The Daily Derenger

9/06/2002

Yesterday was Erin's 22nd birthday. To celebrate, her parents took us out to dinner at a great restaurant near their house. Let me preface this by saying that the ways Erin and I were raised were quite different. She has, on numerous occasions, enjoyed meals containing items with silent "t's" at the end i.e. merlot, escargot and filet; I have only served those things. Well, except for the escargot. That's not on the menu at the Cracker Barrel's and Oliver Garden's of the world.

Dining out with my parents growing up consisted of Long John Silver's all you can eat popcorn shrimp night or 2-for-1 burritos from the Taco Hut. For dessert we all shared a giant cookie from the mall's food court. I can't remember ever seeing my mom drink a glass of wine or having the craving for some snail though. Aldi-brand soda pop called Yummy and Pringles was the way to go. Then it was pull-my-finger, mom's favorite game.

Now granted, I wouldn't be the sick and twisted person I am today if it weren't for my upbringing. I like having been raised lower middle-class with a hint of white trash spinkled in. And I actually enjoy the culture shock that exists between Joliet and La Grange with only about 20 miles separating the two cities. Plus it's nice to ride in a Cadillac and park next to a Lexus in their driveway. My Prizm stands out like a huge zit on the face of a mime. The only time we ever talked about a Lexus in our house was when Dynasty was on. And Joan Collins ain't got nothin' on a 2003 white SUV.

The appetizers were up for discussion. Baked clams and escargot were the heavy favorites. I chimed in with some cheese sticks and potato skins and then had to sit in time out. The bearded (I mean baked) clams came and went like a bottle of Jack Daniel's on prom night. I had a filet as did Erin. Mine had enough green pepper and onion on it to serve as an entire Jewel produce section. Erin's dad ordered surf-n-turf. I never really saw anyone order it before. I always thought it was just for looks, like the soap on the back of some toilets. Nobody ever orders the surf-n-turf do they? Somebody just came up with something clever and never let it go. Now it's on menus and marquees worldwide. We always asked the server how much it was and then collectively bellowed out, "Holy shit, dad. You'll have to work overtime for a month to pay for that. Maybe if we get one, we can split it four ways. Hopefully they'll throw in an extra cup of soup, too."

I guess if you order the surf-n-turf, you're entitled to sing after dinner at the open-mike. It's the house rules from what I was told. Erin's dad has a great voice and did some wonderful renditions of Sinatra's "It Was a Very Good Year" and Tony Bennett's "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." I offered to sing the Dr. Dirty parody of the Bennett classic called "I Left My Goo in a Fag Named Cisco." I spent the rest of the night locked in the trunk. I must say that her dad singing after dinner was much different that how we did it. Dad would be the first one in the bathroom and when he came out, whoever could walk by the bathroom without gagging didn't have to clean the bowl.

It was a great night. Erin seemed to enjoy her birthday very much and I enjoyed spending time with her family. With that said, her parents may be at my late show tonight. I must be off now to find some "my-girlfriend's-parents-are-in-the-crowd" material to do. Wish me luck.

9/04/2002

"Hey, can you move? The Stanley Cup is coming through." That was said to me last night. It sure beats the "you were funny for being the first guy" line. That has been said after some of my comedy shows and not in any bedrooms.

Let me educate some of you first off. The Stanley Cup is one of the most famous trophies in the world and is awarded to the champions of the National Hockey League. Now why was I told to move? I was at the after-party where former Chicago Blackhawk Chris Chelios was showing off Lord Stanley's hardware. Chelios is now a member of the Detroit Red Wings who won the cup last year.

I'm an avid sports fan. Of most sports. I know as much about hockey as I know about the Gross National Product of Thailand. I only know the players because of SportsCenter and other media outlets. But I will say it was cool as hell to see such a prized possession inches away from me. There was also word that Wayne Gretzsky, nicknamed The Great One and holder of about 90 NHL records, was coming to the party. Hockey fan or not, I had to stay there just on that chance alone. I never saw him though.

Now when you have professional athletes in any given area, rest assured that gorgeous women won't be too far behind. And they weren't. I have no idea who the ladies were but there was enough silicon in the joint to seal up Mount St. Helen. Then there was me, a skinny, 5' 9" bald guy who looked as lost as Rosie O' Donnell at a salad bar. What did I care? I was mingling with sports celebs, checking out the shelves of hot chicks and drinking free Budweisers.

As we left, another limo pulled up and out jumped a homeless-looking man with a scruffy face and a stocking hat atop his golden locks. Holy donkey nuts! It was Kid Rock. Now as much as I don't know about hockey, I know even less about Kid Rock aside from the fact that he's bailing hay with Pamela Anderson. She didn't accompany him though. That would have been awesome. I would have filled up the Stanley Cup with iguana spooge and downed it to get a whiff of Pam. Of course, many ladies got moist over the Rock star while I just took it all in. I would have been more excited had I seen some Fraggle Rock. I'm just not into music, especially from a guy who, if he wasn't a musician, would be manning the gate at a Tilt-a-Whirl.

Well, it's 10:30 and time for breakfast. It's been days since I've written so I'm gonna fire off some Daily Derengers at will. Even though Will didn't do anything to me. Stay tuned.