Does the air smell sweeter? Are the flowers prettier? Do the chicken wings seem meatier? Yes, folks, television season has started again. Thank God, we can return to our normal lives.
I thought the summer would never end. I imagine all the televisions in purgatory are permanently tuned to summer programming. The horror.
But Bree Van de Kamp and Denny Crane have helped rescue us from the morass of low-grade reality shows and sporadic reruns and not a moment too soon.
Sometimes, I can be mean. I don’t always like it. Some people mistake my honesty for something mean-spirited. That bothers me.
Others times, however, it can be fun. I had one of those opportunities recently when my mother-in-law visited.
I love my mother-in-law, but I know how to push her buttons. I had a perfect opportunity when the topic of my trip to Hersheypark with Bridget came up.
We decided to head to Hershey almost on the spur of the moment. Maria had plans to sell some of her hand-stamped cards at an event in western Maryland, and I needed something to keep me from having to take Bridget to western Maryland.
Hello, Hersheypark.
When I read about the effort to raise money at Delone Catholic High School for victims of Hurricane Katrina, I chuckled. I don’t find relief efforts funny at all. In fact, the initiative by the students is admirable.
I just find it funny that they think listening to a continuous stream of Hansen’s hit “MMMBop” – which will play all over the school until they raise $3,000 – is really that annoying.
Kids these days.
They are lucky to only have to listen to “MMMBop” in the halls. Things could be much worse.
As a child of the 1980s, I am an expert on certain topics. I remember when MTV actually played videos and you could turn to ESPN for sports. I remember “The Simpsons” when it was just a short on “The Tracey Ullman Show.” I remember when women swooned over Jon Bon Jovi.
Oh yeah, I also remember how silly guys looked walking around with the collars on their polo shirts raised.
Apparently, this fashion mistake has started to make a comeback. I have come to tell the young men of today – stop immediately.
When my co-workers celebrated my birthday the other week, a smile came across my face when I saw the envelope with my birthday card. It simply read: “Shea.”
That was one of the best things that could have happened. For as long as I can remember, I have either attracted nicknames or been called by my last name instead of my first.
I don’t get that much anymore. First of all, I am moving into that territory where I am known as “Mr. Shea” or “Bridget’s Dad.” That’s pretty disheartening.
Today marks a very sad day in my life. I no longer have a birthday. Officially, I turn 37 today, but none of that really matters any more. My daughter turns 5 later this week and will have her birthday party today.
Instead of basking in the limelight, I will carry around goodie bags, pass out pizza and make sure no one gets lost in the ball pit.
Happy birthday to me.
My Mom taught me how to ride a bike in the Hutzler’s parking lot at Westview Mall in Catonsville, Md., on a Sunday afternoon. We had the whole place to ourselves because of the old blue laws. We missed the first half of a Baltimore Colts game while we were out there. I think they played the Buffalo Bills or New England Patriots that day.
Everything was perfect. We arrived at the hotel in New Jersey last Sunday with plenty of time to spare before my nephew’s wedding.
We found one of my sibling’s rooms and made plans on where to meet before going to the church.
We enjoyed some of the complimentary microwave popcorn that the hotel provided so we wouldn’t starve before dinner at the reception.
We even got to watch some of an Austin Powers movie while we got dressed. Like I said, everything was perfect.
Until I went to put on my shoes.
One of the great things about a family vacation is the things you learn. Maybe a sibling tells you a secret. Maybe you discover a new place to eat. Or maybe you discover the greatest game in the history of the world.
I started to play cornhole down the beach.