Is it just me, or do “special occasions” happen every week? Parent’s Day, Valentine’s Day, National Pet Week. Here’s one: Boss’s Day. Isn’t that Monday through Friday?

And the birthdays just keep comin’. My nephew starts the countdown two months in advance: “Fifty-four days till my birthday. Have you started savin’ up?” Read the rest of this article »

Last time I scrapped was the fourth grade, when Benji Leva spat on my sister at the bus stop. I pulled the bully’s raincoat over his head, kicked him in the backpack, and bolted to school as fast as I could.Would you believe I had no formal training?

That all changed when I met welterweight champ George Sylva, who taught me the ropes (and how to stay off of them). I had a few things working against me. One, I am skinny; two, I’m white; and three, my HMO is so weak that it covers only an apple a day. So it goes. Read the rest of this article »

My mom has always been creative. A long time ago-back when “Saturday Night Live” was funny-she’d decorate cakes to look like soccer fields, pyramids, women endowed with Hostess Sno-Balls.You lost your innocence early in my home.

Mom works for the bank-THE bank-so her creative urges surface through cracks in the sidewalk. She mostly takes it out on the holidays.

At Christmas her tree is so burdened with ornaments that it leans to one side like Joe Cocker and children place the star on top without even stretching. Read the rest of this article »

Got a cat recently.When you announce that you’re having a baby, everyone applauds and cheers. Tell ‘em you got a cat and they’re like, “Oh, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

So it goes.

When I got the cat, the owner said that he, the animal, talks a lot; and I thought, “Hey, cool, like Garfield.”

Turns out that talking is more like nails on chalkboard: MEEEOW. MEEEEOW. But then you reach down to pet him, and he runs away.

That’s the difference between a cat and a dog: A dog wants your attention; a cat wants you to be “less neglectful.”

My Sam likes to sniff his butt-and you would too if you could-but when he looks up, he’s got this crazed expression like he’s sniffing a totally different kind of crack. I asked a local vet what it meant and he said, “How should I know? I fought in a war.” Read the rest of this article »

Someone suggested that I take a long walk on a short pier…

“You need to lighten up, man.”

That was Yahaira. She used to be my wife; now she’s my best friend (she got demoted after our divorce). Yahaira lives down the street, and we gossip through the night about our love lives.

“Let’s have an adventure,” she said.

And what made more sense than overnight camping for two people who don’t own a tent. We borrowed supplies from an over-trusting neighbor and arrived at the campground shortly after eleven … p.m.

“We got a little lost,” said Yahaira. Read the rest of this article »

It was a typical day—chop wood, carry water—when I got a pop-up from Symantec: “Your Norton virus definitions are about to expire. Renew now?”

I thought virus definitions went on forever like the giant tortoise or Dick Clark. Evidently, they have to be renewed any time Norton demands “payment.”

The Internet was such a good idea on paper. Now we tiptoe through the day afraid of spyware and macros and worms—oh, my. It’s enough to make you become a plumber.

What do hackers get out of the virus anyway? They’re not even around to enjoy their evil. It’s like ordering a pizza to someone else’s house:
“I’ll bet they’re opening the door right now … I’ll just bet …” Read the rest of this article »

Due to technical difficulty, I scheduled with Dr. Klope a sperm count. Talk about tedious jobs. Can you see that poor guy over the microscope?
“1,634… 1,635… wait, did I count that one?”

Dr. Klope had one opening, eight a.m., which is way too early for sperm. A man might wake up with driftwood on his beach, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to make a fire. It’s usually noon before I can swing a French kiss. Read the rest of this article »

Every year I look forward to the Super Bowl, and every year it’s like eating a TV dinner—always looks better in the picture.

Nothing, not even Armageddon, could live up to the hoopla. The pregame show begins three weeks before kickoff, when neckless men begin dissecting the games, going backward week by week till they finally get to the beginning…

“Football dates back to the 1800s, when a soccer player decided, on a lark, to pick up the ball and run. Opponents tackled him to the ground, beat him silly, and gave birth to the sport we love today.” Read the rest of this article »

I come from a long line of cheapskates. Our family crest looks like the flag of Japan, only with a big, anxious rear end.

The curse, legend has it, started with a sorceress who appeared as a beggar at the door of my great, great grandfather…

“Dear steward, have ye any spare change for a weary drifter?”

“Spare change?” he said. “You mean MONEY I DON’T NEED ANYMORE?” Read the rest of this article »

I live by a dock where cars are dumped off daily. Hourly. Mercilessly. They pass my street like I-Robots, half-wrapped, en route to Processing.

It’s starting to feel like an elevator full of sumo wrestlers.

“Let me ooouuut!” Read the rest of this article »

In youth I developed a taste for beach soot. My family summered at Seal Beach, where we ate peanut butter, jelly, and gritty sunblock sandwiches (PBJ & GS’s). I thought the sand was why we called them sandwiches. Read the rest of this article »

Warning: Today’s column may cause nausea or vomiting, and not just because of the writing.

Ladies: Men spit. It’s a fact of life like puberty or celebrity drug addiction. It will not be solved by handkerchiefs, and Prohibition would only lead to underground spiteasies. Read the rest of this article »

I always thought jury duty was something you could politely decline. Like fruitcake. But recently, being summoned, I discovered that “jury service is not voluntary but a civic duty imposed upon all citizens pursuant to civil code section 204.”

Desperate, I called my shrink for a note. Read the rest of this article »

My issues with time started early, when I kept my mom in labor so long that Dr. Rabban finally came after me with tongs.

In grade school, I routinely missed the bus and had to be driven to school—manually—by same mother. How, she wondered aloud to the dog, could her son spend 30 minutes playing with floaties in the gutter?
The bus driver called me his “tardy tot” and waited as long as he could. He had fancied me ever since that day I asked who closed the bus doors when the driver got out. Read the rest of this article »

I am getting a pet. Trouble is, I can’t decide between a cat and a dog.

Having questioned friends, family, and unsuspecting strangers, I find that people have sectored into opposing camps, Dog Lovers and Cat Lovers, and most are willing to jump off a bridge to prove their allegiance. Read the rest of this article »