Saturday, July 02, 2005

Stacy Vacation 2005: Day 2: Nakai the Super Nephew

I can't begin to fully describe how excited I was to finally become an uncle.

I believe I'm nearly to the point where it's too late for me, kids are just not in my future.

But my sister, my more talented, more attractive, more succesfful sister, well that's another story entirely.

The day my sister finally gave birth to my nephew Nakai (translation: creative), I told everyone who would listen that I was Uncle Stacy.

Yes, I know. I became one of THOSE people.

Now I understand what all the fuss is about.

My sister, brother-in-law and Nakai met me at the hotel around 10am to have our first breakfast together.

I've only talked with my brother-in-law a few times on the phone, and met him once before, so I really didn't know him that well. But I didn't have any reservations about him because I trust my sister. It was just a little awkward at first.

And then I finally met my nephew for the first time.

I said, "Hello."

He responded by wailing and hiding in my sister's dress.

I knew my appearance would freak him out.

We sat down and placed our orders while my sister and brother-in-law attempted to get Nakai to say my name.


He didn't look around aimlessly. He didn't start crying. He said my name as best he could.

It was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had.

And then he said it again.


Nothing against my sister's intelligence as a child, but all she could manage was, "Tay-tay."

My nephew distinguished both syllables and did his best to reproduce them.

I was amazed.

And I'll never forget it.

And I'll most likely tell anyone who will listen.

I know. One of THOSE people.

After breakfast we took a whirlwind tour of Tucson and it's a nice little mecca in the middle of the desert.

But it's Hades frickin' hot.

When you step out of a building, or your car, or anything where air conditioning is your best friend, the heat in the air just envelopes your body and created sweat in every single pore it can pummel into submission.

It's actually quite spread out, and greener than I expected. And construction is every-frickin-where.

Much like California.

We made it to my sister and her family's home and it sits on a good piece of property. I was reintroduced to my sister's other children: Cracker the Wise Lab and Lucy the Insane Love Dog.

Cracker had been with my sister for years. My sister kidnapped him from a crack lady in the capitol park in Sacramento. He was skinny and not being taken care of very well.

That's right. My sister loves hard luck cases. That's why she loves her brother.

And Lucy was adopted from the shelter because they didn't want Cracker to be lonely.

After seeing them together, I believe Cracker preferred being an only child.

They get along just fine, but Cracker sometimes leers at Lucy with an expression of, "My God you're giving our species a bad name."

Then Cracker curls up somewhere where he can be left completely alone while Lucy chases a ball a gazillion times.

I'm not exaggerating.

Inside my sister has Noodles, which is the best cat ever created by God.

She's a full grown cat, but still loves to play just like a kitten.

And it's because of Noodles that I really had a chance to bond with Nakai.

Nakai takes a pencil and just waves it in front of Noodles and she'll swat at it and play just like a kitten.

So Nakai hands me the pencil so I can play with the cat. I try to make it fun by making growling noises every time I use the pencil. As Noodles swats away, I make the growling sound and Nakai just giggles and laughs.

He would have done this for hours if we would have let him.

We kept swapping the pencil back and forth and back and forth and my nephew just loved it.

And he was still saying my name.

Later in the afternoon I suggested we all go to a movie.

I couldn't believe how excited they were about this idea.

I believe I didn't fully comprehend how much a child takes over and changes a couple's life.

We drove Nakai to his grandmother's house and I had a chance to meet more of my extended family.

His grandmother didn't speak any English, and his grandfather spoke the language, but with a very thick accent.

The nicest two people you'd ever want to meet. And because of their background, Nakai learns English and Spanish on a daily basis.

Unlike his Uncle, he won't have to take years of Spanish in school, forget most of it, and then end up translating every fifth word he hears people speak.

That's one of the reasons why Nakai is a Super Nephew.

We decided to see "War of the Worlds" even though Tom Cruise is a complete and utter moron and Spielberg has addressed aliens a number of times before.

But I'm glad I went.

The visual effects are jaw dropping. I know I had my jaw open, gaping like a mouth breather for most of the film. This is a film that screams seeing it in a theater with a bunch of your rude counterparts.

The film was fantastic, thrilling, exciting, frightening...until the last five minutes.

Out of nowhere, without any warning, all the ends are tied up neatly with a pretty, heart-wrenching bow.

It nearly sank the previous hour and forty-five minutes.

I turned in early that evening, not because I didn't like the company of my family, but because dialysis was tugging at my energy level. I felt sluggish and slow.

So I politely said good night, took a shower and went to bed.

And slept another fantastic night of sleep.

Whether it's being hundreds of miles from the stress of my everyday life or the bed is fantastically firm, I didn't care.

Join me again for tomorrow's blog, when you'll hear Stacy say, "Don Rickles! They've got Don Rickles!"

Thank you, and good night from Tucson, Arizona, home of always proud cacti.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Stacy Vacation 2005: Day 1: My Nephew Hates Me


I'm usually dreaming of Winona Ryder in a wet t-shirt around this hour.

Or Moira Kelly in a slinky nighty.

But I digress. Or undress, depending on what time of day it is.

The following blog will be filled with pathos, know, both of 'thos.

Hold on. I'm congratulating myself on the creative energy it took to even type the last sentence.

But back to goddamn 5:30am.

This was the only time the Wicked Witch of Dialysis, Miss Evelyn felt necessary to admit me to the clinic.

I knew I wouldn't get much sleep the night before because I was so excited about seeing my sister and meeting my nephew for the first time, so I just bit my lip and allowed the lovely red-headed vixen known as Toni to adminster my needles.

The burning started about 5:45am.

I know. You've heard it all before. Dialysis. Burning needles. Big frickin' yawn-o-riffic boring.

It turns out that the pressure was up to 400ml when it should be barely be tapping above 350ml.

I don't need to iterate it, but I was pissed.

I rolled back into bed around 9:15am and set the alarm clock for 11:30am.

I dozed off for maybe 45 minutes before my adopted brother Ted called to wish me a great vacation.

Nothing against Ted, but I should have turned my cell phone off. But I'm not that bright.

I had been preparing for this vacation for weeks: worked out constantly, bleached my teeth, got a know, the usualy metrosexual stuff to make myself look my best regardless of how dialysis has torn me down.

The plane touched down in Tucson around 10:30pm Friday night.

The tires on the landing gear should have melted. It was 97 degrees outside.

I finally made it down to the area where they allow your friends and family to meet you oustide the security check area.

I didn't even see my baby sister as I walked by her to the luggage carousel.

That's how exhausted I was after two bags of peanuts and a glass of juice.

My baby sister never looked so beautiful. She still has her cropped short and she was wearing a beautiful sleeveless dress.

In the past when I would give my sister a hug, she would use the least amount of pressure possible to return the I had terminal cooties or something.

Which I do. Just in case you're wondering.

For the first time in five years I received a solid "boy, I sure miss my brother" kinda hug.

I'll never forget it.

Now here's where I could blame my lack of intelligence on jet lag, or three hours of sleep, but I just can't explain away the first mistake I made with my little nephew Nakai.

I woke him up.

I didn't even think to open the car door slowly. That he might be asleep. But he might be cranky from being p so late to pick up his uncle.


The kid's got lungs, that's definatly for sure.

My sister had been kind enough to provide me with a room at the historic "Hotel Congress." During the great fire in the 1930's, the local Tucson police caught John Dillinger and his gang of misfits after they discovered firearms and over $26,000 in cash from a bank heist that had happened some time earlier.

It's very rustic and their are rumored to be ghosts, but I can't speak of any so far.

Except for the one in the shower.

Before turning in for the night, I wanted to get all the low fare, Southwest Airline grime washed from my soul, so I took a shower.

I could almost hear the pipes laughing.

First scalding. Then freezing. Then back to wait...freezing.

I frantically turned the old school knobs in hopes of some relief, but to no avail.

The room had no air conditioning, but you'd be surprised how well a swamp cooler works if you give it a chance.

I took my cocktail of Vicodin and Tylenol PM to get to sleep.

I was suprised when my sister called the next morning around 9:30am, because I don't remember waking up like I usually do.

This vacation may still have some promise.

Tomorrow I officially meet my nephew, get to know my brother-in-law and catch up with my baby sister.

I really wish I hadn't waited so long.

Please join us tomorrow for another edition of the Stacy Vacation 2005, where you'll hear Stacy say..."He said my name!"

Thursday, June 30, 2005

'Twas the Night Before Vacation.

'Twas the night before my vacation, and all through my mind,
A suitcase that's matching, I could not find.

I spent $200 on new clothes to make me feel cool,
Instead, I found them too large, oh my, what a fool!

I'm an extra large boy or a really small man,
The sizes they make don't cradle my can.

I'm exhausted, I'm tired, I can't think straight,
Give me my vacation before it's too late.

I've never taken a whole week off from my overrated job,
When people hear me on the radio, they reach for the knob.

I've bleached my teeth and tanned my skin,
I've travelling to visit my long distance kin.

My sister, my brother-in-law and my nephew Nakai,
Fuck Amtrak and Greyhound, I'm just going to fly.

I'll rise through the air and command the skies,
Unless they sit me between two fat guys.

Three dogs, seven cats and a hampster or two,
My sister's home in Tucson is much like a zoo.

It's 105 in Arizona and sweltering heat,
A raven haired temptress I do hope to meet.

We'll speak of our lives, share a margarita and brood,
I'll hope in two hours to have her completely nude.

My imagination has run wild, I'm out of control,
Filth and naughtiness beckons my soul.

Travelling during vacation is loads o' fun,
Spending time with family and friends before it's all done.

I will endeavor to blog by day and by night,
Happy Vacation to Me, and to all a good flight.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Corn Dogs, Lesbians & X-Ray Vision

The air was unusually crisp and cool for a June evening.

It also smelled of my vomit.

I rarely host concerts anymore because it's usually highly annoying, you don't get paid extra and the manager of the artist that's being showcased usually turns out to be a complete control freak.

Hey, look! I'm a winner on all the preceding counts.

But back to my vomit.

It was liquidy, a huge mess of Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi and gooey snot.

Gooey snot, coincidentally, just happens to be an ingredient in Diet Pepsi.

Go figure.

I get so nervous before speaking before a huge crowd of people that I allow myself to vomit completely and with abandon. It's actually quite freeing because I feel worlds better once it's over.

Tonight was no different.

The Petaluma Fair lasts only five days, is about a quarter of a mile long with two exhibit halls and two stages.

I share the details of this fair to give you an crystal clear idea of how insignifigant my hosting a show at this venue is.

Thank you.

When I stepped on stage I had to introduce the opening band, a nice group of people with two women and two gentlemen.

The women were nearing middle age, but they both had nice tight asses. I mention this because as I was waiting to go on stage, they would turn in my direction each time I took in their glorious bottoms.

The Stacy Tight Ass X-Ray Vision was causing a focused beam of lust at each of their asses that would cause their bottoms to rise in temperature in an ever so subtle fashion.

There were more Tight Assed Groupies backstage, but we'll get to them in a moment.

As I stepped on stage a group of middle aged women in the front of the stage went berzerk.


I'm rarely struck speechless, especially live on stage, so I just allowed my addictive laughter to filter into every blade of grass on the field before me.

The band members were amazed at this reaction and commented through the mic that I was very popular.

I ignored them because it couldn't be farther than the truth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, kids of all shapes and sizes..."

That's how I introduce every act I host. It's a nod to the premiere god of entertainment behind a microphone, Mr. David Letterman.

"...Little Big Town!"

They were a surprisingly good band with their lead vocalist Tight Assed performers carrying a tune quite well.

I always hope I only have to go on stage once, but my night was barely over.

The group was scheduled to perform for 35 minutes and then I would do a "bridge" where I explain to the audience that they have to do a set change for Josh Turner, the headliner for the evening.

Flawless. Didn't stumble. Wasn't even thrown off by people asking about my health in the front row. I rarely compliment myself, but I did pretty well.

It took them for frickin' ever to change the set. I would have let my annoyance show, but I'm a professional, and you never know when one of these up and comers is going to be a huge star and you'll need them to record something for you in the future.

So I returned to using the Stacy Tight Ass X-Ray Vision. All the groupies, every single one of them, obviously knew what performers like since they all had wonderfully tight little asses.

But as opposed to the middle age performers in Little Big Town, these groupies felt their asses should only be stared at by big time, blockbuster celebrities, not puny, worthless broadcasters.

Every single time my Stacy Tight Ass X-Ray Vision was detected, they each responded in kind with a dirty look.

They obviously had Anti-Tight Ass Gawking installed firmly in each of their asses because I was caught each and every time.

I couldn't help myself. God their asses were nice. I wanted to take a couple of them home and place them on a shelf in my apartment. Then I could enjoy their tightness at my leisure.

But it wasn't meant to be.

Finally it was time to introduce Josh Turner. He's such a big star (no he isn't), that he didn't even bother to come out and introduce himself to me. He stayed in his tour bus, which was parked behind the stage, and didn't come out until I was on stage introducing him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, kids of all shapes and sizes..."

Why mess with what works??

"...please welcome, MCA recording artist...JOSH TURNER!"

The crowd fully filled the field as Josh started to perform.

That's when I realized that all the Tight Asses Groupies were gone. There was no reason to hang around backstage. I put on my sweatshirt (it was frickin' freezing for June) and slipped out the back, avoiding all two of my fans who were probably drooling over Josh's ass by now.


One of the loneliest feelings in the world is being at a lively, bubbling fair and have no one to share it with.

So I decided to drown my sorrow in the most amazing food ever created in the history of fairdom...the magnificent corn dog.

Have you had one of these? They're fan-frickin-tastic.

They take a regular hot dog...are you still with me?? They boil it and then shove it in this bubbling corn mush goo (which I believe was the name of a group in the 70's) and slam it on a stick and serve it up hot and fresh.


I stood in line and as luck would have it, I was standing behind two adorable lesbians.

Yes, Tight Assed Lesbians.

They were both clad in revealing leather. They had just made their way to the counter and were placing their order when I noticed they were arm in arm. And they wouldn't let one another go as they dug in their purses for the four dollars they were asking for their wretched nachos.

The one on the left had short, raven hair and milky skin. The one on the right was a little shorter with her strawberry blonde hair tied back in a bun. They both couldn't stop giggling as they finally mustard up the four bucks.

I couldn't help it. My Stacy Tight Assed X-Ray Vision kicked into gear.

But they didn't even flinch.

They finally paid for their nachos and then the two adorable tight assed lesbians were gone.

Sigh. (The sequel to the original sigh, which wasn't much of a produced sigh to begin with.)

I scrounged together my three dollars for the corn dog and bathed it in mustard.

It was heaven on a stick.

Which is probably what the lesbians were looking for after the fair.

But that's another blog, for another day.

God bless corn dogs, lesbians and tight assed women.

Not necessarily in that order.