allison: did you know i also get earthquake text messages?
allison: anything over 4.0 in so cal
allison: bitchin
GatorDVG: so when the big ones comes and you’re lying under a pile of rubble, like five minutes later you’ll get a text message
GatorDVG: that’s great
allison: yeah well i’d like to know how bad it was
GatorDVG: you’ll be able to tell by simply counting how many of your limbs were severed
allison: totally
allison: but in numbers
I graduated from Father Lopez Catholic High School in Daytona Beach, Florida in 1991. I was, if I remember correctly, the Vice President of my Senior class. I was on the Model United Nations and in the drama club. I spent a few months on the swim team and on the track team. I was in and out of the French club. I was in and out of detention much, much more frequently. I loved my teachers. I loved my classmates. I had a great time in high school.
When I graduated they put a plaque with my photo on it on the wall of the cafeteria, the first “Crest of the Wave” award … er … awarded. I took all the honors classes offered. I had a stellar GPA and I produced, wrote, and starred in our Homecoming pep rally. I got suspended once for lighting the door to the teacher’s lounge on fire. I had — literally — the keys to the campus and would go on weekends to help teachers with projects. Over the course of one semester I managed to methodically and surreptitiously steal each and every one of the bathroom hall passes. I was voted “Most Intelligent” in my Senior yearbook. I was the DJ for our school dances. I was the star of the theater department.
We were the Fighting Green Waves and we had a ridiculous cheer about “rolling, rolling, rolling” over the competition:
Deep down in the ocean (Deep down in the ocean!)
I heard a great roar (I heard a great roar!)
Was a mighty mighty wave (Was a mighty mighty wave!)
And it went like this (And it went like this!)
Rolly-rolly-rolly roll! (Rolly-rolly-rolly roll!)
I didn’t just love my high school. I ruled my high school.
So it was with some sadness today that I read that they’re tearing down my old school. It will soon be replaced by a Super Wal-Mart. They’re building a new school way out on LPGA Blvd. It’s an odd feeling. I no longer keep in touch with any of my classmates and I haven’t visited the campus since about a year after I graduated. But it was my high school, dammit. My parents were divorced when I was very young so I don’t really have a “home” from my childhood. Both my maternal grandparents have died and their home is not in our family any more. My mom seems to move to a new house every four or five years. My paternal grandmother sold her house in Massachusetts a few years ago and moved to a new place in Rhode Island. My dad got divorced (from his second wife) so the house where I spent my summers is now owned by some randoms. I am very much a man without a past. Now that my high school will soon be gone, there is not a single physical location from my youth remaining. That’s kind of a bummer.
One of my wife’s friends died a few weeks ago. He was only 41, a manager in the music industry, and he had battled cancer for a long time. His wife held a memorial service — a Catholic mass — on Saturday night, and hundreds of people attended. The mass was held at a smallish Church in Westwood, just a few blocks from our house. It was in all respects a traditional Catholic mass, with one notable exception: Instead of a choir, the Polyphonic Spree performed all the music. Before the service started they played John Lennon’s Imagine, and, after the eulogies at the end, they played a few more songs, including their hit, Light & Day. It was incredibly moving.
Right now I am sitting in my suite at the Camelback Marriott in Scottsdale, Arizona, just a little more than a day away from getting to see my Patriots in Super Bowl XLII. The story of how I got here is incredible on many levels, and even attempting to do it justice in a blog post is ridiculous. What I can tell you is this: I owe it all to a man I will never see again. In the six or nine months that I knew him, he somehow managed to become one of my ultimate best “best friends”. I have never known anyone like him, and I find it impossible to believe there will ever be anyone else like him in my life. He was an amazing force of nature, a man that I consider myself truly blessed to have gotten to know.
Bill Gross died on Sunday, October 21st, 2007, as I was packing the rental car in Hawaii getting ready to return from my honeymoon. He was my business partner, my boss, my mentor, my walk-to-Starbucks companion, my confidant, my guardian angel, my benefactor, my hero, and my best friend. I am still in shock and I am still in pain and I miss him and I cannot fathom how I can be going to this game without him. I know that he is rooting for the Giants just to piss me off, just as much as I know that inside he is pulling for the Patriots because he knows they are my favorite. I would trade anything to get to hear him make fun of me again.
Heartland USA (Magazine of the American Outdoor Lifestyle), has an article about the Coast Guard in its “Lifestyles” section. The tagline is, “In the state with the smallest stretch of coastline, the U.S. Coast Guard’s motto — Semper Paratus, “Always Ready” — routinely gets tested in big ways.”
That’s my little brother cruising the (very tiny) coast of New Hampshire! Go Mike!
I’m proud to announce that my sister-in-law is the Seminole County teacher of the week.
Awesome. When I woke up today I thought to myself, “I really hope that there is someone pounding on the other side of the wall behind my head with a hammer all day.” It looks like my wish has been granted!
On November 4th I entered my local Starbucks and laughed when I saw the entire store was decorated for Christmas. There happened to be a manager and a “barista” working the counter, so I mentioned that it was a bit early for Christmas decorations.
The manager replied, as if I was daft, “No it’s not. Thanksgiving is next week!”
I told him that Thanksgiving wasn’t for three more weeks and he seemed surprised. He said, “Really? I don’t know why I thought it was next week …”
MAYBE BECAUSE OF ALL THE CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS?!?!?
Whoa. I felt that one. A nice 4.5 right under my buddy’s house. At first I thought that one of the cats knocked over a lamp or something. Scary. I can never remember what I’m supposed to do. Hide under a table? Stand in a doorframe? Jump in the bathtub? Stop, drop, and roll?
Last night Tricia and I went to see Tamar at the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood. She played a great set and we had a good time. We didn’t get home until after 11, and I couldn’t get to sleep.
I was up until 1:30am reading Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919. What a crazy story! Can you imagine seeing a 50′ tall wave of molasses barreling towards you at 35mph? And the ten-year legal battle that followed was one of the country’s first major class-action lawsuits. Truly a fascinating tale.
Tonight is our big engagement party at the Viper Room. We’ve got the club reserved for the night, which is pretty flipping cool. (Give me a ring if you want to get on the guest list.) Our good friends Von Cotton play at 9pm and our other good friends becky start their set at 11pm. It should be a pretty wild time.
How the hell did that happen? I could have sworn like two or three weeks ago I was just turning 30 and it was only a year or two before that I turned 21. If it wasn’t for the fact that I am happier now than I ever have been before — and I have felt that way pretty much every day since I turned 9 or so — this whole 6/26 thing would really bother me.
Tomorrow I will be 34 years old. This amazes me.
PS: It’s not too late to get me something nice.
Are you wondering what media I consumed this weekend? I knew you were. And so I shall tell you.
My mom just sent me the following text message:
Attempts to contact my mom via her cell phone have failed. Unfortunately even if I could get her on the phone, the only advice I could give her — after over a decade of working in the computer industry — is to maybe try to shake the liquid out and blow-dry it.
When the revolution comes and the computers try to squash humanity out of existence, hopefully some of us will remember their Achilles’ heel: ill-placed cups of coffee.
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Alright Brain, you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. But lets just do this, and I can get back to killing you with beer.
