You can buy new stuff but you can't buy a new party!

I dislike Hillary Clinton. I might trust her more if her face were a bit wrinklier. So the Leukemia Lymphoma Society dinner is fast approaching. As we will clearly not be in attendance, my parents are going in our stead. Someone has to fill in at the sports table. Delicious dinner and free hoarded booze aside, I am a bit relieved to be ending my streak as a volunteer silent auctioneer. I can handle the setting up portion—I cover a mean chair—but then the actual event starts and I somehow end up with scary rich people yelling at me. It’s not difficult work, no one else has problems; I just seem to incite the rage of women dripping sarcasm and diamonds. Also some random girl in a striped dress that glared at me all night for no reason. I wasn’t being paranoid, other people saw it and in fact pointed it out before I noticed. At least my run-ins were with strangers. Patrick once found himself in the food line next to a woman who had recently stuck her fingers in his bum. I suppose I should mention that she was the nurse that had done his pre-PC physical. I am frustrated that Word keeps telling me that my sentences are not sentences. My thoughts are difficult to punctuate. Anyway, my favorite part is the ballroom readying. It’s busy and mindless and I enjoy it very much. I am fairly sure that I am alone in this sentiment. There is free beer in the evenings, but only before dinner. If you were a planner, you might collect more beers than you need before dinner and hide them under the table skirts of the auction table. Come hungry, dinner is excellent. Pay attention to the minimum bids. Even after the price has been marked down, the min bid stays the same. So remember that before you are scolded by a kind-hearted but quite frazzled Sharpie wielder. Most importantly, don’t forget your enhanced breasts and piles of subtle 4-carat . If still unsure about attire, I've included this picture of Velda (at least the important parts of her) from last year. diamonds

Thank you very much, it is from Italy-- actually, no, Bulgaria.

We have been back in Jamaica for a few weeks but we have been without Internet access for 99% of that time. We apologize for lack of blogs, emails, etc. Our trip home was fantastic and we owe a number of people a huge thank you.

Nancy Skelton~ Nancy is a very skilled therapeutic masseuse and she offered her services pro bono. She spent almost an hour alleviating the giant knot under my left scapula then proceeded to donate some money to help us buy supplies for the orphanage. Thank you Nancy for donating your time and money.

Alan “Pops” Mazi~ My father hooked us up with boxes of Costco goods (complete with Erin’s favorite brownie mix), many meals, and the skiing aspect of our Colorado adventure. He also donated the use of my old truck back to me complete with gasoline included. And to top it all off made a special last minute trip to US Toy to pick us up two boxes of golf pencils, which are the lifeline of our after-school program. Thanks Pops for everything.

Tony and Jill Smith~ What up, parents? We’re sharing the authoring of this blog. I’m pretty grateful that you still let me mooch at my old age. I didn’t even mind that you painted my old room pink. Thanks for spoiling me with Target trips and happy hours. Our plane tickets home were largely due to a sizeable Christmas donation from you, and we greatly appreciate that. Home was wonderful. I miss you guys.

Laura Whitaker and the Notorious B-O-B~ My mother and Bob did most of the planning for our Colorado adventure and paid for the beautiful condo. My mother gave me her cell phone for the time I was home so that everyone could get a hold of me when they needed me. I stayed with them when we were in KC and they never complained when it was 58 degrees outside and I was sitting in front of the fire in their living room. They also contributed many meals and made sure I was never without ice cream. Thanks guys for letting me crash your home, eat up all your tasty-treats, and see Flipper again.

Grandparents~ Notorious spoilers, you helped us obtain our plane tickets. Grandma Mean made a whole plate of extra eggs for Patrick at Sunday breakfast, and a giant bowl of frog eye salad for me. I’m so glad that the Smiths were able to get together despite our hectic schedules and cases of pneumonia. I’m gonna go ahead and throw in other family here too. Thanks for the ribs, Uncle Doug, they were delicious. Thanks to all Meschers and Smiths for finding time for togetherness. It was lovely seeing you all.

Jennifer and Jerms~ Thanks for creating the time in your busy, busy schedules to make Colorado happen. It really made the trip to be able to have that time with you guys. Also thanks for being so busy that it required my niece Caroline and namesake nephew J. Patrick to spend so much time in KC with us. They are both amazing kids and Erin and I were glad to met J. Patrick for the first time and relieved that Caroline hasn’t forgotten us.

Little Brothers~ Thanks for getting us kicked out of the bar on St. Pat’s. It was a pretty good time. I’m glad you came to CO with us. You’ll have to come visit us in Jamaica as soon as you get vacation days. I appreciate both of you allowing me the indiscriminate use of your vehicles.

Davis, Hammer, and Willie~ My wrestling coaches took me out for beer and hot wings and actually watched some NCAA basketball with me. I was caught up on all the fun L-Town gossip and told of new babies on the way (Congrats again fellas!). Thanks for making the time to hang out.

Momma Bird and Bruce Lee~ MB and the Bruce Lee provided some dinners and also allowed their house to be invaded. Thanks MB for always acting shocked when the Dover, Shaggy, Jimbo, Mo and I talk about the strange. And thanks Bruce Lee for being a good sport despite Big Buck Hunter Pro proving that I am a far superior sportsman.

The Dover, Shaggy, Mo, and Jimbo~ Thanks guys for meeting Erin and I at the airport. It was awesome to have such a posse greet us as soon as we arrived and to drink beer with in the parking lot of terminal B. Thanks for making time in your real world lives, complete with real jobs, to drink beer, catch a concert (and see Flipper do his Irish dance), play late night Halo, etc. etc. etc.

Sam, Matt, Rachel, Lauren, and Carly~ You guys did pretty much whatever I wanted despite the fact that you are the ones with jobs and schedules. It meant a lot that you made time for me. I miss you a ton.

Evans~ So being home was strange, but I was decidedly comfortable at my grandma’s and Pizza Factory. I think I spent as much time with you guys last year as I did with my family. I’m really, really glad I got to see you even if it was a brief visit. It made me super happy.

Sorry if Erin or I missed thanking anyone. There were so many people who played important roles in the fun times had during our trip home. We miss you all and can’t wait to see you again.

Thanks again,
Erin and Patrick

They say you should never mix business with pleasure. Really. Then explain to me how a put-put golf company operates.

Sometimes horoscopes seem to very accurately give insight into your life. The guidance given about my day/week/month is so vague that it could apply to everyone. Really?! I am going to have a 2-star day? Dammit! I am getting so screwed. If only Venus would move out of my sign there would not be a ‘pressure (that) builds no matter which direction (I) turn.’ And tonight’s suggestion: ‘Ever playful,’ what the hell does that even mean?

I think horoscopes have about as much insight into my life as that drunk guy that sat next to you in the bar last week. However, recent revelations about our lives have been conveyed through a very powerful medium… Television.

As some of you know, my life has given many a sitcom enough fodder for entire seasons of hilarity. Case in point… Remember the time I went to the DMV to pick up my new license plates and was given the “ASSMAN’ vanity plates for that proctologist? Or the time that I got everyone to start eating their Snickers bars with a knife and fork? Or the hilarity that ensued when I had a shop that only sold the muffin tops and I had a huge pile of the muffin bottoms and my enemy ‘Newmon’ had to come eat away the problem?

Generally something hilarious happens in my life and later someone turns it into broadcasted gold, but recently something eerie has occurred. Animated cable programs have begun to reflect my life, and even to predict it. How could they possibly know what I am doing here in Jamaica in order to portray accurate versions/visions of my life? It has invaded the subconscious of Erin too!

*Side Note* Today one of the kindergartners mentioned that he thought my name was Hola Patrick. As in Hola as a first name, how did he get that mixed up? Does he think that when I see people I have not yet seen in awhile that I just shout out my own name?

Anyway if you want an animated representation of what has been happening (or soon may happen) in our lives just check out the following shows: for Erin tune into SpongeBob Squarepants and for me episodes of South Park. Recently SpongeBob has been terrorized by a monster moth similarly to Erin’s run in with Jamaican Mothra. He also mirrored her fungal dilemma when he got infested with ‘Ick,’ a fugus covering his entire body. Plus SpongeBob’s best friend is a starfish named Patrick, what are the chances? And to view a microcosm of my tribulations concerning Cable and Wireless, watch the most recent episode of South Park. “Which lights on your modem are on?” Seriously though… just unplug the router and plug it back in, it will probably fix the problem.

On an episode yet to be aired, we had to travel to Kingston for our quarterly meetings. Every trip to Kingston comes with its own interesting story, usually on the bus ride to or from. Well on the ride home I was wedged between the window and una chica muy grande. What makes this situation more entertaining (for you readers) is that my stout seat sharer was pretty into playing corners. The ride from Kingston is wrought with hairpin turns causing the heavily perspiring, plump she-beast to smash me into the window at every bend. She gave zero effort to hold herself upright. I was gravely concerned that I would be shattered through the glass. Luckily the bus window withstood the pressure and I was spared a distressing ejection from my transportation. But my bus buddy was not the only muy grande traveling with us, it was like our bus was headed to fat camp instead of MoBay. There was so much (wo)man-mass that we were riding both axels… BOTH AXELS! The logistics of this are astounding, how is this possible with food prices what they are?


Sooo, what lessons have we learned? When piloting a TV show make it about me and check local listings of South Park and SpongeBob for a little flavor of our life.

Art does really imitate life… Tricio

p.s. If something horrible should happen to any of the main characters, such as dying, be sure to call and warn us. Also should any large amounts of ice cream be in the future, let that be nice surprise.

Not an Office quote, but the much delayed packing list!

I promised a packing blog ages ago and after long last I have finally had both access to the Internet and time to devote to getting it up. Sorry for the wait. It is still a work in progress and as more volunteers contribute their ideas it should get better (as in maybe I (we) won’t forget to tell you something important). You can go to the address below or click the link on the right.

The TRUTHINESS Will Set You Free!
www.pack4pcjamaica.blogspot.com

Wow, you are a downer. And we were having a pretty nice day. day.

So I am 24 years old now. Thanks for everybody who sent their birthday wishes. Erin will be following me to this plateau on the 24th. I am a bit freaked out about this birthday. I am now out of the college-aged group of people and have entered into the young working class. Seriously, if I were to go to a ‘Quarter-Draws’ or ‘Penny Pitchers’ night at the bars in Columbia (my college home for those of you who didn’t already know… Columbia, not the bars) I would be that guy who was just a bit too old to be there. I would be too old to take that victory lap known as the 5th senior year and too young to be the cool old guy who returned to college after a few years of world travel and working crazy Gump-ish jobs (the book not the movie). Topically this seems not to be a problem, however all of my friends have asserted themselves into their new roles among the young bourgeois. Hell, one of them is a policeman protecting the public from the criminal and one of them is an engineer actually designing stuff that if he jacked up could cause serious problems. Yep, the guys that (may or may not have) beer-bonged malt liquor with me (or not me) are now designing the bridges you drive on or pulling you over and enforcing those pesky open container laws. Sweet Jesus, my friend Mo actually has a job too (Good job Mo, we are all proud of you).

Even many of my new friends, the ones I have made here in PC Jamaica, have a plan of what they are going to do post-PC. One was pre-accepted into pharmacy school, while another has been promised a mostly free masters complete with fellowship. What am I (Patrick) going to do? Don’t worry, for those of you concerned because you can’t come up with anything, you can rest assured that I don’t know either.

Now some of you might say, “Tricio, live in the moment and enjoy your time living on that tropical island. You can figure everything out when you are back in the states.” There is a bit of wisdom in this advice. Such pearly nuggets as… Carpe Diem! Live in the Now! Blah, blah!

Okay, rock on with the cliché, but if there is one thing that I hate worse than planning ahead is being stuck waiting. If I wait until I get home, I will have to wait another year to go back to school, but if I start now I have to work around minor problems like lack of internet, spotty phone connections, and any other problems I might incur attempting the application process from a different country. Such is the problem facing me (and really for that matter ‘us’… as Erin resides in the same boat). If we want to go to grad school when we get back we have to start the ball rolling now. I have yet to take the GRE, which I probably need to fly back to the US to take. There are applications (and application fees, not an easy hurdle on our $2250 per year salary), letters of recommendation, interviews, and so on and so forth. Remember that your invitations to my pity party are in the mail, so you can expect them any day.

I am just worried about trying to accomplish all of this while teaching and taking care of 100+ pickni dem. And I think our toilet paper is lying to us. It maintains it has aloe in it and I disagree, as it feels superfluously scratchy on my crack. And if it feels coarse on my gluteal cleft on Earth, it will most definitely feel rough on Uranus too.

Galactically Yours... Patricio