1978: The Worst New Years Eve Ever!

Like many of you, I've had my fair share of memorable New Years Eve parties. Festive parties filled with gaiety and romance: the kind of parties that will burn forever brightly in my memory. Then there are those parties I wish I had never gone to; dull, unhappy affairs that sit in my stomach like a badly digested meal. That is what happened to to me in 1978. If I could have foreseen the events of that dreary, miserable evening, I would've opted to stay home instead.

That year, I had no particular plans for that night so my friend Tom and I decided we'd scare up a party somewhere. I arrived at Tom's house(actually it was Mom's house. The putz lived at home.) and Tom wasn't there. His Mom told me that he and his brother went out to a party, thus leaving me with no options but to scare up a party on my own. Not exactly an exciting prospect.

When I eventually asked Tom why he didn't call to tell me about his change of plans, he shrugged and replied," Oh well." What a swill, I mean swell, no I was right the first time; what a swill guy he is. You know, there's nothing like a good friend. And Tom was nothing like a good friend. He was inconsiderate, cheap and petulant. One time, a friend of his and the friends father invited Tom on a golf outing. The friends father paid for everything. Well, at one point during the golf game Tom disappeared, only to reappear a few moments later sucking on a can of soda without bothering to ask his friend or the father if they wanted one. When his friend asked," Why didn't you ask us if we wanted a soda?" Tom's snarky reply was," You didn't tell me you wanted a soda." What a dick! What a piece of shit!

So anyway, there I was driving down Kirkwood Highway in search of a party and I happened upon a bar called Tony G's. Since I didn't want to devote any more of my evening to driving around, I went in and paid the twenty five dollar cover charge. Unfortunately, Tony G's was a disco bar( the disco scene was still going full throttle at that period of time) and I wasn't a particular fan of this musical genre, but it was either that or meander aimlessly around the city in search of a good time. Beggars can't be choosers.

Luckily, I ran into some people I knew and they asked me to sit down at their table. So there I was, sitting at a table with two married couples while I was flying solo, but at least I'd wouldn't be by myself on New Years. I noticed a fetching red headed female wearing a low cut black dress sitting at the bar. I also couldn't help but notice the group of men vying for her attention. She obviously thought very well of herself as she shot down man after man. After deigning  to converse with these would be Casanova's for a moment or two, she'd shake her head and turn away from them; her way of saying," You're dismissed." The rejected suitor would slink away and another hopeful approached her seeking to meet with her approval.

Accompanying this woman was a rather dumpy brunette, who I later found out was her friend. In an interesting turn of events, the men the red headed vixen cast aside then in turn made a bee line for Miss Frumpty Dumpty, hoping desperately to make some sort of male/female connection that night. As I surmised in a previous post: Disco Donna and her Friend Fat Cathy, this attractive babe chose to hang out with a rather unattractive female because there would be no competition with the guys. Although, her rejects became her friends prospects, so I guess that's how it goes in the dating food chain.

The people I was hanging out with urged me to try my luck with the red head and I being a cocky, twenty four year old Lothario wanna be, went over to the bar to try to win her heart. The problem is, you have to have a heart to begin with and I'm positive she just didn't have one. I spoke with her for a few minutes before being summarily dismissed like the others. I wasn't at all interested in her dumpy friend, so I slinked back to my table in defeat. Had I been a few years older, I would have realized my chances with the red headed babe were zilch, zero, nada and therefore would not have bothered in the first place. Hey, I like a challenge, but I also know what a brick wall is and I don't enjoy beating my head against one.

My companions(who were regulars at Tony G's) told me that the red head's name was Cathy and that she did this all the time; rejecting every male who approached her until finding a man whom she considered to be good enough for her. Which meant that Cathy's dumpy friend Dawn was the happy recipient of the scraps and crumbs thrown her way by her picky, persnickety friend. They told me she was know as The Saucy Little Red Head At Tony G's(Cathy, if you happen to read this, the appellation was no compliment).

Then to add insult to injury, I finally met an enchanting women and thought she might be a romantic prospect .Perhaps this wouldn't be a waste of an evening after all. As we continued  getting to know each other, I found that the two of us had many things in common. Things seemed to be shaping up. Then the other shoe dropped; she was having one last night out on the town before taking her final vows to become a nun. I'm not kidding at all nor am I exaggerating in any way. It was one last gratuitous kick in the ass to round out a totally f***ed up New Years.

It was now after midnight and I'd had more than enough, so I tucked my tail between my legs and crawled away like the licked dog that I was and went home. All I needed to cap off this wretched evening was to have a bird fly over me and shit on my head. What a perfect way to ring in 1979!

As for Tom The Turd, I never saw him again until a few years ago. His first wife had divorced him and although he mentioned something about a court ordered anger management class, Tom didn't go into any detail. I wonder what was being that particular door? Anyway, he talked about getting married again because he wanted to have more children (he had a girl from his first marriage).The woman he was going to marry was someone we both knew when we worked for Delmar Photo back in the seventies, Dotty, who was like himself was in her mid fifties. Tom said they were both taking fertility drugs to increase their chances of having a child.

If I had liked the asshole, I would have wished him luck and left him in peace. But since I loathed the bastard, I was blunt and said that because of their age, having a child was a bad idea. First, since they both were in their mid fifties the chances of  having a child with Downs Syndrome extremely high. Second, Tom had a hatchet face, while Dotty was bucktoothed, knobby kneed with frizzy hair and dumb as shit. Even if the kid was spared Downs Syndrome, he or she would end up being hatchet faced, frizzy haired, knock kneed, bucked toothed and dumb as shit. Either way the kid was cursed. Tom snarled," Who cares what you think", gave me the finger and walked away. Oh well, some people can't handle the truth.

Disco Donna and Her Friend Fat Cathy

The year was 1979 and I worked at Delmar Photo(a photo developing lab) as a delivery driver. As far as jobs go, it wasn't a bad gig; my route covered the Delaware/Pennsylvania area and all in all I had my share of interesting experiences during the six years I was employed there.

One day, two girls fresh out of high school (Donna and Cathy) were hired to work in the lab.Although at first they didn't know each other, both girls quickly struck up a friendship though I couldn't figure out why because they were completely opposite: Cathy was obese and unattractive while Donna was a total stunner. When together they appeared to be a female version of the Odd Couple.

Cathy claimed she ran track in high school,but I seriously doubted it. With her ample girth,I imagined Cathy majoring in home economics instead where she more than likely scarfed down every one of her culinary creations.But in her mind,she was a real looker any man would desire. Oh well, let her have her illusions, because between her extreme corpulence and a disposition that was miserably caustic,I didn't consider her much of a catch. Except of course if you find fat,nasty women irresistible,then Cathy would definitely be the girl for you.

Donna, a cute confection, was acutely aware of her external beauty and carried her herself as if she were the most beautiful woman in the room. Upon our first meeting, she let me know in short order that she would never go out with me because I wasn't her type. And I had yet to ask her out. Talk about an inflated ego! To be honest, I found her to be unbearably vain without a brain in her head. Sure, Donna knew about monumentally important topics like fashion and make up.However,subjects such as politics or current events went right over her well coiffed but empty head;so I had no real attraction to this preening Barbie Doll who had looks but no substance.The nickname Disco Donna was bestowed upon her because of her passionate love of disco music,which enjoyed a burst of popularity during the late seventies/early eighties. She was the type of person who would mindlessly bebop her way throught life.

As to the reason for this mismatched pairs close friendship, it was a matter of simple deduction:Donna didn't consider Cathy to be any sort of competition when it came to the opposite sex. Whenever they hung out together,the guys who were attracted to Donna wouldn't have given Cathy's fat ass a second glance. While the guys who gravitated toward Cathy were realistic enough to know that a babe like Donna was totally out of their league and wouldn't have given them the time of day.

Now,except to exchange pleasantries with the both of them when at work, I never had much to do with Donna and Cathy; which brings me to a rather unpleasant incident that occurred. One day, I began getting irate phone calls at home and work from Donna's boyfriend accusing me of having an affair with her behind his back. Threats were uttered and I began to worry. One of my co-workers,an illiterate hillbilly named Rocky, taunted me about what Donna's boyfriend would do to me when he got a hold of me.

This went on for a couple of weeks and at one point I said to Donna," Why is your boyfriend threatening me? You won't even go out with me!" Eventually Cathy and Rocky admitted they had played a prank on me,laughing all the while. Cathy was laughing so hard tears of mean spirited merriment poured down her jowly, pig like face. I didn't find their cruel joke the least bit funny and from that day on I despised the both of them. I mean, what the hell did I ever do to them to deserve the despicable prank that was played on me? Years later when I read Rocky's obituary in the newspaper I thought to myself " So f***ing what." I hated that little hillbilly prick anyway. To me, his death meant there was one less piece of white trash walking the earth.

As far as Cathy concerned,I eventually had my own private laugh at her expense. After not having much success with men,she finally found someone who would put up with her,I mean, love her. His name was Mike and was introduced to her by a mutual friend and co-worker Cliff. He was a cartoonish looking fellow;picture Ichabod Crane with a huge adams apple and a galumphing walk. One day, Cliff informed me that Mike hadn't seen Cathy for two days because he was avoiding her. It seems he wanted to break up with her but didn't have the intestinal fortitude to say anything because Mike was afraid she'd beat the shit out of him. Cliff swore me to secrecy, so being a man of my word I refrained from throwing this juicy little morsel in her fat face. Something I would have enjoyed immensely.

In the end, he continued dating her(I wonder what feeble excuse he gave her explaining his two day absence) and they eventually married. It's more than likely Mike came to the conclusion that Cathy was the best he would ever do, so better to have her than nobody at all. Or perhaps he still harbored fears Cathy might go ballistic and beat him up, so he did whatever was necessary to avoid incurring her wrath. Ah! What some people do for love. Or to keep from visiting the Emergency Room for that matter.

And although I never saw them after leaving Delmar Photo,(if I never set eyes on that miserable cow ever again there will be no void in my life,that's for sure) I did run into Donna The Magnificent. I was married at the time and my wife managed the GNC vitamin store in the Christiana Mall. By co-incidence,Donna happened to be working as a clerk at a music store called Wall To Wall Sound. You always knew when Donna was on duty from the thump da da thump of the disco beat(now called Dance Music) which emanated from the stores sound system. Donna presumably was getting herself pumped up before hitting some dance club after work to boogie oogie oogie into the wee hours of the morning.

One night as I waited in front of the GNC store for my wife to get off of work, Donna happened to standing a few feet away from me and was talking to a friend about her recent wedding. She prattled on about the gown she wore,what kind of shoes she had on, how hot she looked ect,ect,ect. Not once, however, did Donna ever mention anything about the groom.It was all about her(naturally). You would have thought she had married herself;a Dennis Rodman of the eighties if you will. And although I know differently,well, anything's possible.

My Misadventures In Romance:The Day Crazy Helene Kooked Out.

Let me step up to the plate and confess to you, when it has come to a few of my previous relationships with the fairer sex, there's been a time or two (maybe even three or four times as far as that goes) when I haven't used my best judgement. Loneliness, desperation, the need for affection have driven me to seek the company of women who were totally wrong for me. You know the drill, any port in a storm.

This can said about Helene. The best word I can use in describing her is psychotic. If I had employed rational, clear thinking instead of going with my heart, I could've avoided a whole world of insanity that I willingly endured in order to have a girlfriend.

We met when I was working as a telemarketer at a company called Dial Direct. From our first meeting there was an unmistakable chemistry between us. A a co-worker named Doug once warned me about becoming romantically involved at the work place. His advice was: Never meet your honey where you make your money. I turned a deaf ear and followed my heart instead. Considering the eventual outcome, I should've followed his advice to the letter.

The first thing about Helene that I considered rather off putting were her racist views. When ever she mention black people the N word was thrown about with disturbing regularity. One time, I mentioned that I like getting a little tan during the summer. Helene replied humorously, "Don't get too tan or I won't go out with you." But it was the way she said that remark which me feel as if she really meant it, all kidding aside. This alone should have set off an alarm in me to drop her like the proverbial hot potato and find someone else, but I just ignored it. My rationale was that just because Helene was a frothing at the mouth bigot was no reason to stop seeing her. You know, live and let live, to each his own ect, ect. Proof positive that loneliness really does make us throw our common sense right out the window.

Then on top of that were her outbursts. Little things she would say or do that made me question her sanity. At the time I didn't have a car, so Helene would drive me to work and back home. One day on our way to work Helene, for reasons unknown, appeared to be agitated about something. When I asked if anything was wrong, she simply brushed it off. Then, without any provocation Helene began talking about "goggle heads", how they should be put into a room and have their heads cut off. She shouted," F**k 'em all! Kill 'em!"

As you can imagine, I was shocked by this outburst. But the worst was yet to come. At one point, Helene fished a half smoked cigarette butt out of the ashtray, lit it and began puffing away nervously. Suddenly, she took the steering wheel and began zigzagging her car across the two lane highway before finally composing herself. Helene said she was sorry and the remainder of our trip was uneventful. But I don't mind telling you that I was unnerved, as well as being a little scared, by her unexplained psychotic behavior. This was one thrill ride I surely did not enjoy: Helene's Tunnel of Insanity.

Now at this juncture, most men would've run away from her screaming. You know, thanks for inviting me to share your insanity, but no thanks. Not me. I chose to view her actions as quirky and colorful. For some unfathomable reason I still wanted her as my girlfriend.

Then came the beginning of the end. It was the New Years Eve of 1994 and we had made plans to go out to a party that evening. While we were at work, Helene all of the sudden announced that her mother was in critical condition at the hospital. She said she was going to see her, so she had to cancel our New Years festivities. Naturally I understood, even though her manner was strange. The way she darted her eyes away from me and her nervous mannerisms as she talked made me suspect Helene wasn't being truthful with me.

When we saw each other the day after New Years I asked Helene how her mother was doing. She replied vaguely," She's okay, I guess." Wait a freaking minute!  Helene's mother was supposedly in the hospital practically at deaths door and she guess's her mother is "okay"? Something fishy was definitely going on. I didn't want to know the truth, so I never pressed the issue although in the back of my mind I felt Helene had been with someone else that evening.

It was on Valentine's Day, that special, romantic day, that Helene kicked me to the curb. She bluntly informed me that I wasn't good enough for her, but she still wanted to be friends. I was totally God smacked. I let her rampant racist comments go unchallenged. That day she had her manic episode during our drive to work I passed it off as a quirky occurrence. I willingly and charitably put up with her foibles yet Helene considered me to be beneath her? Unbelievable! From that day forward we co-existed at work amicably if distantly.

Helene eventually was fired. She had this annoying habit whenever a co-worker, especially a black co-worker, would tap or touch her on the shoulder to ask a question, of leaping out of her chair shrieking," Don't touch me! I don't anyone to touch me!" This lead to the people in the office to refer to Helene behind her back as "Crazy Helene" and "Crazy Girl" while I had the dubious distinction of being known as "Crazy Girl's Boyfriend". Cute, huh?

Anyway, following several repeated insane outbursts, Helene was called to the office to be told her services were no longer required. And although I was at lunch during this bit of day time drama, I was told that after Helene was fired she made a snide comment to the supervisor(an African-American) saying," I never liked working with you f**king niggers anyway." So with that parting salvo Helene was gone from Dial Direct. Way to go, Helene. Way to go.

Although I never saw her again after that day(and am I thankful), several years later I bumped into one of my co-workers, Alicia, who had an odd encounter with Helene. Alicia was selling real estate and Helene called her up out of the blue wanting to purchase a house with money her father had left to her in a trust fund.

Poor Alicia. She spent an entire afternoon showing Helene different houses that were for sale. After few days passed, Alicia contacted Helene inquiring if she was interested in any of the properties that had been shown to her. Helene said that she decided instead to buy a house directly from one of her friends rather than deal through a real estate agent. When Alicia, who was a seasoned real estate agent, advised her against this course of action, Helene replied vaguely," Oh, I know what I'm doing."

And that was that, until a day or two later when Helene called her back. But it wasn't real estate Helene was interested in. She wanted to know if Alicia wanted to go to a movie with her that evening. As you can imagine Alicia was livid; she spends an entire afternoon showing Helene prospective houses only to be blown off by her in the end and now she's inviting Alicia to the movies. Alicia's response was far from polite. But what can I say? That's Helene for you.

My Tribute to James Brown.

THE GODFATHER OF SOUL GIVING 

HIS AUDIENCE EVERYTHING'S HE'S GOT.

In the world of entertainment, certain words are usually bandied about when describing an entertainer. The music industry uses terms such as genius, icon and innovator with such frequency that these very words lose some of their impact as well as their meaning. However, those three words aptly describe the late James Brown. James Brown died early Christmas morning of congestive heart failure and the world of music lost one of it's giants.

Whether it's soul, R&B, rap or hip hop; all of these musical genres owes a huge debt to Brown because he was an innovator. As the Godfather of Soul, Brown definitely has earned the mantle of icon. For fifty years, he has shaped the musical landscape, even if the soul, rap, R&B and hip hop genre isn't your particular cup of musical tea. And although the word" genius" is casually tossed about whenever music critics are at a loss for the right acolade to describe a singer or musician , all one has to do is examine the man's body of work to see how the appellation fits Brown like a glove.

I must confess that as a teenager I didn't particularly care for James Browns music. I was grooving to the sounds of The Beatles, Iron Butterfly, Uriah Heap and other rock and roll bands. His brand of music didn't move me in the slightest. Then in 1973 at the age of eighteen, I witnessed a revelation . A movie called THE TA.M.I SHOW appeared on late night television and as I watched Brown performing a song called "Please. Please. Please.", his prowess as a performer almost knocked me out of my chair. His vocal style. His dance moves. When Brown had finished the song, I had a new found respect for both the man and his music. That night I realized why James Brown was called The Hardest Working Man In Show Business.

Now, after almost fifty years of wowing audiences the world over, James Brown, The Godfather of Soul will now go on to his final reward, while his legacy remains with us for generations to come. He shall now take his rightful place as one of music's Immortal Legends.