My 55th Birthday Adventure - Three Grand Slams - All My Donuts

For the first time in years, I had a great birthday.

Some people really look forward to their birthday, others would rather avoid it. It all depends upon your age, I guess - and how well your most recent birthdays went. My last five or six birthdays have been awful, forgettable and even nightmarish. This year, I was anticipating a really bad birthday. However, at the last minute, I came up with a somewhat insane idea and decided to have my 55th birthday adventure - Three Grand Slams - An All My Donuts Film.

Note To Self - Skip My Birthday And You Can Too

Looks like another burnt birthday. The norm.

Birthdays are usually happy occasions. Family and friends get together to celebrate your birth, have a good time and wish you the best for the year ahead - until the next birthday. Depending on how your family is structured, a spouse or close friend may be putting together the festivities. And depending on what part of the country you are in, the festivities could be very brief or an extended festival. However, looking at the calendar I penned a Note To Self - Skip my birthday - and you can too.

Growing up in the Midwest, birthday's were simple events without a lot of fanfare. Your mother or spouse would ask you a few days in advance about your favorite dinner. If your spouse was not one to cook, "What's your favorite restaurant?" might be a question. Although, for all the time I lived in the Midwest, I don't ever remember going to a restaurant for my birthday.

On the big day, you'd enjoy your favorite meal with family and a few friends, a cake would come out, everyone sang happy birthday, you opened a few gifts and it was over. Once I turned 21, I'd head to a bar with a couple buddies, get drunk and never spend a dime. Someone would drop me in my front yard and that was my birthday for that year.

When I went to Las Vegas to live in 1996, I learned a completely new meaning of birthday. Birthday was not a couple hours with family and friends. Birthday was a full-blown event. It could even turn into a festival that lasted for days.

I only remember one birthday during the fourteen years I was in Vegas where it was at home with just family. The rest of my birthdays were at restaurants or bars or casinos and there were lots of people.

In addition to the actual birthday date, there were friends and business associates that had to take you out for a birthday drink, dinner, lunch, a movie, whatever. Birthday could take up an entire week.

Kids birthday parties were mega-affairs that involved all kinds of activities. You seemed obliged to have a clown, ponies, go to some bounce-house palace, roller skating, baking classes, movies or some other over-the-top happening that could include upwards of 20 or 30 kids. I never saw birthday parties like this until I went to Las Vegas. My days of, "Here's the lasagna you requested," a song, blown candles and a few gifts were displaced by the birthday event.

My mother, raising three kids, had a rule that we only had a party with friends every five years. You had one at age 5, 10 and then you didn't give a crap at 15.

Now that I'm back in the Midwest, I've returned to modest birthdays with little or no hoopla.

Last year, I was extremely depressed. The highlight of my day was talking to my then 9 year-old daughter on the phone; and seeing that dozens and dozens of people on Facebook, most of whom I had no idea who they were, wished me Happy Birthday. Some people are just freakin' nice. I really didn't care about the birthday wishes, but I felt better knowing the the human race was not a bunch of greedy, selfish bastards.

After I thanked every single one of the people that wished me Happy Birthday on FB, I had a burger or some other grilled food at my sister's house - no song, no cake - and went home. I don't drink anymore, so hitting a bar was not on the agenda. Maybe I should have taken myself to Dairy Queen.

Birthdays haven't been too good for me since about 2004. On my 50th birthday, my dream house closed and I had to get out, selling my custom furniture in my driveway to people who wound up never paying me, and moving into a tiny cramped house that was full of boxes from floor to ceiling. Exhausted, my sister, my daughter and I ate at some lousy burger restaurant. I thought that was the worst birthday I could imagine. I swore things would be different in the future.

Well, things have only gotten worse with every year that has passed.

I'm broke, unemployed, eating a pile of meds every day - but I have my blogs.

This birthday is supposed to be one of those milestone birthdays, too - 55. But it will suck.

Almost seven weeks ago, my ex-wife on the advice of a counselor decided that I shouldn't talk to my daughter on the phone. I can only write to her. This is something she can't do without a court order. She's concealed my daughter from me this whole time. Concealment of a child from the other parent is a category D Felony in Nevada. I'm working with her attorney, trying to get a reasonable agreement.

My daughter started school this past week, I think. I never heard anything from her or my ex-wife - another violation of our custody agreement - a contempt of court charge. There are ten violations in addition to the felony that my X will have to face if we go to court. But I'm broke and I can't do anything. Can't file a motion. Can't defend myself.

My daughter is all that matters to me. She's always been my best buddy. Everyone that knows us knows how special our relationship has been. But that was halted by her mother.

I really only want to talk to one person on my birthday - my daughter.

On Facebook, my name will pop up on that list in the upper right corner of the screen and I'm sure dozens of people will write the same things like they did last year, "Have a great time." "Spend it with people you love." "Have a drink for me." "Don't eat too much cake." "I hope you get something good." "Try not to get arrested. LOL." All of the comments were cute, but so far from reality - it was pitiful. This year, the reality and the celebration will be diametrically opposed.

But, one thing I've learned in my life, "If fun doesn't come to you, make your own fun." So, I've decided that I'm going to shave and shower late in the evening before my birthday, put on clean jeans and a t-shirt (those are the only clothes I own) and head to my favorite Denny's about 1 am. I'm going to have a FREE Grand Slam breakfast and write about it. Then, I'm heading to another Denny's and do the same thing. And again. And again. By noon, I should be in a carb and sausage coma. I don't plan on answering my phone until my daughter calls - if she calls.

You see, another kink in the day is that my X and I share the same birth date. My daughter will be at school all day and then she'll be whisked away for mommy's birthday celebration with her whole family and some of her friends. There might not be time for Dad in the whole mess.

I'd really like to Skype with my daughter and actually see here, but that is a pipe dream right now. It's been over three months since I've been able to Skype with her. Her mother won't help her setup her camera. It's a five minute thing, but that's asking too much.

So, if you're in the Cleveland area and you're at a Denny's and you see a guy groaning as he shoves another bite of pancakes in his mouth, that's me. Don't say hi or wish me a Happy Birthday. I'm planning on quitting smoking the same day. I won't be in a good mood, unless my daughter calls.

Grand Slam time, for as long as I can take it. Then, lots of sleep. I see my psychiatrist the next day. Once I tell him what I did, he'll be whipping out the PDR (Physician's Desk Reference) to see if he can prescribe a pill that will halt diabetes and sedate me into some form of sanity stupor - more pills.

I'll have fun. I guess. FREE food and my laptop - all day. It won't really be a celebration, it will be revenge. I'm still looking at the Note To Self - Skip my birthday - and you can too.

Related articles:
My Ex-Wife Cut Me Off From Talking To My Daughter On The Phone
With Divorce, Know Your Custody Agreement And Your Custody Rights
All My Donuts - 001 - Living In A Hoarder's House From Hell

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All My Donuts - 004 - The STATS MAN Cometh

STATS MAN a Dunkin' Donuts regular.

While hanging out at Dunkin' Donuts, using the FREE WiFi for blogging, I meet a lot of interesting people. Some are nuts, some are weird and some are just fun. The STATS MAN is fun. He's a real DD regular and provides tons of useful information, sometimes. Sometimes, he's just talking. But, no matter what, I'm glad to see him and we always have fun.

We had a good time putting together this video for All My Donuts - 004 - The STATS MAN Cometh. I hope you enjoy it. I know STATS MAN and I did. And Jasmine, the first person to see it outside of me and the STATS MAN.




And there you have the STATS MAN. We'll probably do another video in the future. I'm sure have lots of interesting facts to say.

Thanks for watching All My Donuts - 004 - The STATS MAN Cometh.

Other video:
All My Donuts - 002 - Sam Has A Jerry Springer Moment

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All My Donuts

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Remembering The Ford Edsel - An All My Donuts Film

What does the front grill remind you of on the Edsel?

In the pantheon of automobiles manufactured in the United States, there is probably no more infamous car than the huge project Ford Motor Company released in late 1957. The name of the car became synonymous with failure. Whenever someone came up with a bad idea, they used this name to let you know - "That's a bad idea." A friend of mine, Mike, invited me to a car show of these clunkers at a local hotel. The following video takes you on a journey, as we take some time "Remembering The Edsel - An All My Donuts Film."

Part of the problem with the Edsel is that consumers didn't see where it fit in amongst the offerings from Ford. There were also some innovation on the car that were unpopular with car buyers.

One of the worst innovations was the transmission shifter was push button and the buttons were centered on the steering column. When motorists went to honk the horn, they accidentally changed gears.

The station wagon tail lights were arrows pointing inward. People following an Edsel were confused as to which direction the car was actually going to turn.

Another comment was that the unique front grill of the Edsel looked like a vagina.

U.S. and Canadian sales were dismal and production on the cars, even after a revamp of the body style, was ceased in 1959. Only a couple thousand Edsel's were sold for the 1960 model year. And the Edsel faded away into automotive infamy.




And there you have the largest failure in American automotive history. But today, the Edsel owners love their cars. And we had to take some time Remembering The Edsel - An All My Donuts Film.

Visit my YouTube Channel - All My Donuts

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I Am Surprised Stand-Up Comics Were Never Killed At Gigs

Living on the road can be a conquest of survival.

Today I was chatting with an old stand-up comedy buddy of mine. We were discussing a gruesome murder of one of my friends that made national news. Reminiscing about our days on the road, he said, "I am surprised stand-up comics were never killed at gigs."

Stand-up comedy looks like a lot of fun, and it is. I loved being on stage and taking a crowd where I wanted to with my material, facial expressions and gestures. After the show, audience members often took us places, too. Common sense should have made us question more often, "Where are we going and why?"

When you're on the road, you go from town to town and they eventually become a blur. You meets lots and lots of new people. Most of us comics partied a lot. Some were always lookout for something to satisfy their libido. But all of us were in strange places, with strange people and there were a lot of strange things that happened.

Every comic that has spent time on the road has stories. Some of them are hilarious, others are scary and then there are the ones that are downright sick. None of us, however, have a story about a comic being killed at a gig or while on the road.

Comics have been beaten up at the club or somewhere outside the club. Comics have performed at gunpoint - I know I did in Haw River, North Carolina. A guy up front pulled out a gun and set it on his table and said, "You fuckin' Yankees better be funny." I danced and smiled under the Confederate flag above the stage and won the crowd over. But it was scary.

Another time, a guy wanted me to give a woman a ride home. He said, "She lives in a bad neighborhood, you'll probably need this..." and he handed me a loaded gun. - - - No thanks. But I did have a great time with the woman.

I heard a story about a comic that was on stage and the guy up front didn't like him at all. He pulled out a big Bowie knife, grabbed the mic cord, cut it and said, "Shows over dumbass."

In Madison, WI, I was headlining following a guy that used a dart board in his act. The dart board wound up in the back of the room at the hotel where we were performing. Someone grabbed a dart and threw it at me on stage. When you're on stage, you can't see crap because of the spotlights. The dart stuck in the stage about three inches from my right foot.

I've had people rush the stage, but were halted by the wait staff and club bouncers. And I've had a few people get really ugly at a bar or restaurant after a show.

A friend of mine and I were doing a show in Marietta, OH at a hotel across the river from West Virginia. My friend does an off-the-boat Italian character on stage, with a heavy accent. It's a character, not really him. We were in the hotel restaurant, eating after the show, and some of the locals heard us talking. A couple of the guys started yelling at us, "He don't talk with that I-talian accent. He's a fake. He thought he could make fools outta us." They wanted to fight. Management had them removed from the restaurant.

Considering all the places comics go and all of the unknown variables that strangers in strange places bring to the equation, I am surprised stand-up comics were never killed at gigs. There were, however, some very scary moments. More road stories to come.

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