Dinkleberg (Part I)

Yesterday was a good day.

Did some yard work for one of my grandma's friends, did some siding with my dad and I pruned a tree.

Oh, and did I also mention I sliced my hand with a bow saw?

I feel like a casually just slipped that in there.

(That's what she said)

And you now may be asking yourself silenty or aloud how the title Dinkleberg comes into play. Well my friends, that is how this story begins...

It was a perfectly temperate June afternoon. I had just finished installing a rock garden for Judy and she said she needed a tree in the front yard that needed to be trimmed. I asked my father if he was sure if I should do this.

Not because of the fact that involved sharp objects, but because I did not know the first thing about properly and symetrically trimming a tree.

But Judy but me at ease when she said, "I do not care what you do, just as long as the basstard does not touch the house".

Fair enough.

So first just started using clippers to do away with the weak leaves and what have you. But there were some stern but fair branches that needed to get sawed.

Enter Sandman.

A.k.a.: Enter Owwwwww.

I knocked out the few branches like Tyson in his hey day. Then there was this one branch that would not break off.

So I kept on sawing and sawing. It still would not break.

Then I saw red.

My first actual thought and reaction was:

"Wait, trees don't bleed".

I was about to call over my dad to check it out when I noticed my hand looked weird.

Yup.

Now you know that scene in Young Frankenstein when Frankenstein (Peter Boyle) has his thumb lit on fire by the friar (irony)/(Gene Hackman).

Similar reaction.

Once I noticed it was not the tree but my left hand. Well, shit got real so to speak.

And I uttered a vast sample platter of profanity and the phrase, "Damn you Dinkleberg... Mary Poppins, bitch tits".

I knew it was bad not because I just mangled my hand with a bow saw, but because it turned me, a 6 foot 2 nineteen-year-old man with facial hair into a five-year-old. My hand was gushing blood, (Like full on Quetin Tarantino movie) and I ran to my dad.

(Also I am pretty sure I saw my knuckle bone)

(Not going to lie, I kind of thought that was pretty badass)

He looked at me and I looked at him and I said, "Daddy, I got a cut".

Before I continue this story let me just take an aside.

(Aside)

If my dad was a hockey player, he would be a bruiser. The guy who gets hit in the mouth with puck, looses all his teeth and is gushing blood, then turns to his teammates and asks, "What happened" and then gets in a fight with the guy who hit him in the face with the puck.... Then gets stitches.

True story, while working in the garage he was using a power saw. The board slipped. He slice off about half of his index finger, yet he still turned off the saw, pick up his finger, turn off the light, grab a towel, walk from the garage to the house, go through the house to my brothers room and then tell him, "Yeah, I think I sliced off a part of my finger".

(Aside over)

So my dad knows a boo-boo when he sees one.

His reaction to me showing him my cut.

And I shat you not.

He looked at me, then looked at the cut, then he looked at me and said,

"Yeah".

He ran inside to tell Judy and to get some alcohol and band-aids for the wound.

Judy was already on her way, because she heard me swearing and knew it wasn't because I missed the ice cream man.

Then I saw my dad with the brown bottle.

As I saw him walking to the door and I was clinching my blood soaked hand, I yelled at him, "Don't you dare put that on my hand, I swear to God I will punch you".

He did not listen.

He just grabbed my hand and said, "This is going to sting".

At least he was honest.

I appreciated how he chose just to pour it on the cut instead of dabbing it.

I swear I saw Jesus' eyes.

Then he wrapped it up and said, "'Tis but a scratch".

On the inside I giggled and gave him a mental tip-of-the-hat for incorporating Monty Python into this debacle. But on the outside all I could muster was, "I see what you're doing and I don't like it".

I got all bandaged up, and I went back to prunning the tree.

Judy was having none of that.

She pretty much paid me 80 dollars to go home.

It was at that moment that I made a completly adult, mature, and non-monetarily influenced decision to go home.

Except there was one elephant in the room with an inch wide (ball park estimate) cut on his hand, I had to ride my bike from her house which is literally the street that St. Joan Arc is on, to my house. Which is about two miles away. This time I had to do it with a mangled hand.

If Charlie Sheen was there and said, "Winning", I would seriously would have Chuck Norris round-housed him. Because there was no winning here. Just alot of "Owwwwww" and "(Words that have to be translated from the native tongue of people from the land of Cursewordavania to English".

But before I left I shared a true father and son moment, with my dad.

I walked up to him and asked him, "What do we tell mom?"

Because if she saw this cut, we both would be S.O.L.

He took a second to think it over and told me to tell her that I was just trimming a tree and I cut myself.

Mr. Honest Abe... Pisses me off.

So I embarked on the journey home, I called my brother to ask if my mom was home/if we had any medical tape. I got a no on both accounts.

Because we did not have medical tape I had to stop at CVS on the way home.

And in case you just joined this blog, the score is 2-6 and I AM STILL BLEEDING.

I rush into the CVS, see the aisle that says, "First-Aid". And externally exclaim, "Bingo".

The medical tape cost me 11 dollars. I asked the cashier if I could get a discount because of my hand.

She said no.

It was worth a shot.

First thing I did when I got home was I played the guitar.

That was a bad choice.

A very bad choice.

So I took a nap instead. Now I do not know if that nap was because I was tired or because of the loss of blood. If we were in Vegas betting on this one, I would say it was a "push" on the over-under because it was too close to call.

Then my dad came home and the first thing he said was, "How is the hand?"

I replied, "Well, still hurts."

He then said, "Alright, let's fix you up before mom gets home."

Then my mom came home...

Best Baseball Hats Ever

It is my baseball nerd dream that for one month of the season every single team wears their respective throwback uniforms. 

How awesome would it be to see the Tigers and the Yankees face off against each other in their uniforms from 1918?

Or have the Giants face the Dodgers, and have them wear their throwbacks from when they played in New York and Brooklyn.

Major League Baseball should embrace the most historically rich sport in North America. Not drift away from it. 

Also, I would love to see the Tigers wear the Detroit Stars uniforms more than once a year.

Again, I am a baseball nerd.

24. Song you cannot resist singing along with

Now when I think of this subject, I think of a song that you just have to blare full volume. A song that you catch while driving in your car and you just start belting out the vocals like you are at Radio City Music Hall.

No song makes me want to do this more than...

Drops of Jupiter by Train?

I dare you to look me in the eye and say, "Aaron, I have never once sang any part of this song out loud, while in my car... by myself while it was on the radio... or a pre-made burned Compact Disc". I dare you to say that, because I know you can not.

Everyone at one point sings this song whether they want to or not.

More often they say they do not want to, but deep down you know they do.

And truth be told up until three weeks ago I thought he said, "That Van Halen is overrated".

Turns out he says heaven.

But you know heaven/Van Halen (David Lee Roth years). Same difference.

Another song that is impossible to not sing along to is of course Tiny Dancer.

Probably one of the best chorus' ever written.

Tiny Dancer was made to be sung in a car.

And don't you dare say, "Hold me closer, Tony Danza".

Or I will cut you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBS-fGJUVNY

23. Song that makes you feel calm/serene

Well, this one is another tie.

And for good reason. These three songs are some of the best songs ever written and my personal favorites.

They also happen to be very soothing songs that can calm my nerves or help me feel all happy and what not.

First, there is God Only Knows by the Beach Boys.

This song (in my opinion) is the greatest song ever written or at least in the top three. It is just beautiful. I really can not expand on the description of this song besides it is just beautiful. Brian Wilson is a Greek God.

Second, there is Nights In White Satin by the Moody Blues.

Perfect rainy day/late night drive/anytime song. Seeing this song live was an amazing experience. And also makes me think....

WHY ARE THEY NOT IN THE ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME. DAYS OF FUTURE PASSED IS QUALIFICATION ENOUGH.

Third, the one the only Procol Harum with A Whiter Shade of Pale.

This song personally, is my favorite song of all-time. There are only two people on this Earth that I have come in contact with that appreciate and love this song as much as me. Those two people are my friend Craig and my dad.

I totally marked out when they played this song in my favorite movie Pirate Radio a.k.a. The Boat That Rocked. 

God, this is such a perfect song.

And also...

PROCOL HARUM SHOULD BE IN THE HALL OF FAME TOO.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOMyS78o5YI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9muzyOd4Lh8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mb3iPP-tHdA

The Old Couple In Church

I approach writing in a very unorthodox way (sort of). While some people just write to write, I choose to write with emotion. This can cause some problems, because sometimes it is hard to write with emotion every single time. This is why I take breaks from writing. Long extended breaks. And I wait for something to not necessarily inspire me, but just kind of make my imagination smile. 

I usually tell people that I do not write, I think. Meaning, half of the stuff I "write" down, I do not write down. I more or less just store it in the noggin. I organize it in my head and then from the head it goes through my fingertips and onto the computer or note-pad.

This poem is a perfect example of that. I have had the first line in my head for about two weeks, and I kept on trying to think of the rest. Then I was forcing it too much. Then I stopped thinking about it all together. Then it all came to me when I saw them in church today.

I swear to God, the best things to write, are the things that write themselves.

The Old Couple In Church

Fifty-five years married

But still as innocent 

As high school sweethearts

You can see their love

In the little things

The way he finds

The hymn for her

In the Missalette

Because her vision

Is not as good as

It used to be

The way she leans in

To tell him what the

Lector just said 

Because his hearing

Is not as good as

It used to be

The way he squeezes

Her hand at the end 

Of the Our Father

The way she hugs

Him when they offer

A sign of peace

The way he slips in

A kiss on the check

When no one is looking

As I sit in the pew behind you

Seeing how in love 

You two still are

All I can do is crack a smile

And think to myself:

"...Fifty-five years married

And still as innocent

As high school sweethearts..."

22. Song that reminds you of being a child

"Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three..."

That was a clue, any guesses?

I like this game, so here is another clue:

"...Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be..."

I love movie soundtracks, I am a sucker for them. I just bought the Star Wars soundtrack on vinyl today, well because I could. I have the soundtracks to Fiddler on the Roof, Sound of Music, Jesus Christ Superstar and even the Wiz along with a hand full of others on vinyl. Sure some of them are my mom's but who is counting.

But there is one soundtrack I would love to add to my collection, and that is the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory soundtrack.

It was by far one of the most memorable movies of my childhood. I remember being absolutely transfixed by it. I wanted to be Charlie and I wanted the Golden Ticket. The only movie that I can remember that had this same amazing experience watching as a child was the Wizard of Oz.

As a child those movies feel so colorful and new. Yet, they were made decades before I was even born. And the best part of being a child watching those movies, is that you do not care about that. You do not care about the video quality or the sound. If it is 3D or if it is IMAX. You watch those movies because you want nothing more than Charlie and his grandpa to be happy and for Dorothy to get home.

I could have easily picked another Beatle's song for this day, and I was about to. But then I really thought about what song really stuck with me as a kid and that I really loved. I looked through my iTunes library and I found the Willy Wonka soundtrack and I went to one song in specific.

Pure Imagination.

Everytime I hear that song, I am worry-free, I am six-years-old and I am in my grandpa's living room watching Willy Wonka for the first time.

And what more does a six-year-old want to hear more than:

"Anything you want to, do it"

It did not matter if I wanted to be a fire fighter, baseball star, musician or scientist. If Willy Wonka taught me one thing about changing the world it was as simple as this:

"There's nothing to it".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZ-uV72pQKI

21. Song that gives you goosebumps every time you hear it

I usually build the suspense with my "reveal" but this one was the biggest no-brainer out of all of these.

When I think about A Day In The Life, I get goosebumps. I do not even have to hear the song. But when John starts singing, "I read the news today..." Instant goosebumps. Simple as that.

This is one of those rare songs, where every thing about it is just perfect. There is no flawed part about it. The orchestra, Paul's bit, everything is just perfect.

I can not tell you how many times I have listened to this song, it is in my top three favorite songs of all time and is one of the most well written songs ever. And need I mention how underrated Ringo's drumming is in this song? Sure, it is a simple bit he does, nothing spectacular, yet to me his drumming completes this song.

And do not even get me started on when John screams, (rough translation) "Ahhhhhhh ahhhh ah ah ah ahhhh". Before the last verse and after Paul's verse. You can be anywhere in the world, but when you close your eyes at that part it feels as if you are having a religious experience.

It is for those reasons and many more, that A Day In The Life is a song that gives me goosebumps every time I hear it.

It always has and it always will.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xljFT44Y1Y