Okay, for the most part being stuck in the middle of a potentially life threatening blizzard sucks.  I got that- you lose power, your core temperature drops to like 20 degrees, you turn a sickly shade of blue and then you expire with a stupid surprised look on your face.  That part truly does blow.

But if you’re a glass half full guy, like yours truly, you can always find a bright spot or two- for instance:

Being stuck in a blizzard is like boating i.e. it’s never to early to start drinking. 

For those of you new to “Blizzarding” (sort of like partying but only colder and deadlier) here are a couple of rules you should be aware of:

1.  You shouldn’t pass judgement on your neighbors if they’re beer bonging PBR’s while shoveling their driveway at 9am.  Instead you should join them.

2.  Jello shooters freeze quickly in blizzard conditions.  If serving to fellow shovelers keep them in your arm pit or skivvy drawers until ready to consume.  The warmth will keep them soft, pliable and delicious.

3.  Body shots work best when served off exposed skin- trouble is no one will want to expose any skin when it’s below 20 degrees and snowing- except maybe that creepy neighbor three doors down who wears “Daisy Dukes” year round and dresses up his cat like an Ann Getty photo subject.

4.  Police officers will ticket you for driving an automobile during a blizzard- unless you’re going to the liquor store for more booze.  Keep an empty tequila  bottle in the passenger seat to prove to them that “Yes, I was unprepared and need to replenish my dooms-day supplies”.  They’re very understanding.

5.  Along with all the booze consumption you can also eat whatever you want during a blizzard.  The logic being that if you don’t have ample stores of fat you’re likely to freeze at a quicker rate.  If you don’t believe me simply turn on the Animal channel and watch how seals, sea-lions and walruses survive sub-arctic temperatures.

I’ve got to go defrost my children for the ninth time this morning.

More to follow

My kids have zero common sense.  They didn’t wake up with the same sense of dread that I did this morning. 

They didn’t look out the window at the rapidly accumulating snow and want to throw up. 

They aren’t concerned that I will likely shovel myself into a massive cardiac arrest, fall to my knees and freeze to death 20 feet from my home.

Nope- none of that.  First words out of their mouths- “Dad, when can we go outside?”

Yep,  that’s my boys- all courage and testicular bravado- no common sense.

They are stoked- the only thing that could possibly improve their day would be if we no shit fell into a second ice age- something that I believe is possible and will most likely be reported on Fox News within the hour.

Well I’m going to go hug my generator and whisper sweet nothings to it in the hopes that it will spring to life when we inevitably lose power.

I also plan on trying out which facial expression to put on my face when I freeze to death.  I don’t want my body recovered this spring with a stupid look on my face- that would be humiliating.

I’ve neglected my blogging duties lately due to a much needed family vacation.  We took a ten day cruise through the Islands to escape the Maryland winter weather.  Over the course of our travels I uncovered a wealth of topics to cover in the pages of my blog.  In fact, the cruise proved to be such a target rich environment that I’ll have to cover the trip in installments over an extended period of time.  Here’s my first installment- I call it the warrior.

One of the most colorful passengers on our cruise was a gentleman who referred to himself as the “Warrior”.  I know this because that’s how he asked to be announced prior to the ship’s “Belly Flop” contest.  All of the other contestants had names like Paul, Harry and Josh.  But not this guy, he had an ultra-cool tough guy moniker that he likely gave himself after a rousing game of Dungeons and Dragons. 

Good thinking.  You never know when a nickname like that will come in handy- possibly during a poolside belly flop contest attended by a rowdy crowd of intoxicated senior citizens.  I’m sure that given their advanced age they found comfort in knowing all that separated them from a 300 pound disgruntled “Belly Flop” competitor named the “Warrior” were four flimsy stateroom walls.  Sleep tight folks.

And he was angry.  Prior to “Flopping” he beat his heaving man-bosom and roared to the heavens for “Oden” to grant him the strength to crush all who would oppose him (I kind of made that part up, but he did fondle his man-boobs and stare at a passing jet liner with a menacing look on his face).  His bizarre display of aggressive behavior immediately silenced the crowd sending them into a moment of quiet reflection.  My guess is they were reflecting on the safest place to run if “old-boy” decided to “cook off”.  He jumped in. 

When he emerged from the pool the crowd parted, rather quickly I might add, and the “Warrior” exited the area without further incident.  You could actually hear the collective sigh of relief as the spectators relaxed.  Of note, several of the older passengers (of which there were many) turned up their oxygen regulator valves so they too could sigh in unison with the rest of the crowd. Nothing builds cohesion like bearing witness to a half naked lunatic on the brink of blowing a gasket.

That was my first glimpse of the “Warrior” but fortunately it wasn’t the last.  I got to see him several times a day over the course of our time at sea.  Come to find out the “Warrior” was a few sandwiches short of a picnic- no shit right?  Okay, I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but in my defense he seemed pretty high functioning when he wasn’t wearing his “ax murderer” face or licking the salt water off shiny inanimate objects. 

Watching him “Hustle” during a group line dancing lesson confirmed my suspicions that the “Warrior” was operating with some damaged grey matter.  I’ve never seen a person attempt the “Hustle” with such violent intensity.  Apparently however, his desire to disco was slightly greater than his desire to intimidate all the other passengers so he gave it a shot.  Friggin scary.

I’ve downloaded some “Warrior” footage from our cruise.  See if you can pick him out of the crowd.

Hint- he’s not wearing a polka dot bikini that gives the illusion of two exposed giant nipples.  Nor is he the little boy dancing around like a crack addicted organ grinder’s monkey- that would be my youngest son.

I once believed that I could run away from home by digging a hole to China with nothing more than a common tablespoon.  My plan, learn Mandarin and live amongst the indigenous population known only as the “Round Eye who bloomed from the earth”.

I also believed new sneakers made me run faster- and not just a little bit either.  We’re talking flames shooting from my ass, hair blown back, time traveler- Fast.  If you were lucky enough to own a pair of KEDS you could actually run fast enough to achieve invisibility.

Big foot and the Lochness Monster were life partners and lived on Fantasy Island.  As an aside, I can’t figure out if “Tattoo” was an elf of Pacific Islander descent or a very tan ventriloquist dummy- you pick, it could go either way.

Just a few other quick things I once held as undeniable truths:

The Vulcan “death-grip” worked- if you don’t believe me try it on an unsuspecting sibling.

“Fruit Loops”, “Fruity Pebbles” and “Trix” were made from real fruit and contained the daily suggested dosages of every vitamin a child needs to develop into a well adjusted young adult.

A single serving size of “Tic-Tac’s” is the entire container.

Mikey, the Life cereal kid, didn’t die from ingesting “Pop-Rocks” and “Coca-Cola”.  He’s actually alive and well and resides on an island in the Caribbean where the government exiles sassy child stars.

The Bionic Man made that “dun-na-na-na-na” sound when ever he physically exerted himself because they didn’t bolt him together correctly in the Cape Canaveral Space-Man Lab.

These are some of the things I believed when I was a kid.  Of course I’m an adult now armed with the knowledge and wisdom of my years so I’ve been able to disprove almost half of them. 

If you’re wondering why I’m revisiting my misguided childhood thought processes it’s because of a conversation that I overheard between Mack and one of his good buddies.  I was driving them home from school the other day and this is what I heard.

Mack- “Hey what are you doing after school today”?

Buddy- “Not much, I thought I would sling the end of a ratchet strap into a tree, wrap the other end around my waist and then pull myself up to the top”.

Mack- “Cool”.

Buddy- “Yeah, should be okay, I’m pretty sure I can get at least 300 feet off the ground before I run out of strap”.

Mack- “Probably”

Buddy- “What about you, what are you doing after school?”

Mack- “I have a couple of Bungee cords hooked into a tree in my back yard.  I plan on hooking the loose ends into my belt loops.  Then I’m going to run as fast as I can away from the tree.  I figure when the Bungee cords get tight enough they’ll pull me back, shooting me straight to the top of the tree”.

Buddy- “Wow, I never thought of that, I wonder if my Dad has some Bungee cords”?

Three things:

1. I now know who took my damn Bungee Cords

2. My afternoon entertainment has just been scheduled.

And

3. Something’s never change- little boys have the greatest ideas.

Now you’ll have to excuse me- I’ve got to go call Mack’s Buddy’s parents so they don’t miss the show.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone,

It’s that time of year again so without further adieu the annual “Groah Family” update. 

Disclaimer: If your one of Connie’s 5-zillion “Facebook” friends you probably all ready know everything I’m about to write so disregard this letter and refer to her status updates for “real-time” Groah family information.

Shane-  I’m no longer a Marine.  I retired after 21-years and to celebrate I took a 10-week break from employment.  I would have remained retired too, but I ran out of Harlequin romance novels and the Lifetime channel replaced “Matlock” with “Murder She Wrote” (I just couldn’t get into the story line).  Those two catastrophic events were enough to propel me back into the work force.  I’m currently employed by Homeland Security Solutions Inc. in Alexandria, Virginia.  Great company- most of the people I work with are retired Marines or police officers so the transition into civilian life was fairly transparent.  Not to say it’s been easy- there have been a few hiccups along the way.  For instance I can’t decide what facial hair configuration I should adorn (beard, goatee, clean shaven), I can’t figure out how to tie a Full-Windsor knot and I’m just now learning what casual attire means.  For those of you who are unsure yourself, casual attire is not synonymous with gym apparel.  If I can just master hair and wardrobe I’ll have this whole civilian thing licked.

Cayden- The Nugget is doing great.  He’s in first grade and proving to be an academic phenom.  Some of Cayden’s favorite pastimes are spelling and adding.  It’s really refreshing to witness first hand the success of our American educational system- unless of course you’re trapped inside a minivan with Mr. “Hooked on Phonics”.  Several hours of random academia can make you mildly homicidal.  I’d like to tell you that Cayden has put some meat on his frame but that wouldn’t be truthful.  He’s getting taller, that’s undeniable, but he’s still sporting “bone-muscles” and his vertebras are still visible from head to tail.  However, he has managed to pack some muscle onto his forearms with the aid of WII bowling.   For Christmas Cayden would like a punching bag- apparently the one he’s currently using has a tendency to tattle on him.

Speaking of Mack, the kid’s still rocking.  After only 12 short months of private guitar lessons he’s mastered the opening rift from “Highway to Hell”.  Maybe it’s not the most age appropriate song for a nine-year old- but since when have Connie and I been concerned about age appropriateness?  Academically we’ve seen a huge improvement over last year- all B’s this past semester.  Apparently Mack has recovered his scholastic confidence so we expect even better grades next marking period.  If asked to provide one word to define Mack’s past year it would be “SK8” (I’m down with it aren’t I?).  His dream of becoming a “Rock Star” has been replaced by becoming a pro skater and owning his own skateboard production company.  He’s all ready picked a name “Red and Black Skate Company”.  I’ve seen the kid in the shower and I think that “Black and Blue” would be more fitting- he has crashed and burned so many times he looks like he fell into a hay baler.

Connie is alive and well and thankfully so is her business.  Not even the dreaded recession could stop Barefoot Photography’s meteoric rise to national acclaim.  She’s also rediscovered the joys of physical fitness.  Both of us belong to the same gym but it’s unlikely we’ll ever run into each other while we’re exercising.  I hang out in the weight room and Connie hangs out in what I’ll refer to as the “Dance Studio”.  She’s really into this thing called “Zoomba” which I believe evolved from Richard Simmon’s “Sweating to the Oldies”.  The only difference I can determine is that the foundation of every “Zoomba” routine is the “Booty Shake”.  I’ve never been extended an invitation to participate- which I’m thankful for.  Quite frankly, if I shook my ass as hard as Connie tells me they do it would likely fall off and my center of balance would be forever compromised.

Well that’s it- you’re all caught up.  So as President Obama would say “have a festive holiday season”.  Or as Shane would say- have a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The surprise gift of the season was a $3 “Magic 8-Ball”.  When Connie brought a pair of them home I laughed openly.  No way were my boys going to be even remotely interested in this retro, Siegfried and Roy, quasi-mystical trinket.  Hell, if I would have known we were going to try to revive the 70’s this Christmas I would have purchased a bucket of “Sea Monkeys” and a herd of “Chia Pets”. 

But instead I opted for the good stuff.  Like an Airsoft gun that shoots 400 rubber pellets per minute and a wheeled plank of wood capable of propelling a 9-year old kid straight to the emergency room- that’s the kind of stuff little boys want for Christmas.  Leave the “Cabbage Patch Dolls”, “Slinkys” and “Furbys” in the past where they belong!  Boy’s want Christmas gifts capable of inflicting irrevocable harm- women know nothing of the wants and desires of men…

At least that’s what I thought.  This is the part where once again I eat a big honking pile of Crow. 

Mack isn’t stoked about his “Magic 8-Ball”.  He considers it an instrument of learning and best reserved for the classroom on exam day.  I’m not going to argue with him, the “Magic 8-Ball” may be slightly more precise than his current test taking strategies.

But Cayden, on the other hand, is enamored with it and considers the “Magic 8-Ball” is favorite Christmas gift.

He enjoys asking it insightful questions such as:

Does Dad’s butt smell worse than Mom’s? (magical reply “Yes, in due time”)

Can I punch Mack’s lips off? (magical reply “My sources say no”)

What is 2,000 + 8,000, 342? (magical reply “Looks good to me”)

Are flatulent cows responsible for melting the polar ice caps? (magical reply- “Give me back to the kid old man”)  Creepy- I haven’t touched it since.

Other replies which can be found on the icosahedron inside an 8-Ball include:

“Definitely not”

“Yes”

“You will have to wait”

“I have my doubts”

“Outlook so, so”

“Looks good to me”

“Who knows?”

“Looking good”

“We’re all doomed” (nice- nothing like a little seasonal panic to spice up the holidays)

I plan on writing Mattel and suggesting a couple of additional responses for the next generation of “Magic 8-Balls”.  I jotted a few them down:

“Clean your room or your head will fall off”

“Yes, if you brush your teeth this very minute”

“The refrigerator is not designed to cool the whole house, so close the damn door”

“Did you turn off the television when you walked out of the living room?”

“I wouldn’t do that your Father is standing behind you”

“Gold Fish crackers are no an appropriate substitute for a well rounded dinner”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you’re going to get caught”

Maybe my suggestions aren’t ambiguous enough to feign supernatural insight- but you have to admit they’re a lot more practical…

I just spent 1.5 hours trying to escape the mall parking lot.  I’ve seen the worst humanity has to offer.  Christmas spirit- Bullshit!  If Christmas spirit really existed one of the six-zillion motorist who refused my attempts to merge into the exit lane would have exploded in front of my Dodge Ram creating a huge gaping hole to the freeway.  But no such luck- instead they thumbed their noses at me and my extremely impatient children as they inched closer and closer to their “Red Lobster” dinners and “Pier 1″ 50% off sales.

Mark my words- I shall never Christmas shop in person again.  From this day forward if I can’t find it on Amazon, Zappos or Overstock it ain’t happening- some Christmas wishes will just have to go unrealized.

Oh by the way, if you’re the old lady who wrestled the Victoria’s Secret Yoga pants from my clutches this afternoon- well done.  I know it wasn’t easy, especially when I body slammed you into the Super Miracle Bra and seamless thong display but kudos to you for holding on and making the purchase.  My only regret is I won’t have a chance to redeem myself.

I’ve been drinking Carlo Rossi and doing some on-line shopping, friggin dangerous combo.  Funny how your mind works when slightly lubricated with cheap red table wine. 

I’ve got most of the family figured out but trying to find a gift for my father has become increasingly difficult over the years.  So to remedy the problem I went to www.sportsmansguide.com- this is my fail safe web site for holiday gift ideas.  I never walk away empty handed- so many discounted, yet soundly constructed items, you’re sure to find something for everyone.

In about five minutes I came up with four quality items that I am positive my father would be happy to call his own.

Item #1-

Simply Better Meat Mallet from Jaccard® is FOUR tenderizers in one!

When I saw this nifty little “Meat Mallet” I had to ask myself “what man dosen’t enjoy beating meat?” I mean come on, every guy I know spends an inordinate amount of time whacking on his meat trying to return it to a soft and pliable state- especially if his meat has been stored for a while.  This mighty mallet, complete with ergonomically designed rubberized “grippage”, guarantees to soften up even the toughest of customers- friggin awesome!  If I get this little number for my Pops he’ll be a meat beating fool- which is good because when I spoke to him on the way home this evening he had just got done purchasing $400.00 worth of butcher grade cow- I’m not talented enough to make this shit up.

The only thing that puzzles me about the whole thing is the manufacturer claims that their product is capable of beating meat four different ways? I’m almost 40 and I know of only one way to beat my meat- you slap the daylights out of it until it’s tender- end of story.  If anyone out there knows of three additional ways to tenderize meat please let me know- I’d be interested in trying them all.  Hell, I could have a meat beating marathon.

Item #2

A thick, lush head of hair. Is this a dream? No... it's the Flair Hair Camo Visor.

Believe it or not, “Billy-Ray-Joe-Bob” is as bald as an egg plant- but you would never know because he’s sporting the revolutionary “Flair Hair Camo Visor”.  I would bet money that the redneck who tore himself away from the NASCAR channel long enough to design this trainwreck had a huge crush on all four of the “Back Street Boys”.  I’ve come to this conclusion because the joker pictured above looks like a middle aged Justin Timberlake- only better because he’s got a kicking, well manicured beard to compliment his straight from “Spring Break 2010″ Faux-doo.  If I purchase this for my father I’m going to include some super righteous fake tribal tattoos to go with it; he deserves the total package- from Grandad to “Super Pimpin Frat Boy Gone Wild”- whoot, whoot!

Item 3-

Ho, Ho, Holy shit!- no way am I buying this for my Dad because I love that guy with all my heart.  I just thought I would post this picture in case anyone out there is considering purchasing this number for me.  Be forewarned if you buy me this for Christmas I’ll wear it just long enough to douse myself in gasoline, light myself on fire and run into your home incinerating all of your worldly possessions as I scream obscenities at the top of my smoke filled lungs.  Just wanted you to know before things got out of hand.

Meet the Toilet Monster

Item #4-

The only reason I would buy this for my father is to see the look on his face when it springs up from the bowl to greet him during his 2am potty break.  That shit would be Hil-lar-ious!

But then I asked myself how sanitary could this thing possibly be?  Truth is, once it gets released into the crapper it’s there for the long haul- because I for one am surely not retrieving it.  Not to mention the trauma this thing could cause if someone sat on him in a rush to have their morning BM- friggin sobering thought isn’t it?

Funny, you would think that with all of the advances in engineering the ass-clown who designed the “Shitter Gremlin” would have had just a little more insight into it’s potential for multiple class action law suits?

Well that’s what I came up with so far- feel free to offer an opinion or better yet an alternative gift idea.

This post is going to get me in trouble-mark my words:)

Big Props go out to my wife for her superb performance during the brunt of the mysterious flu like illness that Mack has been battleing since last Thursday.  She’s not one for blood and guts but give her an illness and she’s on it like a Hobo on a ham sandwich. 

We’re reluctant to call Mack’s illness ”Pig Flu” because we don’t want to contribute to the Pandemic hysteria that has accompanied the newest strain of winter illnesses- but it sure did act, smell and sound like the “Pig Plague”.

We’re keeping our eyes open and our fingers crossed that Mack will be the only victim.

In case you’re wondering Mack seems to be a bit better today- Luckily Connie did all the heavy lifting yesterday so all that’s left is to hang on the couch and watch America’s Funniest Home Videos with the recovering patient.

I’m a fortunate man.

Cayden lost another tooth last night- I helped with the extraction.

Soon after the tears/blood stopped flowing I wrote a note to remind myself to leave the window open for the “Tooth Fairy”- otherwise the “Tooth Fairy” might forget to visit, especially after two glasses of Carlo Rossi ;).  Trouble is, when I went to open the window I discovered the “Tooth Fairy” was fresh out of dollar bills.

I love my kids- but all the “Tooth Fairy” was packing in his fairy purse was a ten spot.

Like I said I love my kids- but $10 in exchange for a nasty dead tooth is not an equitable trade.

The ”Tooth Fairy” improvised,

 He left Cayden a Ham Sandwich and a Kohls 30% off coupon.

Funny, Cayden looked really pissed off this morning.