Big Daddy Gouda

My eyes opened today at 10 a.m. I slowly lifted my head, which felt like it weighed fifty pounds.  A small pool of drool had formed on my pillow.

Many times I have woken up this way on a Sunday morning, especially after a night out with friends.  But something about today felt different. I didn’t remember getting home last night. I didn’t remember getting into bed. Come to think of it, the last thing I remembered about the night was standing at the bar with Jay and Jamie. If memory served me correctly(and I don’t think it did), someone was trying to buy Jamie a shot. She turned to Jay and said, “If I start doing shots, we may end up taking the limo home.” Which meant, I too would be taking the limo home, because at that point, there was no way I was getting behind the wheel, and Jamie, being my “sober” ride, was about to get a lot less sober.

Apparently, the Tavern, yes the Tavern, has limo service. Apparently, for a mere $5 (a little more if you want to tip) an old beat up limousine will drive you home.

So, as I lay in bed, trying to piece together the last 10 hours, the only thing I recalled was a brief discussion about possibly taking the tavern limo home.

After I brushed my disgusting teeth, took a wiz, and smoked a cig, I called Jamie, hoping she could put the pieces together for me. No answer. Straight to voice mail.

As I attempted to nurse my hangover in the shower, I noticed my sore legs were covered with scrapes and bruises. The hot water also stung my back, which was, for some reason,  also scratched up. What the fuck did I get into last night?

The day progressed, and, when not vegging in front of the TV or trying to call Jamie, odd images flashed in my head. Images of me, inside a dark limo. Images of a creepy old man who may or may not have been our limo driver kept popping into my mind. If this creep wasn’t driving me somewhere, I could swear he was dragging me by my ankles through the woods. Was I recalling a dream I had last night, or something much much worse?

In the early hours of the afternoon my father agreed to drive me to the Tavern so I could pick up my Jeep, which I had left parked in the lot over night.

As I trudged to my Jeep I saw someone from the night before who was also picking up their vehicle.

“Looks like you had a rough night,” the person said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s why I didn’t drive home.”

“How did you get home?” the person asked.

“I’m not quite sure,” I laughed. “But I think I took the Tavern limo.”

The person laughed as if I told the funniest joke in the history of mankind.

“What’s so funny,” I wondered.

“I dunno,” the person said, “That’s just funny to me. Tavern Limo”

“Yeah, but it’s better than driving drunk,” I said.

At that point the person gave me a strange look, got into their car and told me to take care.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say, for some reason, they didn’t believe me about taking the limo home.

Before I left, I scanned the parking lot. The limo was not there. For my own piece of mind I decided to ask the bartender if she remembered how I got home.

I walked into the bar. A cute girl bartender, I think from the night before, was watching TV.

“Excuse me,” I said. “This is gonna sound odd, but I was here last night and I was just wondering…..did I take the limo home last night do you know?”

The bartender gave me the same odd look that I received in the parking lot moments earlier.

“You don’t remember me,” I said to the bartender.

“I remember you,” she said, “but I don’t know if you took a limo home.”

“I didn’t see it out there, does the guy just keep it at his house until night time,” I asked.

Once again, a strange look.

“Honestly,” the bartender said, seemingly annoyed that I was ruining her TV time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The limo guy,” I said, a bit frustrated. “I think I took the Tavern limo home last night but I don’t remember and it’s bugging me.”

“You must have had a lot to drink,” the bartender said, “because I’ve never heard of a tavern limo.”

At that point I thought maybe I was the butt of some big joke. The ultimate prank pulled on me for my years of deviousness.  Only thing was, I didn’t feel like playing along.

“You mean to tell me there is not a limousine service provided by THIS bar,” I asked.

“Well, I’ve been here almost a year,” the girl said, “and I’ve never heard of it.”

This was useless. I walked out.

I tried again to get a hold of Jamie. Once again, right to voice mail. I then began calling every person I remember seeing at the bar last night. They all went right to voice mail.

I had enough. I decided to drive straight to Jamie’s and ask her how the fuck we all got home. Thankfully, her and Jay’s cars were parked in the driveway. I rang the bell. No answer. I knocked. No one came. Odd thing was, the dog wasn’t barking either.

My heart was beating fast. I turned around, put my hand on my hips and exhaled. What the fuck is going on……

That was 5 hours ago. As I sit here typing this, I”m no closer to piecing together last night than I was this morning. I still haven’t been able to get a hold of ANYONE who I hung out with last night. I even drove back to the tavern a few hours ago, just to see if there was a limo parked out front. There wasn’t.

And, if my day couldn’t get any more frustrating, someone just pulled into my driveway, and I don’t feel like entertaining visitors right now.

While I’m sure it’s my mind playing tricks on me, If I had to bet, I’d say the car in my driveway right now looks like a limo. Only one way to find out…..I’ll be right back

As I sat in traffic this afternoon I noticed the sign on the pick-up in front of me: “Butler Landscaping”.

I chuckled to myself and was immediately taken back 28 years to the day Mom and I picked up our first pet, a parakeet.

I must have been about four years old, but truth be told, even being so young I actually remember bits and pieces from that day. What I don’t recall vividly I’ve picked up along the way, mostly from Mom, who must have told the story dozens of times at family picnics over the years.

We stopped at the supermarket on the way to the pet store. I held mom’s hand as we walked up and down the isles. Normally, I’m sure I’d be begging her for candy but not on that day. On that day I was content knowing that in a little while I’d have my own pet..

As the story goes, Mom bumped into someone she knew and began talking. I took the opportunity to explore and, before I knew it, Mom was gone and I was lost.

Like any 4-year-old, I began crying. In between sobs, for some reason or another, I took note of the voice coming over the store intercom:

“Will John Butler please report to the produce isle. John Butler to the produce isle for customer assistance.”

A few seconds had passed and a woman noticed me standing in the isle alone, crying.

“What’s the matter,” she asked.

“I can’t find my mommy,” I said, in between sobs.

“Did you come in the store with her,” the friendly lady asked.

I nodded yes.

The woman assured me that everything would be alright and she held out a friendly hand, which I instinctively latched on to.

The lady led me to the service booth.

“This boy lost his mother,” the lady informed the clerk.

“What’s his name,” the clerk asked.

The woman turned to me with a smile.

“What’s your name kiddo,” she asked, warmly.

For reasons that remain unknown to this day I responded with the first thing that popped into my head.

“Butler,” I said, repeating the last name of the guy paged over the intercom minutes earlier.

The lady looked at me strangely.

“That’s an unusual name,” the lady said. “Just Butler?”

I didn’t respond. The lady turned to the clerk and said something. The clerk then reached for the intercom.

“Will the mother of Butler please report to the service desk. We have Butler here at the service desk looking for his mother.”

Within moments my mother was at the desk, hugging me and crying. She didn’t really hear what the clerk said over the intercom, she only knew I was missing and only needed to hear the words “looking for his mother”.

“Are you Butler’s mother,” the lady asked.

“His name is Walter,” my mom said, hugging me.

An hour later I sat in the back seat of mom’s car. In my hand a small brown box with air holes on the top. Inside, my very own pet. A white parakeet with the most perfect name in the world, Butler.

I considered myself lucky at first, having found a parking space at Price Chopper so close to the front doors.

As I opened my Jeep door I noticed I had parked in a giant puddle. Actually it was more like a small pond. No wonder the space was vacant but I had a Jeep so the wet didn’t factor in to where I parked.

Glancing across the pond I estimated it was about three feet to dry land. I could make it.

With one foot on the door step, and the other in about six inches of water I  carefully slammed the door shut. I then pushed off from the door step and at the same time pushed off from the wet ground, attempting to clear the puddle.

I heard the noise first. It sounded like snapping a leather belt after its been folded. Then I saw darkness, followed my immediate white light. Then I felt pain.

The pain was unlike anything I had experienced in my lifetime. It began at my left ankle and shot up my leg, settling about mid thigh.

Without a thought about the wet ground I collapsed to my butt, my two hands behind me under water.

As soon as I sat down the pain seemed to amplify. My head began to throb and I instantly felt nauseous. I turned to my side and vomited in the parking lot.

I then felt a hand on my back. I turned my head and saw an elderly gentleman standing above me.

“Take it easy,” he said. “I saw the whole thing.”

“I think it’s broken,” I said, referring to my ankle, which I had obviously messed up. Messed up bad.

“I’d say so,” the man said. “That didn’t sound pretty.”

He had obviously heard that belt leather snap. Was it a bone?

I glanced around the parking lot. A few other people were pretending not to watch, but it was obvious they were. I was just thankful no one was coming up to me. Not that I was embarrassed. I was in to much pain to be embarrassed.

I limped back to my Jeep, through the puddle, while the kind old man kept his hand on my elbow. Not that it would have helped if I fell over but it’s the thought that counts.

Like an idiot, before I got back in my Jeep I decided to see how bad my ankle was. I tried to put a little pressure on it. The pain was instant. White light. Sharp pain.

I knew, because I drove a standard vehicle, there was no way I could make it home. I called my father and explained what happened.

As I waited in the parking lot I made small talk with the old man who never left my side. We joked that I should sue Price Chopper for not properly maintaining their parking lots but I’m the one who tried to pull a Jesus and walk on water.

I watched my dad pull up shaking his head. The old man wished me luck and I carefully got into dad’s car.

Going home and icing the ankle was not an option for me. This pain was unfamiliar and awful. An icepack was not gonna cut it. We drove to the ER.

An hour later I sat in a hospital room, full of painkillers as a doctor, while holding an X-ray of my ankle, explained to me that I’d fractured (broken) my ankle around an area he called “the medial malleolus”.

The doc fixed me with a splint and, when the swelling goes down in a few days, I will be fitted with a fiberglass cast, which I must wear for 4-6 weeks.

All of this pain and misery for a close parking space at the grocery store.

…………………………………………….

editors note: The above story is “based” on actual events, though some “minor details” have been changed for the sake of drama.

For example: I may not  have broken my ankle, or even sprained it for that matter,  but I did go to Price Chopper today…or did I?

My eyes popped open and focused on the clock: 6:43 a.m.

I heard the sound, tap tap (pause) tap tap. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that it had awoken me. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Tap Tap. (Pause) Tap Tap.

My mind wandered for a moment. Whatever it was seemed to be coming from the next room. I looked toward the window. It seemed rainy. Perhaps the wind had blown the door open and the noise I heard was the door knob banging against the wall.

I considered just leaving it be. I was comfy and tired. I did not want to get out of bed.

I turned over and closed my eyes. Instantly visions of raccoons walking into my house filled my head. Then I thought of some drifter, perhaps wanting to get out of the rain, and, seeing the inviting open door, taking refuge in my house.

Okay, that was it. I popped out of bed and left my room.

I walked down the hall into the adjacent room where the tapping was coming from. To my surprise, the door was closed. What the hell was making that noise?

I heard it again. My eyes followed the noise to the only window in the room. There perched outside the window, staring into the house, was a bird. It was black with an orange spot on its chest. I don’t know what kind of bird it was but it was the bird that you probably see the most in this part of the state. Just a bird.

The bird then flew from the branch it was perched on and crashed into the window, making the tap tap sound that woke me up. It bounced off  the glass and once again settled on the branch. After a few seconds it repeated the process, flew into the window, bounced off, and landed back on the branch.

I immediately assumed the bird had accidentally flew into the window, knocked itself silly and now was simply crazy: Banging its head against the window for no reason, not realizing that it was slowly killing itself.

I walked toward the window and the bird flew away. I shook my head and went back to bed.

Two hours later the all too familiar tapping had returned. The bird was back. This time, since I knew what the noise was, I really did try to ignore it.

I lasted about 15 minutes. This damn bird was persistent. Like clockwork, every 30 seconds, Tap Tap (pause) Tap Tap.

I groaned, got out of bed and headed back to the window. I paused as I entered the room. Sure enough, the crazy bird was back, smashing his body into the window every half minute.

Maybe there were more possibilities than this bird simply being bat shit crazy. Perhaps there was something in the room it wanted. I looked around but saw nothing that would be appealing to a bird: An old ping-pong table covered with junk and a flashlight were all I noticed in the room.

Then my crazy mind that had seen too many movies started to wander. Perhaps there was an evil presence in my house and the bird was drawn to it. Perhaps this bird was possessed by the devil or perhaps it was some sort of zombie bird that wanted to feast on my delicious brains.

I moved toward the window and as it had before the bird flew away.

This time instead of going to bed I sat in front of the computer and immediately went to the all knowing google.com.

I typed in the words “bird trying…” and immeditely the google search bar filled in the rest:  ”…to get into window.”

50 million results came up. Thank God. I wasn’t alone.

Well, after searching about 5 Web sites, the explanation for the bird’s behavior became quite clear and was quite simple actually.

The bird had caught its reflection in the window, thought it to be another bird and wanted to either mate with it or attack it for getting too close to its nest.

Apparently this is a very common occurance. I should have known.

The term “Bird Brain” never held such meaning before.

The internet suggested I cover the window or the bird would keep coming back. That seemed like too much work. I followed a simpler suggestion.

I put an old stuffed animal in the window; a stuffed tiger. I figure that will keep the bird away. 

The next morning as I was preparing to take out the garbage I noticed a hole in the window about the size of a softball. The stuffed tiger was on the floor. One black feather lay beside it. The tiger’s plastic eyes were missing, having seemingly been pecked off….

Um…just kidding.

I haven’t heard the tapping since placing the tiger near the window.

But the other scenario is much cooler and would make a better movie don’t ya think?

BOSTON (Associated Press) - A day after studying tape from city traffic cameras and footage obtained from local news agencies, race officials have determined that a 32 -year-old computer worker from Boston did not cheat in any way, and did in fact win Monday’s Boston Marathon, finishing the 26.2 mile course in just over two hours.

Race officials were skeptical after Connecticut native Jason Maroon, a  bald, stocky, flat-footed city man, won the historic race by out sprinting world class Ethiopian distance runner Deriba Merga.

Race director Edmund Suluski said footage clearly shows Maroon take off at the starting line, weave in and out of city streets, stopping only once to sip water, before finally finishing the race in a near record time of  2 hours, 6 minutes – almost two minutes faster than Merga.

“We poured over hours and hours of footage,” Suluski said. “Not once did he stray from the course.”

Suluski said, as far as the race committee is concerned the case is closed.

“Our job is to uphold the integrity of the Boston Marathon,” he said. “We feel we’ve done that. As far as we’re concerned this Maroon guy is the winner. I don’t know how the hell he did it but a win’s a win.”

Maroon, who decided to run the race early Monday morning, attributes his shocking victory to a long dormant passion for winning, coupled with the need to release tension from everyday life.

“My plan was to start off by jogging and then maybe walk a bit here and there,” Maroon said, Tuesday. “But once I got going that runner’s high kicked in and the rest is history.”

Maroon, who is expecting a baby soon along with his wife Tina, said the stresses associated with family life combined with a poor showing in his Fantasy Baseball League, convinced him to run the marathon.

“I needed a way to clear out my head,” he said. “I figured running a marathon would do the trick.”

Merga, 28, who kept up with Maroon before losing steam on the 25th mile, said his loss to the amateur is the most shocking thing he’s ever had to endure in his 15 year racing career.

“I train for this all year,” Merga said, through an interpreter, “and then I lose to this video game playing computer nerd. I’m sick. Sick, sick, sick.”

Maroon has thus far declined interview requests as well as invitations to appear on the Today Show and Late Night With Dave Letterman, and said he will instead focus on his job and prepare for the birth of his first child.

He also sent his race winnings to family living in the country of Lebanon, where it was revealed Maroon has distant relatives there, possibly living in squalor.

“The race was fun but people are making too big a deal out of it,” he said. “Did I make history, Yes. Did I shock the world, Maybe. But at the end of the day I’m still just Jason.”

I’m surprised I haven’t told this one before.

It was senior year track practice. We were supposed to be on a three mile run through White Memorial, but instead a group of us were goofing off. I believe the group consisted of myself, Bub, Tai, Ads, Joe, and I wanna say Rich Decker?

We stopped in the middle of the woods and began bullshitting. As Bub leaned against a tree, we watched in amazement as the thing shifted. This mutha was loose.

Without even really communicating, we surround the tree.  Everyone found a spot for their hands, and we began pushing back and forth. For some reason we became determined to get this thing out of the ground.

The tree was by no means  a mighty oak.  It was probably about 40 feet high and skinny.  If trees could get sick like humans, I’d say this particular wood had pancreatic cancer.

As we rocked the dying tree back and forth, trying to uproot the thing, giggling like school girls, we failed to notice the 6 foot branch on the tippity top was bending as it was continuously pressed against a giant oak.

SNAP!!

We heard the branch crack with a thunderous snap, reserved for only the finest of movie theaters with digital surround sound.

We looked up and sure enough flailing toward us was a sawed-off six foot branch.

I watched as everyone scattered to the right.  But me, for reasons that will be debated always, scattered to the left.  I must of made it two steps before the decrepit old branch, made more powerful with the speed at which it fell, landed upon the back of my head.

I collapsed to the ground with a thud, the dying branch on top of me.

Before I felt pain, I tasted dirt. The side of my face was pressed into the woodsy ground of White Memorial. I slowly lifted my head and spit. Then the pain kicked in. It was a dull ache at first, running from my head, down to the space between my shoulder blades. Then there was burning on the back of my neck, which was still covered by the broken branch.

I focused my attention in front of me. If there was such a thing as cobwebs, I had them.  My vision, for the moment, was a bit blurred.

About 10 feet before me were my fellow teammates-my friends. Most stood silently, not moving, maybe a bit nervous that I was dying before their eyes. Tai I believe was running toward me. Joe, him I remember clearly. He was leaned against a tree, arms folded across his stomach, eyes closed, mouth open, laughing hysterically.

Tai pulled the branch off me. I remember him and someone else helping me to my feet. I was bombarded by questions: “Are you alright”, “Where did it hit you”, “Why did you run the other way”.

As soon as my friends ascertained that I was OK, they all began laughing. Though they did remain by my side the entire way back to the high school. Thinking back, I must of been walking really really slow.

Back at the high school, I sat on the track and field mats. I was a bit dizzy and the back of my neck really burned. The force of the branch took a little chunk out of my neck, which someone described as “gross”.

As my teammates made the rounds, telling everyone that would listen what happened, two people offered to help me.

I’m not 100 percent sure but I think it was Marcy Warner and….Lisa Cash maybe? (like I said, specifics from the immediate aftermath of the incident are spotty at best).

They went to CVS, bought hydrogen peroxide and band aids, and basically cleaned me up.

I didn’t practice for the rest of the day. I suffered through the worse stiff neck in the history of mankind. I missed the track meet the next day. I endured ribbing from my friends and teammates for the rest of the week. And then it was over….Until the Spring Sports Banquet.

As we were called up one by one to get our varsity letters for track, Hawk, our coach, said he wanted to give me a special award. He handed me a cardboard box.

“We chopped down the tree that fell on ya,” he said, seriously. “And we made a box out of it. We’d like you to have it.”

I grabbed the box, said thank you, and went back to my seat. Was it finally over? Not really.

A few nights later, I stood in Kathleen Ebner’s kitchen, ready to take her to my senior prom. As I nervously waited for her to come down stairs, her father and I stood there in awkward silence.

“So,” he said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife, “Is it really true a tree fell on your head?”

I’m not going to lie, FACEBOOK gives me a lot of good ideas for things to write about.

About two weeks ago, I noticed and then stole the 25 Randoms  post idea, which has since taken off by the way.

 Now, it appears the latest thing is a “Memories” post where people are asked to write random memories about the poster. I filled one out, and let me say, the responses I received  made me smile.

So, here’s what I decided to do. I’m going to delve into my FACEBOOK friends list and write a memory about each person and post it right here on Big Daddy Gouda.

Technology is telling me that I currently have 144 friends (i know KC, point of the story), so I’m not going to do them all at once. Instead I’ll try to do 20 or so a week.

To make it easy, I’m thinking alphabetical order.

And here…we….go…

1. Sabrina “Howard” Allard -  We were partying at Jewett’s house. After a few cocktails you attempted to hop from the stone steps and into the house through the  open front door, and ….you fell on your face. While I should have made sure you were okay, my first instinct, unfortunately, was to laugh in your face. Sorry.

2. Melissa Amicone – Sitting with you at Panchos and gossiping about real estate.

3. Meagan Anderson -Playing charades at Keely and Chuck’s…and kicking your ass!

4. Carrie Anne (Copeland) – Probably our convos over Facebook.  Because of them I feel like I’ve known you forever.

5. Daniel Antonucci – Trying to tackle you during pick-up football games at Bantam Field. You were a fast little fucker.

6. Ethan Antonucci – You called me  on a Monday afternoon. I was depressed the 49ers had lost a football game the day earlier. You said you had a way to cheer me up and you brought me to my first ever UCONN basketball game.

7. Valentina Barbacci – Flirting with you at the Tavern.

8. Kimberly Beach – Sat next to you in study hall when I was a freshman in high school. Mrs Kiesel was the monitor and once told me I should behave because I wouldn’t want the “pretty girl” sitting next to me thinking I was a jerk.

9. Caitlin Benedict – When you were five I told you that if you really believed and got a running start, you could walk through walls. You tried once, fell on your face and your mom sent me home.

10. Corrie Benedict – You went to France one summer for three weeks and I basically moved into your bedroom.

11. Caitlin Bille (chops girlfriend) – You beat me a beerpong and I said something very rude. Before I could apologize you laughed and shot back a zinger that turned my face red.  It was in that moment that I accepted you as one of the group.

12. Andrea Boden – Sitting next to you on the hood of some car sharing a bottle on class night: About 15 hourse before we graduated high school.

11. Carrie “Amrich” Bowen  – Mr. Bucklin hung one of your quotes on the wall in 8th grade: “Everyone’s a little weird, it’s the normal people you have to watch out for.” I’ve always remembered that.

12. Kris Bramley – This one is real easy. Through out junior high, and I’m thinking high school too, you used to “gallop” around the soccer field during recess pretending you were a horse. Deny it, I dare you!

13. Christine Brasacchio – Driving with you 4 hours to NH to visit Meredith at Plymouth State.

14. Lesley “Murphy” Budney – Attending one hell of a rager at your house senior year of high school.

15. Sarah “Sweetman” Carr – See above but insert “Lake House” for house.

16. Dave “Chopper” Carroll – Watching you  go ape shit on Brad Carafino during  a party at Jewett’s for “slapping” you in the face instead of fighting you like a man. That and of course watching you paraded down Main Street in cuffs on Road Race Weekend. I still wish Hawk had provided running commentary for that.

17. Lisa Cash – Sitting on the top of Chickadee Bridge as you taught me the “One fat hen, A couple of duck, three brown bear…” drinking game.

18. Luke Chappius – Making fun of the way Harmony Lucas’s hair blew all over the place as he crashed his symbols together during band concerts.

19. Diana Chappius – Cramming into your living room and watching Delores Claiborne.

20. Katie “Gardner” Cissell – In seventh grade, in a time when girls and boys rarely gave each other unsolicited compliments, you told me  you liked my haircut and it made me look handsome.

That’s all for now…

Coming next time, Becca Clock, Jill Coffey, Laura “Margaitis” Comas, Lauren Cook, David Copperfield  and more!!!

It was a winter morning similar to today. It had rained the whole night. Everything was frozen and school was canceled.

I got dressed and went outside. How fun it was to get a running start and then slide down my semi-steep driveway; kind of like surfing. I slipped a few times but that was part of the fun.

I remember beggin my stepfather not to put sand down so I could spend my day slipping and sliding. Little did I know how much slipping and sliding I’d actually do.

Around lunch time my mother bundled my sister and I up as we were about to journey to the center of Litchfield to do a little shopping.

We lived on route 202 at the time, about a quarter mile away from the Litchfield Green.

We went to Superior Foods so mom could buy a few groceries, then we went to Murphy’s Drug Store where my sister and I were allowed to buy candy.

I remember leaving Murphy’s with a little brown bag filled with goodies.  That’s the only thing I remember about being in the center of town that day….

I opened my eyes. I was on my back on the side of route 202. My mother and sister hovered over me. They were crying. I was confused.

My mother told me I had turned around to say something, slipped and landed on my back.

Mom tells me I was unconscious for about a minute.

When we arrived back home mom called  Doctor Wan K. Moon. He said as long as I wasn’t dizzy, seeing spots or nauseous I should be okay. He also advised her to keep me awake for a few hours.

Aside from a little headache I felt fine.

I remember watching TV for a while until it was time to leave for Torrington and go to  dads for the night.

As we left the house to venture to the car, I noticed the  sidewalk that I had so much fun on earlier in the day  was now covered with sand. I was glad.

As soon as I arrived at dad’s my grandfather gave me the classic concussion test.

“How many fingers am I holding up,” he asked, holding up three digits.

“Three,” I responded.

“Ahh, your fine,” he said, as he went back to watching TV.

It was the only time in my life I  lost consciousness. Aside from passing out a few times from drinking too much, it was the only time I was not in control of whether I stayed awake or slept.

Although I may have been knocked out one day as my friend Bob and I wrestled in my room. Rumor has it he kicked me in the face and dropped me like a ton of bricks. Though, memories from my days with Bob are spotty at best.

Be carefull out there today.

and speaking of falling……………

I woke up and she was there. Naked. Dark skin. Long wavy black hair. Laying next to me, head in her hand, propped up on her elbow.

It took me about five seconds to remember. Then, like a puzzle, it all fell into place. We’d met the night before at a party. I made her laugh. She thought I was interesting. We both drank a bit too much, and here we are. Problem was, I didn’t know her name. I knew I knew it last night, but it escaped me now.

By the looks of her, I thought it might be something exotic. She had that look. I’d describe it as islandy.

“Good morning,” she said, with some sort of accent. Brazilian maybe?

“Good morning,” I said, back. Before I could say anything else, like the wrong name, she started kissing me. Not passionately, kind of like a married couple or at least a couple who were very comfortable with each other.

The next thing I knew it was the middle of the day. The sun was shining but it was cold. We were walking together and we had coffee in our hands.

“What do you want to do,” she asked.

As I answered, “I don’t care, it’s up to you,” I thought how odd, that it seemed like only seconds ago we were in my bedroom kissing and now we were walking in the sunny cold, drinking coffee.

Also strange, I was in love with this girl I’d known about 12 hours. And she loved me. She didn’t say it and neither did I. It was just a fact that didn’t need to be proved.

As happy as I was something didn’t seem right. That thought was at the forefront of my mind as we got into my jeep…..

My eyes popped open. The TV was on, as it is every morning when I wake up. I was in my bed. I was alone.

Her face was still in my mind and the love I felt for this woman as we walked in the sun was still with me. Her face, though clear in my mind was disappearing, along with it, this phony love created by a mind that wanders at will while the rest of me sleeps.

People dream every night. Some dreams we remember, most we don’t. Sometimes, as I’m dreaming I even know I’m dreaming. If I am uncomfortable in a dream, I am a master of shaking myself awake. I do this a lot during nightmares.

This dream, the one about the girl, was one of those odd ones. Odd because they seem so real. Unlike a dream but more like a vivid memory.

I’ve been having those dreams a lot lately. The ones that seem all too real. Let me just say, I’m not on any sleep aids, anti-depressents or anti-smoking pills, that some people have told me cause really wild dreams. None the less, for the last week, I’ve been having crazy crazy night time adventures.

This past week, besides being in love, I’ve been chased by criminals, I’ve been a criminal myself, I got shot in the head, didn’t feel any pain and didn’t die, I’ve been 31 years old in my brain but stuck back in high school without any of my friends and in danger of failing and, an old flame, once again, wanted me. Yup, that’s been my week.

I was discussing these dreams with a co-worker of mine and he actually had a pretty good theory. He thought maybe my dreams, like anyone else’s, are fucked up everynight. However, for some reason, over the last week, I’ve just done a better job remembering them.

Does that mean the craziest dreams are taking place right before I wake up and that’s why they stick in my mind? Is that how it works?

I guess I should be thankful that crazy dreams are all I have to deal with as I sleep. I have one friend on Ambien who wakes up in the middle of the night, eats raw bacon and has no recollection of it the next morning.

Mmm bacon…….

There is currently a forward circulating Facebook where it asks participants to list 25 random facts about themselves and then pass it on. I’ve been reading other peoples. ( i didn’t know Amy was on the radio?) But, rather than take part on Facebook, I’d rather do it here, where I’ve always shown  preferential treatment over Facebook and, ahem, Myspace.

Here are 25 Random and not so Random things about me that you may or may not know.

1. I’ve had 7 sexual partners

2. I’ve never done Heroin, Crack, Meth or Ecstasy but I’ve tried pretty much everything else.

3. I’m a member of Match.com

4. On the rare instances where I get my coffee from Dunkin Donuts I get a medium Toasted Almond, light and sweet.

5. I have songs by Justin Timberlake, New Kids on the Block and Enya on my IPOD.

6. I’ve faked an orgasm

7. I rented the movie Sweet November with Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron and watched it alone.

8. Most of my “crushes” are either out of my league or married and more often than not, both.

9. Usually when I go to the movies in Waterbury I buy my ticket from the machine using my credit card and I always select “child” or “senior citizen” so I can get the ticket for cheap. At the Waterbury Mall they never EVER check.

10. I watch Greys Anatomy

11. I’ve seen Twilight 4 times. 3 at the movies and once illegally online.

12. I read Aprille’s diary while she was in class.

13. I can spot a dark soul as easily as I can spot a pure one. Ask me about someone and I’ll tell you what they are all about.

14. Lately the song I’ve been singing in the shower is “All these things that I’ve done” by The Killers”.

15. I’ve performed stand up comedy on a New York stage 3 times. The first time I was good. The second time I KILLED and the third time I bombed. I never returned after the bombing.

16. I can’t remember the last time I hugged my father- Probably not since elementary school. I’ve never said “I love you” to him. I’ve hugged my sister twice, the day I graduated and the day I left for college. I hug my mother every time I see her. I tell her I love her as we say our goodbyes on the phone or in person.

17. After a night of partying, rather than sleep on someone’s floor or in a strange bed, I’ve driven home drunk.

18. 95 percent of the time I shave, I do it in the shower, rather than over the sink in front of the mirror.

19. Some songs that I used to love but now I can’t stand include “Black” by Pearl Jam and “Mr Jones” by The Counting Crows.

20. I’ve only truly loved one woman in my lifetime.

21. I can eat anchovies plain, right out of the can.

22. From 2001 to 2003 I’d say I was in the best shape of my life. I didn’t eat fast food and I exercised daily. At the height of this three year health kick, I was running 3-6 miles a clip, three or four times a week. On days  I didn’t run I was lifting weights.

23. I was obsessed with the Jagger/Brenda/Jason love triangle on General Hospital.

24. Some odd things I find attractive in women are eyes that sparkle, small feet and jean overalls.

25. I can remember all the jobs I’ve ever had, in order: Maintenance worker at Lakeride, Lodge Attendant at Lakeridge,  Age of Video, Patco, Liquor Depot, Blockbuster, Nicholas Pizza, Erotic Empire, Domino’s Pizza, Jeep Salesman at Northwest Hills, Insurance Agent at CIGNA, Nicholas Pizza again. The Register Citizen.