cruises, they use something called the "Medallion", which is a wearable, coin-sized device (approx. 1-inch diameter) that replaces traditional cruise cards. It uses Bluetooth and NFC technology to unlock stateroom doors automatically, make onboard purchases, speed up embarkation, and locate friends or family on board. For the most part, it's great. You get on and off the boat quickly using them, open your door (without swiping anything, the NFC unlocks your door). It kind of sucks that they charge you to ship to your home before your trip (or you can pick them up at the port). I do love just walking down the hallway to my door and walking into my stateroom without doing anything. It's also great not to have to carry a wallet for the week. I put it in the safe at the beginning of the trip and retrieve it when I'm packing to leave. It works in the shops. The spa. The bars. Pretty much everywhere on the ship.

One thing I didn't like on this cruise was the dining reservations. They changed the format of Dining Room dining, which was different from what we've had in the past. So we couldn't get a reservation anywhere. You use their app to reserve a table, and even though our package included a few specialty dinners, we couldn't even use them, because there were NO reservations.

We were able to finally make a reservation at the Crown Grill (Princess's premier steakhouse) after stalking them for a cancellation. We were looking forward to it. It just didn't live up to the expectations. This is going to sound like I'm bitching, which I am a little bit, but also it's not supposed to be like this. And usually it's not. We've never had an experience like this on a cruise ship. Ever. This was our 8th or 9th cruise with Princess.

It started with waiting to sit down at our table. We had a 7:15 reservation. Might have been 7:20 but that's splitting hairs. We stood in line and waited for acknowledgment from the hostess. She would clear a table. Seat the next party. And repeat the process. We were roughly 3rd in line and it grew steady behind us. We didn't get seated until after 7:50. Which is a long time to stand in front of the crowded bar area. Without a drink. She could have acknowledged the parties and checked them in. Had them wait in the lounge and let them know when their table was ready.

Ok, so finally we're being seated by the Maître D'. He feigned an apology but was really snarky and rude. I'm sure I was giving off vibes too, as I was annoyed by it all. Ok fine. Let's just sit down and enjoy ourselves. Then Lynn and I order our wine. We're on the drink package so we both order the house Pinot Noir. After a while it hits the table. See the picture below...

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A post shared by Zach Garcia (@zachary.garcia)

Here's the caption I wrote on Insta: "Same wine. Different glasses. I find this annoying. Our experience on the #Royal @princesscruises #crowngrillsteakhouse has been very weird."

Yeah I tagged Princess Cruises. I wanted them to know it was wonky. You've gotta understand that this is their premier steakhouse that costs $50/person on top of everything else. It's supposed to be high end. And not only were we served the same wine in two different glasses, but they weren't even the correct glasses for red wine.

Meanwhile, there's a VIP table directly in my view. They've had several employees come touch the table. They've got a bottle of red wine with big beautiful wine glasses. They're yukking it up with the staff. Hell, one of them even pulled up a chair and sat with them. (They were wearing a nametag, that's the only reason I know it was a staff member.) This whole thing just set me off. It was the salt in my wound.

I was finally able to flag the Maître D' and ask him for the proper wine glasses. Of course, he made good, and we eventually drank out of the right glasses. We had some other problems/issues during the meal but I won't go into detail here, that's not the point.

But here's where it gets creepy/weird. The next night we checked into dinner in the dining room with our Medallion. We didn't have a reservation. We wait a minute and get seated at a table with another family. (Sometimes they seat you with other people if a small table is not available. No big deal.) I sit down in my seat, and a woman scares the crap out of me from behind, touching my shoulder: "Are you Mr. Garcia?"

Now I know she knows who I am, she can see my picture in the system. Yeah I'm wearing an eye patch and driving a pirate ship in the picture, but I'm undoubtedly me. I say "Yes, I am. How can I help you?"

She says "I understand you had an unfortunate experience in the steakhouse last evening..." And I say "Yes, we did..." and tell her everything I mentioned above, including the bits I left out here. She brought us a bottle of Rosé to make up for it as well as tickets to the wine tasting the next day... The family at the table with us must've thought we were crazy. In hindsite, I should have asked for my money back. I regret not asking for a refund. The whole experience left a bad taste in my mouth.

So is this creepy? I don't know... Of course they can track you down. They know where you are (for the most part) 24/7 on the ship with the Medallion system. Whether or not that's right or wrong isn't for me to tell you.

The thing about it is this: it's what they do with all that data that scares me the most. I mean, they know that I didn't go to any shows this trip, but I attended every art auction. They know how much I drank everyday. How much time I spent at the buffet (YOU'VE BEEN HERE FOUR HOURS!!) So maybe they start marketing to me based on that with an artist cruise. Or the Everything is Deep Fried Cruise. (Man I wish that existed.) I'm no luddite and technology doesn't scare me. But this just felt weird to happen in real life. She was looking for me, and when I showed up on her radar, she intercepted me.

Reflecting on the whole situation, I guess it could have gone differently. (In either direction, either really bad or really, really well.) I think they missed an opportunity to have a delightful customer service interaction here. They're on the right track, I just think it's not quite where they think it is. The tools are being put into place, but we haven't quite figured out how to use their full capacity yet. It's not going to put me off cruising, but maybe we'll try another cruise line next time and see if they can do better.

I've been running, not literally, look at me, I don't run... But running from all my problems. Running from responsibilities. Running from the things that I should face head-on. Hiding my head in the sand so I don't have to deal with them. I just want to lie down and curl up in a blanket. Am I depressed? Is that what this is?

I am currently on a 7-day cruise. We've been anchored in Cabo for the past two days. We never get off the boat. Eating and sleeping are pretty much all I've done. I don't want to sit by the pool. I don't really even want to eat. I'm so fucking full already. The GLPs kick in, and I don't even have any interest. But, I do want to eat my feelings. It's just what I've done for too many years. So maybe it's just habit. I really just want to throw up. I ate and drank too much last week at a work conference, and I threw up and felt so much better.

It really sucks for my family. I know that my wife just wants me to sit next to her on a chair by the pool. It's what she loves to do. I fucking hate it. Maybe it's my ADHD kicking in, and I just can't sit still. I've come here to relax, and I can't. I'm wound up and have no outlet. I did walk on a treadmill today after breakfast lunch. Didn't do much for me. All I could think of is "What if I jumped off the side of the boat? What would happen?" Now, please note, I would never do that, but that little nagging thought did cross my mind. I just want to take a nap.

But that also sucks these days. I am on a 105-night streak (I know because I look at the app every day) of sleeping with my stupid CPAP BiPAP machine. So now a nap involves filling up the water tank, securing my mask, and trying to match the breathing cadence. Eventually, I relax enough and fall asleep, but the anxiety is deep. It's even worse now that I'm over 100 days in. My insurance sucks balls and is trying to get replacement parts, but they are dragging their feet. So my mask is gross, and the velcro is wearing out, making the mask fitment a lot to be desired. The seal that I'm supposed to maintain is leakier than a faucet in a 100 year old house. So I was able to take an old mask headgear and make it work, but I have to make it so tight that I get lines on my face and it hurts my head. Maybe I'm just not sleeping well.

So what's stressing me out? Here's a short list: We're fighting in Iran. Trump sucks. Prices are fucking expensive. Our HOA is battling vandalism by punk-ass kids in the 'hood. People are giving me a hard time for buying a car for my kid. (And I feel like I need to justify myself to them, when in reality it's none of their fucking business.) My hockey team is not as good as I want it to be. We might have lost a MAJOR contract at work, by no fault of our own. This could cut my income in half. There's not a lot I can do about it. N8 is still dying of cancer. Wheezy is still in the hospital. These last two events alone make me want to punch dog. And what did he do? Nothing. Exactly. He did nothing. The fact that I can do nothing in those situations makes me angry. Straight up angry. These people don't deserve to leave this earth. The world just isn't fair sometimes.

I was able to find a gift for a friend (that he couldn't easily find himself at a reasonable price), and that made me happy today. I just turned over the right rock at the right time, and when I saw it, I knew I had to get it for him. We had just had a conversation about it, so it was fresh in my mind. He does a lot for me, and he's been a friend for almost 30 years. It's a collectible that completes his collection, and I know it means a lot to him. Let's put it this way, the dude definitely abides. This is a bright spot on my otherwise weird day (mentally).

I am going to go meditate or maybe have a cocktail or seven. Maybe that will help. But probably not, everything will still be there when I come down... Wish me luck anyway.

I don't need anyone to check on me, because I'm not going to harm myself. But I'm not ok. These are the things grinding my gears this week: The hospital kicked me out of pulmonary rehab because of insurance. Even if I wanted to pay the $125 per session (x 16 sessions = $2,000) they said "nope". Insurance reset in the new year, so every medication we refill at the pharmacy (which used to cost on average $15) is now hundreds of dollars each until we hit our deductible. That's not hyperbole, $560 at CVS today. And Lyza's will probably be similar when it fills next week. My best friend is literally dying of cancer, and I can't do a damn thing about it. He also yelled slapped some sense into me the other day, and put things into perspective. Who fucking does that? Who has your back and is super supportive and encouraging because "you're having a bad day" while they're literally being eaten by cancer? I fucking love that guy, and I can't bear to think about him leaving this earth. Oh, and I also attended a funeral for someone my age last week who died of cancer, after being diagnosed in July. That hit me hard. All I want to do is eat my feelings. I'm pretty much the heaviest I've ever been in my life right now. I pulled a crown off a tooth on Christmas, and it's really annoying. I made an appointment with my dentist to have it glued back on, and work has been so insane that I can't find a free minute to get it done. I've a pretty cushy job, but when I need to perform, it's stressful. We still don't know why my lungs behave the way that they do. I've had nuclear imaging done this week, where I had to contort my body and hold it for 7 minutes while an X-ray machine (basically in my face) took pictures of my insides. This is after I inhaled nuclear material, and they also injected it in my veins. I'm sure they'll come back inconclusive. Oh, and because insurance reset it was around $1,100. At least I'm closer to that deductible. I have to sleep with a BiPAP machine. My head is breaking out from the mask straps. I really want to cut my hair short but I don't want my pimply head to be seen by the world. I wake up with dry mouth and crusty eyes. I feel super anxious when I put on the mask and have to match the cadence of the machine's "breaths". On top of all that, I just found out that I have glaucoma, so I have to have laser eye surgery at the end of the week. I'm sure that's gonna be another thousand bucks. I feel buried by "stuff/clutter" in my house. Unstarted projects. Unfinished and abandoned projects. Piles of mail that haven't been gone through. Christmas decorations to be put away. I can't do a whole lot about it because my ADHD won't let me. I need someone to help, and I can get things done, but no one ever does, so it sits. These ICE motherfuckers will shoot you in the face. I know it's such a touchy subject but I don't think that woman deserved to be shot in the face. Our government is out of control right now. Our Bully in Chief basically mugged Venezuela for oil their lunch money and is rapidly leading us to WWIII. We only have one car until I buy Lyza her 16th birthday gift, and I'm starting to feel a little trapped in the house. I paid my property taxes for our land in AZ (which I forgot to pay last year, thanks ADHD!), which was about $3,000 (for both years), and another roughly $12,000 for the condo in WI. So I'm a little edgy about our spending right now. And our garbage disposal just broke. I don't DIY plumbing very much because it can go sideways really quickly. So I'm sure that's not going to be cheap. I know this is an entire list of white people problems, and a lot of it I brought upon myself. But fuck, these are MY problems, not yours. I'm just airing my dirty laundry. I'm not asking anyone to carry these burdens, I'm plenty strong, I've got this... But shit, somebody please just commiserate with me for five fucking minutes. That's all I'm asking. I think I need a real vacation. Well, time to put on my big boy pants and get after it...

It's Christmastime, the season of giving and receiving, joy and merriment. For most, it’s a time to celebrate with family and friends, to exchange thoughtful gifts, and to bask in the holiday spirit. But for me, this season is also a huge source of anxiety. It’s not just the pressure to find the perfect gifts, but the anxiety that comes with receiving them too. The idea of expectations, the fear of disappointing others, or even the worry about how to express gratitude - it all adds up. While others might find excitement in the holiday cheer, I often find myself caught up in the stress of trying to navigate it all.

You'd think it's easy to receive a gift. Person gives it to you, you open it, say thank you and move on. That's how most people receive a gift. I have to analyze it. Why this gift? Why this color? Why, why why...? This is how my brain works. It doesn't happen all the time, but it does happen. If it's something that I've taken an interest in, I don't have to fake enthusiasm and I understand why the gift was chosen almost immediately. Or if it's something I've asked for, then obviously I can process it quickly. But if you surprise me with something or if I don't get gifts from you regularly, I will probably analyze the hell out of it. Maybe not right away, but eventually I'll get to overthinking it.

It's pretty easy to figure out if you put any thought into it at all. Sometimes I'll have to paint a fake smile on my face, and feign appreciation. Other times I'm genuinely happy that I've received such a treasure and the smile is real. But either way I'll smile and say thank you. If I'm being honest, in general, processing a gift is kind of exhausting.

Before I start this next section, I'm required to say that I appreciate every gift that is given to me. And that I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm just trying to explain how my brain processes these things. Honestly, I am appreciative, but I was given a gift this year that made me go, WTF? Almost immediately. And it's not the gift itself, it's the thought and meaning and time spent behind it that made me question it all... And I'm appreciative of the gift, it's a nice gift. But I know that this gift was purchased to check a box off of their list. And I know this person has a lot going on. And I don't know what goes on in their head, so I can't be too upset about the whole situation. Again, I appreciate the gift. Because I can empathize about choosing the right gift. And before you ask, I'm not going to say the gift or who gave it to me. Again, please don't ask...

I too, have a hard time giving gifts, with my ADHD getting in the way (which more and more looks like AuDHD, the more I understand both the autism spectrum and ADHD). I get in my head that it's got to be 'perfect'. I also don't listen very well, so I can't always pick up on the nuances that people express. So if you're into trains or something, I might not pick up on that (unless I know you really well). So someone will either have to tell me what you're into, or I have to figure something out for myself. Most of the time, I'll just look for something that I like or something that I'm into. Then I get laser focused on it, and I search and search. And search. And hem. And haw. Then I might find one or two things but never purchase them, because it's not perfect. Then, because so much time has passed, I'm screwed because I didn't find the perfect gift in time, so I'll have to settle for something super lame. Or I'll have to pay extra for expedited shipping. Or I'll just give up altogether and pawn it off on someone else. (Purchases in general go through this process, I've spent the better part of today shopping for rugs. I'm so stressed out!)

My wife is often on the receiving end of this nonsense. And god bless her, she smiles through every time. I try to make up for it in other ways and at other times. But she's truely the only one that knows what I really go through. Because I pawn this task off on her more often than not. But she's so good at it, giving gifts. Thoughtful, insightful, picking up the littlest nuance and running with it. If you mentioned that you liked trains four years ago in a 45 second conversation and your favorite color is blue in another conversation 2 years ago, she'll remember and pick out a conductors hat and a blue railroad crossing t-shirt she saw in this cute boutique she was in. She's that good. (Or bad, depending on your perspective.)

Sometimes I'm pretty good too. If I'm lasered in on you, you're getting a good gift from me. But, giving a gift is all about practicality in my head. The more practical the gift, the better. For example, If I see that you have to get out of your car when you pull in your driveway, and get out to use the keypad to open your garage, you're gonna get a new garage door opener from me. I'll probably even program it for you. Yeah that's totally lame, but dammit it's practical and you'll use it everyday. And that makes me so happy. This has never happened, and yes that's a bit of an extreme example, but you get the gist.

This year I gifted my BFF (and myself) matching watches pictured above. It's my favorite present that I gave (and received) this year. I know he's into watches. And jokes. So this is the perfect intersection in his Venn diagram of interests. It's a "parody watch" called "Relax" by Atelier Perpetual, an American watch brand operated somewhere in a California garage by a couple of French and American watch nerds. It's got Seiko movement that looks a hell of a lot like a Rolex. It's good in 0.9 m of water which works out to 3.28 ft. 😂

I had a lot of choices for the face and bezel, but went with the Blue because it represents the color they use on ribbons to support colorectal cancer (which he has a touch of, he's working hard to not have it). I had each of them inscribed with "Movement is Medicine. Don't be a bitch." It's something that I need a reminder of, and he tells me this all the time.

Ok, not all the time, but it's something he says and believes in, and it just reminds me of him. The "Don't be a bitch" part basically means that your family needs you around, so don't be a little bitch and do something stupid like die or something. I know it's a little macabre but it's a nice, albeit crass, way to say it. It was supposed to be a little bigger font but the watch company was implementing a new system to order and inscribe watches and they admitted that they messed up. But it works. The sentiment is there. It also reminds me to Relax, which I also need to be reminded of frequently. I hope he likes it, I know he won't wear it everyday (which is ok) but I hope it gets put into the rotation.

It's his story to tell (which you can start here with), but I was there when he got the call that he's getting a liver from a live donor. We were heading up for a boys weekend to WI Dells to watch Midget Wrestling, eat fancy steaks and crash a furry convention (which is a story for another blog post), and hang out with each other. We were in the car and he put it on speaker. I was in the back seat and knew after the first 3 seconds of the phone call that I should start recording. I had to fight back the tears.

We don't talk about things like that directly with each other a whole lot. He doesn't need the reminder from me that he's sick. He gets enough of that from the rest of the world, so I try not to ask too many questions. His wife and my wife talk enough that I hear most everything. And that's good enough for me. To me he's just my boy. The guy who trades memes and instagram reels and ticky toks with each other.

So the fact that A LOT of people showed up to the testing center to see if they would be a match to be a live donor for him was probably the biggest gift anyone could have received this year. But the fact that a man (who I know his name but won't say here, we'll call him Mr. X) stepped up to do the testing, found out he was a match, and is donating part of his liver to him, is the single most selfless gift I can ever think of.

Giving my friend another shot at life not only effects his immediate family, but his friends (like me), acquaintances, his employees where he works, and the world in general. We need more people like this in the world. But selfishly, I need my boy. And I can't thank him enough. So Mr. X is probably going to be getting a Relax gift box after this is all said and done.

Organ donation kept my step-mom (whom I call Wheezy) alive. She's breathing with a donated lung. She has exceeded medical expectations. She's the other person that keeps me sane. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't Facetime with her on a regular basis. I'd probably have to start seeing a real therapist.

Remember, you can't take your organs with you. You don't need them after you're gone. There are lots of people still living that could use them. So check that box on your Driver's License. That's a gift that keeps on giving. So don't be afraid to let your family know too.

If you've gotten this far then let me be the first to say "Thank you!" for making it all this way. I hope I didn't come off as a whiney bitch (which is how I feel after reading it.) Please don't stop buying me gifts, I do appreciate them. Just put a little thought into them and we'll be fine. I hope you had a great holiday season and I hope you have an even better 2026! And make sure you put that sticker on your license, or check the box on your renewal, or however your state does organ donation designation. Saving someone's life is the best gift anyone can both give and receive.

Ahoy! The Garcias invaded Disney World this year! We rode, we ate, we conquered for 5 days. Theo stayed home to terrorize Pablo at Auntie Karen's. 2025 was also a busy year. Arden is still playing hockey, has started Junior high, and is on the yearbook staff, which takes him to different events for pictures. Lyza is a sophomore and has gotten her temps (yikes) and has been practicing with a local driving school. She can get her license in March '26. We have spent a ton of time in WI this year. For lots of reasons, but the biggest being our purchase of a condo on the harbor in Racine. We love our new place and love being a little snowbirdy. Everyone is well health-wise except for Zach. He's had a lung issue that put him in the hospital for a week. He started pulmonary rehab and is doing better. Last year was so crazy we didn't get our cards out! I hope to hear from all our friends this year, until then, may your holidays be as magical as ours!

OK, I'll admit it. I'm pretty bougie. I like nice stuff. Sometimes, I'm incredibly cheap, but most of the time, I don't mind spending my money on nice things. Which is why when I found myself getting out of the shower a couple of weeks ago, I came to a little bit of an epiphany.

As I looked in the mirror, naked and wet from my shower, toweling myself off with a rag that looked like it had just come back from the war in Afghanistan, a shadow of its former self, I thought to myself, why? How is it that we haven't purchased new bath towels, something we use every single day? OK, maybe every other day... OK, maybe every three days... Something we use all the time... Why are we still using the same frayed and threadbare towels that have very little ability to absorb the water and oil from my freshly showered skin and hair? Sure, they're "broken in" and familiar, but don't we deserve better? Those stains are there for life; that's never going to come out. It's already been washed a few hundred times...

So I suggested to my wife, "Hey, maybe we should buy some new towels?" With the thought that eventually I'd find some new ones in the cabinet. But thanks to Mr. Jeff Bezos and his team, I had a new towel in my hand just a few days later. And let me tell you what... I'm so glad.

Do yourself a favor, buy some new towels, and thank me later. There is nothing like drying off your bits and pieces with a soft new bath towel. I don't know that the technology has come very far in recent years, but there is a major difference between the old rags of the past and the new ones we just purchased. The old ones are still floating around, and I still use one every now and again, but they're getting thrown in the garbage very soon. Because for $40 for 4 of them, you shouldn't be using those old disgusting rags anymore. (And while you're at it, get some new hand towels too. You know those are just as old.) As Tom Haverford would say: "Treat yo' self". You'll be glad you did.

Family, ethnicity, where you live, political party, your favorite sports team, these are just some of the ways we can be sliced up into a group. Intentional or not, that's just the way it goes, whether you like it or not. I don't think most people are malicious about it, but if you're not able to be put into a group, people seem to get itchy.

I keep saying, when describing my daughter's high school experience so far, that she just hasn't "found her people" yet. She's not sporty, she's not really a theater nerd (even though she is), she's not a cheerleader, she doesn't fit into any of the stereo-typical boxes. She's got plenty of time to figure it out. I hope she does.

But every time I say that, it gets me thinking, where do I belong? In High School, I felt like I had a sense of belonging. I had great close friends (a lot of which are still friends, though not as close when you don't live in the same town). I had great relationships with a diverse cross-section of people. Sometimes it felt like a United Colors Of Benetton advertisement.

If you read my bio on the socials, I always say I am a WI boy/AZ man. And I feel that so much. I feel like there is a demarcation point of when I was a "youth" and when I became a "man". I grew up once I moved out from under the overarching parental umbrella of my family to Arizona. It didn't feel like it at the time, but looking back on it I can definitely see it. Even my job in Wisconsin felt like a parental situation. My boss was very motherly and treated us as such. Once I got out to the other side of that, I felt like a grownup.

My family is fairly small so I've never had a super strong bond around them. I grew up Catholic but gave that up as soon as I could. I never felt any connection to that whole scene. I don't identify as a Republican, but I don't feel particularly Democratic either. I was always a pretty big Arizona Coyotes fan but they were ripped away from us last year. (It still hurts.) I follow other sports but I'm not a superfan of anything in particular. The Edmonton Oilers are who I would describe as "my team".

My wife is a Detroit Lions fan. She has been for years. She'll give you a song and dance about how Barry Sanders was awesome, blah blah blah, but in reality, she had a boyfriend who was a fan. Hence, she became a fan. (I only mention this because people always ask how she grew up in Wisconsin and became a Lions fan.) They're having a banner year and she is obviously excited. I'm excited for her. She's never given up hope, she has stuck with them for a long time. In her excitement, she bought me a shirt. There's a particular shirt in a particular fabric that she knows that I like. (Every team in every league probably has a shirt like this, I have a few Coyotes and an ASU shirt in the same fabric. That's how she knows I'd wear this shirt.)

Normally I wear these things at home (mostly as pajama tops) and no one sees me. So I don't ever think anything about it. But when we were in Mexico last month I wore it the day they played. Again, I didn't think anything of it. I put it on and went about my day.

As I was walking through the pool area to our seats, someone (or rather a gaggle of people) screamed from the water "WOOOOOHOOOOOO!!! GO LIONS!!!!" And I had to think about it for a second. Were they screaming at me? They were! I'm wearing a Lions shirt! I panicked, I didn't know what to do or say right away. I mostly just kept walking and let out an unenthusiastic "go lions..." I do watch their games, I am a fan. I want to see them succeed. I'd love to see them play and win the Superbowl. But they're not my team. I felt like a fraud. Unless they take it all the way, I'll never be seen in that shirt outside of my house. It's not them, it's me.

And deep down, I think we all want to be part of a group. I've been searching for my people for a while, and I still haven't really found them. The Food Nerds are probably the closest, though that has seemed to fizzle out lately. Efforts are being made to get it going again, but it's been a slow burn. I used to have the Scooter club but that's a story for another time.

So I'll just keep on searching. That's the cool thing about life: you can reinvent yourself at any time. Maybe this time, I'll be an astronaut. Or a race car driver. Yeah, a race car driver sounds fun. Time to get that Porsche I've always wanted... Oh snap, that's also a story for another time! I guess I need to write more often. See you then!

Imagine, if you will, you're sleeping in your warm, comfortable bed. It's a little after 1 a.m. and you've been sleeping for about 3 hours at this point. You're dreaming about where to place ambulances for your baseball teams. You're looking at a map, and you put your final team's ambulance in the last spot on Long Island when you're awakened by a shrill voice screaming "HELP ME!!! HELLLLLLPPPPMEEEEEE!"

You, and the dog sleeping at the foot of the bed, snap to attention...
(Initials shown for context: L=Lynn, Z=Zach, T=Theo the dog)

Z: "What?! WHAT??? WHAT'S WRONG!??"

L: Frantically: "THEY'RE GOING TO SEND AND AMBULANCE!!"

T: "BARK!"

Z: "WHO?? WHAT???!!!"

L: "HELP ME TURN THIS OFF! THEY'RE GOING TO SEND AN AMBULANCE!! WE HAVE TO CHANGE THE CHANNEL!!!!!"

T: "BARK!"

Your darling wife fumbles with the remote and finally changes the channel. The room goes from Red to White and you hear and see a woman screaming at a man:

Actor: "Que la respete? Héctor por favor! Como te atreves a traerla a mi casa? A revolcarte con ella en mi cama. Por lo menos te la hubieras llevado a un motel, no? Tú y yo tenemos que hablar en cuanto esta mujerzuela..." (This might not be the exact spanish program that was shown, but it's a good representation of what my foggy brain remembers at 1 a.m.)

We are fully awake at this point. We look at each other and bust out laughing.

Z: "WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!?"

T: "Yeah what the fuck was that mom?" Oh, I mean "Bark."

L: "They were going to send an ambulance!"

Z: "Who? The TV was going to send one?"

L: "Yeah, I had to turn the channel." ~ giggles.

Z: "Ummmm, yeah you know that the TV can't do that, right?" ~ full on laughing.

L: "I needed to turn the channel or they would send one!" ~ she could hardly get this sentence out because she was laughing so hard.

Now we're both ACTUALLY awake and we realize what happened. We compare notes and giggles and try to make sense of everything. We both had a hard time getting back to sleep because we were laughing so hard. I will never let her live this one down.

I found the infomercial that infected our bedroom (or a trailer for it anyway) this morning on YouTube. It answered so many questions (like the frequent use of red as a background color to highlight certain things, which you can see in the trailer). This is only 3-minutes, but I'm pretty sure we were well into the half-hour version when we experienced the incident.

I just hope all my baseball teams are covered...

We've just passed the International date line at 33,000 feet at a smooth 578 mph. My body doesn't feel like we're moving that fast. In fact, I feel quite comfortable. Perhaps it's the jazz music being pumped in my ears on the airline-provided Bang and Olufsen headphones. Or the Tito's vodka I just gulped. Or the fact that I can fully lie down in the business class seat that I'm sitting in. I'm heading back to Los Angeles after a nearly two-week vacation in Australia. I needed that. Way more than I'd care to admit. Even my wife commented on my attitude before we left. So I know it must have been bad. I'm sure I've been a bear. I needed to get away. I needed to get out of the heat. My neurospicy brain needed to unplug. 

We had a wonderful trip. We saw a lot of cool shit. But you know what, we also didn't even scratch the surface. And that was intentional. For example one day we woke up late, hopped on a ferry, and rode it for about 45 minutes. When we got off we immediately went to lunch. We gorged ourselves on fish and so many chips. (Chicken salt FTW!) Then when we were finished we immediately hopped back on the ferry and took it back to our hotel. Then we chilled out in the hotel room for the rest of the day and went to bed. I couldn't have asked for a better day. Oh, and it was a little gloomy and overcast, so that made me really fucking happy. (Remember I live in the desert so I don't see those kinds of days very often.) I have a neurospicy kid too so these days help us reset for the big days, like when we climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge. 

I've been trying to document things on Facebook, mostly for me/us to go back and look at again in the future, but also to let the family at home keep up with us. Those Grandmas and Aunties are relentless otherwise. The only shitty part about posting on the socials is the judgement you get from your "friends" who make shitty comments like they know your situation.

Y'all know I love food, but when I post a photo of my Macca's brekkie (that's McDonald's breakfast for those who don't speak Australian) and the judgy McJudgertons start in on me for going to a chain fast food restaurant, I get a little defensive. Now Mickey D's is usually the last on my list but sometimes you just have to roll with it. What my friends didn't know is that it was a public holiday (Labour Day, maybe?) where we were. (Each city has its own days.) So most everything was closed. We didn't have a car. We were out in the 'burbs, it was even hard to get an Uber out there. The supply is not like at home. They're not a third-world country or anything, but being a holiday and being way outside the city did not help the situation. We didn't have groceries or a way to get them. But hey, Uber Eats delivers and Maccas is open! A huge bonus that my 14-year-old daughter and 11-year-old son ADORE McNuggets and will scarf down a 20-piece by themselves, even though Aussie Maccas have weird (to us) dipping sauces. So heaps of protein going into their bodies, yes, please. They're already in a strange land with different food, a touch of home for them was huge. I'm not mad at Mr. and Mrs. McJudgerton, but maybe before we make a comment on social media, we take a step back and think about if this is constructive or not. You know, people in glass houses or whatever...

By the way, we got a free Big Mac with our order and it was the best Big Mac we've ever tasted. Even though it was your classic two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun. Also Arden ate McDonalds whenever he was allowed, which was about 6 times in two weeks... Food courts in the mall are vastly different than ours. But they all had a Maccas and a KFC. They love that shit in Australia. But they also have a Kebab place, a killer Chinese food place, a Pho place, a Japanese place, basically all your basic Asian countries are covered... And they're all bangin'. Or bussin' as the kids would say. That's what the rest of us ate in the food courts. I didn't always post my food because I was a little spicy from the Maccas post. But I got over it.

The absolute highlight of the trip was reconnecting with Lynn's Bestie from when she lived in Australia in high school. She spent her Sophomore year attending Castle Hill High where she made connections that she still maintains to this day. It's funny, she didn't want to leave WI to move to Australia but when it came time to move back to WI, she didn't want to leave Australia. She cried when she left Wisconsin and she cried when she left Australia. But not a lot of people know that she lived down under for a spell. 

The second highlight was visiting the Snap-On offices. That was also pretty cool. If you don't know why, then you don't know us so I won't go into it right now...

Anyway, it's funny how one relates to people from other countries. (At least this is how I think anyway.) I see them as different. They talk funny. They eat weird food. They watch different sports even though we both call it football. But at the end of the day, we're all just people. With the same kind of shitty problems that we all have. We all get pimples on our asses. We have to go to the dentist. We all suffer from allergies and have to take Claritin or in Australia's case, Clarityne. (I chuckled when I saw that.) That's why travel is so important. It really gives you perspective. Or maybe not. Maybe it makes you feel better about yourself. Shows you how much better you have it than the rest of the world. That's what it does for me.

I've cried a lot on vacation. Not because I'm sad. But because I realize how fucking lucky I am to be living this life that I live. I know it's not perfect. Far from it. The first cry was on the bridge climb. I had to fight my family to join me on it. (Not physically of course, but I did have to talk them into it.) It took a lot to get them up there. I looked at my son and daughter as we stood at the top of the bridge overlooking the Sydney Harbour and thought to myself, you're doing something right. It doesn't feel like it all the time. But it was a teensy bit of validation, and it came out via tears. I got it out of my system really quickly. No one noticed because I was on the end, and no one was looking behind where I was climbing. The second was on the train that we took from Sydney to Melbourne. It's been a lifelong dream to travel somewhere by train. I know that sounds so stupid and weird. But there's something just romantic about riding the rails. Since I was a kid I wanted to take a fucking train to fucking somewhere! I've suggested it so many times and it's never worked out. But I got my wish on this trip. It was 10 hours of travel, that I'd probably never do again, but it was literally a childhood dream come true. Again, no one noticed the tears because I was looking out the window. The third time was when Lynn and her friend hugged for the first time in over 20 years. It was such a sweet moment. Last time we saw her in person was January of 2001. The Fourth cry was when we were saying our goodbyes to leave Melbourne. Everyone was crying. We just connected on so many levels. We just get each other. (Lynn's friend and I.) We're very similar in our neurospiciness, and I feel like such a kindred spirit in her. We had deep and meaningful conversations about life. It was so much deeper than the surface shit you normally get with someone. She's going through some things so I knew we couldn't mince our words. She's picking up the pieces in her life and really needed a friend or two. I'm glad we could be there for her. If we were both single (god forbid) she would be the first person I would call. (That's not a slam on my wife, she knows how I feel about her.) The fifth time was one night while I was trying to go to sleep. I just feel bad for Lynn's friend and I wish we were closer to help her. Sixth time was when I was walking back to our apartment in Parramatta. I was just coming from checking out the guitar store and I was pondering how I had literally gotten to where I was standing. How did I get to the literal corner I was standing on... And what it took to get there. It's so much more than money. It takes a lot for me to do things, big things like this trip, sometimes. My brain is different and I understand that so much better than I used to. I had also given Lynn's friend a little pep talk about getting out there in the world a few days prior. So I was thinking to myself that not only do you preach it, but you practice what you preach, which for me is really hard sometimes. I was patting myself on the back a little bit. The light changed and I kept walking. I don't think anyone noticed. The seventh time was on the flight that I'm writing this from. Lynn just looked at me and said "Thank you". We stared in each other's eyes and I lost it. We're sitting in fucking business class drinking champagne and eating hot nuts. We had just placed our orders for filet mignon (literally) and Curtis Stone is two rows behind me. (Yes, I said hello. We ate at his restaurant "Gwen" in L.A. a couple of months ago and I told him how much we enjoyed it. Then the flight attendant told me to sit down. A little later she came and asked me who he was. 😂) Just know that none of this is lost on me. I know that this is not normal and I am very, very lucky to be here. 

(Also, I know that we are absolutely wrecking our children for any future air travel we make. But we got such a good deal, we couldn't pass it up. Now that the girl has eaten steak in the sky and then lay down for a nap, it's going to be hard to go back to steerage class.)

So that's 7 cries in 14 days. If you do the math, that's an every-other-day average. It's probably more than one should cry on a vacation, but I needed each and every one. I head home with a bucket overflowing with happiness. I just need to finish the rest of this 14-hour flight. 

Nostalgia is a powerful drug. Everything old is new again. And in that vein, there's a new "Transformers" movie coming out that's getting a lot of press. One of the voice actors was on a talk show recently and it got me thinking about when the they originally came out when I was a kid.

We went nuts for them. I had to have BumbleBee, the cute little robot that turned into a Volkswagen Beetle. Or "Punch Buggy" as we more aptly called them. But Optimus Prime was like the ultimate toy to have. He was the LEADER of all the Autobots and was smart and strong. A character that as a kid I wanted to be like.

I also wanted the Jet style Autobot toys because they could fly and playing with them was just fun. You could throw them to fly or just fly them with your hands. And then they would turn into a cool robot.

The Autobots were the "good guys" and I could just relate to them. I wanted them to win. And of course, they won every time. I didn't like the villains. I couldn't relate. I was a "good kid" and I didn't have it in me to even pretend to be evil. But the Decepticons were also available in toy form. I probably had a couple of token bots that were on the other side, but they were only used as heels that my good guy Autobots beat the shit out of, and sent packing. I would always be on the side of good even when I played with my friends or siblings. Again I just wasn't good at being bad.

The ultimate bad guy toy was the leader of the Decepticons "Megatron". This motherfucker turned into a handgun. Yeah, you remember now, don't you? Who thought this was a good idea? Let's give 9-year-olds a VERY realistic-looking pistol to play with. I was searching eBay (which is where I pulled the pic below) and these toys go for $300-$800 if they're in decent shape. I'm sure an unmolested one would be in the thousands. And I don't have any actual statistics (after all 80% of statistics online are made up) but I'm 100% sure people used these to commit actual crimes. 100% someone walked into a bank with one of these and demanded money. 100% someone pointed one of these at a cop and got killed because they thought it was a real gun. This was before we started painting toy guns with little orange accents. (Lyza walked into my office while I was writing this and saw the picture on my screen and sternly asked why I was looking at guns. 😂)

I never had one of these toys. I never really wanted one. But my best friend, Matt J. had one. I played with it, naturally, but it wasn't for me. I'm just not a gun guy. I don't like them. I don't think they're entirely necessary in society. Aside from hunting, I don't see much purpose in them. I don't think they should be banned as a whole, and I don't think they shouldn't exist, and people shouldn't be able to own them. But I think we could change how we go about owning and registering them. In my opinion, I think the bar could and should be set higher.

If you own guns, fine. If you don't, fine. There's no right or wrong here. I have friends that are responsible gun owners and I have friends that I question how they were allowed to be an owner of a firearm. But either way, I'm not here to judge them on that.

I own an air-powered rifle that I use to kill birds that are destroying my roof. My neighbors must think I'm crazy but it's an effective utility that is literally saving my house from destruction. But that's all it is for me: utility. I don't want to go out and shoot at stuff. I don't see the point.

My rifle has served me well. I got it from a store specializing in airguns the summer of the pandemic. They were busy af because apparently you couldn't buy real ammo at the time and the gun nuts (who just had to shoot SOMETHING) were buying up all the airguns. And that's fine if that's what you're into. I am not. I asked for something that was accurate and lethal to pigeons and they delivered. I don't really have a problem any longer. Imagine that, the birds don't come around to my roof anymore. So now my rifle sits in the corner collecting dust. I don't know what to do with it anymore. I'll probably keep it for now...

When I listen to the Beatles song that's the title of this post, it elicits certain responses in people. But I know the truth about it and it just puts a smile on my face. John Lennon was speaking about his sexual desire for Yoko when he wrote "Happiness is a Warm Gun" and THAT's something I can relate to. I'm not into Asian chicks too much, but women, yeah. I get it, John. I get it... 😂

I love spending time with my kids. I spend a lot of time with them, but not nearly enough. I love how they keep me on my toes. I often forget that the world is new to them and they don't know how it all works. And the weirder part is that it's up to me to teach them... It's surreal to me that I'm not one, but two people's parent. Dad. Father. Daddy. I can't believe they let me do this. It just goes to show you that any idiot can be a parent...

I was shocked and humbled on the way to school today with the conversation that I had with the boy... He goes into school early to jam with his Handbell choir on Thursday mornings. (Yeah, he's way cooler than I was at his age.) We had just dropped his sister off at High School, which is new for everyone. We pulled through the dropoff lane and back around out to the street. He was taking it all in. Then he asked, "Where are all the buses?" As we pulled through the neighborhood across the street from the school to make a Uturn, a short bus pulled past our car. "Oh! There's one! {exasperated} Oh, that one is small! Are all the high school buses small?"

Me: "No. They have regular buses too, just like your sister rides. See, they're all over there on this side of the school." The light had changed and the shorty in front of us had moved, so he could now see where the bus depot on the East side of the school was located.

Him: "Oh yeah, I see. Those short buses though, they are the ones that pick you up right in front of your house, aren't they? That would be awesome. I need that. I want that... Skibidi toilet, Ohio, Rizz..." (I may have embellished a little on that last bit, but as a 6th grader, those words are a major part of his vocabulary.)

Me: "Yeah buddy, they pick people up right in front of their house... Just like the girl down the block..." I didn't have the heart to tell him the complete truth. I could only think to myself that it's cool that his perspective is not that someone has some special needs and is required to be picked up directly at their house.

And then I slapped myself back into reality. That's not his perspective at all. It's that he's a lazy, entitled little fucker who thinks that he shouldn't have to walk a block and a half to catch the normal bus, one should be sent to his location like a fucking Uber car to personally transport him to school.

I guess my point here is that it's not always rose-colored glasses that we think these little punks see through. Sometimes it's a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers with a built-in camera that cost $300. (This kid is desperate for them since he tried them on at Macy's a few weeks ago.) We've created a monster...

Lest anyone think I'm serious, I'm required by law to say that I'm not. While this is an actual conversation, this is not how he really thinks. He's a great kid with great friends, great grades, and more importantly a great attitude. I love you Mr. Gooze!

I recently made a change in my life. A really simple, very easy-to-make change, that anyone can (and in my opinion should) make. And all it took was a little change in perspective. Call it a life hack. Call it a "Pro Tip". I don't care. Just make it happen.

There's so much "bad" in this world. Bad language. Bad Medicine. Badminton. Ok, maybe not that last one. But Bad Food is another. And that's where our simple change can make all the difference.

Candy bars get a bad rap. They're filled with sugar. They're high in fat. It's nothing but empty calories. But they're also not nutritionally insignificant. If all you had to eat in your bunker after total destruction of the earth was a factory full of Snickers bars, you'd survive. Your quality of life would be questionable, but at that point you've got bigger fish to fry.

Candy bars are nothing but untapped energy. Delicious, delicious energy. Stored in a beautiful chocolate shell, filled with caramel and nougat. Fuel for whatever the day brings. As such they should be branded in a way to reflect these scientifically proven statements.

Compare and contrast these questions posed below: (Written in the style of Highlights for Children magazine Goofus and Gallant)

"Hey Ma, can I have a candy bar?" - Goofus

Of course his Ma said no. This kid barely brushes his teeth even though he can be found in a Highlights magazine in every pediatric dentist's office in the country.

"Hello Mother, may I please have an Energy bar?" - Gallant

WHAT MOTHER IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD DENY THEIR PERFECT LITTLE GALLANT BOY AN ENERGY BAR? Am I right or am I right? So don't call them Candy Bars any longer. They will now forever be known as "Energy Bars".

I've had two Energy Bars already today. Don't worry, they were mini-size. And a handful of Energy Rocks (That's M&Ms if you didn't already know). And I don't feel guilty like I would have had I eaten a handful of M&Ms, a mini Kit-Kat, and a mini MilkyWay bar and called it "Candy". Even if they were full-size, they're just Energy bars!

Don't get me wrong, too much of a good thing can turn into a bad thing. Don't overdo it. Remember what Wilford Brimley says: "Diabeetus". You don't want to catch that shit. It can literally kill you. So moderation is key to "Energy Bar" consumption. So shift your perspective and change your life... Next time you're at the gas station, pick up an Energy bar for me... My two favorites are Reese's Big Cups and MilkyWay bars.

I'm back with another post about a dream... Not something aspirational, but rather a vivid dream that I had last night... I don't remember all of the details but the reoccurring theme was being recognized for something I am definitely not.

So we were at a Theme Park, felt like Universal Studios to me but it was definitely Disney-themed. And in today's Merger and Acquisition environment, that's totally possible. I don't know who I was with, probably my family, but I was by myself most of the time, except for all the hundreds of people also visiting the park too. People kept coming up to me and complimenting me for the site. Somehow I was a pseudo- celebrity up in herrrre.

The strongest and most remembered part of the dream was me walking into a food spot and walking up to a bar-type ordering counter. There wasn't a line you just walked up and ordered like you would at a bar. Basically first come, first serve type of situation. (Which at a theme park is definitely the way to go. LOL.) I'm only going to order one little dessert and a bottle of water. There were three of us who all moseyed up to the bar at the same time. We all waited for a few seconds until the "bartender" turned around and said, "OK, who was here first?" In my Midwest nicety, I said nothing. Actually, I made my case to the others that I would be quick, I'm only ordering one thing and a bottle of water and paying with my credit card. The other fellas chimed in at the same time but middle guy (I was on the outside right) was advocating that I should go first because he read or viewed my "DisneyDads.com" website just that previous week and he was a big fan of my work. And I was only ordering two things. I shyly thanked him and encouraged him to keep hitting that Like and Subscribe button... Because there's nothing like YouTube humor. Then left guy started asking him questions and the conversation went sideways. I don't know what they were saying so me and the bartender got to ordering. I was told this was the spot for the oatmeal cookie dessert. But I didn't know what it was called so my simple and quick order took way longer than anticipated and it made me laugh. I love inside jokes and that one was about as inside as it gets. Again, you know that this has to be a dream if I'm ordering an oatmeal cookie, the worst of all cookies. Don't get me wrong, I'll still choke one down, because after all, even bad sex is still sex. (I think I got my analogies mixed up, and since my delete key doesn't work it's staying...) So as I'm waiting for my order, the guys are still jabber-jawing and I join the conversation. I don't remember what we were saying but I do remember doing some schtick and just roasting Left guy. I told a joke and then I would wink at the bartender when everyone started laughing. Eventually, I received my oatmeal cookie and I went outside to enjoy my sought-after prize.

I'm not a Disney Dad. I enjoy going once in a while but I don't need multiple trips a year. There are too many people and people are not my favorite. I love MY people, but regular people can just go kick rocks...

That's what I think of when I think of a "Disney Dad". Very weak pullout game. He's got too many kids. He's got the shoes but none of the kids are wearing theirs. He's pushing a stroller but carrying a kid. He's wearing a backpack that is overstuffed by 7 lbs. But you need those extra diapers because all that excitement is going to make the baby shit more... He's barely smiling. This is fun! At least that's what his wife demands. But he's not happy. All he wanted was a backrub. How did we get here is the one question he keeps asking himself. The only thing missing is matching outfits and/or t-shirts. His says something like Di$ney Dad, because after all, he's the one paying for it... Oh, and a crying child. Then it would summarize the Disney experience perfectly.

I have several fond Disney Park moments. Like when I was about 17 years old and was visiting with our show choir and we were leaving the park, there was a kid screaming his head off. I was determined to cheer him up but all I did was scream back at him. "STOP CRYING! YOU'RE IN THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH!" It didn't work. That kid probably has kids of his own now. I hope he's happy now. Makes me happy to think back on that moment...

But my absolute favorite Disney moment was when we visited Orlando with the Walkers and stole parking every day we attended. We both probably saved $100 and it felt soooooo good to stick it to that mouse... We didn't intentionally mean for it to happen, it just so happens that the condo we stayed at was close to the back entrance and our GPS brought us through that way on the first day. We knew it was a hack that we would repeat on subsequent days. We were 'supposed' to exit the park and pay, but before you exited, there was a turnaround loop that allowed you to get in line like you had just paid. It was a happy accident that we happily repeated each day. But don't feel too bad for the rat, we more than made up for it in the parks... Seriously that's one of my favorite memories of Florida Disney...

I searched for DisneyDads.com but there's nothing operational about it. So someone owns it and isn't doing anything with it. So it's possible someone could buy it and turn it into something where you get recognized at actual Disney Parks for running. As for me, I'm staying home and watching hockey on TV with my dog.

Never forget... I will never forget where I was... I stared at that screen in amazement. I watched it over and over again. It will forever be etched into my memory. No. Not that. I think you think I'm thinking of September 11th, that horrific terrorist attack on the U.S. in 2001. My apologies, I can see where the confusion lies and I take responsibility. My event was roughly 20 years earlier in about 1981 which would make me 5 or 6 years old. The movie was Disney's Condorman, and of course, I'm talking about the Porsche 911, the iconic German sports car that had an almost starring role in the picture.

I'm a car guy. As a kid, I had hundreds of Matchbox cars as toys. My brothers and I would play "Cars" together. Which was basically a game in our living room where the small space under the couch was our garage (which of course made the whole couch our mansion that we lived in). We had a huge sectional so there was plenty of garage space for each of us. We would each have a job, I always made myself the President of AT&T because it seemed like that guy would make a lot of money to be able to afford a house the size of a couch relative to a Matchbox car. I also knew AT&T had commercials on TV which meant whoever that guy was, he was sure to be swimming in $$$$. We'd line up 10-15 cars in our garage and pick one to drive. Then we'd go meet up to do something, or go to someone's house, then drive home. Then we'd park the Lamborgini we had been driving and leave again in the Ferrari. And so on until you drove all your cars. I guess I foreshadowed working in Telecom as a kid. I do wish I had that AT&T salary though... 😀

My dad was a huge car guy. We liked different things though... We were into the high-end exotics where he was more of a muscle car guy, having grown up in that era. He also liked all the goofy weird shit that wasn't as commonplace. Oh how he would have loved watching Barrett-Jackson on TV. I'm certain that he would have wasted an entire weekend watching that. What I wouldn't give to have had him out to Arizona so that I could bring him there in person. He would have lost his mind. He loved watching old car shows on TV. He died just as car networks and shows started coming up, so he missed a lot of the stuff that I know he would have loved. He would love Wayne Carini's "Chasing Classic Cars". He would love Dan Short's "FantomWorks" and would appreciate his curmudgeonous. And "Rate my Classic Car"? I'm certain he would waste hours on that show. It would inspire and annoy him that he didn't have a collection like the people on the screen. I miss that guy.

Friday nights were for Miami Vice when we went to Dad's house. I didn't really understand the storylines, but I understood the cars (and boats) they drove. And Sonny Crockett was cool as shit in that white Ferrari Testarossa... I mean come on, what a gorgeous automobile. But all those Porsche 911 from the Condorman Movie were just tops for me.

I had three framed pictures in my bedroom. One of a white Ferrari like on Miami Vice, a white Lamborghini Countach, and a red Porsche 911. I could never shake that Porsche. I stared at that thing until my eyes drifted off, dreaming of the day I could touch and feel one in person. I never really dreamed of riding in or even owning one myself. I just wanted to see it in person. My mind would have exploded to have ridden in one. I didn't feel worthy. Luckily I grew up in a resort town where wealthy people of Chicago kept their summer estates. The summertime brought out the cars you couldn't drive in the winter. I rode my bike to the beach one day and was stopped dead in my tracks by the coolest car known to man... Someone had parked their red 911 outside the Riveria in front of the beach. My poster was suddenly live in three dimensions right in from of me. I gave that thing the thrice over for a few minutes before the owner came out of the restaurant across the street and left in it. I probably said "Nice car!" to him or something. I don't think he said a word to me. I think he gave me a nod which I actually thought was way cooler than actually talking to me. I wondered who he was and what he did to be so rich to be able to afford such a cool car. I wondered if he had any more cool cars at home. I know that he had no idea how that made my day, week, month, and maybe even year.

That unmistakable design of the 911 hasn't changed much over the years. And I think that's why I love the car so much. They've evolved in their engine design and technological performance, but that basic shape has stood the test of time. Those headlights. That sexy ass. What a beautiful car.

I want one. But they're not very practical. I don't really care though. You only live once. If I can afford it, I'm gonna do it. They're hard to get. The market for them, is as my friend who sells luxury cars says, "Stupid". Because the average owner has like 5 cars and only uses them on the weekends. So most of them have low miles and are garage-kept for most of their lives. And a guy that owns one doesn't "need" to sell his car, so he'll hold out until the price is right. Which means they go for a pretty penny. And you can't just go order a new one from a dealer, there are usually crazy waiting lists for them, which drives the used prices up even more. I get an email anytime one goes on sale on BaT. Someday I'm gonna buy one... So this is me just reminiscing a little bit but more so manifesting it into the world. You better believe I'll be writing about that experience. And if you've got $3.99 burning a hole in your pocket, give Condorman a watch... It's totally worth it.

Condorman - Apple TV

It’s nonstop comical chaos when a comic book artist bumbles his way into international espionage after adopting the identity of CONDORMAN, one of his …

Apple TV