Captain's Log Blog

Let's Get Physical

It was that time of the year again yesterday. Time for my annual physical checkup. This year my doc had a new procedure to follow. Go directly to the Blood Lab rather than his office. Let the vampires over there suck out a few vials. It's faster and cheaper obviously for the doc.

"We'll fax the paperwork over to them," said the doc's nurse.

So about a week later I show up at the blood lab. Only one receptionist (sort of) and one patient waiting.
Great! I'll be out of here in 10 minutes! ... So I thought.

"Over here sir... have a seat," drawled the receptionist or whatever her title was.
I sit. I stare. This is a young woman in Brittany Spears' body 10 years from now.

"Can I have your prescription."
"I don't have a prescription. Why would I need a prescription in a blood lab? I'm suppose to give you blood. I didn't come to take any out."

"Funny sir. We need a prescription from your doctor's office. It gives us authority to take blood and what to test for."

"Well they did say they would send the paperwork over," I said.
"Oh, then they faxed it," said Brittany.

Brittany pulls out a 2 inch binder that's falling apart at the seams.

"Last name?"

I give her my last name. The paperwork is not under "D".

"Darn!" she says. They might have faxed it over with another name and now I have to go through the entire binder page by page."

My blood started to boil. Thought I was going to burst a vein and squirt all the blood she needed into right into her face.

"Why not call the doctor's office and ask them to send it again?" said I.
"Can't. They'll get mad at me."

I'm fuming as she goes through the binder page by page.
"Nope. Not here," as she finally ends at the Z's.

"Guess I will have to call the doctor's office."

This experience only proved how inept and paper-loaded the health care system is in this country. God help people with more serious issues than mine.

Cap'n

Lighting The Christmas Leg

What's a son to get "Dear Old Dad" for Christmas? Why a Leg Lamp just like the one in "A Christmas Story" starring Darin McGavin. Need a unique gift idea for the man who has everything? Why the Leg Lamp of course!

If you haven't seen the Movie, you should. You will then understand the significance of the Leg Lamp (which sold 700,000 last year.)

And where is my Leg Lamp? Burning brightly in the front window of course!

An Italian Christmas Eve is like no other. Especially back in the day when I was a kid and in the immediate generation before me. I received an email from an old Italian friend. It is meant as satire and went something like this ...

An Italian-American Young Man's Christmas Eve Dinner

I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. My date was not Italian. But I was excited about showing her how an Italian family spends this most important holiday. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges in a pear tree. Right.

I had only known Mitzi for three weeks when I extended the invitation. "Our Christmas Eve Dinner is really fun and filled with great food," I told her, "and Mama and Papa are warm people, I’m sure you’ll have a good time."

"O.K," said Mitzi as she stared at me apprehensively.

I told Mama I'd invited a girl for dinner.
"She's very nice and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you." "Sounds a good to me," my mama said.

“Is she Italian?” asked Mama.
“Not exactly,” I said.

In Italian homes, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season. An old Italian matriarch’s reason for living. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening.

Inviting a girl to join the family for Christmas Eve dinner is a monumental decision. I should emphasize that Mitzi is not Italian. Back in the day you didn’t bring non-Italian girls home to meet Mama especially on Christmas Eve. But when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men crazy, you had to see Mitzi. So she doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. BUT she has large breasts.

Here’s how the evening progressed.

7:00. - Mitzi and I arrive.
Mama commences to grill Mitzi like a cheeseburger on the barbecue and determines that Mitzi does not clean, cook, or bake. This is not good.

Papa is equally observant. He pulls me aside and says, "She has-a the big breasts! Too bad she’s not-a Italian."

7:15 - Twenty-two relatives arrive starting with Zio Giovanni, Zia Maria, and 5 of my cousins carrying trays of food and cookies - like Mama didn’t already have enough food to feed China.

7:30 We crowd around the dining room table elbow to elbow for the antipasto, platters composed of provolone gorgonzola, 3 types of olives, roasted red peppers, marinated artichokes and mushrooms, grilled eggplant scungelli salad, fried calamari, anchovies, .... and it goes on but no meat, of course. A traditional Christmas Eve is only fish.

When I offer to make Mitzi's plate she says, "No Thank you." She points to the anchovies with a look of disgust....

"You don't like anchovies?" Mama asks. "I don't like fish, Mitzi announces as 7 other varieties of seafood are baking, broiling and simmering in the kitchen.

My mother makes the sign of the cross. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. With an astonished expression, Zia Maria asks Mitzi what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Mitzi says, "Knockwurst." Papa, who is still staring in a daze at Mitzi’s chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, "Knockers?" Mama kicks him so hard under the table he gets a blood clot.

My evening is going downhill fast.

8:00 - Second course. The pasta with clam sauce or anchovies sauce is on the way to the table. Mitzi declines either sauce and asks for ketchup. With her eyes bulging in shock, Mama signals me to join her in the kitchen.

I remove my "Merry Christmas" paper napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and follow her into the kitchen.

"I don't want to start-a any trouble," Mama says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands. "But if she pours-a this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face." 

"Mama, please," I plead, "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." Oh if looks could kill. “Please, Mama?” As I’m the first son she reluctantly relents.

As I turn to walk back into the dining room, Mama grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says, "are you serious with this tramp?" 

"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, if you marry her, she'll poison you." Italian Mamas believe if you bring a girl home for Christmas Eve Dinner it means you’re going to marry her.

8:30 - More fish. My stomach is knotted like one of those macrame plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away the pasta dishes, except for Mitzi. 

"Why don't you give them a hand?" I politely suggest. Mitzi makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks.

"Dear, you don't have to do that," Mama tells her, smiling painfully.

"Oh, okay," Mitzi says, putting the forks in the sink. As she re-enters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, I hear Mama say, "Whoops!"

More fish comes out. After some goading, Mitzi tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy…like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like an old woman in the sixth row of a funeral home. Zia Maria does the same. Mitzi, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest. My Zio Giovanni doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and chew a six-inch gash in the tablecloth.

10:00 - Coffee, dessert. Espresso. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Mitzi asks for milk for her espresso, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Mitzi, believing that this is a custom performed on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it.

Everyone starts laughing, even Mama who digs her nails into my shoulder and with gritted teeth camouflaged with a false smile tells me, "Get this tramp outta my house."

I didn’t marry Mitzi nor did I ever bring a girl to Christmas Eve Dinner who was not Italian.

In the Christmas Spirit

We're only two weeks away from Christmas and I'm in the NOT bah! Humbug! Spirit of it. We have radio stations that now play nothing but holiday music (106.7 in NY) and with iTunes on my MAC I can listen to a fantastic mix of Christmas Music as I work.

For me, Christmas officially starts with three old black and white movies: Miracle on 34th Street Did yoou know Santa actually won the Oscar for his role and the film opened in May?), Laurel and Hardy's "Babes in Toyland, and Frank Capra's It's a wonderful life - Donna Reed - a timeless beauty.

Well if you haven't caught the Spirit yet maybe this trailer will help.

The Glen Then

If I had a wish, one of my choices would be to spend a day back in time. I was born and live in a town in Northeastern New Jersey. I often wonder what the eyes of Henry Hudson and his crew experienced as the first Europeans sailed up the Hudson River.

No houses. No macadem. No ugly utility poles. Not a sound from motors, faulty mufflers at 6 in the morning or blasts from a truck's airhorn.

I'd want to come back on an autumn day in 1800, 1700 and around 1400 to a place in the Glen where I lived for 30 years.

I bet it was a beautiful sight.

Enjoy the Day
The Captain

I'm not Senile. She is.

This Captain believes Breakfast is a meal like any other. So this morning I decided on a Ham and Swiss on Rye. The local A&P is only a short ride down the road so off I go.

I picked up a loaf of bread, a package of ham and swiss and a container of O.J. A half a bag of stuff.

"Credit card," I say. I swipe it. She bags. I sign. I leave.

I walk out of the store. Cashier comes running after me into the parking lot.

"SIR! Your change!"

Cashier is waving a handfull of greenbacks as she comes running after me.

It's 7 in the morning. I was the only person in the store.

What's wrong with this picture?

"I paid by credit card, remember?"

"Oh...must have been the lady before you."

I guess she was pretty ugly if she looked like me.

Let's hope we have a Real Leader

Democrat Jim Webb entered the race for Republican Sen. George Allen's seat wearing the scuffed, buff-colored combat boots of a son who is fighting in Iraq.

On Thursday, the first phase of his mission accomplished, he took off those boots and held them over his head as supporters cheered.

The victory put Democrats in control of Congress, giving them majorities in both the House and Senate for the first time since 1994.

A disaffected former Republican, decorated Vietnam War hero and a Reagan administration Navy secretary, Webb had credibility when he balked at President Bush's plan to invade Iraq.

He predicted that overrunning Iraq would destabilize the Middle East, inflame Muslim anger toward the United States and mire U.S. troops in the bloody occupation of a hostile land.

"What you see here is a split between the theorists who have never been on a battlefield or never worn the uniform" and those who have, Webb said in a televised debate in September.

The war, along with economic disparities and social injustices Webb believes are eroding the middle class, made him an unlikely Democratic convert with the perfect portfolio to sweep the GOP out from power.

Webb was a best-selling author and military historian making his first bid for any elected office. He is known for being headstrong and clashing even with his own professional advisers.

Webb, stocky and square-jawed with steel-gray eyes, was an awkward fit for traditional Democrats. Campaign small talk did not come easily for him, and he was a reluctant fundraiser.

He was a tough sell among minorities and women because of long-ago writings against affirmative action. In a 1979 magazine article titled "Women Can't Fight," Webb lamented the admission of women to his alma mater, the U.S. Naval Academy, and described a formerly all-male dorm there as "a horny woman's dream."

In Allen, he faced a giant of Virginia politics whose re-election was considered a warmup for a 2008 presidential bid. By midsummer, Allen led Webb by 16 percentage points in statewide polls and had 16 times more campaign cash.

Allen's own missteps raised questions about his character and racial sensitivity and gave Webb his opportunity. Some Democrats, many of them influential, groused privately that Webb failed to exploit Allen's woes.

Others were dismayed that he refused to campaign on his resume as a decorated Marine rifle platoon commander in the Vietnam War's bloodiest battles or the fact that his son, Jimmy, 24, is a Marine fighting now in Iraq.

"I was not going to trade anything I believe to get a vote or a dollar, and I walk into the U.S. Senate with the independence to represent the people who have no voice in the corridors of power," Webb told jubilant supporters at Thursday's rally.

Virginia Democrats had to get used to Webb on Webb's terms, said Larry Framme, a Richmond attorney and former state Democratic chairman.

"He recognized a few assets he had and those he didn't, and he used the assets he had," Framme said. "Jim Webb was being Jim Webb. He waited for the world to turn in his direction, and it did."

Us Night People

It's incredible how many websites address interesting and unusual subjects. As many of my friends know, I keep early morning hours rather than late. Here's a site that puts people who love the early morning hours into perspective.

Enjoy and have a great day
Capn

Link: Night People.

Mr. October

October is my favorite month. Special things happen in October.

My birthday. And for the 20th year I am 38 again, mentally.

My daughter Kristen and husband Dan celebrate their wedding anniversary - Columbus Day.

My niece Jennifer whom Disney's Pocahantas was modeled after shares my birthday- Oct 2

My beautiful niece - Adrianna (Lovely Italian name and an even lovelier ) celebrates her birhtday on October 12 and gets her driver's license.

Great college friends Mike and Darielle Walsh celebrate their wedding anniversary this week.

Jeff Galluzzo - son of of Al (4 Fingers) married the very beautiful Karen.

Granddaughter Natalie Gabrielle has her first Baby School Picture taken.

If I forgot some one send me a comment below.

Capn

Mustache Everyone?

Congratulation to Jeff Galluzzo upon his marriage to the very beautiful Karen Capwell. It was a great wedding and reception. Dad of the groom-Uncle Al's everybody's pal took the pix. Paul M, the Groom, Peter B and the Captain. Jeff grew the mustache between the wedding ceremony and the reception.

Regards and have a great day

Cap'n

Stupid Pills

I believe no person is born stupid, grows up to become stupid or converts to stupidism.
BUT some people take that little white STUPID pill in the morning.

Example. I spent one night last week as an overnight host at the homeless shelter at St. Cecilia's in Englewood. It was once a high school where Vince Lombardi coached. The shelter is in the old cafeteria that has been partitioned off for 6 families to live temporarily, who for some unfortunate reason lost their home or apartment. The parent or parents work. The kids go to school. It's really a hard situation.

It's an inter-religious effort where congregations and temples take a week to cook dinner every night and provide overnight hosts.

So Wednesday night at dinner time a well meaning lady and ten teens arrive to play with the children. The well meaning lady hauls in a popcorn machine and a cotton candy machine.

HELLO! - Dinner time. School night. Cotton Candy. Sugar. Get the picture? Stupid Pill.

Now, the next time you are in the EXPRESS checkout lane at the supermarket where the manager has put the SLOWEST cashier; when the driver in front of you doesn't signal for a turn and you nearly rear end the idiot's car; when someone does something really dumb - it's because of the Stupid Pill.

Regards and don't take any stupid pills,

Cap'n