I'm a Bit Nervous...

Frankie G, the Saddest Bee

It's Wednesday night, and I'm feeling the growing twinge of anxiety twisting around in my gut. These next two days are going to be jam-packed with activity, and I, for one... am skeptical about my chances of accomplishing everything adequately. My major source of doubt comes from my magical ability to sleep through my alarm each morning from my clock radio. I set it for 9AM, and then I wake up... all rested and full of pep... at 1...PM... again.

...and I'm fired...

...again.

I really need to work on that. (But no, I'm not actually fired... but I seriously need to improve my punctuality!) Not only does my waking up late impact upon my success (or lack thereof) at arriving to work on time, but it also severely limits what I can get done before work. Since I work from 3PM-11PM, any sort of errands I need to run must be done beforehand, as not too many reputable dry cleaning places or accounting firms are open when I get off duty.

So anyway, In the next two days, these things are happening: 10AM Thursday: meeting with Curtis about some sort of mock-trial where I'm playing a witness (more on this later), 12:30PM Thursday: appointment at Pearl Vision for eye exam, 3PM Thursday, work. Sometime before 3PM, I'll need to pick up another propane tank for my coleman grill. Friday should be more interesting: Ally will arrive at my house at 8AM, drive with me to Saturn Service Garage where I'll drop my car off, then drive me to St. John's Law School by 9-ish for the mock trial thingy, then, at 12 noon, we'll drive two of Curtis's girlfriend's friends to the New Hyde Park train station. Hopefully, by this point, my car will be ready to go, and Ally can bring me to pick it up. Then, we'll get back in time for Chris to pick the two of us up from my house at 4PM for the Yankees-Red Sox game. Whoof.

Granted, the hard part about Thursday will just be getting my tuchus out of bed by 9:30. That's true. If I can manage to overcome my personal inertia, I can probably get my crap together. As for Friday, I'm more than a little trepidated. (Is that a word? I mean, "trepidation" means "a state of caution or worry." Maybe I should drop my made-up SAT words and stick to English. I'm "worried." How's that sound?)

Frankly, I liked "trepidated," but that's just me.

As for this mock trial thing, I'm kinda trepidated. I have to memorize 5 pages of information from this case file and "play" one of the witnesses.

"The role of J.C. Silver for this performance will be played by Thomas Crimmins..."

According to the case file, I'm going to be a 30-year-old dog-trainer and part-time paralegal. Something happens and... I don't know. I can't really concentrate on this. I'm going to be cross-examined. All I know for sure is that once the defense attorney goes after me, he or she's gonna poke my story so full of holes I won't know which way is which...

"So, Mr. Silver, you have said under oath, that you are the plaintiff's next door neighbor... is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And you go on to say that you saw my client approach the plaintiff, "kick him in the 'berries'" as you put it so colorfully, and then, "and ran off with his pet pomerian 'Ms. Fanniweather."

"That is correct."

"Mr. Silver, how did you identify my client?"

"He was wearing a blue Van Halen t-shirt, yellow bikepants, and scuba flippers, and a cowboy hat."

"Van Halen,' you say? Which lineup, with David Lee Roth, Sammy Hagar, or Gary Cherone?"

"I...uh."

"Come on, Mr. Silver! If you could identify my client, then you certainly could ascertain which lineup of Van Halen was depicted on his so-called Van Halen tee... so which one was it?"

"Um... Gary Cherone?"

"Cherone?' Well, that's very interesting that you should see him in a Cherone-era Van Halen shirt, considering that all merchandise related to the Cherone lineup of Van Halen was ordered destroyed by federal mandate! There are no t-shirts with Gary Cherone on them!"

"Oh, geeze... I don't know, maybe it was an Extreme t-shirt."

"Mr. Silver. Are you now saying that not only are you unsure of which lineup of Van Halen was on the t-shirt, but you are now unsure of what band it was at all? Do you know anything? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I propose that this witness is not credible at all. And I move to have his faulty testimony stricken from the record."

And at this point, I'd be crying... it wouldn't be pretty. And thanks to me, a pomeranian-stealing psychopath in a cowboy hat will be walking the streets... free as a spandex-wearing bird in scuba flippers.

I'll make sure to give a post-game analysis this Saturday or Sunday. And hopefully, when the dust finally settles, I'll have my errands all taken care of.

Today, I spent the day with Ally at the Vanderbilt Mansion out in Centerport. I went there back when I was a wee lad, in third grade. There's a planetarium there. What made the biggest impression on my third grade mind was the sprawling, Spanish-style mansion tucked away in the woods. The architecture is so fascinating, where the home is an amalgamation of various cultural styles from around the world. The entrance is a wide gate with a spikey portcullis hanging down as if you're entering some monstruous mouth. There are bridges, and courtyards, and mysterious little passages here and there throughout the mansion and surrounding property. Inside the mansion, there was a museum set up with all the specimens and artifacts collected by the Vanderbilts. I think, at that point, at the tender age of 9, I decided I wanted to be wealthy man of leisure. Yep. That was it for me. Live in a secluded, gigantic mansion, surrounded by historical artifacts and animals collected from around the world, go on amazing trips, throw lavish parties, and go sailing.

Of course, there's no college major called "Being a Vanderbilt," so I went with "Elementary Education."

Oh well.

The trip was a nice little walk through memory lane, but sadly, the mysterious mansion wasn't so mysterious to my 26 year-old eyes. It was still an awesome house, but... in that annoying tendency of maturity, things that appeared gigantic to a child, tend to shrink when viewed by an adult.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What would be your dream lifestyle? This could include family, spouse, profession, wealth, where your house would be, what sort of house, etc. What do you picture as your ideal station in life?"

Never a Dull Moment

Back when I was six, if this picture is accurate, I apparently liked to lurk in strangers' bathrooms and wait for them to come in before jumping up and screaming, "PEACE!"and then cackling like a madman. I... was a troubled child.

Oh, what a difference a couple of days makes. Since my last entry, I've seen Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, went on a hike through abandoned military sites, visited the mall twice, and had some buffalo wings. The Tom Train just keeps on a'rollin. Better jump now, if you can't keep up!

Uh, yeah.

The Inevitable Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith Review

First, a little backstory. Last time, I was sort of crowing about how I got sneak preview tickets for Episode III a day early. Turns out, I was both wrong and right. I was right about having tickets for a show that was to be shown a full 24 hours before the scheduled premiere. I was wrong about the show actually happening. Apparently, in Lynbrook (the theater I saw the flick in) has not been clued in about that magical thing called "Midnight." The date transition between 11:59 PM into 12:00 AM seemed to mystify the employees that printed out said tickets for 12:01 AM Wednesday. Anyone, I would think, with even the most basic appreciation for chronology would understand that to go to see a movie shown at 12:01 AM on Wednesday, would plan on going Tuesday night, say... around 11:30 PM to ensure good seats. Yes. Well, no. Not in Lynbrook, supposedly. In Lynbrook, where time and space are wholly different from the rest of creation, a ticket that reads, "12:01 AM Wednesday" really means 12:01 AM Thursday, AKA "Wednesday Night." Long story short: Ticket Printers Screwed Up.

So, after a heroic, high-speed dash from Roslyn to Lynbrook, Tuesday night (a wiiiiide circular drive that took us from the LIE, to the Meadowbrook, to Merrick Road... and a looong drive west) my co-worker and I made it to the theater by the skin of our teeth, 11:55. Eh, it didn't matter, that I lost a hubcap or two... and that old lady shouldn't have been in that intersection in the first place... because we made it in time to see Star Wars! Yeah!

My good buddy, Chris, the man responsible for getting the tickets (well, actually, his brother Danny is ultimately responsible, but he wasn't there at the time) walked over to us in the parking lot with that, "Uh oh, something bad happened," sorta expression on his face. Being guys, this is usually followed by the, "just kidding, just bustin' your balls" smile.

But, it was not so. And my balls? Not busted.

He told us about the mix-up. We then comisserated in the theater parking lot for a little while and watched our fellow nerds walk up to the box office all excited, only to be seen several moments later all dejected and full of piss and vinegar. And Taco Bell.

No big whoop. It sorta added a little fun to the whole thing, an interesting little footnote to one of the best cinematic experiences of my life.

Revenge of the Sith?

In-farging-credible.

After seeing this movie, I only have one question for the genius who is Mr. George Lucas.

"Why've you been holding out on us?" I ask, because the absolute joy of this flick.. the soaring, operatic majesty of this film has washed the unpleasant mung of Jar Jar out of my mouth forever and always.

This movie is greatness. I really can't go into the details too much, as I'm sure there are many out there who haven't seen it, yet (well, maybe not that many... did you see the opening weekend sales figures yet? I think EVERYONE might have gone to see this!) What I can say is this: Lucas pulled out all the stops. The cheesy, too-bright colors and meandering plots of Episodes I and II have given way to excellent usage of shadow and light... and is fueled by a juggernaut of a story that simply does not let up for a moment.

More than anything else, it bridges the two trilogies into what really and essentially is one single story. However, in doing so, the 6-Part storyline is really more about Darth than Luke, ultimately.

That's all I have to say. If you want to have a fun 2 hours in the theater this summer, go see this flick.

Check out this great little movie about where George Lucas came up with all his ideas!

Storming the Beach: Our Hike Through Sandy Hook, New Jersey

Thanks to the goof on Lynbrook's part, I was able to get up early Wednesday morning to join Ally for another hike. This one was found in a small spit of land off the coast of Jersey, called Sandy Hook. It was a 10-mile march that encompassed slogging through sand, brushing through jungle-like forests, skirting past abandoned military installations, and clambering along shipyard ruins.

This was a fun day!

I would be willing to do this hike again with whoever's interested, just for the record. Where else can you get some sun and then pose for pictures next to World War II-era bunkers and pillboxes? Too bad the Nazis never made it to New Jersey... because the soldiers of Sandy Hook were more than ready for them!

Conveniently, Ally and I didn't encounter any conspiracy theorists this time. After all, not having confrontations with wackos lends itself to having a good time.

Considerations and Consternations

Visiting Roosevelt Field twice in the last week, I've had plenty of time to ponder my appreciation and disdain for Long Island. As I've said on several occasions, "Spending any amount of time in Roosevelt Field Mall reinforces everything I love and hate about Long Island." I was also thinking, amidst my ruminations, about my mentioning of a "sign of the imminent apocalypse" as being butt text for grade school girls' sweatpants. But really, it's not a sign of the apocalypse. I don't really buy into all that "we're going down the tubes" mentality. Fashions come and go, and people don't really change all that much. I think what really is happening is that I'm getting older, and my opinions and perspectives on the world are growing increasingly conservative. Thus, I'm discontinuing the feature, "Signs of the Impending Apocalypse," and re-name it "I'm Turning into a Crotchety Ol' Bastid." That way, I can encapsulate all my virtual cane-waving and wringing-of-hands about the "sad state of the world" into a little, quarantined segment, while not tainting too much of my whimsical anecdotes and insights.

Yay!

Feedback Question of the Day:
"As I've mentioned how I'm turning into a crotchety ol' bastid, have any of you out there had a moment where you realize, 'Wow... I'm starting to turn into an adult!'?"

SITH is It!

Halloween '83: My bro and I are kickin' it old school with the drugstore vinyl smock costumes with indispensible circulation-stopping rubberband masks. Proud children of the '80's, Mike was X-Wing Pilot Luke Skywalker... and I was an Ewok. Yeah, I was a little light in the ol' Keds back in the day.

Words can't convey how psyched I am to see Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith tonight. "Tonight?!" you ask, gentle reader? Yeah, I'm seeing it tonight, technically 12 midnight, Wednesday, May 18th. A whole day before it actually opens.

Yeah, I got connections.

Okay, this is really the first time this has ever happened to me, but believe you, me... I am loving it! I always get a kick out of seeing these geeky movies on opening night (or in this case, opening night-eve) because you know that all the die-hard fans are going to be there. It's an event. Now, I don't know if people will be dressed up tonight. Maybe.

But for the record, I won't. I'll be coming from work. Unless some wacked-out fanboy erroneously identifies me as "Medic Puce Shababa" on planet Hoth in scene 14 in The Empire Strikes Back, I'll just be the shlub in the scrubs.

And speaking of work, I've been humming the theme to Star Wars at the hospital for the last two or three days. Constantly. One patient got so annoyed, he tried to Force-choke me. Well, that, or it was muscular dystrophy. One or the other. Don't believe me? What's wrong with you guys?? Y'know, I find your lack of faith disturbing!

In the last two weeks, I've watched Episodes I and II, to refresh myself with all the various subplots and characters. I remember liking them in the theaters, but acknowledging their stories were a bit dense and hard to grasp. But, now, seen in context, they make more sense, and you can understand the whole Sith conspiracy a little better.

But, really, Revenge of the Sith is what everyone's been waiting for. Darth Vader, baby! Darth Vader! That little teaser a few months back, where DV's being lifted up in some hydraulic lazy boy, and you hear the Emperor say, "Lord Vader," and James Earl Jone's voice comes back, "Yes, My Master?" "Rise!"

An entire generation collectively got goosebumps.

To all my friends out there, believe me when I type this: I will see this movie with you. I will share the experience. I will most likely see this flick this summer at least three times.

Yes, Mr. Lucas, here's my 30 bucks. Do what you do best!

Signs of the Imminent Apocalypse, pt. 1
The other day at McDonald's, I saw some girl wearing those adorable sweatpants with the writing on the butt. You know, those liberating phrases like, "Juicy," or "Too Hot," or even "I have no respect for myself and the only affirmation of my person-hood is in my making an overly-sexualized spectacle of myself in which I will only attract negative and degrading attention from the very same male-dominated society in which I think I am rebelling against" Okay, that last one was on a really fat person's sweatpant butt. Well, anyway, this chica in McDonald's had one of these sweatpants on. The only problem, I see, is that she was clearly 10 years old. Dear parents of Long Island, before you acquiesce to your children's fashion demands, think: Do I want to draw attention to my child's ass? Maybe, in the spirit of fairness, guys should start wearing short shorts with a phrase printed over the front that says, "Hey! Look at my Groin!"

Check out these Star Wars Spoofs!


Feedback Question of the Day:
"What is your favorite moment or character from the entire Star Wars series? Or Star Wars-related memory? Just write about Stars Wars, damnit!"

Scared Yet?

"Does this look infected?" Tom just wants a hug from Jim "I Took Shore-Leave For This?!" Grant, Esteban Caliente, Wayne "Flowing Golden Locks" Barone, Dan "You'll Never Know the Touch of a Woman" Whatsisface, Un-named Party-goer, and Brian "It burns! It burns!" Craine

What a way to greet the curious blog-reader!

"Tom's Nekkid Back!"

Eeeuww!

This photographic folly features a retina-raping view of way-too-much Tom flesh (with worrisome proto-bald spot? God, I hope not), with a stunning array of people invited to a long-ago party that is best forgotten, or even better, in this case, mocked. Sheesh, who is that in the back of the picture? McNally?! I have absolutely no idea... Someone help me out with this one.

Why the picture? I was trying to use an image that could appropriately reflect the subject of today's entry. "Scary Nightmares."

I don't know why, but it's been on my mind lately. I've had recurring nightmares the last couple of days featuring zombies.

I can pretty much extrapolate that the reason why the undead have been my recent guest stars in my night terrors is probably due to the movies I've been watching lately. (I know, pretty unexciting reasons, right?) In the last couple of weeks, I've seen Resident Evil, Shaun of the Dead (If you haven't seen it yet... SEE IT!), Bram Stoker's Dracula (not zombies, but they are undead!), and finally... after a far-too-long wait, the Dawn of the Dead remake (you know, the one with Ving Rhames?) I think DotD probably made the biggest impression on me, and is reflected most vividly in my nightmares. My dreams usually involve me working at the hospital ER, treating patients from a recent epidemic, when they start turning into zombies. The rest of the nightmare is typically me trying to barricade myself and anyone uninfected away from the zombies in the hospital. I've woken up several times this past week in a cold sweat.

What makes these latter-day zombies so scary to me, is the whole infection angle. I mean, a creature trying to eat you is fine and dandy. That you can see every day in nature. But some undead, perverted parody of life somehow infecting you with any sort of breaking-your-skin contact really strikes a chord with me. Those creatures actually turn you into a zombie, too! Suddenly, those shambling monstrosities got a whole lot scarier.

I don't confess to be an expert on zombie films, but I was unaware of this particular trait in zombies before this string of films came out, ie: Resident Evil, Shaun, and DotD. Up until now, I just thought zombies burst out of cemetaries, shambled awkwardly (and slowly!) towards some suburban area, tried to eat your brains, and occasionally break into a dance number with Michael Jackson. I knew about how werewolves will turn you into another werewolf, and a vampire will turn you into another vampire under similar conditions... but these consequences also have a hidden silver lining.

Sure you're a vampire...

...but vampires are cool.

Unless movies have been lying to me, and I'm sure they have not, I am under the impression that once turned into a vampire, you suddenly become an ultra-sexy, super-cool, mega-strong, and extra-snappy dude. Or dudette. Sure, you prey on the living in an eternal twilight existence, but you get to wear black leather every day, and your hair is always perfect.

But not zombies. Eww. You just become a dessicated corpse ambling about trying to attack living people. And that was sort of weird in Resident Evil and DotD... why are they attacking? Because it doesn't seem to be that they're actually trying to eat you. They just sort of gnaw on you a bit, but then step back and let you become another zombie. There doesn't seem to be any other agenda. But, ultimately, I think that mindlessness is probably the most terrifying characteristic of these latter-day zombies. They're just attacking for no reason at all.

Now, this summer, another zombie flick is coming to a megaplex near you, Undead. And I'm sure it's going the freak the heck out of me when I see it. Inevitably. Sigh...

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Any good nightmares you'd like to share?"

For more nightmares, check out one of my favorite sites: www.somethingawful.com
And for some funny dream cartoons, check out this site.

Reunions and Reconciliations: I Feel Good!

Metallica, Summer of '98. Ah, the Way We Was... Front Row: Wayne "Wayniac" Barone, Chris "David Spade" Smale; Second Row: Jessica "Meow" Rooney, Sharon "Chewie" Owens, Matt "K-Rock" Bishop, Al "Big Puppy Guy" Lee, Chris "Aces" Lynch; Third Row: Tom "Searing Gas Pain" Crimmins, Mike "Outback" Taggert, Jim "Not Impressed" Grant, Mike "Oose" Crimmins, John "Z" Zembruski, Mike "Never Seen Again" Corrado, Brian "Pimp Daddy" Craine, Mike "Monty" Montalbano, Chris " C Dawg" Veros; Back Row: Chris "Scat-man" Anskat (Not Pictured: Warren "I Escaped" Kelly)

What a week!

Friday: Wedding in Hoboken. Saturday: Birthday at Dave and Busters. Sunday: 'Nother Wedding. Following Thursday: College Reunion.

Clearly, the most social week I've had this year. Actually, the most social week I've had since I graduated college. Man, it was great to see so many of my friends. Suddenly, I didn't feel so isolated.

I think, one of the great emerging dangers as one tramps through the untested waters of their latter 20's (ie: the big blank space on your personal road map that comes right after you graduate. Old timey cartographers used to just draw sea serpents and krakens there...) It's true: After you hand in the ol' mortar board and gown, you're then faced with the nigh insurmountable task of "Getting on with your life." Easily said... but not always so easily accomplished. But anyway, the great booby trap of adulthood is losing track of your friends, chums, acquaintances, and so-forth. This is a tricky time. For me, in these last couple of years, I've seen my relationships grow and shrink, bolster and wither, appear and disappear. Typically, at least for me, at my great moments of transition, ie: graduating college, graduating high school, leaving grade school, starting school, being born... you know... you re-assess things. At these transition points, some friends are ultimately (sometimes needlessly, other times appropriately) relegated to "the past," and you move on.

Being born was the biggest transition of all, as I had to bid farewell to my old pad. It was so awesome. I had a hard time letting go, after all, could you blame me? It was my first place on my own. Freakin' landlord served me with an eviction after only nine months! I held on for three more weeks, but she eventually tossed me out, head-first. I had to say goodbye to my best bud, Placenta. That guy was great. He had the best record collection...

And so it went, transition, comfortability, transition again. One of those "circle of life" sorta things.

But in the inevitable course of adult life, many people pair up with another special someone, and suddenly, your social life shrinks a bit. Then you have to pay your dues and work hard, and your social life shrinks a little bit more. This is especially hard to deal with right after college, as you went from a relatively stable social institution in which the pool of new people to meet was annually replenished every year you were there. So you go from that to "BOOM" the workplace.

And maybe, and in this I suppose I can only speak for myself, you start justifying the withering of communication lines. After all, relationships all run their courses... some for a long time, even forever, but most other relationships don't last so long. You let distances grow... and you let words remain unsaid. And even if you don't consciously know it, you silently grieve for the lost friendships of your past.

Of course, you don't realize how much you've missed them until you actually get to see them again. And, in the roundabout cosmic justice we get to see now and again, timely marriages help to bring together disparate cronies from "back in the day." And suddenly, you're back in high school again... or you're back in college again. "What? Someone else knows who Paganelli was? Somebody knows what to yell when a plate is dropped in a public place? Wait, you had that weird English Professor who found sexual references in everything? Someone else remembers that ridiculous fight over who forgot to do the dishes while living in Rome that summer semester? Uh oh, someone knows my old nickname?"

It's a great feeling. It's like a little time machine. Suddenly, you're not a cranky pre-med student trying to get in 30 minutes of cardio exercise each day. No... now, for a couple of minutes, you're 17 again, acting like a total ass.

That's the beauty of old friendships.

"History."

These people remind you that you had a life before graduation. You had a life before school loans. Before rent or mortgages. Before cubicles.

So, waxing poetically aside, I'm happy to report that I've touched base with many special people from my past. Of course, now comes the tricky part to see if they could still be special people in my present, and possibly future. Being the organizational ogre that I am, I'll see about setting up some sort of gathering this summer and see where it leads.

I've also finally understood the merit of NOT mixing friend groups. Since freshman year of college, I've tried to merge these various social circles into some sort of cohesive conglomeration to no avail. At a typical Christmas or Summer Party, various cliques would segregate themselves to various wings of my parents' property, like incompatible ecosystems. This awkwardness possibly lead to the growing distance and eventual departure of various bygone friends and acquaintances. So, lesson learned, I'll approach setting up future gatherings more logically and with this "non-mixing" maxim in mind.

In our journey through life, what matters most are the people we choose to share it with. And I am sublimely grateful for the good people I have in mine. Most certainly, I feel supremely lucky to have a woman of such quality like Ally in my life. And, naturally, I must cite those dear friends of mine who have withstood the test of time and transitions, and remain as close, (if not closer) as ever. These individuals (who know who they are), I can count on every day. My deepest thanks to you guys!

Okay...

Had enough whine and cheese? Did you like the violin music? Boy-oh-boy, can I turn this stuff on, or what? In all seriousness, I meant every word. I guess I can sum things up by saying that I had a really good week, meeting and reconnecting with good friends, old friends, and even a certain someone with whom I never thought I'd speak to again.

Just one of those feel-good times.

I'll enjoy it while it lasts...


Feedback Question of the Day:
Which historical era would you wish to live during, and why?