DANNY CZEKALINSKI

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I was raised Catholic so Easter was kind of big deal to me as a kid but there are so many things that didn’t make sense to me then and they surely don’t now.  It started on Good Friday when my mother would make me come inside the house between 1-3PM because “that is the time Jesus died.”  With leap years and Daylight Savings Time over the past two thousand years shouldn’t Good Friday actually be before Valentines Day?  How does sitting downstairs silently for two hours on a sunny Friday afternoon give me a higher place in heaven?  I don’t think the secret to everlasting life can be found being quiet and lazy.

Easter Sunday was a big deal.  This is the day that Jesus rose from the dead.  I would think that if this occurred today it would be the main topic on CNN and they would call in Wolf Blitzer for a special Sunday edition of “The Situation Room.”   I can even see Nancy Grace yelling at Jesus, “C’mon!  Do REALLY expect me to believe that you moved that rock all by yourself!!!!!!!

So we have this wonderful man who was without sin and died on the cross for all of us so we can have everlasting life and the way we show our thanks is by hiding hard-boiled eggs inside our house?  I sure hope the Cadbury family is giving thanks to Jesus because he made them millionaires.  What’s with the bunny?  I mean seriously…the Easter Bunny is one step below a clown on my creep-o-meter.  I remember watching rabbits appear at dusk in my backyard as a kid and I would NEVER be able to get within 20 yards of them.  The Easter Bunny is so tall he could play point guard on most NBA teams, he walks on two feet, doesn’t hop, and he likes to hug and shake hands.  Something is not making sense here.  Try bringing the Easter bunny to church with ya one day and see how quickly the cops show up.   Instead of gnawing on a leg of lamb you and your bunny friend will be in a rubber room weaving baskets out of cooked spaghetti.

I hope you and your family have a Happy Easter….that’s all for now…I think the tooth fairy is at my door.

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So the jackpot on Mega Millions is up to an estimated $640 million!  My question is do you REALLY wanna win this?  Chances are that if you are reading this you probably have a full set of teeth, can do simple math, and realize that Pearl Harbor is NOT located in Boston.  There is also a pretty good chance that if you played Mega Millions this weekend then you are after the jackpot and NOT a regular lottery player.

Let’s discuss this regular lottery player.  He/She likes to parade around in sandals with socks.  Wherever they DO work they can’t be offering a dental plan because their teeth resemble a worn out rake.  I’m pretty much positive that they floss with rope.  They stand in line on a mission.  Nothing is gonna get through them, their coffee stained sweatpants, and their already filled out Mega Millions card.  The cliff note version of the game is ya gotta pick six numbers.  Basically one number for every illegitimate child a seasoned lottery player has.  One of the numbers has to be the “Mega Ball.”  Again it’s called a  “Mega Ball” not to be confused with a “smegma ball” which I assume every regular male lottery player is in possession of.

Now that we all can agree on the stereotypical lottery player how can we NOT pray that he or she isn’t the winner.  We’re not talking about anyone that is gonna give Warren Buffet a run for his money. Once they take the lump sum (and why wouldn’t ya), get ready for the biggest Wal-Mart shopping spree in history!  Everyone in the family gets a new CB radio.  Watch the profits of John Deere soar.  I can’t wait for the magical moment when Mom breaks the news to her nine kids:  “Put on your best wife-beater…the one without the spaghetti sauce stain, we finally going to SUPER Target!!!”  How about that great moment when she calls her sister in Kentucky to break the news?  “Mary Lou?  We be millionaires!!  Tell that husband of yours and cousin of mine that we are gonna get him a fake leg made out of cherry wood.  That way his knee won’t get warm standing round the bonfire in the fall.”

I’d say more but the drawing is almost here.  I need to get my tickets, a 12-pack of Natural Light and some Redman!

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Take a look at the items to the left.  Do you know what they are?  At first it looks like those water rockets you would play with as a kid but that is FAAAAAR from the truth.  This apparatus is called a Post-T-Vac.  When I hear that term I think of a vacuum cleaner that sweeps up unwanted post-it notes.  Wrong you are again Robin.  Lately I have been suffering from insomnia so that means I am exposed to a lot of infomercials for late night TV.  The other night I saw the infomercial for the Post-T-Vac.  I found a two-minute video that pretty much explains its purpose.  Click HERE.

Yup….this thing and its accoutrements are to be put on your male member.  It promises to show results in four minutes.  There is NO WAY I’m putting my manhood in this salad shredder.  Did you look at the commercial?  Who ARE these people.  I PRAY these guys have erectile dysfunction because there is no way we want these couples procreating unless we wanna go back to Darwin’s waiting room.

They also say that the Post-T-Vac is covered by insurance.  Really?  You wanna make that call to Blue Cross?  “Hello Blue Cross??  Dick Limpy here.  I need you guys to fork over some cash so I can stuff my over cooked noodle in a small vacuum cleaner.  Hello?  Hello??”  They also claim it’s “clinically proven.”  I know times are tough but I don’t wanna be working in THAT clinic.  These dudes coming in sticking their magic sticks inside a sucking beaker until they get it right?  Show me how the guys that were part of that study are walking today.  I bet they look like a pirate looking for his parrot.

They also promise that it’s “delivered discretely” and it’s “100% guaranteed.”  Well good God I would hope so.  I don’t need my Fed Ex guy ringing the doorbell, asking me to sign for my package and saying “Use this pen because it’s probably the only hard thing you’ll put in your hand for awhile.”  About that 100% guarantee.  Do you really wanna be working in the mail room when the returns come in?  That job may actually be worse than when they conducted the “clinical study.”

I could say more but I need to do my “Total Insanity” workout and put some “Wen” in my hair.

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When I was in second grade my father surprised me by bringing home a puppy.  It was my first dog.  I named her “Lady” (give me a break on originality…I was eight years old).  Let’s fast forward to my first Xmas Eve away from home.  I was in Grand Rapids, Michigan working at WKLQ radio.  I wasn’t able to make it back to my family in Cleveland because there was a HUGE snowstorm and I had the flu and a temperature of 103 degrees.

I was literally sick AND very homesick.  I knew my mother was having the family at her house for Xmas Eve so I wanted to call  before people would arrive.  I was very sad but I knew a call to my mother would make my mood a bit better.  We were on the phone for about ten minutes when the I heard the doorbell ring at my childhood home.  Mom said, “Okay, I love you.  Gotta get the door.”  It immediately dawned on me.  Where was Lady’s bark?  That dog ALWAYS barked when the doorbell rang.  It truly was Pavlov’s dog.  I said to my mother, “Wait a minute.  How come Lady isn’t barking?”  The silence on the other end of the phone was almost infinitesimal.  Finally my mother said, “Ya know when ya said we would know when it’s time?”  I was stunned.  All I could muster out of my mouth was, “When did this happen?”  Mom didn’t even hesitate, “About three weeks ago.”

THREE WEEKS AGO?????  You decide to kill my dog three weeks ago and then break the news to me on Xmas Eve when I am 285 miles away from home and almost have a fever that is causing me to hallucinate?  Is it too late to ask Santa to bring me the ashes of my beloved pet on his way to my house?  Ho Ho Ho!

When I tell this story today, which I do often, my mother (who has an AMAZING memory) develops a severe case of amnesia.  She will always say, “That’s not the way it happened.”  I suppose O.J. said the same thing to Robert Shapiro.  Mom lives about ten miles from me here in West Palm Beach and the other day I told her I was planning on riding the Harley down to Key West.  She said, “Let me know.  I’ll watch your dog.”  I cancelled my trip.

 

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So my mother has been spending a lot of time at my house as I figure out what to do with the next stage of my life and I find our conversations quite amusing as we really don’t communicate at all.  We were in the grocery store the other day and she asked me “Do you like apples?”  I said “Mom, ya know me.  The only fruit I really like is watermelon.”  I think my mother has tried to get me to eat apples at least a hundred times in my lifetime so I just laughed it off.

The very next day she is in the kitchen cutting up a salad for me while I am in the office next to the kitchen on the computer.  Our conversation went like this:  MOM:  “Ya know what’s really good in salad?  Apples.”  ME: “Mom….I don’t like apples.”  MOM:  “Ya know I could get some and cut them up in your salad.”  ME:  “I don’t like apples.”  MOM:  “I saw some at a really good price the other day.  Next time I’m at the store I’ll get some.”  ME:  Mom…I like watermelon.  I don’t like apples.”  MOM:  Well watermelon is not in season right now so I’ll get some apples.”  ME:  They’ll go to waste.  Again….I don’t like apples.”  MOM:  “Really?  I thought you just didn’t like biting into them (not kidding).”  ME:  I HATE APPLES!  FOR THE LAST TIME, APPLES SUCK, I GAG, I PUKE, I ABSOLUTELY HATE APPLES!!!  MOM: “Geez…..I’m just trying to feed you.”

I’m actually convinced that there is a school that mothers go to AFTER their kids leave the house so they have the ability to drive us nuts.  Hang on a sec…..Mom asking me a question.  “Do you like pears?”  ARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

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I have dated a lot of women and I always make the wrong decision.  I stay with the ones I shouldn’t and I screw up the ones I should have stayed with.  I’m the first one to admit that I have my issues and I’ll never get that second call back to be on the cover of Men’s Fitness but if there were a prize for dating Looney-Tunes I would be on the top podium, receiving a gold medal, while they played the Star-Spangled Banner.

Think this is just in my head?  Here are some of the highlights of the people I have spent time with in the past ten years:  One was afraid to leave the house, one threw a soup can at me, one had to sleep with ALL the lights on and hold her baby blanket, one slept with one of my friends, one drank a bottle of wine every night, one had fourteen felony convictions for prescription fraud and tried to frame me with the police, one asked me to stick a beach towel in a co-workers gas tank and set it on fire and one actually thought PEARL HARBOR was in BOSTON!

I am considering an advisory council like they had in Flashdance.  Three people sitting at a table and observing what the potential date has to offer.  I feel between those three they would be able to find any existing red flags that I am obviously immune to.  That’s a great idea if ya look like Brad Pitt but at this point in my life I’m a cross between Michael Chicklas and an ass with eyes.  If a female packs my groceries at the supermarket I feel like I have game.

So the logical conclusion for me in 2012 is NO DATING AT ALL.  I doubt this becomes a trending topic on Twitter but its something I need to do.  On the upside….my right arm should become much bigger.


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I laugh when women say “He and I are JUST friends.  Men and women can be just friends.”  Women think like that because they think like women and think that men can distinguish between being a friend and being someone  they take off their clothes with and do adult things.  Ladies, let me allow you a look behind the curtain of Oz.  WE CAN’T!  Gay guys are probably the reason for the assumption that all guys can be “just friends” because gay guys really do wanna be your friend (and discuss fashion).  When straight guys are sitting across from you as you share a story about your best friends relationship problems and he nods his head appearing to understand and be interested in what you are saying he ACTUALLY is wondering what you would look like in the morning wearing one of his tee-shirts while you made him breakfast.

The truth is if it weren’t for the sex I really think that guys would always hang out with guys.  Think about it.  It’s a big deal to have a “night out with the boys.”   We drink beer, watch sports, talk about sports, talk about drinking beer, drink too much beer, talk about how we COULD have played in the NFL, etc.  Guys are a different breed.  We basically are still cavemen that went to charm school.  If you’re “guy friend” meets ya out for drinks at happy hour just know you actually are sitting across from “Thor” who would love to drag you by your hair back to his cave to do the prehistoric tango!

Some of you ladies may actually bring this blog to the attention of your man to question its validity.  He’ll read it and fume inside because a member of his gender would DARE to reveal the truth but I can tell ya what he’ll say right now:  “Honey, that may be how the REST of guys are but I don’t feel that way because YOU fulfill all my needs.”  See.  We know how to play the game.


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I talk on the radio for a living.  The last time I hosted my morning radio show here in West Palm Beach was January 19, 2011.  This time off may have been a bit of a financial burden but it has also been the greatest gift of my life.  I’ve really gotten to know my mother.

Mom moved down here in 1987 and I finally made my way down here in 2004.  The irony was that I was close in distance but the time I put in at the radio station kept me from spending a lot of social time with mom.  I should have MADE more time for mom because she’s quite the remarkable person.  I was so caught up in MY world that valuable time slipped away.  There is an amazing moment in our lives when we look at our parents as “people” and they truly do become our “best friends.”  I lost my father twelve and a half years ago and we were already on that level and in the past nine months I’m happy to say mom and I are on that level as well.

I found out even without a college degree my mom is a remarkable businesswoman.  She’s much more stronger emotionally than me and she actually does possess a sense of humor.  This is all in addition to what I already knew about my mom:    no one will ever be able to have a garden like hers,  she makes the BEST salad in the world (she says the secret is to squeeze a bit of lemon around the bowl before ya toss), and she will ALWAYS over cook a pork roast because “If it’s pink inside, you’re gonna get worms.”

Mom spends a lot of time at my house because we both love to cook.  When she makes the ten-mile drive home I tell her to give me “one ring” when she gets home.  Suddenly the child has become the parent.  I learned a valuable lesson in my time off but now I think its time to get back to work……I really think I’m getting on my mother’s nerves.