Monthly Archives: January 2010

Hey Soul Sister

Hey, hey, hey…

“Have you heard Hey Soul Sister by Train?”  She asked as she was driving into work this morning.  “I have,” I replied.  “I think it sounds like us,” she continued.  I told her that I liked the song and that I would check it out again.  And I did.  As soon as we hung up.

I listened to the words and got a smile on my face because she was (once again) right!  The song ended and I quickly Googled the lyrics and listened to it again, this time following along.

If you think that you’re too cool to have something you call “our song” or if you think that sort of thing is all high school, then get over yourself.  That stuff is cool.  Love is cool.  To me the coolest people are the ones who have been together forever and are still crazy in love.  That’s what I want—to be 75 and crazy in love with the same woman I fell in love with 31 years ago.  I want to be Adam Sandler singing on the plane to Drew Barrymore as Billy Idol goes all Rambo on the douche Drew’s supposed to marry.  I just want to keep being happy and making her happy.  Does that sound lame?  Maybe.  I don’t care.

Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains…

So far there have been no lipstick stains with the Phone Sex Operator (P.S.O.), although there have been several occasions where she has laughed at me because I’m wearing her lip-gloss.  I have no problem with that because I know how it got there in the first place and that means that I get to transfer the lip-gloss back to her and there is only one way that I know to do that!

I knew I wouldn’t forget you, and so I went and let you blow my mind…

She is always on my mind.  Not in an obsessive way or in a way that distracts me from my work.  It’s hard to explain.  She’s just there with me, even when I don’t physically see her for days at a time.   P.S.O. constantly blows my mind.  It blows my mind that there is someone out there that is so right for me.  It blows my mind that we can communicate the way that we do.  I have never met someone that I connect so strongly with as a friend as well as on an emotional level and I have never been in love like I am with her.  That last thought blows my mind.  I fully believe that both of us going through the bad relationships and broken marriages that we did only makes us appreciate what we now have all the more.

I knew when we collided, you’re the one I have decided who’s one of my kind…

No offense to The Kings Fan, The Carpenter or Spicoli—three guys that I have known forever and three guys that know me better than anyone and are my closest friends in the world—but P.S.O. is a best friend, albeit in a totally different way.  I can tell her anything and know that she will listen, not judge me and will support me and be there for me.  She has been so supportive of my writing and of my desire to get back into radio full time.  She refuses to read and “approve” anything in here before I publish it, even though several of her staff read this blog religiously.  That says a lot.  Even when she knew I was writing I’ve Seen Better Days, she told me to say what I wanted to say and that she would deal with any fallout from the troops.  You don’t do that unless you really believe in that person and unless you really love him/her.

You gave my life direction, a game show love connection we can’t deny…

My life was good before I met P.S.O. Now it’s better.  We were already dating when gave me the green light for doing Sex and the Single Dad as a featured blog on their site.  That means that people all over Western New York will see this when they go to the site.  She grew up in Western New York and knows lots of people.

In the past I would have been leery of approaching someone I was dating with a project like this.  The typical reaction from someone I’ve dated would be “I don’t want people reading about me and about us”.  Totally not the case with P.S.O.   She was so excited when I told her about it and she was genuinely (and I emphasize the word “genuinely”) happy for me.  She isn’t looking to be a minor celebrity or a rock star of some kind.  She told me that it sounded like something that could really take off and go somewhere and that she wanted to be there to support me and help me in any way that she could.  She does help me.  P.S.O. gives me ideas and then steps back and lets me take them wherever my creativity takes it.  She is my Selma Hayek from Dogma.  She is my muse.

You’re so gangsta, I’m so thug, you’re the only one I’m dreaming of…

OK, so I’m the one who’s gangsta and thug—not her.  But, she is the only one I’m dreaming of.  My friends have heard me say (too many times) that Snoop Dogg and I are just a couple of gangstas from the LBC (Long Beach, California).  I met Snoop once.  In the press box at a Ducks game.  He was dope.  I digress.

You see, I can be myself now finally, in fact there’s nothing I can’t be.  I want the world to see you be with me…

I believe in myself.  That hasn’t always been the case, but it has been the past few years.  I’ve written for more than 30 magazines and newspapers across North America and Europe.  I’ve had the opportunity to interview some very famous people.  I’ve stood next to Wayne Gretzky and done a radio interview.  Alex Ovechkin too.  I’ve interviewed Penn & Teller, had a beer near the first tee at the Wynn Resort with John O’Hurley and chilled with Jesse James.  The list goes on and on.  I don’t throw out these names to brag.  There are writers with much better credentials that have done way more than I will ever do.  I don’t care.  I like me and that’s good enough.  She likes me too.  That is so cool!

It’s nice to know that I have someone in my corner.  Someone who will support me and someone who will encourage me on the discouraging days.  Someone who is there when it’s rough and makes me think, “Because you believe in me I believe in me”.

Finally, I want the world to see us together.  Not in a “Brangelina” sort of way (I am NOT adopting third world babies just to keep my name in the spotlight), but rather I want the world to see what I see.  I want the world to see that a moderately successful writer / pretty decent radio guy can be with a very successful VP for a major corporation.  (You didn’t really think that she was a phone sex operator, did you?)  I want to be somewhere, have someone hit on her and proudly say, “Excuse me.  She’s with me.”

Hey soul sister, I don’t want to miss a single thing you do…tonight.  Hey, hey.  Tonight.  Hey, hey.  Tonight.


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Filed under Dating, Phone Sex Operator

Tijuana with The Kings Fan

“Dude.  I think this is a gay bar…”

It had been almost a year since Original Crazy B**** (O.C.B.) moved out and I became a full-time single dad of a five-year-old girl.  My daughter wasn’t known as Drama Queen back then; she was just a sweet redheaded five-year-old.  I hadn’t dated at all since O.C.B. moved out—It was pretty much my choice.  I just hadn’t felt like looking and quite honestly, I had been out of the dating world so long that I really had no game.

The Kings Fan called me at work one Monday morning and asked if I could get my mom or brother to watch Drama Queen over the weekend.  “I think so,” I replied.  “Why?  What’s up?”  “I’m taking you out,” he told me.  “We’re going to go out and have fun and we are going to get you laid.  Tell your mom you’ll be back Saturday afternoon”

At 5:30 on Friday Kings Fan pulled into my driveway and I hopped into his black Jeep Wrangler and we headed south on the 405 freeway to Tijuana.  It had been a while since I had been to TJ and I thought a crazy night south of the border sounded like fun.

Kinger announced that we were going to park on the U.S. side and walk over.  It’s OK to drive your car into Mexico if you’re heading south into Rosarito or Ensanada, but if you ever want to see your car in one piece, do not park in Tijuana.

We walked over the border and immediately were bombarded with kids selling Chiclets and women peddling crappy fake gold.  We decided to hit Avenida Revolucion because that’s where most of the safe action was.  We agreed there would be no donkey shows but he kept insisting that I was going to get laid that night.  I had no problem with that but I was a little skeptical.

I asked where we were staying and he said that he had no clue but that we would find someplace.  I said cool and we jumped in a taxi and headed into TJ.  We got out of the cab and scanned our options.  We were both pretty hungry so we grabbed a couple of tacos at a cart about half a block up.

The girl working the cart was pretty cute and Kings Fan asked her in Spanish where a good bar was.  I guess I should point out that Kinger was born in Mexico but was raised in L.A.  He has family in Mexico and in fact his wife, Hot Latin Mama and son, G.I. Joe were both born and raised in central Mexico.  My point being that he speaks and reads Spanish very fluently.  This will be important information to have in a couple of paragraphs.

We headed into the bar and grabbed some Coronas.  The place was OK.  A bit touristy for my tastes, but not too bad.  There were some cute girls in there but it was mainly a sausage-fest.  After we had our next round I told him that I wanted to get out of there.  “We could drink $5 Coronas in Long Beach,” I said.  “Let’s find someplace a little off the beaten path where we can drink cheaper and we can feel like we’re in Mexico.”

He agreed and we headed out the door and around the corner down a side street.  About a block down we saw a window painted with a huge bottle of Tecate.  The size was equivalent to a 40 oz. in America and the sign announced “25 pesos” (about $2.50 U.S.D.).  We decided to go in and headed straight back to the bar to grab our Tecate.  We found an empty table and start sipping the cerveza fria.

About 60 seconds later, at almost exactly the same time, we both set our beers down on the table and looked at each other.  “Dude,” I quietly said.  “I think this is a gay bar.”  “What makes you think that?”  He asked sarcastically.  “Uh, I think it’s the chick with the beard and chest hair wearing a tube top,” I said.  “What about you?”  He pointed out that there were two guys kissing behind me but he implored me not to turn around and look.  As the only gringo in the place I had no problem heeding his advice.

We decided that the best game plan was to quickly chug our beers and get the hell out.  So we did just that.  Neither of us looked at the sign on the way in, but I made a mental not to check out the name of the bar on the way out.  It said “Los Chicos Golpean” which translated means “The Boys Club”.

We headed back out to Ave. Revolucion and I was hungry again so we found the same taco cart and I grabbed a couple al pastor (my favorite).  Kinger said something to the hottie in Spanish and he said that she knew just the place for us to go.  He said that he was sure that I could get laid in this place.  After our last experience I wanted to make sure that he was talking about a woman, so I looked at the taco chick and asked, “Chicas or chicos?”  She looked at King and said something in Spanish.  He replied and she laughed and said, “chicas!”  Esta bien!

W went into the bar and I was impressed.  It was loaded with women wearing tight, low cut clothing, most of whom were pretty damn hot.  We sat at the bar and I looked around as he ordered a couple beers from the bartender.  As the beers were placed in front of us, King looked at me and said, “It’s my treat.  Whoever you want.”

Suddenly it hit me.  The reason there were so many hot chicks was because we were in a hooker bar.  It was attached to a “motel” and the women were in there picking up guys and then servicing them next door.  I politely told him that I appreciated his gesture but that there were not enough condoms in the whole country for me to get it on with a Mexican prostitute.

He said he understood and that we would just sit, drink and blow off some steam.  Not two minutes later an attractive redhead with a decent set of fake cans came up behind me, rubbed my head and said “Hi, papi.”  I politely told her that I wasn’t her daddy and that I had no money.  Right on cue, she smiled at me and headed down the bar, trolling for her next lay.

Around 2 AM we decided to call it a night and found a non-whorehouse motel across the street.  The rooms were $10 each and we grabbed a pair and agreed that we should sleep on top of the blankets.  The next morning we woke up and found our taco hottie back at work.  We grabbed a few more and Kinger related the story of the night before.  She looked at me and told me that I was probably very smart.

After the tacos we hopped another cab, crossed the border again and headed home.  I’ve never been back to Tijuana since that night but I’ve hit Ensanada and Rosarito several times (once with Kings Fan) and every time I drive through TJ I get a smile on my face and tell my passenger that I know a good bar where we can stop at for a cheap beer—just off Avenida Revolucion.


Related Posts:

Skiing with the 36-Year-Old-Virgin

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Filed under Dating, General

I’ve Seen Better Days

Now if I could just find the rewind button…

Tuesday ended on a high note and Wednesday started with a ton of promise.  The day ended poorly, but as you continue to read, you will find that it was mostly my fault.  Here’s the deal…

Tuesday night The Phone Sex Operator (P.S.O.) came over for dinner.  She moved into a new house last weekend and it was stressful on her.  She arrived about 15 minutes after I got home and I was putting the finishing touches on some Cuban roast pork, black beans and lime rice.  I had a cold Corona waiting for her when she walked in the door and after a nice hello kiss, she hung out with Drama Queen (D.Q.) for a few minutes talking about this and that.

After dinner (which she said she really enjoyed) we all chilled on the couch watching American Idol and soon it was time for D.Q. to go to bed.  She said good night and P.S.O. and I finally spent some much-needed quality time alone.  It was really nice to snuggle with her on the couch.  When it was time for her to leave I asked her what time I needed to be at her place in the morning and she told me a little after eight.

I offered to help P.S.O. by staying at her house Wednesday morning to wait for Time Warner.  She had a short week at work since Monday was a holiday and she was taking Friday off to run me to and from some minor surgery I’m having.  I knew that my waiting for the cable guy would help her out and I was happy to do it.

I woke up early Wednesday morning in a great mood.  I was still on a high from our time together last night and I was looking forward to seeing her, if even for a few minutes.  After making sure D.Q. was up and getting ready for school, I hopped in my car and headed down the Thruway.  I rolled into Tim Horton’s near her house and grabbed some coffee just the way she likes it.  So far so good.

When I arrived, she was in the bathroom drying her hair and getting ready for work, so I headed into the living room and was looking around a bit.  The last time I saw the house a lot of things were in boxes.  She now had pictures and knick-knacks on the shelves and I was checking them out.

Remember at the beginning I mentioned that I was a complete a-hole?  Well, here it comes…

She came out into the living room and I kissed her and asked her how much flexibility she had in the time she had to leave for work and what time she thought the Time Warner guy would really show up.  She told me to behave and that she really needed to get ready to leave.

She walked over to the bookshelf and was showing me some pictures of her family and explaining the significance of each one and I put my hand on her back.  As I rubbed her back I noticed that she had no bra on and I made a comment about “The twins not being strapped in.”  She wasn’t thrilled at that comment (nor should she have been) and continued to show me things.  That wasn’t the only crappy thing I said that morning and it was far from one of my better moments.

We looked at a book of pictures from when her daughter was a baby and I did enjoy looking at her things and I do want to know more about her and her family and about what’s important to her.  I certainly didn’t show it on Wednesday morning, but I am interested and I do care.  I was just a complete douche and an utter tool at that moment.

I ruined her morning and I really hurt her.  I wasn’t intending to hurt her, but I did.  When she left the house I knew she was upset and that made me feel like crap.  I sat on the couch trying to read the book I brought, but it was slow going.  I kept beating myself up for what I had done, so I whipped out my BlackBerry to send an e-mail apologizing.  We traded a few  more back and forth over the next couple hours and I told her that her feelings are very important to me and that I didn’t want to add to the stresses and pressures of her life, but rather I wanted to be an enhancement to her life.

She e-mailed back that she loved me but that she was hurt and that this would not be THE defining moment in our relationship but rather A defining moment.  We traded a couple more e-mails that morning and the long and the short of it is that I am apparently going to do a strip tease for her at some point in the near future to Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry.  I guess I need to get practicing!  I think that’s the least I can do to make up for hurting her.

The Time Warner guy came and went and I headed to work to deal with a myriad of stresses there.  After work I went home to Drama Queen.

D.Q. has a school orchestra concert tonight and needs to have black pants and a white shirt (or a black dress) to wear for it.  She doesn’t have anything that fits her, so last night we went out to get her something.  The long and short of it is that she was being extremely snotty and rude.  After trying on a couple dresses, I handed her a pair of black pants and a white shirt.  She started to get really snotty about them and I told her that if the ‘tude continued that we would just go without getting anything and that she would not play in the concert, which BTW accounts for 25% of her grade.  I did tell her that if she doesn’t play that she was going to go watch and that I didn’t care how embarrassed she was.

She got snotty again and I walked out of the store.  I sent the teacher (and her counselor) an e-mail explaining the situation.  D.Q. is pissed at me and told me that she wants to go live with someone else.  She’s also been telling me that she hates me, to which I respond, “Get in line”.

Ironically enough, as I was typing the last paragraph, the orchestra teacher called me to tell me that he wants her to come play and to wear whatever she can.  He said that the orchestra is a team thing and it’s almost exactly what P.S.O. told me in her e-mail to me a half hour ago.  I love that she can tell me when I’m wrong and isn’t afraid to share her opinion on things.  I totally need that.

Yesterday was a crappy day, but today seems to be getting off to a better start.  I didn’t sleep well last night but I heard from P.S.O. this morning and she ended the e-mail with “xoxox” so I’m guessing that she still loves me.  I continue to feel crappy about the way I treated her yesterday and I’m not going to forget it, but I won’t dwell on it.  D.Q. is going to play her concert tonight and that’s probably a good thing.

I’m heading to Tim’s for some coffee (and maybe a few Timbits).  I also think that I’ll throw on Sunny Hours by Long Beach Dub All-Stars.  That always seems to make me feel better.  Tomorrow will be a good day.  I have my surgery and I get to spend the day with P.S.O.  I promise that there will be a very good story about the surgery down the road.  A really good story.  Now if I could just find the rewind button…


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Filed under General, Parenting, Phone Sex Operator

Skiing with The 36-Year-Old-Virgin

She just smiled and asked, “When are you going to give it to me?”

I loaded the Drama Queen into the Xterra and headed to my mom’s house to get the keys to her cabin in Blue Jay, CA.  It was December 30, 2004 and I was going to the mountains with D.Q., The 36-Year-Old-Virgin, my friend The Kings Fan, and his wife Hot Latin Mama, their son G.I. Joe along with Mama’s younger sister, Hermana.  Hermana was up from Mexico for the holidays.  We were all going skiing/snowboarding in Big Bear on New Years Eve and we stayed at the cabin for a couple of nights.

This place was a cabin in name only.  It was bigger and nicer than my house in Long Beach and sat on a golf course.  My parents bought it in 1976 as it was being built and I spent every summer there as I grew up.  I even worked at a restaurant at Arrowhead Village the summers after my junior and senior year (that would be grades 11 and 12 for my Canadian friends).  The cabin was 90 minutes away from home and 45 from the ski areas.  For those that think there is no snow in Southern California, there is.  Back in the day I would often surf in the morning and go night skiing.  Life was pretty sweet.

After getting the keys I went down to The O.C. and picked up The Virgin.  She had never skied before and in fact had never even been to the snow, which I guess made her a snow virgin as well.  It was kind of funny seeing this Mexican cutie all bundled up in snow pants, a heavy coat, gloves and a beanie when it was 60 degrees out.  I told her that we would be in the car and that we would pull right up to the door, in case she waned to throw on some jeans for the car ride up.  “That’s OK Bolillo,” she said.  “I want to enjoy the experience.”  Whatever.   (BTW…Bolillo is Spanish for “white bread”)

I threw her bag in the back and we headed out through The 909 (So. Cal’s. meth headquarters, named the 909 because the area code is 909).  I pulled into Costco near the base of the mountain and tried not to snicker as the virgin trampled inside in her snow pants and winter boots when many of the other shoppers were in shorts and flip flops.

When the shopping was done we headed up the mountain and arrived shortly before our guests.  There were three bedrooms—two with queen beds and one with twin beds plus a huge couch in the living room.  I don’t remember the sleeping arrangements but I do remember that The Virgin and I had a room with a queen bed.  Sweet.

Dinner that night was good and the girls fixed some authentic Mexican fare.  The Virgin was Mexican and The Kings Fan was born in Mexico but raised in L.A.  He had recently married Mama and she and G.I. Joe were full-blown Mexican and had only lived in the U.S. for a year or so.  I do remember a lot of Corona being consumed that night.  Some Patron too.

We got up early the next morning, made breakfast and some sandwiches for lunch and headed up to Bear Mountain Ski Area.  We stopped to rent our equipment and Kings Fan laughed at me for renting skis.  Everyone else was snowboarding but I reminded him that I was all the way Old School and that I had ripped up both knees and ankles playing ice hockey (with him as my goalie), so I wanted something that I could eject out of if and when I biffed it big.

We arrived and put the kids in a ski school/daycare thing and went off to have fun.  I think that Mama, Hermana and The Virgin took lessons because King and I went off to have some fun.  It had been a few years since I had skied but it came back quickly and soon we were heading down some pretty steep terrain.  It was snowing a very icy snow that day and was really windy and I remember the snow stinging as it hit my face.  Every time I started to get cold I whipped out my flask of Malibu (I guess I was going through a Malibu and Coke phase then).  The more I drank, the better I felt.  Soon enough my big flask was empty and I was pretty buzzed.

We finished skiing/boarding and headed back to the cabin.  (Relax. I don’t drink and drive.  I was sober by then.)  We arrived and started preparing our big New Years Eve fiesta.  I’m pretty rad in the kitchen and I usually cook for my friends, but tonight the chicas were preparing the food and we were all having fun drinking.  The Virgin was drinking pretty steadily and the more she drank, the happier she got.

I remember King pulling me aside at one point and saying that I should “tap it tonight.”   I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea (we had been dating a couple of months) and I went up to her, whispered in her ear and told her that I had a special surprise for her at midnight.  She smiled and said she couldn’t “wait to get it”.  This chick was so freakin naïve!

As midnight approached, King kept looking at me and giving me “the nod”.  You know what I mean.  The one that guys give each other as if to say, “that’s right.  It’s all good.”  At one point Mama came up to me and said that she was so happy for us.  Apparently King had shared the secret.  I had to let her know that it was actually not a done deal and that in fact The Virgin had no clue what I was planning.  I also had to remind her that although I wasn’t completely fluent in Spanish, I knew enough to know if she tried to tip her off!

At about 11:50 PM The Virgin came up and asked what I had for her.  I told her that it was a big surprise and that I was sure that she had never gotten this before.  She just smiled and asked, “When are you going to give it to me?”  I told her that I would give it to her shortly after midnight when we went to bed.

Midnight came and went and we got the cabin mostly cleaned up and everyone went to bed.  She and I went into our room and closed the door.  I started kissing her and she asked what I had for her.  I (like a guy who had been drinking all day) told her that I thought her New Years resolution should be to experience new things in 2005 and she thought that sounded great.  Please keep in mind that she too had been drinking all night.  And that she was really naïve.

We continued kissing and as we did I told her that I thought that she should finally experience sex and she looked at me with puppy dog eyes and asked, “Bolillo.  Don’t you care about my soul?  I mean, what would God say if I had sex outside of marriage?”  I told her that I didn’t know, but reminded her that a lot of Catholic school girls were sluts, so I figured that God would cut her some slack for waiting until she was 36.  I also asked her how many Hail Mary’s and Our Fathers she thought the priest would give her for “doing it”.

I didn’t get laid that night but the next morning she acted as if the whole thing never happened.  She bounced up the steps and into the kitchen with a cheery hello for everyone.  Mama looked up at me and came over to hug me and said, “congratulations.”  I told her that nothing happened and she gave me one of those “What you talking about Willis?” Looks.  Neither Mama nor The Fan could believe that she still wasn’t giving it up.  They were both a little disappointed in me and I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed in myself too.

The Virgin turned 37 a few weeks later and I won’t tell you whether or not she became The 37-Year-Old-Virgin.  That is another story for another day.


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Oh Canada…

I was bent over by The Fat Man

I like to think that I’m a good father.  Do I make mistakes?  Hell yeah!  Do I have the best intentions?  Absolutely.  I always want the best for Drama Queen and myself and my goal is for her to have the best life possible.  Does that mean that she always has the best clothes and all the nice things she wants?  No.  But I want to make sure that she is happy, grounded and always know that I love her.  As you read this story, please keep that in mind.

A year ago at this time, January 15, 2009 to be exact, I boarded a plane in Los Angeles and headed to Toronto to begin the single biggest adventure of my life.  This adventure actually began in November of 2008, when I was doing my humble little radio show on KLBC in Long Beach, California.  Now that I think back, it really started back in April of 2008, so let’s go back there.

I was broadcasting college baseball with my co-host and broadcast partner Wes The Sports Guy when I found out that there would be a new minor-league baseball team in Long Beach.  They were called The Long Beach Armada and they were playing in the independent Golden Baseball League (GBL).  I gave the team a ring and inquired as to whether or not they needed broadcasters.  They did and Wes & I landed the gig.

A couple weeks into the season I was approached by a guy named Sam from Hamilton, Ontario.  Sam was producing a weekly TV show for the GBL on a new Canadian cable network and he wondered if Wes & I would like to host it.  Long story short, the TV show never happened because the network didn’t make it on the air before the season was over, but Sam seemed like a cool guy and Wes and I had him on our show as a regular guest.  At some point early on I introduced him as Sam The Canadian and the name sort of stuck.

In early November of 2008 I received another phone call from Sam.  He told me that he knew a guy (The Fat Man) who was starting two new radio stations in suburban Toronto.  One was a country station and the other was to be rock/alternative/AC.  Sam was going to be the morning guy on the country station and he wanted to pitch me as the morning guy for the rock station.  He asked if I was interested and I said I was, as long as the situation was right.

I was offered the gig hosting the morning show and I was assured that the necessary visa paperwork was in the works and I was to start working at the station on February 2, 2009 and the station was to go live on February 9, 2009 at 6 AM with J.R. In the Morning.  I arrived in Canada a couple weeks early to get situated and to get an Ontario drivers license, get a car, a place to live and so on and so forth.  The Drama Queen (D.Q.) was going to fly out with my mom on February 13.  I wanted her to wait a few weeks so that I could get settled and find a good school for her.

I got my new license, got a car and was excited and ready to get to work.  I showed up at the station at 9 AM on February 2 ready to go and found no one there.  Sam and I hung around for a while and decided to go Tim Horton’s for some coffee.  We came back a few minutes after 10 to find The Fat Man just arriving.  Fat Man and I sat down and chatted a bit about what he expected from me, how long my commercial breaks were going to be, when I had to break for news, etc.  Other than that, the show was pretty much mine.

I went into my studio to think about what regular segments I wanted to do and how this was all going to work.  I was understandably nervous, but knew I could handle the job.  On Friday (three days before I was to make my Canadian radio debut) we were informed that the CRTC (Canada’s version of the FCC) was holding up our launch for a few days because of some paperwork glitch involving our antennae.  I was frustrated, but I knew that such things occasionally happened with new stations in the U.S. so I didn’t think too much about it.

That same day I also found out that the paperwork for my work visa actually wasn’t in the works and that it needed to be started right away.  I asked what the hold up was and The Fat Man said very matter-of-factly that the immigration lawyer needed $3,500 to get my work visa and that the station could not afford to pay it, so if I wanted to stay in the country I would need to pay the money.

I was beyond pissed, but what could I do?  I had no job to go back to in California, no place to live in the States and my furniture and all our personal belongings were sitting at the border waiting to be delivered to our new home.  Fat Man explained that he needed a certified check in Canadian funds made out to the station.  I told him that I wanted to make it out directly to the lawyer but he explained that the station had already paid the lawyer but hadn’t anticipated some extra expenses, so either I paid the station back the money or there would be no station to work for.  I was between a rock and a hard place and really had no choice.  I got him his check and kept preparing for my show.

When I found a place to live (the station was renting the house for me) I checked with the school district to see what I needed to register Drama Queen in school.  I was given a list of items and was relieved to find out that I had everything.  She arrived and I took her to school the first day, only to find out that I hadn’t been told everything.  Since I wasn’t Canadian and since my work visa wasn’t finished, I had to pay $800 a month for her to go to public school in Ontario.  I was pissed, but even the Superintendent told me his hands were tied—the Ontario Ministry of Education charged the district the money and someone had to pay it.

I went back to The Fat Man and talked with him about the work visa.  He placed a phone call to the lawyer and said that I would have the visa finished in two weeks.  I enrolled D.Q. in school and figured that I would just eat the $800.

In May I would come to find out, there was no lawyer hired back in February and The Fat Man never paid anyone with my money.  No lawyer meant no work visa, which meant that I was shelling out $800 a month for D.Q. to finish out the school year.  That was $800 in February, March, April and May–$3,200 in all.  He finally did hire a lawyer in May, but it didn’t really matter since the station never went on the air.

The bottom line is that D.Q. and I sat in Canada from January 15, 2009 until September 1, 2009 when we moved to Buffalo.  We were living off of savings and the only compensation I ever received was the rent.  BTW…The Fat Man never paid the last couple months rent and I was evicted in mid-August (with two days notice to clear out) and had to crash with someone the last two weeks we were in Canada.  See what I meant at the beginning when I said I was “bent over by The Fat Man?”

As crappy as this story sounds, it’s not all bad.  I lost a ton of money that I’m trying to get back, but as an American going after a Canadian in Canada it’s not the easiest thing to do.  I made some friends and had some great experiences, which you can read about another time.  If I hadn’t gotten screwed in Canada I never would have moved to Buffalo.  If I never moved to Buffalo I never would have met and fell in love with The Phone Sex Operator.

So boys and girls, the point of the story is this (yes, there is a point):  Sometimes you have to go through crappy experiences to find what you’ve always been searching for.  The bad experiences only highlight how absolutely amazing the good ones can be.  Now that I think about it, I guess that I can consider moving to Canada the beginning of my own personal love story.  The end is yet to be written, but I can assure you that the beginning is pretty sweet!  The End.


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My Mom and Kotex

“Back when I started…”

I absolutely love my daughter and I love being a parent.  Do I wish that her mom were in the picture?  Not really.  Do I wish that things had worked out with her mom and I?  Sometimes.  Usually not.  The reality is that her mom is bi-polar and wasn’t a happy person and I wasn’t willing to live my life like that, nor was I willing to let my daughter grow up with that as her role model.

My parents were married for 46 years when my dad died of cancer and I always thought that I would fall in love and have what my parents had.  I guess that was their love story, not mine.  Right now I’m working on my own story.  So far it’s going really well.  I’ll be sure to keep you all posted!

I will always remember the date December 28, 2001.  It was my 10th anniversary and the day that I realized that my marriage was over as well as the day I found out my dad was dying of cancer.  For the record, I realized the marriage was over before I found out about my dad.  That is another topic for another day.  Today’s topic is way funnier than this…

Last Monday started like any other Monday.  I woke up at 6:45 and made some coffee.  I went upstairs at 7 to wake up The Drama Queen (D.Q.) and she announced (with her eyes still closed) that she was going back to sleep because today was a snow day.  I told her to open her eyes and look out the window.  She did and said, “There’s a lot of snow on the ground.”  To which I replied, “yeah, but look at my car.  No snow.  No snow on the car means no new snow on the ground which means no snow day!”  She was less than thrilled by that revelation.

I showered, got dressed and headed off to work for my 8:30 AM meeting.  The details of the day are more or less unimportant—until a few minutes after 6 PM.  I was driving home in the snow (now it was snowing….) and I was chatting with Phone Sex Operator (P.S.O.) as I made my way down Transit Road and onto Main St.  (Yeah, I had my Bluetooth headset).  As we were yakking I had another call come in.  “It’s my mom,” I told her.   “OK honey, talk with her and call me later,” she replied.  I clicked over to my mom and God help me; I wish we never had this conversation.  Why?

She called to discuss with me how I should talk with D.Q. about starting her period.  In all fairness, my mom and I talked the day before and I mentioned that P.S.O. had noted that she thought it wouldn’t be long until D.Q. had her monthly visitor.  Now I’m not at all naive and I knew that this day would eventually come, but I was totally hoping that we could put off this conversation for a while.  A long while!

She starts off with the whole “it’s a natural thing” speech and the “you’re going to do just fine” line.  So far it was going OK.  I mentioned to my mom that D.Q. has an appointment with her new pediatrician on Friday and that the doctor was a woman, so I felt pretty comfy with the whole situation.  For the record, I do NOT call her Drama Queen when I talk with my mom.  Well, I occasionally do, but not this time.

My mom suggested that I have D.Q. call my sister-in-law to have the Aunt Flo talk (my words, not hers) and I politely told her that I would keep the suggestion in mind and reminded my mom that P.S.O. offered to help with this.

After making me feel thoroughly uncomfortable and feeling like the conversation had hit rock bottom, she dropped “the bomb”.  It was perfect timing for this comment, actually, since I was about to pass a couple of very large, very solid trees.

I had no clue that I could be more uncomfortable than I already was, but once again I was wrong.  My mom went on to tell me that things have changed a lot over the years and that there are many more products on the market now.  What did she say that made me seriously want to drive into a tree and kill myself?  Prepare yourself.  My mom (who I love) said, “Things have changed a lot since I started.  Back when I started we only had Kotex.”

Oh my God!  My mother did not just utter the phrase “back when I started” in reference to her menstrual cycle, did she?  Yes she did!  I told my mom that I really needed to get off the phone and I quickly re-dialed P.S.O. and relayed the story to her.  She laughed really hard.  I mean REALLY hard.  After a couple of moments she composed herself and said, “honey you need to go to the store and get something for D.Q. to have on hand.  I said, “OK.  What do you suggest?”  She recommended something thin, but absorbent and said something about having wings.

The next morning I went to Wal-Mart and scanned the shelf for something that I felt met all of her criteria.  I made my purchase at the Self-Checkout (not that I was embarrassed, there was no line there) and ran a couple more errands.  After I got home I unpacked my bags and left the feminine product on the table.

I wondered if I had actually bought the right stuff, so I whipped out my camera phone, took a picture and texted it to P.S.O. with this message:  “Did I do good?”  To which she promptly replied, “Seriously?  You did NOT just send me a picture of ‘stuff’!”

We laughed about that on the phone for a few moments and P.S.O. asked to talk to Drama Queen.  The two of them had their little chick talk and D.Q. seemed pretty happy when they hung up.  As I thanked P.S.O. for helping me out, she laughed and said, “Oh baby…this is only the beginning.”  Great!!!


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My Facebook Status

Who knew it would be such a big deal?

It was a dark and stormy night.  Actually it wasn’t, but as a writer I’ve always wanted to start a story that way.  Snoopy used to do it and he was pretty cool.  I figured if it worked for him then it could work for me.  Apparently I was (once again) mistaken.  Let me start over…

It was dark and had just finished snowing.  As I gazed out the window I saw a soft layer of powder covering the walk where I had recently shoveled.  The Sabres had just beaten the Maple Leafs and I grabbed my laptop and hopped on my bed to see what was happening on Facebook.

It was the usual stuff, The Skater Chick was talking about wanting to lick the sweat off of Bono and The Edge at the U2 concert, The O.C. Vodka Queen posted pictures of butts on her page and my colleague The USC Guy posted something about Pete Carroll possibly going to Seattle and how cool it would be if Matt Leinart, Reggie Bush and LenDale White could all join him there.

I (of course) replied to his comment with this line:

“Matt Leinart is a douche. He’s lazy and with his work ethic the only way he’s gonna score is with some skanky Baby Mama. He used to be good, though.”

To which a holier-than-thou friend of his replied:

“JR do you know Matt Leinart personally? Do you know 1st hand his work ethic? I would say NO then you should speak ill of people. Whatever we do to others in life will eventually come back to you. So tread lightly my friend.”

Now do you really think that I could let that slide?  Hell no!  I read his reply a second time (for motivation), cracked my knuckles and said, “It’s on!”  I though for a moment about how I wanted to start it and came up with this:

“Do I know him personally? As in do I hang out at his pool parties? No. But I am aware of what his coaches (AKA his bosses) and his teammates (AKA his co-workers) have to say about him and his lack of work ethic. As to “whatever we do to others in life will eventually come back to me”. I’m not the one who was drafted by a team to be their future then spent my time knocking some chick up and staying out partying instead of studying his playbook and learning his job. For the record I didn’t DO anything to Matt Leinart, but in my opinion he “did” the entire Cardinals fan base. I’m just saying….”

I posted that at 9:37 PM Eastern time last night.  It is now 2:52 PM (still Eastern time) on Saturday and no one has bothered to reply back.  I have to say that I’m a bit disappointed.  But on to the story of my status…

After dropping the hammer on the President of the Matt Leinart Fan Club I returned to my page where I happened to glance at my relationship status.  It was set as “Single”.  I reclined on my bed and thought about that a bit.  Yesterday P.S.O.’s cousin broke her off a call and said that she wanted to go out “with you and your guy”.  I think that if family members refer to me as “her guy” that it’s safe to assume that we are in a relationship.  In all fairness I should point out that the cousin has an ex-husband with my name, so she will never call me the J word.

After my moment of contemplation I went ahead and changed my status.  Now if you go to my Facebook page ( you will see that I am “In a Relationship”.  I really thought nothing of it, but not three minutes later I receive this from The Little Ustin (a colleague from KLBC):

“Please tell me you’ve had phone sex with her.”

An hour later the O.C. Vodka Queen wrote:

“whoa….now that is a HUGE step in a relationship…to change your FB status to “in a relationship”’s almost like getting married….should I send you a card? I’m sure Hallmark has a card for that!!!…. : D
You know I’m really happy for you two!!”

Do you really think that Hallmark makes a “I’m glad you’re dating The Phone Sex Operator” card?  If so, I’ve never seen that one!  Nothing against the authors of the first two comments, but my favorite ones have to be from my boy Hockey Dawg, a friend, colleague and former hockey teammate.  He and I went back and forth a few times:

H.D. You ain’t “in a relationship” playah ! Whomever it is, ya’ll just met. Slow ya’ roll . . .  Pump ya’ brakes . . . .

J.R. it’s all good G. We ain’t buying anything together or nuttin. Just dating. You know how I roll…..

H.D. Go on, Big Playah BigBallah Big Pimp . . . . So, does this mean the end of your column ?

J. R. no son! I’m still single. Ain’t no ring on dis fingah! Plus I still have the old school stories and tales to tell about my shorty……

There were some more comments made between Dawg and I about a hockey tournament in Vegas and how he and I ended up being the only two heterosexuals on the team.  He said, “What happens in Vegas STAYS in Vegas.”    I say that when two players were late for the first game and someone joked about them being in a hotel room doing each other, Dawg and I started laughing.  I’m not sure what my face looked like, but when I realized that we were the only two laughing, I looked up at him and the look on his face was straight out of a MasterCard commercial.  It was truly priceless!  Sorry bro, it had to be said.

I’m happy that my friends care enough about me to say nice things about my changed status, but the reality is (and P.S.O. will definitely verify this) that I am the same dumbass that I was a few weeks ago.  The only difference is that I have a bigger, goofier smile on my face now.

As I was writing this I went back to Facebook to look at something and I noticed that P.S.O. changed her status too.  Apparently she too is now “In a Relationship”.  That’s cool.  I wonder if I know the guy???


BTW…you can become a Facebook fan of Sex and the Single Dad.  Check out the link on the right hand side of this page.  You can also become my friend on Facebook,

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