THE BLOG THAT MARTY LYNCH WRITES: Lord Have Mercy

I have been spending more time on facebook lately, and some things have me quite a bit confused. First there is this facebook movie that everyone has been posting this week. Because I thought it was the right thing to do, I’ve watched just about every one of those 1 minute and 2 second movies that my FB friends have posted. Afterwards I click the “like” button; but I must admit, some of them I didn’t really like, I was just being nice and didn’t want those people to feel like losers. Then I started thinking, if I’m going to hit the like button anyhow, do I even have to watch it? I could have saved myself hours if I just skipped the movie and hit the like button and moved on. The only thing I have learned from watching all of those movies is that people have gotten older, fatter, and balder since they joined facebook.

Then there is the question of do I hit the like button when people post photos and stories about their children. Do I really “like” the fact that the 5^th grade St. Clare girl’s basketball team beat St. Pascal’s 7-4? Should I “like” the picture of your son Billy and his date for the Mayfield prom? What if they had a button that said “amazed.” As in, I’m amazed your goofy looking son Billy was able to find a date for the prom. The worst dilemma I have concerns the mom’s that post pictures of their beauty pageant daughter’s, or their gymnast daughter's, or their dancer daughter’s, in sort of skimpy outfits. I recognize your proud of your daughter’s and I can appreciate that, and I’d love to be supportive, and in fact, I am from afar, but I’m a little concerned that if I hit the like button, that will immediately put me on some kind of pedophile watch list. I damn sure don’t need the 19 Action News truck pulling up my driveway with Carl Monday jumping out to do a report on local predators and my picture being plastered all over town. I don't think I'm done discussing this social media stuff just yet, but I’m done for now. Stay tuned.

A few weeks ago, my team, Boccelism played Denine and John Consolo’s team. At that time, their team was known as The Squirmy Bastards. My wife had never met them before and said she thought Denine was a real nice person, despite the fact that she dropped the F-Bomb about fifty times, and played with her boobs all night. She wasn’t so sure about John though; she had a little trouble assessing him, she typically gives people the benefit of the doubt, but in the end, she concluded that the guy is a hot dog. Our teammate, Sherry Tighe was able to offer a little insight into why John thinks he’s all that. It turns out that John was a complete and total dork in high school and was picked on and laughed at by boys and girls alike. Apparently John scrimped and saved until he had enough money to get himself a complete makeover. Now, after his $130,000 investment in himself and his wardrobe, he thinks he can leave his past behind.

John Consolo’s high school photo (left) and his bocce mug shot (right).

Quite frankly, I don’t see any real improvement.

Linda Richuisa was confiding in me that her husband Mike hasn’t been showing as much “interest” in her as of late. So, as a way to get things heated up, she decided that she would go to one of those glamour photo places and take a few risky pictures of herself and slip them into her husband’s lunch bag. She went on to tell me that even after doing that, things got no better, and in fact, got worse. I had trouble explaining how that could have made things worse, because I know if the lovely Mrs. Lynch did something like that, I would definitely be “interested.”

Very glamorous Linda, I simply can’t explain why

Mike wouldn’t want to race home and pound that.

I saw Frank Vicchiarelli at the Highlander last month and he told me he wanted to be in the blog. I must say, I was caught off guard because no one has ever said that to me before. He went so far as to tell me that he didn’t care what I said or did, he just wanted some ink. I told him, as gently as I could, that no one wanted to see him in the blog, quite simply, no one cared about him and it would be a significant waste of my time and probably result in dissatisfied readers. He proceeded to buy me several drinks, and I mean several, and believe it or not, I had a change of heart. I realized at that moment that I probably wouldn’t let someone buy their way out of being in the blog, but apparently I’m fine with someone buying their way in.

Frank is a butt head, and since she married him, his wife must be a butt head too.

Meet the Vicchiarelli’s.

My wife and I were recently talking about all the things we would do if we won the lottery. She talked about remodeling the kitchen, the bathrooms, the basement, putting an addition on the house, building a deck and patio in the back yard. She went on and on. Then she asked me, doesn’t that sound great? To which I quickly replied, not if I still have to live next door to Chip Tighe. She called me a stick in the mud, and blamed my shitty attitude and negative energy as the reasons why we’ve never won the lottery. Then she asked me, don’t you have dreams? Haven’t you ever had dreams? Even as a kid? You must have had dreams as a kid. To which I adamantly replied, no. After she walked out of the room in disgust, I began to think back to the days of my youth, and then it dawned on me, I did have a dream.