Pet Peeves

Does anybody know a good dog whisperer? I speak a little dog language, but I'm really limited to simple commands. Anytime I try to communicate with our dog, Wrigley, I lose her after a few words. She then looks at me with her head cocked sideways, which is the same look I got when we were in Mexico and, in Spanish, I tried to ask the cleaning lady for more towels and another pillow. Turns out that the literal translation of my query was: "Can you bring me a jar of pickles and kick me in the neck?" Anyway, pardon the pun, but I do have some pet peeves that I would like communicated to my dog. Negative reinforcement hasn't worked with her. When I scold her, I think she enjoys the attention and probably thinks I'm loudly saying "You're a wonderful creature" or "Keep it up, you terrific animal". From my experience, I've found that most dogs understand tone; not Wrigley. She also leaves a little to be desired in her ability to detect sarcasm, but many humans have the same problem.

I used to think Wrigley was smart, but then I saw her walk into a sliding glass door, twice. I can understand doing it once. Hell, I've done it once; large glass surfaces can be tricky, but you would think even a dog would not let it happen a second time. On the intelligence scale, I place my dog somewhere between a guinea pig and a wall clock. There are dogs out there that can dial 9-1-1, or lead a blind man across the street, or find drugs in the airport. I'm not asking her to solve a Good Will Hunting math problem, I just want her to stop doing some things that annoy me.

Pet Peeve #1: Licking my arm
When I'm sitting in my chair, Wrigley has this annoying habit of sneaking up behind me like a dog ninja to lick me on the arm. She has done this at least once every night since we moved into our new house. I realize that sometimes my arm might taste like fried food, but I'm confident that most of the time it tastes like soap. Each time, I say "Wrigley, don't lick my arm. I don't enjoy it. I'm a man, and you're supposed to be man's best friend." I need this to be communicated to her in dog language so she stops.

Pet Peeve #2: The Rain
We always thought she hated the rain. Now that we have a dog-door, and she uses her own discretion in entering and leaving the house, we've found that she loves to play in the rain. I used to enjoy playing in the rain when I was a child. Now, it's not so fun anymore. Going by dog years, Wrigley and I are both in our mid-30's. It's time for her to grow up. Again, she needs to hear this from someone who speaks fluent dog.

Pet Peeve #3: Save the music!
I whistle when I call the dog. It's the same whistle every time. I need her to be able to distinguish between that whistle and me whistling along to music. I have been robbed of the joy of whistling along to many songs since I got the dog, because she believes that every whistle on earth is intended for her and comes barreling into the room as soon as I purse my lips. "Sittin on the Dock of the Bay" just aint the same when you can't whistle along. Every time I hear "Walk Like an Egyptian" and I can't whistle along, I'm doing myself and the Bangles a great disservice.

Pet Peeve #4: Jumping on People
For five years, she's been jumping on people. It's like crack to her. She's addicted and there needs to be an intervention.

Pet Peeve #5: Personal Hygiene
This is a touchy subject, because I know it will embarrass her. When I find a dog whisperer or a English-K9 dictionary, I need this information communicated word for word: Wrigley, it's great that you clean yourself. I'm proud of you for figuring this out on your own, without the help of any books or videotapes. I agree that you need to be clean all over your dog body. Don't stop cleaning yourself. However, could you find a better time to do it than in our bedroom, when we are trying to fall asleep? What is it that you do between the hours of 7am and 5pm every day when we're at work? I know you're busy, and you probably have many appointments to keep throughout the day. I realize that it's hard work shedding hair on the floor and that you can hardly find the time to bark at the pool guy, but maybe some proper planning could benefit us both. Have you considered making a checklist in the morning? If possible, how about cleaning your business during the daylight hours. It's loud and it's not something we need to hear. You don't see me clipping my toenails at the dinner table, do you? I think I've made my point.

Conclusion:
If you can successfully communicate with a dog, please don't hesitate to let us know. We'll have you over for a nice meal and a little sitdown meeting with Wrigley. She'll probably be surprised to hear all of this, but I think it's for the best. We'll even throw in dessert if you can talk to cats. We'd like our cats to know that we appreciate the effort, but bringing dead or injured creatures in the house is not something they need to do to prove their love to us. If they truly want to show us how they feel, maybe they could pull some weeds in the yard or clean the gutters.

Potpourri

No, this is not the kind of potpourri that sits in a decorative bucket on the bathroom sink; this is more the Alex Trbek potpourri.

• Mrs. Undaground saw Goodfellas over the weekend. Her comments were that it was interesting and very violent. I think she liked it. I actually stayed awake for the whole thing. That's kind of crazy, because every time I rent a new movie, it takes 2 to 3 attempts to make it all the way through. Goodfellas was an education for Mrs. Undaground. She now knows that I could never be a "made" man because I'm 1/4 Norwegian (and I bruise easily).
• Another movie we saw over the weekend is "Grizzly Man". This just came out last year, but it's already on the Discovery Channel. I highly recommend this movie. It's a documentary about a guy who lived with the grizzly bears for years and years and then was finally eaten by one. Check Discovery Channel for a rerun, or go rent it. It's quality entertainment.
• To all the people out there talking about the bad referees at the Super Bowl: please give it a rest. Steelers fans are a large, loyal bunch and have waited 26 years for another championship. Let us enjoy it for at least a few days before all this stuff. The referees were bad, but they did not cause the Steelers to win or the Seahawks to lose. Next time I hear somebody talking about the refs in the Super Bowl, I will cover my ears and close my eyes and loudly scream "La, La, La, La, La, I can't hear you. La, La, La, La, La.". I'm warning everybody; this will be very juvenile and hard to watch, so don't test me.
• Lance Armstrong and Sheryl Crow have decided to call off their engagement. Not sure of the reason, but I'm guessing it's because she realized riding a bike for a living is not all that exciting after the Tour de France is over, and he realized that he's more of a Kelly Clarkson guy than a Sheryl Crow guy (talking about age here, not necessarily musical style). Hey celebrity couples: Please get to know each other before you go on Oprah declaring that you're a perfect couple. It's fine if you want to live in your little fantasy land, but there are children involved here. That's all we need is some little world-class bicyclist offspring messed up in the head from his parents' and taking his revenge on the world. Do you realize the damage he could do with a mean streak, a ten-speed and biker shorts?
• Groundhog day came and went, and I didn't get stuck in it like Bill Murray. If I did though, I would hope it didn't fall on a day when we were painting. Also, I'd probably still start every day with Maxwell House, and I'd experiment with shaving my entire head.

Freddie Mercury said it best

I've paid my dues -

Time after time -

I've done my sentence

But committed no crime -

And bad mistakes

I've made a few

I've had my share of sand kicked in my face -

But I've come through

We are the champions - my friends

And we'll keep on fighting - till the end -

We are the champions -

We are the champions

No time for losers

'Cause we are the champions -

of the world -

Monday's Post Friday

I've decided to write my post now for Monday morning, because there are way too many variables involved in a Super Bowl day after. If the Steelers win, please read "Option 1". If the Seahawks win, please proceed down the page to the second section, "Option 2". Thanks, The Undaground

Option 1:
Yessssss!
What a weekend. Unbelievable. I am so proud to call myself a Steelers fan today. It's been a long season with a lot of ups and downs, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. First, painting was a great way to stay sane Saturday. We finished the living room and everything looks great. As silly as it sounds, I like the peanut butter color we picked out. It looks very classy. The trip to Home Depot went surprisingly well for a Saturday, and the whole day was just a real bonding time for Mrs. Undaground and me. Sunday, I had a feeling when I woke up that this was the year. I can't put my finger on it, but call it a hunch. Mrs. Undaground and I enjoyed some delicious morning coffee and just sat on the porch, enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping and watching the sun peek over the palm trees. We didn't have to say much, we just sat quietly and I think we both had a feeling that it would be a good day, capped off by a monumental Super Bowl victory. The party was a lot of fun. Even though I had a vested interest in the game, I was surprisingly comfortable decked out in my Steelers' gear. There were a few people there rooting for the Seahawks, but no "Seahawks fans", so it was just a lot of good-natured ribbing throughout the game. I enjoy a little back-and-forth banter with fans who are rooting against my team. What can I say about the game? It was awesome. I can hardly remember the details right now because I'm so drunk with football happiness. Everything just fell perfectly in to place, and to top it all off, the food at the party was excellent, especially the salsa. I may have eaten a bit too much of it, but I feel great! I don't even have a headache from the beer. I'm on cloud nine. I was daydreaming this morning and I walked into the wall. Mrs. Undaground and I had a great laugh. I'm just going to bask in this awhile. Thanks for indulging me. What a weekend.

Option 2:
Nooooooooo!
What a weekend. Unbelievable. I am so ashamed to call myself a Steelers fan today. It's been a long season with a lot of ups and downs, and if I had my way, I'd erase the whole thing from my memory. First, painting was a great way to make me insane Saturday. We finished the living room and everything looks like crap, literally. Who's idea was it to paint the room peanut butter colored? No surprise, the trip to Home Depot was like a root canal, and the whole day really tested my marriage because I was irritable beyond belief. Sunday, I had a feeling when I woke up that this was going to go badly. I can't put my finger on it, but call it a hunch. Mrs. Undaground and I drank some disgusting morning coffee and just sat on the porch, listening to the sounds of the annoying, freaking birds that just won't go away. I'm emotional right now, but if I had a pellet gun, the world would have a few less birds. We didn't say much Sunday morning, we just sat in uncomfortable silence and I think we both had a feeling that it would be a crappy day, capped off by a monumental Super Bowl loss. The party was as much fun as spinal surgery. I was very uncomfortable decked out in my Steelers' gear. The hat and jersey were fine, but I felt like an ass in the pajama bottoms. There's nothing more pathetic than a "face painter" after his team loses. There were a few people there rooting for the Seahawks, just to spite me, so it was just a lot of swearing and b.s. throughout the game. I enjoy a little back-and-forth banter with real fans, but these idiots were more concerned with some stupid pool that they paid $2 for, and all the sudden they were Seahawk fans. I didn't mean to hit that woman. I was reaching for my umpteenth Jack and Coke and I was a little shaky. What can I say about the game? It was ridiculous. I can hardly remember the details right now because I've blocked it out of my mind. Everything just fell perfectly in to place for the Seahawks, and to top it all off, the food at the party was horrific. Is that what you call salsa? I feel like I ate a vat of motor oil with tomato chunks in it. I don't have a headache from the liquor, it's more like an aneuyrism. I think my eyesight is even affected because I walked into the wall this morning and injured myself. I'm just going to sit and bleed for awhile. Thanks for indulging me. What a weekend.

Music 2 Paint 2

Mrs. Undaground and I will be back in the painting mode this weekend. One thing that's very important to both of us, is to have some fine music blaring through the house while we paint. Here are some musical recommendations brought to you by the Undaground (these selections are good for more than painting and are listed in no particular order).

1. Animal Liberation Orchestra "Fly Between Falls"
This is my current favorite new musical discovery. ALO is a mix of a funk-band and jamband. We first heard them when they opened for Jack Johnson, and Mrs. Undaground and I were instant fans. If you don't want to pay for this, go to the link for "Live Music Archive" on the right side of my blog, and download some of their stuff for free. There are about 100 concerts from ALO available on the archive. (I highly recommend 2/12/05 show from the Soho Restaurant). Animal Liberation Orchestra is not some PETA, anti-fur, vegan thing. Their name signifies their ability to make people get up and dance... and you will, but be careful not to drip paint on the floor.

2. The Magic Numbers "The Magic Numbers"
This is the first album by this band and it is another one that has been in heavy rotation on the iPod lately. The Magic Numbers is a quarter featuring two brother-sister combos. The lead singer's voice sounds a lot like Cat Stevens, and just about every song has excellent female harmonies from one of the sisters. If you listen to this album, I guarantee you will wake up in the morning with song number one stuck in your head. "You're in denial... you're in den-i-al, and I know..." Great, now it's stuck there again.

3. Steel Train "Twilight Tales from the Prairies of the Sun"
This is another debut album. Steel Train is a acoustic rock, folk, jamband mix that at different times sounds like Crosby, Stills and Nash, The Grateful Dead, and Santana. Legendary mandolin player David Grisman (most well-known for his work with Jerry Garcia), plays on two of the songs. Check it out. It's good paintin' music.

4. The Shins "Oh, Inverted World"
If you saw the movie "Garden State", you may be familiar with the Shins. It's the band that Natalie Portman is listening to in the doctor's office (the song, New Slang). The Shins are an indie pop-rock band whose music is very relaxing and mellow. The vocals sound a little like Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys, but the music is more reliant on acoustic guitar and keyboards. This was our original painting music from last year, when we started the painting project.

OK, that's enough of the musical recommendations. Sorry, I thought I was writing for Rolling Stone for a moment there.

Loose Dirt from the Undaground

Update to Goodfella:

I found something out last night about Mrs. Undaground's past. It is hard for me to accept, but I will work through this with her. Mrs. Undaground has never seen Goodfellas. I was shocked to hear this. It was the equivalent of finding out she had been married before, or that she was a Republican. I hate to overreact to these things, it's just surprising to me that I didn't know this before. I could have immediately worked with her to correct the situation. How many references to Goodfellas have I made to her that sailed right over her head? If I said "How am I funny, like a clown?", she might just think I'm really asking that question and answer me honestly. "No, you're not like a clown. You're more cerebral than a clown, but you do have some cartoonish features and clown feet." Honestly, I'm a little disappointed in myself as a husband that I didn't know this information. We will be watching Goodfellas this weekend and I will let you know how Mrs. Undaground likes the film.

About the Goodfella story from last week: The man in Boca Raton was indeed Joe Pesci. Police positively ID'd him using the photos that the alleged victim took. The state attorney will decide whether to file charges. The photo is now in evidence, but will be released someday... and the Undaground will have it.

Dinner for Three?

I was once a waiter, and I was a damn good one. I was a student of the waiting profession. Because of this experience, I usually have a lot to say about my server's performance when we go out to eat. I will generally tip well regardless; we'll just tip much better for stellar service. Honestly, it's been a long time since we've had stellar service. Where have all the excellent waiters and waitresses gone? Last night was no exception.

Debra, if you someday stumble upon this blog and read this post in the archives, yes, I am talking about you. Please shut the hell up.

Our waitress was quite a talker. She talked us through every part of our meal. We ended up talking to her more during our meal than each other, and that includes the whole Goodfellas revelation. Our salads were not late, yet she told us three or four times that she was going to go get our salads. OK. Thanks for the info. It was as if she wanted one of us to go with her to keep her company. Honey, can you watch the table? I'm gonna go talk to Debra while she gets the salads for us.

She was physically incapable of performing a waitressing task without first announcing it and explaining it to us.

"OK, what I'm going to do now is walk back around that corner there and take a left. Once I get around the corner, you won't see me for a moment, but don't worry, I'll be right back. When I turn left, I will then walk forward about 6 or 7 steps to the metal rack up against the wall where we keep the styrofoam. Styrofoam is our chosen material for wrapping up uneaten food, like the leftovers on your plate. I will remove one styrofoam container from the top of the stack and carefully pull it down without knocking over the drinking glasses below the syrofoam on the shelf. I will then turn my body around and face the direction from which I originally entered the room. 6 or 7 steps forward, then I'll take a right this time, you see, because I'm heading in the opposite direction. All the while, I will have the styrofoam in my hand. Then I will round the corner and return to you both with something to wrap your food in. Would you like to hear the dessert menu?"

Survivor Haiku

CBS Tonight
tune in and kick your feet up
Survivor is back!

Fire up the Tivo
start viewing at 8:20
For no commercials

Televised battle
man versus man and nature
oh, and women too

Another season
reality's finest show
The tribe has spoken

Chuck Norris Facts

Chuck Norris, Walker Texas Ranger, karate champion and Hollywood film actor is becoming an internet superstar.

Somebody who is a huge fan of Chuck Norris created a website titled "Chuck Norris Facts"

Below are some Undaground favorites from the 9-pages of "facts". Here, is Chuck Norris's response on his own website:

Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried. Ever.

If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris, you may be only seconds away from death.

Chuck Norris has counted to infinity. Twice.

In fine print on the last page of the Guinness Book of World Records it notes that all world records are held by Chuck Norris, and those listed in the book are simply the closest anyone else has ever gotten.

There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.

Most people have 23 pairs of chromosomes. Chuck Norris has 72... and they're all poisonous.

If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds 'til." After you ask, "Two seconds 'til what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.

When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes, ever.

Chuck Norris invented Kentucky Fried Chicken's famous secret recipe, with eleven herbs and spices. But nobody ever mentions the twelfth ingredient: Fear.

Chuck Norris can win a game of Connect Four in only three moves.

Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

Chuck Norris once bet NASA he could survive re-entry without a spacesuit. On July 19th, 1999, a naked Chuck Norris re-entered the earth's atmosphere, streaking over 14 states and reaching a temperature of 3000 degrees. An embarrassed NASA publically claimed it was a meteor, and still owes him a beer.

Chuck Norris has two speeds: Walk and Kill.

Time waits for no man. Unless that man is Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris sheds his skin twice a year.

Some people like to eat frogs' legs. Chuck Norris likes to eat lizard legs. Hence, snakes.

When Chuck Norris falls in water, Chuck Norris doesn't get wet. Water gets Chuck Norris.

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could Chuck Norris? ...All of it.

Chuck Norris CAN believe it's not butter.

Chuck Norris can divide by zero.

When an episode of Walker Texas Ranger was aired in France, the French surrendered to Chuck Norris just to be on the safe side.

When Chuck Norris talks, everybody listens. And dies.

Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee. Except Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage.

Chuck Norris ordered a Big Mac at Burger King, and got one.

If you Google search "Chuck Norris getting his ass kicked" you will generate zero results. It just doesn't happen.
It takes Chuck Norris 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes.

Chuck Norris once ate an entire bottle of sleeping pills. They made him blink.

Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas.

When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.

Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.

If, by some incredible space-time paradox, Chuck Norris would ever fight himself, he'd win. Period.

Along with his black belt, Chuck Norris often chooses to wear brown shoes. No one has DARED call him on it. Ever.

Chuck Norris can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. At night.

If Chuck Norris were a calendar, every month would be named Chucktober, and every day he'd kick your ass.

Behind every successful man, there is a woman. Behind every dead man, there is Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because Chuck Norris only recognizes the element of surprise.

Chuck Norris shot the sheriff, but he round house kicked the deputy.

Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.

When Bruce Banner gets mad, he turns into the Hulk. When the Hulk gets mad, he turns into Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris once kicked a horse in the chin. Its decendants are known today as Giraffes.

Chuck Norris can blow bubbles with beef jerky.

Chuck Norris' first job was as a paperboy. There were no survivors.

A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.

The State of the Undaground Address

State of the Undaground

Thank you very much, Mr. Speaker, Mrs. Undaground, Mr. McFeeley, Mr. Softee, Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick, members of Congress, distinguished guests, sloppily dressed guests, fellow citizens.

As we gather today our nation is at war, terrorists are still causing trouble across the oceans and threatening our own homeland, the medical community is worried about something called the bird flu, and for some ungodly reason, Jared from Subway is still a celebrity, yet the state of the Undaground has never been stronger (Applause).

On the domestic front, the Undaground is proud to report that things are excellent. The sock drawer may not always be a perfect community of rolled pairs of footwear, but today, as I address you in this virtual chamber, I proudly wear two matching black socks, with the elastic still perfectly stretchy and the soles devoid of any compromised thread. (Applause)

The painting of the kitchen at the Undaground residence is now officially done. With every brushstroke, we're reminded that, like Frank the Tank in Old School, this is life. Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond are no longer just large parking lots on the way to Arby's. They are life, and life is grand. (Applause)

The yard is still a bit underdeveloped since Hurricane Wilma. Who knew the namesake of a beloved Flinstones character would leave such an imprint on the tropical landscape of South Florida. Wilma will forever be a powerful reminder of nature's fury, and a cavewoman whose hairstyle was way before its time. We will persevere, just as we did when NBC cancelled "Ed". We will rise up, just like we did when we had to be at the airport at 6am. We will rebuild, just like we did when the dog knocked over our double decker turkey club sandwich. (Applause)

The oil situation is strong as well. We currently have an entire liter of vegetable oil, and two, yes that's right, two bottles of extra-virgin olive oil. And there are reserves. The Undaground is self-sufficient for the first time when it comes to oil. Even in the worst case scenario, the Undaground has a can of fat-free, non-stick Pam. (Applause)

Transportation is where we face some of our greatest challenges. The baggage claim reform plan that I've laid out before the general public is slow to take hold. Exit rows are harder to come by as selfish old ladies with short legs arrive at the airport 4 hours before their flight to request them. Not only does this mean an uncomfortable trip for the Undaground; this means in the event of an emergency we're counting on a woman who missed so bad with the lipstick that there's actually some behind her ear. I propose stricter standards for sitting in exit rows. Little old ladies that claim they can lift 45 pounds should have to prove it. Exit row passengers should have to earn their spot, through competitive feats of strength performed at the airport. These are peoples' lives we're talking about, and peoples' lives are precious. (Applause)

With advances in technology, our lives have been greatly enhanced. The iPod has been like a small, shiny, melodic child to Mrs. Undaground and me. With 2007 in front of us, like a little mouth to feed, we have plenty of gigabytes to fill. Sirius satellite radio is tremendous. Some people still laugh at the thought of paying for radio, but they ought to consider the bottled water in their hand, and remember fondly the days when they laughed at the thought of paying for that. Tivo remains the ultimate tool for marital bliss. Pausing live television is great. Pausing live television in the middle of a football game to allow your wife to comment on her reading of "Memoirs of a Geisha", that's love. As I stand before you today, I vow to pull the trigger on television. Mark my words and read my lips. We will have a large-screen television before the first football is kicked off in the Fall of 07. (Applause)

May the Steelers win the Super Bowl. (Applause)

Let's pay teachers more money. (Applause)

Let's watch Survivor's new season, Thursdays at 8pm on CBS. (Applause)

Steadfast in our purpose, we now press on. We have known freedom's price. We have shown freedom's power. And in this great conflict, my fellow Americans, we will see freedom's victory.

God Bless Al Roker, and God Bless America.

Out of Hibernation

So, we finished painting the kitchen this weekend. This was the paint job that we started the weekend before football season began. It's amazing what I can get done now that the games are over (except for the big game).

Apparently, every man in South Florida did the same thing this weekend. I'm guessing this based on the Home Depot experience on Saturday. Looking around at all the faces behind the shopping carts blocking my aisle, I saw mass confusion. I saw the zombie-like stares of men who woke up and realized that there would be no football this weekend. Some cosmic puppeteer turned on the giant idiot-magnet at Home Depot and there we all were, like a huge flock of moths flying toward the hypnotic power of the paint-shaking machine. Dropcloths were selling like hotcakes. Next door at Denny's, hotcakes were selling like dropcloths. It was suburban synergy at its finest.

While we were there, we bought a light fixture to replace the ugly chandelier in our unnamed room. It's sort of an extension on our living room, but we don't know what to call it. We've been calling it the L-shaped room since we moved in, but hopefully Bill Gates can give us a better name whenever he decides to name the decade. Other than putting the Christmas tree in there, the only other purpose of this room, as far as I can tell, was for me to hit my head twice- daily on the ugly chandelier. Well, now it's gone. I'm proud to say that I successfully changed it out and it works. The best news: I wasn't electrocuted, and we made it through the first night without anything catching on fire as a result of my amateur electrical work. Now, of course, I need to change every light fixture or ceiling fan in the house because they're either ugly, or I hit my head on them, or both.

With each new project, I've noticed that the frequency of my grunting is increasing. I'm not sure when I started grunting. My grandfather used to grunt a lot, and I always found it amusing. I'll have to ask my grandmother when this started, because I've already begun developing a fairly large vocabulary based solely on grunting. I have specific grunts for the following words or phrases: "yes", "no", "I don't care", "thank you", "let's get out of here" (I used this one at Home Depot), "I missed a spot", "I dripped on the molding", "my back hurts", "I held my arm up too long before I realized I was hurting myself". I now consider myself officially bilingual.

One more football game, and then it's back to weekend home improvement until late August. Then, like a large grizzly bear, I shall slip back into my football coma for four more months until the circle of life comes back around.

Tomorrow: The 2006 State of the Undaground Address

Face Transplant Lady Interview

People Magazine has gotten the first American interview with the face transplant patient. I'm fascinated by this story. Here it is, followed by my less-publicized second interview with her.

The world's first face transplant recipient, Isabelle Dinoire, has been the subject of wide speculation in the press – that she has visited a bar, that she has been chainsmoking cigarettes and, according to her lawyer, Ahmed Akkal, that she has described her transplant as "like having a religious experience."
But on Jan. 21, when the divorced mother of two spoke to PEOPLE from her second-floor room at the Eduard Herriot hospital in her first American interview since her Nov. 27 surgery, she emphasized that while she's making progress, her recovery so far hasn't been all roses.
In fact, Dinoire, 39, told PEOPLE: "There have been reports about me riding a bicycle through the streets, but these are nonsense. Lots has been said about how happy I am. But this has not always been the case."
According to Dinoire, "I spend almost all of my time in my hospital room. Here I have radio and television, and there is also an exercise bike in the corner of the room. I haven't started using it yet, but that may change, I suppose."
She is also trying to regain weight that she lost during her ordeal. "I am eating as much as I can," she says. "I love fresh strawberries, but have also eaten omelettes, chocolate cake and all kinds of other foods," including, she says, "the odd glass of red wine."
Still, she refused to confirm reports that she had visited a bar near the hospital, where her room has views of the bustling street below. And though she's glad for visits from her teenage daughters Lucie and Laure, her lowest moments came at year's end, when she wasn't allowed to go home for the holidays.
"I spent Christmas here, which was pretty awful really," she says. "The doctors cannot yet give me a date to go home."
In the meantime, Dinoire, who was mauled last May by her black Lab mix after falling asleep on her sofa (both she and her doctor deny she had passed out after an overdose of sleeping pills), is, say her doctors, making remarkable strides. MRIs suggest returning sensation in the triangular patch of skin and muscle transplanted to her lower face.
In addition, facial expressiveness is slowly returning, and "she is talking quite clearly, although she has some problems with the letters p and b, which require the lips," says Dr. Bernard Devauchelle, one of her primary surgeons. "She's eating normally and drinking without dribbling."
Just as important, says Devauchelle, "psychologically she has totally accepted her new face and wants to keep it. She certainly does not look like the living dead."
But there has been a downside. Dinoire's return to smoking is "not the best new thing she's started doing," says Devauchelle. "But if that's what she wants to do, we can't stop her. Her family is giving her plenty of cigarettes."

My interview with Dinoire didn't go nearly as well as People Magazine's. I was having a hell of a time trying to understand her and I didn't want to be rude, but I think she got a little ticked off at me. I was on a cell phone so maybe there was some interference. Anyway, here it is.

The Undaground: Hi Isabelle. Thanks for agreeing to do this. I'm honored to be your second American interview. Has anybody else called you since the People interview?

Face Transplant Lady: Oh yeah. My phone's in ringing off the hook. It's really overwhelming, tut I'm critty excited atout my new face.

The Undaground: You told People magazine that this was like a religious experience. Are you a very religious person?

Face Transplant Lady: Not so much. I was raised Tresyterian. My ex-husband was Acktist, tut we were never very religious.

The Undaground: I think I caught that, but you were cutting out. Can you hear me?

Face Transplant Lady: Yes, I can hear you clear as a vell.

The Undaground: Can you hear me now?

Face Transplant Lady: Yes, I'm right here.

The Undaground: Sorry. It must be on my end.

Face Transplant Lady: No trollum.

The Undaground: I also read that you are trying to put some weight on. Is it hard to eat with a new face?

Face Transplant Lady: Not really. I'm getting used to it. I'm having a teanut utter and jelly sandwich right now.

The Undaground: I really need to get over to Europe, for the exotic foods alone. So, are you surprised every morning when you look in the mirror.

Face Transplant Lady: Not surtrised, more hacky than anything. It's like a new eginning for me.

The Undaground: New Guinea?

Face Transplant Lady: I don't travel much. I used to like to stay home with my dog.

The Undaground: Let's talk about that. Will you get another dog?

Face Transplant Lady: I don't know. It's too soon. I still have my hairet.

The Undaground: I'm sorry. Is that parrot or ferret? Or did you say hair net or carrot? It must be my phone, damned Nextel.

Face Transplant Lady: Hairet!

The Undaground: Right. Also, you're doctor tells me you can drink without dribbling now. That's a big step for a face transplant patient, no?

Face Transplant Lady: I like red wine, so I would say that it's a good thing.

The Undaground: I can't remember the last time I drank wine when I didn't dribble a little bit.

Face Transplant Lady: It takes some tractice, esvecially with two new lits.

The Undaground: So, you've had breast enhancement surgery as well?

Face Transplant Lady: No! Where do you get that from?

The Undaground: Sorry. I thought you said... Never mind. Can we move on?

Face Transplant Lady: Flease

The Undaground: Your dog?

Face Transplant Lady: What?

The Undaground: Can you hear me now?

Face Transplant Lady: Yes, you idiot. What is wrong with you?

The Undaground: Again, I'm sorry. I should have called from the other phone. So, are you planning to watch the Super Bowl?

Face Transplant Lady: I think I will. My auntie is from Vittsturgh.

The Undaground: Is that in France?

Face Transplant Lady: Is this some kind of ractical joke? Are you a real retorter?

The Undaground: I have a blog. I'm a blogger.

Face Transplant Lady: You're a clogger?

The Undaground: I've always wanted to, but I'm not much of a dancer.

Face Transplant Lady: Let's wrat this ut. Last question, then I gotta go glow my new nose.

The Undaground: OK. Sorry again. I think it's both of our phones now. Must be an electrical storm somewhere. So, I hear you're smoking again. What brand do you smoke?

Face Transplant Lady: Arlament Lights.

The Undaground: Those are definitely French.

Face Transplant Lady: Don't ever call me again, you vastard.

The Undaground: You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I guess you probably haven't kissed anyone yet with that mouth, becau-

Face Transplant Lady: Gu-Gye! (click)

10 Random Thoughts

1. WVU basketball lost to Marshall last night. For those that don't know, Marshall is the other college in West Virginia; the one with the huge inferiority complex. Ugh. That's embarrassing. I have a real-life equivalent. When I was 17, we had a ping-pong table. My brother was 12 at the time and beat me once. This might be worse, though, because the newspapers are writing about this one.

2. Speaking of newspapers, still no verification on whether it was Joe Pesci who punched the guy at Jamba Juice. Hush money or just a case of mistaken identity?

3. While I'm on the subject of mistaken identity, I have a random childhood memory that won't go away. When I was 5 or 6, I grabbed the wrong shopping cart in the grocery store, thinking it was my mother. I held on to the cart for a few minutes. It was filled with sugary cereals and tasty treats. I was proud of my mother for her wise purchases. After a little while, I looked up to smile at her and saw a large, scary looking woman look down at me and say "Do you want to come home with me?" Creepy.

4. Want to talk about creepy? This guy is the creepiest thing going right now:

I thought Jared from Subway was creepy, but this Burger King guy is the stuff nightmares are made of.

5. I had a nightmare the other night about a Geology exam. If it's not the "didn't study for exam" dream, then it's the grade-school "sitting in my tightie whities on the school bus" dream. Exactly how many years does one have to be removed from formal schooling before the nightmares end? Granted, there were times in college when I showed up for exams unprepared, but in grade school, I never got as far as the bus stop before I remembered pants. I probably should have forgotten them a few times during the "parachute pants" days, though.

6. The 80's was the last time I had to change a tire, until Tuesday night. I'm not sure if I've lost some strength, but the lug nuts seem a lot harder to loosen then they were on my '78 Cutlass Supreme. I'm probably not Nascar pit crew material, but 15 minutes for the whole ordeal was pretty fast (considering I didn't have any power tools available).

7. While I'm thinking about power tools.... I have a circular saw. I've had it for a year and a half. I have used it once. I need to find something to saw soon. It's the man in me.

8. "The Man in Me" is a fine song written and performed by Bob Dylan. It was featured in the film "The Big Lebowski", a comedy about some guys in a bowling league.

9. I haven't been bowling in three or four years. Mrs. Undaground is not a big fan of bowling. I'm not sure my back could handle it these days. Maybe if I switched to an 8 pound ball.

10. I could stand to lose 8 pounds.

Goodfella

Joe Pesci is not just a movie badass. Allegedly, he punched some guy in Boca Raton. Well, the Undaground happens to live very close to Boca Raton and, oddly enough, happens to enjoy Jamba Juice. First, here's the story. Then, the staff at The Undaground has obtained the actual exclusive transcript of what happened. To be clear, the Undaground is not 100% sure this was actually Joe Pesci.

Fort Lauderdale student accuses Joe Pesci of punching him in the mouth
By Stephanie Slater
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
Monday, January 23, 2006
BOCA RATON — A college student alleges Goodfella's star Joe Pesci punched him in the mouth after he took his picture Sunday in a shopping center parking lot.
Juan Carlos Montenegro told Boca Raton police that Pesci struck him in the upper lip and said, "you shouldn't have been interrupting my business," according to a report.
Montenegro, 24, repeatedly told Pesci he was a big fan and asked if he could take his picture, but the actor said, "not now," and kept walking toward his car, according to the report.
"Everything's in the report," Montenegro said Monday afternoon, declining to elaborate.
The Fort Lauderdale student was ordering a shake in Jamba Juice at 1400 W. Glades Road shortly after 1 p.m. when he heard employees say that Pesci was outside.
Montenegro told police he first saw Pesci in front of Circuit City and shook his hand. After buying a camera in the store, Montenegro asked Pesci if he could take his picture, according to the report. The Oscar-winner reportedly declined.
Montenegro told police he followed Pesci, who abruptly stopped walking and turned around.
That's when Montenegro snapped a photo.
A "furious" Pesci then punched him in the mouth with his right fist, according to the report.
Pesci's lawyer, Jay Julien, did not return a call for comment Monday.
Police, who took photographs of Montenegro's injury, said the right corner of his lip was slightly swollen. Montenegro gave his camera to police.
Police said the incident is under investigation. They first have to determine if the slugger was in fact Pesci, 62, who's had starring roles in dozens of movies, including My Cousin Vinny, Casino and Home Alone. "There are no independent witnesses," said Sgt. Jeff Kelly, police spokesman.
At least one person, however, is sure it was Pesci.
Salvatore Grilli, an employee at Jamba Juice said a man who looked and sounded like Pesci came into the juice bar on Friday or Saturday. He was with another man and ordered a wheat grass drink, Grilli said.
"He said his name before he left," Grilli said. "He seemed pretty cool."
Pesci and the same man returned to the juice bar on Sunday, Grilli said.
Pesci, whose next movie is The Good Shepherd with Angelina Jolie, Robert DeNiro and Matt Damon, also was spotted dining at Gotham City in Delray Beach on Wednesday.

The Undaground exclusive transcript:

Juan Carlos Montenegro: You're a pistol, you're really photogenic. You're really photogenic.

Maybe Joe Pesci: What do you mean I'm photogenic?

Juan Carlos Montenegro: It's photogenic, you know. It's a good picture, it's pretty, you're a photogenic guy.
[laughs]

Maybe Joe Pesci: what do you mean, you mean the way I smile? What?

Juan Carlos Montenegro: It's just, you know. You're just photogenic, it's... attractive, the way you look at the camera and everything.

Maybe Joe Pesci: [it becomes quiet] Photogenic how? What's photogenic about it?

Jamba Juice Patron: Maybe Joe Pesci no, You got it all wrong.

Maybe Joe Pesci: Oh, oh, Jamba Juice Patron. He's a big boy, he knows what he said. What did ya say? Photogenic how?

Juan Carlos Montenegro: Jus...

Maybe Joe Pesci: What?

Juan Carlos Montenegro: Just... ya know... you're photogenic.

Maybe Joe Pesci: You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it's me, I'm a little f*cked up maybe, but I'm photogenic how, I mean photogenic like I'm a swimsuit model, I pose for you? I make you snap a picture, I'm here to f*ckin' pose for you? What do you mean photogenic, photogenic how? How am I photogenic?

Juan Carlos Montenegro: Just... you know, how you look at the camera, what?

Maybe Joe Pesci: No, no, I don't know, you said it. How do I know? You said I'm photogenic. How the f*ck am I photogenic, what the f*ck is so photogenic about me? Tell me, tell me what's photogenic!

Juan Carlos Montenegro: [long pause] Get the f*ck out of here, Maybe Joe Pesci!

Maybe Joe Pesci: [everyone laughs] Ya m*therf*cker! I almost had him, I almost had him. Ya stuttering prick ya. Jamba Juice Patron, was he shaking? I wonder about you sometimes, Juan Carlos. You may fold under questioning.

A Moment with Rodney

Mrs. Undaground and I watched Skating with Celebrities last night. I am embarrassed to admit this, and I must say that the experience left me a little dumb. I'm less smart after watching this show. Instead of thinking of lots of things to write about in my weakened mental state, here are some classics from the late, great Rodney Dangerfield:

I'm not a sexy guy. I went to a hooker. I dropped my pants. She dropped her price.

What a childhood I had, why, when I took my first step, my old man tripped me!

Last week I told my psychiatrist, "I keep thinking about suicide." He told me from now on I have to pay in advance.

I tell ya when I was a kid, all I knew was rejection. My yo-yo, it never came back!

Oh, when I was a kid in show business I was poor. I used to go to orgies to eat the grapes.

When I was a kid I got no respect. The time I was kidnapped, and the kidnappers sent my parents a note they said, "We want five thousand dollars or you'll see your kid again."

I tell ya, my wife was never nice. On our first date, I asked her if I could give her a goodnight kiss on the cheek - she bent over!

I tell you, with my doctor, I don't get no respect. I told him, "I've swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills." He told me to have a few drinks and get some rest.

Some dog I got too. We call him Egypt because he leaves a pyramid in every room.

With my dog I don't get no respect. He keeps barking at the front door. He don't want to go out. He wants me to leave.

Last week I saw my psychiatrist. I told him, "Doc, I keep thinking I'm a dog." He told me to get off his couch.

I worked in a pet store and people kept asking how big I'd get.

My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met.

I'll tell ya, my wife and I, we don't think alike. She donates money to the homeless, and I donate money to the topless!

One night I came home. I figured, let my wife come on. I'll play it cool. Let her make the first move. She went to Florida.

I asked my old man if I could go ice-skating on the lake. He told me, "Wait til it gets warmer."

My doctor told me to watch my drinking. Now I drink in front of a mirror.

I drink too much. Way too much. My doctor drew blood. He ran a tab.

When I was born the doctor came out to the waiting room and said to my father, "I'm very sorry. We did everything we could...but he pulled through."

I come from a stupid family. During the Civil War my great uncle fought for the west!

My father was stupid. He worked in a bank and they caught him stealing pens.

My mother had morning sickness after I was born.

My mother never breast fed me. She told me that she only liked me as a friend.

My father carries around the picture of the kid who came with his wallet.

When I played in the sandbox the cat kept covering me up.

I could tell that my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.

I remember the time I was kidnapped and they sent back a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

My uncle's dying wish was to have me sitting on his lap. He was in the electric chair.

Once when I was lost I saw a policeman and asked him to help me find my parents. I said to him, "Do you think we'll ever find them?" He said, "I don't know kid. There are so many places they can hide."

I remember I was so depressed I was going to jump out a window on the tenth floor. They sent a priest up to talk to me. He said, "On your mark..."

When my old man wanted sex, my mother would show him a picture of me.

My wife made me join a bridge club. I jump off next Tuesday.

Last week my tie caught on fire. Some guy tried to put it out with an ax!

I met the surgeon general. He offered me a cigarette.

One time I went to a hotel. I asked the bellhop to handle my bag. He felt up my wife!

This morning when I put on my underwear I could hear the Fruit of the Loom guys laughing at me.

I'm a bad lover. Once I caught a peeping tom booing me.

My wife only has sex with me for a purpose. Last night she used me to time an egg.

It's tough to stay married. My wife kisses the dog on the lips, yet she won't drink from my glass!

My wife isn't very bright. The other day she was at the store, and just as she was heading for our car, someone stole it! I said, "Did you see the guy that did it?" She said, "No, but I got the license plate."

Last night my wife met me at the front door. She was wearing a sexy negligee. The only trouble was, she was coming home.

A girl phoned me and said, "Come on over. There's nobody home." I went over. Nobody was home!

I went to a massage parlor. It was self service.

If it weren't for pick-pocketers, I'd have no sex life at all.

I was tired one night and I went to the bar to have a few drinks. The bartender asked me, "What'll you have?" I said, "Surprise me." He showed me a naked picture of my wife.

During sex my wife always wants to talk to me. Just the other night she called me from a hotel.

I went to see my doctor... Doctor Vidi-boom-ba. Yeah...I told him once, "Doctor, every morning when I get up and look in the mirror I feel like throwing up. What's wrong with me? He said, "I don't know, but your eyesight is perfect."

I was so ugly, my mother used to feed me with a slingshot!

The Sports Gods are smiling

The sports gods are smiling on me and my teams. I hope I didn't sign some contract in my dreams or anything like that Keanu Reeves devil movie.

WVU football wins the Sugar Bowl and will be a top-5 team to begin next year. WVU basketball wins on the road at UCLA and is headed for another deep tournament run. Now, the Steelers will go to the Super Bowl for the first time since 1995 with a chance to win for the first time since 1980. I remember the victory well; I was eight years old. If I had known that I've have to wait at least 26 years for another Super Bowl victory, I probably would have had a cigar that night, even though it was way past my bedtime.

Yesterday, Mrs. Undaground wasn't very happy when I poured a cooler of Gatorade on her as the game ended, but she understands my jubilation and she played along.

This now changes everything about Super Bowl Sunday. Instead of being the fun-loving party guy who hangs near the chicken wings and mingles with others, I will be the super-intense, stressed-out guy decked out in Steelers gear and laser-focused on the television. Mrs. Undaground will need to be right by my side to fend off anybody who wants to make small talk or say something positive if the Steelers are losing. There will be nothing fun about this Super Bowl. This is business.

Open Letter to Bill Gates

Dear Mr. Gates,

This world needs a leader to step up. You're a visionary. In fact, I'm typing in a "window" right now. I believe you may have had something to do with that. It occurs to me that you have some influence, and can reach a much larger audience than my humble blog. So I ask you, could you please name this friggin decade before it's over?

It's been 5 full years now; we're halfway done, and still... nothing. The sixties, the seventies, the eighties, the nineties, and a screeching halt. I've heard some say the "two-thousands". That's just stupid. The "oh-oh's" sounds like a Swedish pop band. We, the people of Earth, literally have all the creativity in the world available on this one, yet nobody has come forward and taken control of the situation. The world needs you, Bill.

They have a name for everything. This thing that you're reading is called a blog. If I was to go get a manicure today and pay more than my usual 12 dollars for a haircut, I might be a metrosexual. You know the thing that hangs in the back of your throat? That's called a uvula. How often does "uvula" come up in conservation? No, not very often, but someone still took the time to name it.

Neglecting to name the decade will have far-reaching consequences. First of all, this decade will automatically never be considered cool, because nobody will bother referring to it like we so fondly reminisce about the seventies or eighties. Also, what will VH1 do? They have all kinds of "I Love the 80's" shows now; aren't they worried about this? If I were a Viacom stockholder, I'd be asking these questions. It's the future of their franchise. Maybe years from now, when they do their nostalgia shows about this decade, they'll talk about the time Bill Gates decided to name it. What about those Time-Life music collections? On sale now, Sounds of the Oh-Oh's. That just doesn't have a nice ring to it. I can't be the only person who is bothered by all of this.

I really never thought we would be faced with this dilemna. At one time, I thought it would be you who named the decade. We had Windows 95, then Windows 98, then the Millennium edition, then XP. You avoided the whole decade-naming thing just like everybody else. It seems like Microsoft is getting around it just fine, but what about the rest of us? Some things need to be done for the greater good. Yes, your legacy will most likely end up being something computer-related, but wouldn't this be a nice postscript? Ben Franklin didn't stop when he put the kite away.

I'm not saying I have the answers. I don't have a good name for this decade and I've been thinking about it for at least seven or eight years. I do know that there are smarter people out there than me, and you're one of them. Can't you take ten minutes out of your day and jot some ideas down? All you'd have to do is make a pop-up window letting everybody know the new name for the decade, and it's a done deal. We can then click on "do not show me this message again", and our decade will have a new name. By Monday, the whole world will know, except for those people who don't have a Windows operating system (just kidding, Bill, I know everybody has Windows). The name doesn't have to be anything over-the-top, just something that is universally agreed upon for pop culture's sake. Please, Bill, bail us out of this one.

Most Sincerely,

The Undaground (longtime Microsoft customer)

P.S. While I've got you, I'd like it if Windows Media Player was a little more compatible with iTunes. No biggie; just a thought. Thanks again Bill.

Go Ask Alice

My hair has officially reached Greg Brady status once again. I am in serious need of a haircut. This is the first public announcement that I need one. Usually, when this time comes, I like to let everybody know for about a week or two while I suffer with my 70's -do. All the while, I delay getting the actual haircut until I have somewhere to be where Johnny Bravo locks just aren't acceptable.

I really shouldn't wait like this. We're all trying to improve our youthful appearance these days and I'm told a fresh trim makes me look 3 to 4 months younger. When I do go to get the haircut, it's never really that bad. It usually takes only 10-15 minutes and some useless smalltalk. Why do people who cut hair always feel the need to share too much of their personal lives with the nameless stranger sitting in the chair? Yes, yes, I don't care that your neighbor has parked their El Camino in your grass, I just want you to take a little more off the sides. Thanks.

I guess the reason I stall the haircut time after time is the not-so-repressed memory from my youth. When I was 9 or 10 years old, my mother snipped the bottom of my ear off in the kitchen while she was doing some home hair styling. Truth be told, it was only a tiny sliver of flesh. We actually found it on the kitchen floor. We considered preserving it in ice to have it reattached later, but after the bleeding stopped I really just wanted to go play stickball so we washed it down the drain... and we never spoke of it again. With the proper flourescent lighting and a small magnifying glass, you can actually still see the scar today, but as I sit here bitching about my Greg Brady hair, there's apparently another scar that runs much deeper.

Alright, I'll lay off the Dr. Phil show for awhile and just go get my damn hair cut... next week or the week after, for sure.

Roll over Liberty

Get well soon, former President Gerald Ford.

Fried Food and Football: A Deadly Combination

As Mrs. Undaground could tell you, it's not always fun to watch a Steelers game with me. When Jerome Bettis fumbled, I was stunned. But check out this guy. He needs to watch this weekend's game at Denver on Tivo, with a defibrillator by his barstool.




Fan recovering from heart-stopper
Terry O'Neill
Andrew Russell/Tribune-Review
By Tony LaRussa
TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
For die-hard Steelers fans, Jerome Bettis' fumble as he tried to score from the 2-yard line was a heart-pounding moment in Sunday's game against the Indianapolis Colts.
For Terry O'Neill, of Rinne Street in Arlington, it was a heart-stopping moment - literally.
As he watched the game on TV at a South Side tavern, his heart stopped seconds after the crucial play in the final moments of Sunday's divisional playoff game.
"Jerome is my hero," O'Neill, 50, said Monday from his bed at UPMC Presbyterian hospital in Oakland, where he was in stable condition.
"I wasn't upset that the Steelers might lose," he said. "I was upset because I didn't want to see him end his career like that. A guy like that deserves better. I guess it was a little too much for me to handle."
O'Neill credits two city firefighters who also were watching the game at Chupka's I at 27th and Jane streets for saving his life.
"If it wasn't for Tommy Herbster and Dave Grady, I probably wouldn't be alive today," said O'Neill, an engineer with Local 95 of the International Union of Operating Engineers. "I'm very thankful that they were there."
Grady, of Carrick, who works as an instructor at the fire academy, said he and Herbster, a firefighter at Engine Company 22 in Arlington, began performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation after seeing O'Neill on the floor of the tavern.
"He was out," said Grady. "We called 911 and started working on him until help arrived a few minutes later, and they were able to use a defibrillator to get his heart started again."
O'Neill, a former weight lifter, said he did not believe he was seriously at risk of a heart attack, but doctors at Presby diagnosed him with hypertension, or high-blood pressure, which runs in his family, and an erratic heart beat.
When asked yesterday how he was feeling, O'Neill said: "The Steelers won the game and I'm still alive, so I guess I'm doing pretty good."
O'Neill said doctors who are treating him have prescribed medication to deal with the hypertension, and he is scheduled to undergo a procedure this week to have a pacemaker implanted to regulate his heartbeat.
Even though O'Neill likely will be out of the hospital before Sunday's AFC championship game against the Denver Broncos, he plans to take in the game in more relaxed environs.
"If I can, I'd like to go down to Chupka's to thank the guys who helped me, but for the most part I guess I should probably take it easy and watch the game at home."

My Super Power

I watched the Fantastic Four movie the other night. Four people get hit by a space cloud and each emerges with a super power. It got me thinking what power I'd like to have if I were ever hit by a space cloud.

Right now, the closest thing I have to a superpower is my ability to have people follow me in traffic. When somebody's following behind me in their car, I never lose them. I have exceptional skills when it comes to this. I would probably be a pretty lame superhero, like Mr. Pacecar or something, but if the Batmobile ever needed to follow someone to find a place, I would be the right man for the job.

If I had any real super powers, I don't think I'd want to spend all my time fighting crime. I have a wife, a job and several interesting hobbies so I'd want to just be myself. I know there's a lot of nobility in fighting crime, but it's not the path I would choose. I have a strong moral code, but that doesn't mean I have to spend every waking hour ridding the streets of criminals. That's a lot of pressure. Sure, if I could stop a mugging or two I'll do it, but it won't define me. I've taken a look at the super powers available, and eliminated most of them for one reason or another:

Flying: With the price of domestic fares the way they are, being able to fly would definitely save a lot of money. However, without superhuman strength to go along with it, I'd probably only be able to manage one carry-on bag, and I'd have to fly alone. Outside of business trips that my company pays for, I really can't see too many times where I'd want to travel alone without Mrs. Undaground.

X-Ray Vision: Had I chosen the medical field, this would be a really great super power. I could still charge patients for x-rays, without all the overhead of operating an actual machine. I really don't think x-ray vision would be useful for much else. I guess I could also use this to get a job at the airport, but judging from the idiots who ask me to take my shoes off, I'd be overqualified for that job if I had x-ray vision. No thanks.

Freezing: I do like making blender drinks, so this is tempting. Being able to make things colder would also eliminate the need to get bags of ice everytime we have people over. On the other hand, I'm just not very good at defrosting things as it is. I don't have the foresight to leave the chicken out of the freezer 24 hours before dinner, so the ability to freeze things would probably just complicate matters.

Fire: There are so many other options available (lighters, matches, etc.) that I don't see the need.

Invisibility: I could sneak into the Super Bowl without a ticket, but I'd have to be naked. I'll pass.

Super Strength: I'm strong enough now to open most vacuum-sealed jars. If I had super-strength, too many people would ask me to help them move.

Clairvoyance (seeing the future): This would make me a better poker player, and I could easily win the lottery. That would be great, but knowing the future would make life boring. I wouldn't have enjoyed the movie "The Sixth Sense" at all if I knew the ending beforehand, and my interest in sports would really suffer.

Breathe Underwater: They already have something like this. It's called scuba and I'm really not interested.

Shapeshifting: Some superheroes can take the form of animals. That would be fun, but with my luck I'd get shot with a tranquilizer and end up in the zoo. If that happened, it would be very difficult to decide when to turn back into myself with all those people watching.

Elastic Skin: This would really help me with hanging Christmas lights. Every other time of the year, it's just creepy.

Superhuman Speed: Running is tough on the knees and ankles. Fast or not, I'd be in a wheelchair by age 50.

So, with all of these super powers eliminated, I would choose the only option that really makes sense for me:

Control the Weather: With all the recent hurricanes, this really would have come in handy. I've been to concerts in the past where it's rained and it's just a sloppy mess. I think this is a practical super power that could enhance my everyday life, and I wouldn't have to be out fighting crime all the time. I wouldn't change the weather much, just enough to make things a little better. I could still make some money gambling by altering the weather at football games, just for fun.

Thank you, Big Ben

How about this for a season-saving tackle. What a game! Let's Go Steelers!

Brrrrrrr.

The cold snap continued this morning in West Palm Beach, with temperatures once again sinking into the mid-40's overnight. I'm not sure how much longer we can take this nip in the air.

I promise that I will keep posting just as long as I can hold out. We're bundled up and huddled together for warmth here. We've burned a few pieces of furniture, but most of our couches were already set ablaze after the Mountaineers victory so we've moved on to the lawn furniture. The animals are holding up OK, but our ornamental plants are fighting a losing battle.

I hope it warms up soon. I own three sweaters, and all of them are now ragged and torn from the harsh winter weather that has come our way.

Please, don't worry about us. We'll get through this. I have only partial feeling in my fingertips from the wind chill, so sorry about any typos in this post.

Does a bear sh*t in the woods?

The other night, Mrs. Undaground and I met for dinner at our favorite local hangout. I was feeling saucy and decided to order the "meal deal" which consisted of:

• A beer
• 1/2 Rack of BBQ'd Ribs
• French Fries
• Three Garlic Rolls
• A Caesar Salad

After completing my order, the waitress said: "The caesar salad comes with bacon bits and croutons, is that OK?"

Um, does a bear sh*t in the woods?

39 Cent Stamps

In case you missed it, stamps are now officially 39 cents. I have actually been waiting for this moment for awhile, since I have some old 13 cent stamps lying around. I guess I got them back in the late 70's. Well, according to my math, I can now attach three of these things to an envelope and I'm good to go. I think it was legendary basketball coach John Wooden who said "failure to prepare is preparing to fail".




I hope that the next increase is just a penny. Then, I can dig back into my stash from the early 80's and once again, I will have beaten the system.



Hope the glue on these stamps still tastes like cotton candy.

I may be cured

About a week ago, it was brought to my attention by Mrs. Undaground, that I may have a snoring problem. She's a heavy sleeper, so it's never been an issue before. However, this time she was reading a book and I had fallen asleep on the couch. I was sleeping on my back and she told me that a few times it sounded like I stopped breathing, then woke myself up, then grunted and went back to sleep. I have no recollection of any of this. How long has this been going on? It it the holiday pounds? Have I been snoring myself to near-death for years and I'm just now finding out?

I read all about sleep apnea, and for a short time one morning I was convinced that I was close to the end. I was thinking about what music I wanted played at my funeral. This is nothing to be alarmed about, because a sore throat or a skinned knee will usually lead me to the same thing. I guess I'm at that age. Sleep apnea is serious business, and the only treatment I'm aware of looks like this:

I don't want to wear one of those. His bed sheets are kind of cool and trendy-looking though.

I decided I needed to find an over-the-counter remedy. I went to CVS and bought Breathe-Right strips for the nose and Breathe-Right spray for the throat. Without submitting to a medically-sponsored sleep study, I couldn't pinpoint whether I'm a nose or a throat snorer. Apparently, there's a difference. For two nights now, I have made the anti-snoring preps part of my nightly routine (right after fluffing the body pillow and right before removing the fuzzy slippers). The whole process only takes a minute, and it could possibly be saving my life. Up until now, I've only seen some professional football players wearing the nose strips, so I have to be careful not to arm tackle Mrs. Undaground when I run out of the tunnel, er bathroom.

I'm incredibly happy to report that I have not snored for two nights, according to my wife. I might make it through this one.

For the record, Mrs. Undagrounds snores are very quiet and ladylike and certainly not life-threatening.

Tuesday Tirade

Those who know me, know that my travel experiences are usually not ideal. I do not like airports and I do not like planes. I have no fear of flying. I don't mind the security process all that much. I believe it is necessary in this day and age to go through what we go through. The source of all of my frustration is... large amounts of people. This is the same frustration I would have if I went to the mall the Saturday before Christmas. The worst part of the entire flying experience for me is usually the baggage claim. After what is normally an entire day of waiting in line here, having your chair kicked there, taking off your shoes here, having no legroom there, parking miles away here, toting six pieces of luggage to a shuttle there.... The end of the day is always topped with the baggage claim. Baggage claim: indisputable evidence that people are generally stupid.

Why, oh why, is it that people feel the need to have there shins pressed up against the carousel minutes before the bags even start coming out of the chute? Then, they guard their area like they're a basketball player waiting for the rebound. Even when my bag is coming, I have to wedge my way through a small crowd of overzealous idiots just to retrieve it. Then, I get a dirty look from them as if I am the rude one. I do say "excuse me" when I do this, but I guess their ears are still plugged up from the flight, because they refuse to give up the small piece of carpeted real estate that they somehow feel entitled to since they're expecting a piece of luggage. After a long day of travel, elbowing through these people is not enjoyable to me, in fact it's completely unnecessary. Why can't people just stand back until they see their bag/s and then proceed forward to pick it off the carousel? The baggage claim sheep phenomenon is not limited to one type of person. There are busy moms, businessmen, children who have no doubt learned from their ignorant parents, and old people who you would think would be wise enough to hang back and be patient (especially considering these are the same people who will halt traffic in the supermarket parking lot while they wait 15 minutes for a car to pull out of a spot).

While I wait for my bags, I usually just stand back and seethe. The other thing I do while I'm watching the mayhem, and waiting patiently, is look at the other people who've decided to take the same tact as myself. These are smart people, who have it all figured out. Kudos to you if you hang back at the baggage claim. If I was the type to strike up a smalltalk conversation with a stranger, it would probably be with someone who hangs back at baggage claim, and the conversation would probably be about the people who don't. If you are a sheep with your legs pressed to the metal, please reconsider your practices.

One solution would be to paint a line. They have one at the post office and the DMV. Why not put one in baggage claim? Somebody please stop the madness!

Complaint letters

Somewhere on my list of things to do, I need to write some complaint letters. I always say I'm going to write a letter, but it's rare that I actually do.

Off the top of my head, I need to write letters to the following companies to complain about their product:

1. Cracker Jacks: I bought a box of cracker jacks in 2005 at a baseball game and got 3 peanuts. I realize peanuts are probably more expensive than caramel corn, but come on... I payed $4 for this once-tasty treat and the temporary tattoo was pretty lame.

2. Corona: There was some strange glass shavings on the outside of some Corona bottles we purchased and one of them actually pierced my finger and drew blood. It was not a serious injury, but there are enough risks associated with enjoying a beer as it is.

3. Ritz Carlton: The valet guy actually gave my car to my brother. I could understand this if I had an uncommon last name, but had my brother been an actual car thief I'd be without one Toyota Camry today. Yes, the robe in the room was comfortable, but not worth losing my car over.

4. Spirit Airlines: Three hours on the tarmac and no flying. If I was going to sit somewhere for three hours and not move, it would be my couch. There's much more leg room and bags of pretzels are much easier to open. Plus, on my couch, I don't have a 10-year-old constantly kicking the back of my seat.

5. The Chicago Cubs: 98 years and still no World Series victory. This is really getting old.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everybody. Hope all of your resolutions are still intact.

I have several resolutions. So far they're all still going strong because I have incredibly strong resolve:

1. Swear less. Last year my resolution was to swear more. I probably overdid it a bit, so I would like for the pendulum to swing the other way. Last year, I was rated R. This year, I shall keep it PG-13. That means I can only use the F-word occasionally, but never as a verb.

2. Exercise. I haven't actually done this yet, but I still have 11 months and 3 weeks so I will find some time to get this one done. I am considering purchasing a used stationary bike, but Mrs. Undaground is concerned that it may quickly become an ugly piece of furniture used only to hang laundry. Negotiations are ongoing. I may have to go see a chick-flick to complete this deal.

3. Come up with a new pet name for Mrs. Undaground. I've been calling her "Baby" for almost 5 years. This was good for awhile, but lately I've noticed that everyone is "baby". My brother calls his girlfriend "baby". We've actually had a discussion about it and he won't budge. Every couple on the Amazing Race calls each other "baby". It's out of control. If I say "Baby" in the supermarket, thirty people respond (and not just infants!). There was a time when I experimented with "Dollface", but Mrs. Undaground is not a big fan of that one. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Recently, I've actually called her by her name a few times, which is pretty cool, but I think I want some more options.

4. This one's a little more personal: Fart in front of Mrs. Undaground. Sorry I had to share that, but now that we've been married for almost a year and a half, I need to do this. I don't want to change the culture of our relationship and do it all the time, I just want to make the option available to me in case there's ever a substantial need. I've already shared this information with her, and she's not really happy about it, but it's just something I've got to do. I should have never let it go this far without letting one slip out, because now I've created an expectation that I'll never do it. I'm just not sure I can age gracefully without this freedom. Furthermore, it may bring us closer together, although I guess her immediate reaction will be to pull away from me. This will take considerable courage on my part and I need to wait for the right time. Looking at my calendar, I'm shooting for mid-Spring on this one.

Those are my resolutions. I wanted to be realistic, and come up with resolutions that are specific and measurable. I am confident that I can stick to all of these lofty goals for 2006.


IN OTHER NEWS -- GO MOUNTAINEERS! Monday night's Sugar Bowl was glorious. It was probably the biggest victory ever for WVU football and I couldn't happier as a fan or more proud as an alumnus. The future looks bright for this team, too, so it's not too late for anybody to jump aboard the bandwagon and enjoy the ride.