Big Red's last date is full of holes.

We recently had the opportunity to spend a day with 18 men from the Metro SWAT unit - and it totally did NOT suck. Upon our arrival we were introduced to the top weapons used by Metro for special ops jobs. We were allowed to touch and explore at our leisure. And then they actually let us handle their arsenal of munitions too, but only after careful placement of the necessary protective gear.

We had the pleasure of feeling the full power of open-fire with, pardon the highly technical terms, M-something's, MP-somethings, automatics, semi-automatics and my particular favorite - the Sniper rifle. Oh yeah baby. Normally it is Big Red who excels at any activity in the horizontal position, but this is where I'm afraid I realized I have a future if this lobbying thing doesn't work out.

As I took my stance to annihilate my ink-drawn silhouette PERP (Yeah I've got the lingo down) with one of the aforementioned weapons - some crazy woman to my left was screaming maniacally as her shells were flying past me. You guessed it - Big Red was in her element, and the only thing missing after her satisfactory aerobic exercise in domination, was the post euphoric drag of a cigarette - but she doesn't smoke. It's funny this is the first guy she's been somewhat close to in a while (albeit cardboard) and he's riddled with bullet holes after their first date.

Our limo for the day was an enormous armored truck affectionately name Bear, which has no resemblance to the paddywagons you may fondly remember from the nostalgic days of being escorted to Juvi from that raging Kegger-party. Nope this Boulder on wheels means business. It was a liberating experience to finally ride in a law enforcement vehicle sans handcuffs. Just kidding, Big Red and I have actually once before been in a police car without handcuffs - thank you Miami. What? He wanted to buy us a Cuban sandwich.

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When President Clinton speaks - I simply wonder what I'll be having for breakfast.

I'm here to tell you, when President Clinton talks, people listen. And I know this shouldn't be of any shock to anyone, except - I watched an over-packed room of intelligent societal figures breathlessly attentive to him, although they hadn't the faintest idea what he was saying.

At one point I glanced over at Big Red. And I had really tried to avoid eye contact with her during this painstaking journey through G-Nomes; sub atomic particles; and measuring light like a GPS, because I was convinced her head had surely exploded already, and I was not in the mood to clean up a mess.

So what I witnessed was the following, not only from Big Red, but from 99 percent of the people in the audience. Think of the times when your dog is looking up at you as you speak to him. And he stares at you in wonderment, ears perked up - turning his head to and fro - hanging on every word, while waiting for you to say anything he understands. "Wait, did she say ball, I think she said ball." "OMG I think she said Go for a walk, Walk?" "Snack? she said snack." And tail wagging commences once rewarded with a familiar phrase.

So needless to say, the only actual wagging at this event were the tongues of every woman who had that doe-eyed puppy dog look as they gazed into the President's eyes, knowing he would single them out to reward them with a word they might understand, "Treat?"

Don't get me wrong. I totally get the presence he commands when he enters a room; and his energy is all encompassing. But the moment he started talking of a parallel universe - my mind wandered to what I'd be eating for breakfast in the morning.

I would be remiss if I didn't tell you, the President sat a mere 16 inches from me (we were back to back) while other people were on stage talking about subject matter I actually understood.

However, in between Big Red and me was the President's carefully placed Secret Service Agent. Yes, we were in a 10,000 square foot ballroom, yet the staff thought it prudent to place the President's security detail practically in our laps. They will rethink such positioning next time, because as it turns out - we might be a little distracting.



(Big Red and Secret Service dude)

We were made aware of this when one of the President's Aides stopped by our table to ask the Agent if he was going to flirt all night or protect the President. Who knew he had a choice? I thought that was very liberal of them. Apparently in our effort to make the Agent feel at home - he was remiss in blocking a throng of people accosting the President during his Vegetarian delight.


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Chaz Palmenteri is not invited to Cabo with us.

Well it is a new year and once again I have to start it with the threat of a Cabo trip encompassing a gaggle of girls. You see, I will hit a milestone in February of the ever-so-grand age of FIFTY. Yes you read that right. I'm on the other side of the mountain now.

I will be accompanied by a Diva wrapping her head around the thought of SIXTY. And then there is Big Red, who'll (Yaaawwwn) be kicking her tires to Forty-nine. Whatever. Did you read the part where I'll be FIFTY? And we'll have some tots in tow which include BFF, Blondie and New Mexico.

(To the left is 5 of the 6 heading south with the exception of Chaz Palmenteri)

So for this trip BR and I haven't agreed upon anything except a flight schedule, but I was considering tiptoeing around the thought of curtailing our lunching, dining, and liquid consumption to a manageable three days a week.

(Couldn't leave BFF out of the photos to the right)


What? That's 3/7ths of what we do now. That could be an enormous impact. All you math wizzes can reduce that 3/7ths to some sort of recognizable fraction I'm sure. I would..... but I can't.

So more importantly, BR and I have a mission in mid-January for SWAT training, which we have to prepare our vessels for - even if for nothing more than honing our flirting skills for our lengthy time with our HOT instructors. We're not very smart - so this could take hours.

Afterall, BR and I both have untarnished records for saving lives in Mexico. That's right we're each one-for-one, which equals two lives saved. I was always pretty good at the problem solving math. Anyway, it could happen again.

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The only weight gained during the holidays is probably the growth in our livers.

So Big Red and I were discussing how today commences the 12 days of drying out. But my thought is why go crazy? How about ten days? Or I don't know maybe six. Okay FIVE and that is final. FIVE days of drying out. Afterall, New Year's is around the corner. So we'll just ring ourselves out a little. Then after New Year's we can definitely find some time for the full furnace blast heat dry.

There is always something to screw this up though. Things happen that absolutely must be celebrated - like your third cousin's acquisition of a new patch for Boy Scouts. Or when Doris finally lost her last tooth; and I mean the adult teeth, because Doris is 89. And especially the time Big Red found out the nasty rash she was sporting was simply from a razor burn.

This small time-out is a must for so many reasons. One of which is the fact that Big Red was lamenting she's obviously been drinking way too much coffee, because her teeth seem to be stained a bit more during the holiday festivities. Yeah BR. That's it - way too much coffee. It has nothing to do with the former contents of the bottles inhabiting the Green recycle bin - which is in an overflow capacity at the moment. Therefore we must halt this madness, because clearly BR needs to regain the reasoning portion of her brain.

(Photo)Moi, Jenny McCarthy, Big Red and BFF - okay not Jenny McCarthy, we'll just call her the Engaged One.

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Making Big Red invisible isn't Impossible

A devoted reader brought an interesting fact to my attention today. According to the Daily Beast - a news organization I follow daily (hence the name) reported a 15% increase in Champagne sales as the holidays approach. So Big Red, Blondie, Diva, NM and I say, "You're welcome America."

Frankly, I was shocked the number wasn't higher until I realized there was a slight increase in sales outside the U.S., which may have been where we were recently. Yes, we don't just designate the U.S. for Champagne consumption.

Children learn language through necessity to communicate their needs. Well as adults we become artfully multilingual for anything we desire. Actually, for Champagne it really only requires changing your accent and saying it with a question mark inflection. Champagne? Champon? Champagnya? The pop of the cork sounds the same in every language.

So in said "foreign" country the laws are very lax as to liquid carry-ons for domestic flights. How lax? Well I wasn't sure, but we were willing to find out. As it turns out Big Red and I had to race from our hotel early one morning to catch a domestic flight, but may have accidentally frozen a fresh bottle of Champagne in our room. It's the first time I've actually seen a freezer function in a hotel.

So, in all our logic with two hours of shut-eye behind us - we grabbed the bottle and threw it in our carry-on. After all, it is technically not a liquid at this point. We're hoarding a solid. We may have been asked by a few people in line what we planned on doing with it. Um "Drink it when it thaws, duh!"

One would think I might be more concerned upon approaching security in a foreign country where they so kindly offered Visas to us. I'm here to tell you, when you really want something - serendipity comes a knocking.

Then, it happened. Opportunity slapped me in the face so hard, my cheek is still red. A group of diplomats was being detoured around security screening and we figured; what's a couple more people? It just so happened Big Red and I were all dolled up in our professional attire, so can you say BLEND IN? Yes, I kid you not. My cloaking powers worked. No one ever thought I could make Big Red invisible. To this day we still don't know if the chemists in security would have spent time arguing solid versus liquid, but we weren't willing to miss our flight to find out.

And in case you're wondering, by the time we checked into our next destination - the Champagne was at the perfect temperature.


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I gave up a bout of Depression to only contract Tourette's Syndrome

Hello people. Remember me? I used to actually print words on a blog and send it out. If you are wondering where I've been, I can't really tell you. But, as it turns out, I've apparently been depressed. However, I've been laughing so much I failed to notice.

So now I must diagnose the cause of this state-of-mind. Is it due to the failed marriage of Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries; or the fact that I miss Charlie Sheen on Two and a Half Men? It may have a lot to do with Southwest Airlines not serving Diet Dr. Pepper anymore. I've been upset about that for a long time; and every time I board a flight with them, I'm flooded with the memories of what used to be.

I'm sure it isn't because of my recent reunion with a gal at MY gym who has shed layers of pounds; and is sporting a body load of muscle after a year of training. I could never be resentful of such a thing for a fellow human, because I know the hours of hard work it takes to get there. Jello shots were probably not part of her training.

Except, you should know this is how the short conversation transpired when I bestowed her with accolades for her accomplishment.

Me: OMG Girl, you've been working hard. You look great.

That woman: Well YOU were my INSPIRATION!!!!!

So, there is more to the conversation, but I must stop now and say to those of you who are reading this: NEW RULE! If I inspire you to work out - DO NOT - I repeat - DO NOT outdo me. Really? You want to come in here with your size two, ready for beach volleyball body - transformed from your robust size 12, and tell me - I was your INSPIRATION?

She said some other words after that, but I couldn't hear them, as I was in a cold, dark vacuum - muttering nonsensical, Tourette's Syndrome-esqe obscenities under my breath.

In my fog, I may have said, Oh that's great. You look amazing. You've really outdone yourself. Hey, when does your membership expire here?


Copyright © 2012 SUPER HERO, LLC. All rights reserved


Copyright © 2012 SUPER HERO, LLC. All rights reserved

What's worth trading for a $10 Hooker?

So I've always said I wouldn't blog while drinking. I mean, it's a no-no in every other facet in life. No drinking, driving & texting; no drinking and riding a bike; no drinking and stealing tigers; and the no brainer - no drinking and tipping cows. But I'm on a gazillion hour flight with Big Red, who thank God made it to first class this trip. I can see the relief on the flight attendants faces, NOT!

Anywhooo, we only made it as far as Salt Lake City without incident. Yeah well, trouble tends to follow Super Heroes and their.... well, whatever Big Red is. Some guy had the audacity to walk too close past me - when BR and I spotted in his hot little hands a Fedora that would fit perfectly on my tiny little pea-brain.

It's true, I have a pinhead. My mother who is all of 100 lbs, maybe - must have made some pact with God when I arrived into this world, because finding hats for me is as easy as finding a virgin anywhere near a Volcano. That may go over some heads, but people my age and Tom Hanks will get it.

So Big Red says hey that's a cute Fedora. To which Stingy-guy says, "It is my wife's." Well my natural reaction was, "Can I have it?" He replied, "How much?" As you can imagine, my response was that of, "Oh I usually just make-out for things as trivial as a hat." His response, "where are you sitting?" It was funny until I realized he didn't want to make out, he wanted to trade for my first class seat. At that point I knew the hat must have been cheaper than a $10 Hooker. His poor wife. He's not even sitting in first class.

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