Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks...

My god, the impossible has just become possible. Let the ticker tape fly and the beers be consumed. The Average Joe's have taken down the mighty Goliath and we are just one step closer to smelling sweet, sweet victory (man, I really hope victory smells good though, like vanilla, or chocolate chip cookies, and not like old socks or something). Our lowly Detroit Tigers have finally gotten a taste of the good life. We can finally know how it feels to walk around with our heads held high and a sense of pride in our weathered tigers hats. The postseason of a good team lights up the city and we all are excited to be here.

I've been watching the Tigers since I was a little kid, trading baseball cards like they were going out of style, idolizing the great Kirk Gibson and loving every minute of it. Sure, I sucked at T-Ball myself (I got hit in the head with the ball and it freaked me out ever since) but I loved to be downtown, with the smell of fresh roasted peanuts in the air, the chant of "Lou" at Tiger's Stadium, sneaking down from our obstructed view seats to better ones, catching the ambiance of all that is Detroit Tigers baseball. From the corner of Michigan and Trumball to the now hallowed grounds of the CoPa, the Tigers have finally earned thier due.

I can feel the excitement in the air. From now to the end of October (I hope), my eyes, ears, and possibly even my pancreas will be glued to the story that will unfold before us. We have been starved for this moment and now, we will eat at the table of winners.

Puppygate 2005

Well, puppygate is finally over; good guys-1, evil adoption lady-0. After two months of paperwork, phone calls, and dog interviews, Jenny and I have our dog, and man, is she going to be spoiled. After a long haul of her being shifted from home to home, she's finally in a place where she can spend her days living the good dog's life.

We have never seen a dog like her. She is so good its spooky. Being only 1 1/2 years old, she is calm, listens to commands, and never had an accident in the house.

The dog moved right and and already thinks she owns this house. Where ever we are, she has to be, this includes at the table, on the couch, or even right in the bed. At night, once Jenny and I are nice and comfortable in bed, the dog jumps on up and inches her way up so her head is positioned on our pillows, right between our heads. Nice huh? Instead of saying goodnight to Jenny, I get a dog face looking right at me.

But beyond her little quirks, we think she's a keeper. Both Jenny and I love her. She even gets along great with Jake the cat. We can already see that they are gonna be friends.

So, last night as a treat, we decided to go for ice cream and take the dog with us. Just for fun, we ended up getting the dog a baby cone to try out. Man, I think she found her new favorite food. Once the first lick was made, she braced her legs, and positioned herself for some serious ice cream time. Liking the cone clean, she became an ice cream dog.

So our life with two animals begins. Jenny and I are starting ourselves the ideal suburbanite family here. Me and her, dog and cat, and in the future, maybe some little ones...but not for a while, haha.

Sit Ubu sit, good dog.

I am a Bad Blogger...

Fine, I admit it, I seriouly suck at updating this. It has been amost a month since my last post. I'm a lazy ass, so what. I've had lots of trials and tribulations in the past month that have kept me as busy as a sweatshop worker.

So, since this last post, I got called back to Oak Park Schools, but originally not the high school. I was called back to the desolate wilderness that is the Oak Park Academy, the alternative school for kids who can't "handle it" in the regular school. This was a trip, let me tell you...

I first expected to see tumbleweed fly past me in the hallways, as I first walked into the school. The "sheriff" of this one delinquent town was an old doctor guy who should of retired years ago. He greeted me, slapped a deputy sherrif badge on me and sent me on my way. As I walked though the hallway, I met the only other teacher in this school who warned me of stories of students who poured urine into the radiators and threw text books out of the windows. I truly was worried that the prisoners would be running this place.

On my last day of "professional development" at the academy, I was sent over to the high school for one last hoopla of school crap. I walked into the school, went into the office, and was greeted by an angel of school administration, the high school principal. At that point, I was parolled from the academy, and regained my position back at the high school. An entire gaggle of monkey were lifted off my back, and I breathed a sense of relief as I knew that my next year would be ok.

So, after a summer of job searching, sweating over how to pay a mortgage, and dreading having to work post-season at the good 'ol metro beach, I am free.

Free at last, thank God, I'm free at last!

Sig Heil Best Buy...

Alright, so I admit it. I've been a lazy ass this week with the blog; but to my defense, or at least to come up with an excuse, I've been working more hours then a small child making soccer balls in a hut in South America.

I have been a working fool. Sixteen hours in my metropark palace on sunday, getting home at 12:15, and going back there at 7:45am was not fun. I should of just slept under the desk in our office, at least I would of saved gas. Well, at least it was busy so my hours flew by.

Other than dealing with drunk boaters, and escorting gaggles of lazy people with barbeques and coolers around, I was the personal chauffer for a genuine movie crew, shooting a new blockbuster film...at least in India. Not hailing from the great movie laced city of Hollywood, these yahoos hailed from Bollywood, the Indian equvilent of our great Californian movie empire; except most of these movies are weird "romantic-comedy" musicals in which the actors dance and twirl around singing indian songs. I swear to god, after how much I had to do for them, I am demanding to be noted as a "key grip" or "gaffer" or something in the credits. I'm gonna be HUGE in India, I can feel it.

Next, and completely off the subject of dancing Indians, Best Buy is run by a bunch of Nazi assholes. So, back around father's day, I bought my dad some fancy-shmancy remote control that can control the tv, dvd, cable box, and even do my laundry or something, but after reading about it online, I decided to get him a different remote and return this one to Best Buy at a later date.

So after a little laziness and some final gumption, I braced to return the remote today to a) Hopefully get my money back, or at least 2) Get some in-store credit. Those rat bastards at best buy wouldn't even consider taking it back because it had been more than "30 days". They wouldn't take it back, even with the recipt. So I asked them, what if it was a gift and I didn't have the recipt...basically they said, in a round-a-bout way, tough shit, they aren't gonna take it back. What kind of fucking return policy is that? I could understand if I opened the package, or didn't have the recipt, but seriously folks...fuck them. This is bullshit. Now I'm stuck with a remote that I don't need and am $90 in the hole. We'll see when I give them anymore business.

Well, hopefully, now that my sweatshop hours have slowed down, and finally I'm becoming somewhat settled in my new house, I'll update this a little more often. Until next time...later.

My Moving Hell...

Lately, my creative juices have been on hold while I moved out of my pit of an apartment and into my new digs. I now realize that I NEVER want to move again. Holy crap, has this sucked; and this is only half of what has to be moved! Jenny's vast cornucopia of random objects still needs to be packed and hauled over here. This is going to blow harder than Tropical Storm Edna. I never realized how much shit I owned until now. I think I need to start just throwing things away.

Box, after basket, after bag each needs to find a home in our new abode; and not just any place, but somewhere that will fall into Jenny's master plans! Haha, just kidding.

Yesterday, a bribe of coney island convinced my cousin Butch, Jenny, and another guy I know named Erine to come to my apartment and move things, pack mule style, from the rooms of the apartment, down the stairs of death, and finally into two pick-ups, to be moved 5 miles, all the while sweating like pigs. Thank god for bribes.

Thankfully, Erine has some experience at this whole moving thing, working for a moving company and all, because the damn couch that took my brother and I hours to fit into our living room, was easily removed in a matter of minutes. I belive this proves to me that the Smitka family does not have great ability in thinking spacially.

So, after moving all the big crap, I stupidly sent my bribed help home and return to the house thinking that I only have a little bit left to go. I should never of opened my mouth. Hours later, Jenny and I are slaving to clean and pack the remains of my former residence, working into the wee hours of the evening. After calling it quits for the night, we decide to come back the next day for day two of the Ferndale Clean-A-Thon.

After work, and even two more hours later of cleaning, I wipe down the last countertop, and say my good-byes to the creepy ladies downstairs. Good bye Ferndale, good bye walking up the stairs of death, good bye living in filth, I will miss you all (or maybe not).

Anyway, after two days of moving hell, and many upcoming days of putting all this shit away, I'm finally here; away from the botomless pit that was my Ferndale flat, and into my deee-lux casa in Royal Oak. Home-ownership, here I come...

It's over...

Well, pollackapalooza 2005 is finally done and over with and I'm tired as hell. Many pierogies were eaten, many beers were drunk, and many Polish people were offended at our outlandish outbursts and fake, broken, accents. Overall, I would say it was a success. Until next year... Dziękują!!

Woof...

I think we're nuts.

Jenny and I just bought a house. I'm currently looking for a new job. Bills are starting to add up, and work needs to be done 24-7 to the house, just to get it ready for us to move in. And in all this, we decide we want a dog. What the hell...

Again, our brains must be on vacation in some distant land right now, because in all of what is going on, logic tells me that this is not the time nor the place to be considering taking on this great responsibility. I shouldn't even be considering getting a goldfish, let alone a dog.

But still I want one.

Like a little kid screaming and kicking in the middle of the grocery store, all the while demanding candy; I want a dog.

A few days ago, we found out that our new neighbor is fostering a 1 1/2 yr old Golden Retriever sponsored by a rescue agency. This dog, we believe, is canine perfection. Old enough to be out of the terrible puppy stages, but still young enough to be exciting and playful. Again, let me repeat...I want this dog.

Who knows what our chances are, but we are willing to try to jump through each firey hoop to try to adopt this dog (which incedently is named "Sweetie Pie", and will proply have a name change upon adoption). First, we had to call the rescue organization, who never answers the phone. We were instructed to leave our name, address and other bits of info, in order to even recieve an adoption appilcation. This would be followed by paying omage to the organization by sending $5 along with our application back to the group.

Upon approval of our application, and verification that our $5 is legal US money, a phone screening is conducted. Finally, if the phone screen goes well and the last iron gate is lifted, you must meet with 3 dogs to gain a personality profile. Seriously, I don't think it's this hard to adopt a human.

So far, the initial phone call is as far as we have got. Who knows if they heard our message, or even if they will mail our an application. All I can do now is just hope that some other person doesn't sweep in and take this dog away from under our feet.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see...bark, bark.