Fishing the Past Out of the Disposal

Nostalgia grows more bittersweet as you get older and the real bitch of it is less and less people remember those things because there are less and less of them every day.  I sometimes think about my childhood and the things that are not there anymore.  There was a TV show on PBS (channel 12) in my neck of the woods called "Things That Aren't There Anymore".  That show featured places in the Philadelphia area that had been lost to a little thing called progress.  Sometimes they would feature TV shows as well and now, if it still existed, and paradox aside, it could include itself.  But this is about things in South Jersey that aren't around any more.  Things like the Ellisburg, the Marlton, and the Berlin circles, all of which are now just memories but I can tell you I drove around all of them many times. In fact, I almost died on the Berlin Circle when I was dating a girl with a certain set of good skills but very bad timing.


 

 

Now the Marlton Circle is the location of the place where I got my first job. Wait, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. My “first” job was working at Big John’s Steaks but I’m not counting that as my first official job. Big John’s was on Route 70 in Cherry Hill I'm not really sure what is there today as I haven't passed by there recently.  As I understood it Big John lost the restaurant to a gambling debt and then he became sick and unfortunately died.  The last time I went there to get a cheese steak in my belly and some nostalgia in my eyes a woman who was a waitress when I worked there was still there. I had not seen her in at least twenty-five years but surprisingly enough, she remembered me. I guess I just have one of those faces. When I worked at Big John’s I was paid under the table and was 12 years old when I first started so I wasn’t on the books. That’s the reason I don’t count that as my first job. My first night working there was Christmas Eve -1980, and there I would work until the spring of 1985 when I would begin working at the Marlton Rustler. The building at the top of the picture on the right hand side is the Rustler I worked at. The picture was taken in 1974. At Rustler, not only did I collect my first ever “official” (as far as the IRS was concerned) paycheck, but I also met my first and long standing to this day best friend that I would ever have.

I grew up in a part of southern New Jersey back in the 70’s that at the time was a very rural area. Construction has changed that so much that I guess it would be considered more of a suburban area now. I grew up on a farm where we raised mostly “Joisey” tomatoes and sweet corn. We also had pigs and chickens and I worked my butt off in the “garden” which is what we called the fields where we grew our crops. For most of my childhood a great deal of time from March until October of every year was spent working and learning how to plow, cultivate, rake, hoe, seed, fertilize, and so many other things that are required to know in order to grow tomatoes, peas, beans, corn, et al.

 

 

On warm summer days when my aunt and uncle decided it was too hot to work in the fields, we would get our bicycles out of the garage and we would head up to the ice cream stand that was about a mile down route 73 towards Berlin. If I was really lucky, not only would we get ice cream but my aunt would spring for us to also play some miniature golf on the course that was connected to the ice cream stand. The ice cream stand and the miniature golf course are both just memories now. A small Mom and Pop garden center replaced it where you could get flowers for Easter and other holidays as well as buy your Christmas tree there. They would even flock one for you if you wanted that fake snow crap on it. The original Mom and Pop that ran it eventually left it to their son, they were old even when I wasn’t, and now even that is gone.

 

 

The Marlton Circle is where a long time ago, a girl named Leslie, who was my boss at Rustler drove around it going the WRONG way! Changed now are the buildings. Today, no longer is Olga’s Diner next to Fayva Shoes. Next to Fayva was Gino’s and then there was the Rustler. Right next to Rustler was Commerce Bank which is the first bank that I had an account with in my adult life. I had a savings account and Christmas Club that my grandmother had set up for me when I was younger at a Horizon bank which was later renamed Farmers and Mechanics and is now a Beneficial bank in Berlin, but Commerce is where I got my first bank account for myself. A woman that we all called “Pointy Tits” worked there. I guess you can figure out why we called her that, I think we worked with her son at Rustler, but I don‘t remember for sure. I do know she used to come in for lunch at Rustler a lot. Eventually, Fayva gave way to Colored Tile and Gino’s was replaced by Pizza Hut. All of those are gone and Barnes & Noble stands there now.

 

Long before I became a mall rat in my high school years, I used to go to the Echelon Mall with my grandmother and aunt. Occasionally after shopping we would stop off at the Cow Tail Bar which was a small restaurant that was attached to a dairy farm. The dairy farm is still there, as far as I can tell, but the restaurant is long gone. In it’s place is a Wawa which has one of the most frustrating parking lots I have ever had the displeasure of parking in. At every table at the Cow Tail Bar when you sat down was a small box of pretzels on the table for you to either enjoy right away or to save and have them with your ice cream. There was a box for everyone. The ice cream was the reason everyone came to the Cow Tail Bar. As it was attached to a dairy farm, the ice cream was therefore made on site and it was always so cold and so hard. It even had small pieces of ice still stuck right in the ice cream. It was some of the best ice cream around then and still to this day most of the ice cream I eat pales in comparison. I remember my regular treat was called The Clown. It consisted of two dips of chocolate ice cream (I had my choice on the flavor but they didn’t have a thousand flavors to choose from back then so it was an easy choice) some whip cream, the obligatory cherry, and a sugar cone stuck on top to make it look like a pointy clown hat. If I was feeling extra adventurous I would ask for some powdered malt topping as well. Not only is the Cow Tail Bar gone, but half of the Echelon Mall is as well!  I don't think it's even called the mall anymore, it's something like Voorhees Town Center or some such thing like that.

 

 

During the summers I got to spend weekdays with my grandmother while my aunt and uncle were at work. One of our favorite places to go was to Grants in Clementon. Grants was a bargain store not unlike the Wal-Marts and Targets of today. We would go shopping and we would stop off at the Grants Luncheonette which was a small restaurant inside of the store. I remember having breakfast with Santa there at Christmas time and we would have a stack of pancakes with the Easter Bunny in the spring. My favorite lunch was the grilled cheese sandwich with fries and a Coke. My grandmother was a big fan of the chicken (or maybe it was turkey) club sandwich. Speaking of food and places you can go to get something to eat inside of a store, I remember getting a box of Super Pretzels (you could get like five for two bucks back then) and a blue raspberry Icee at the K-Mart snack bar. That was one of the best Saturday snacks a kid could have after watching cartoons and wrestling all morning and Dr. Shock all afternoon! I do remember the K-Mart having a small restaurant, however I don’t remember ever having actually gotten anything to eat there myself. Doesn’t matter anyway, for you see, you can’t get anything to eat inside of a K-Mart anymore.  I'm not sure where you would have to go to get to a K-Mart these days. Grants was eventually bought by Woolworths and Wilcos and although they left the store almost the same way it was when it was Grants, the food didn’t seem the same. I don’t remember the name of the lady that my grandmother and I always thought of as our “usual” waitress but she didn’t make the change from Grants to Woolworths either. Below is an actual picture of the Grants in Clementon that we shopped at circa 1976.



 

 

 

Another spot that my family and I would frequent when I was a wee lad was the Berlin Farmers Market. Sister to the Pennsauken Mart, it is still open for business, unlike the Pennsauken Mart. It was a Sunday outing for all of us when we would pile into my uncles pick up truck and my aunts green Maverick, (the truck was in case we got anything too big to cart home in the car) and “walk out back of the sale”. There was the outdoor flea market (like one big yard sale) that we would check out first and then we made our way inside. The barber shop in the market was where I got most of my haircuts during my childhood. I remember vividly how my uncle and grandmother complained when the price of a haircut went up from $4.50 to $5.00. The fifty cent difference was, of course, taken out of the barbers' tip, because "five dollars for a haircut was a rip off", and they both felt very strongly about this. I think my uncle would eventually pay double for a hair cut, and yes, he went “to the sale” for them up until he died in 2013. Ya know, old habits and all.

 

Some other things that are gone are Richmond’s Ice Cream Parlor, Nichol's Department Store, Crazy Eddie’s, J.M. Fields, Two Guys, Jefferson Ward, Bradlees, and the $.99 movie theater that was next to the Echelon Mall. While I’m talking about movie theaters, I want to talk about the Atco Drive-In for a minute. It was in every way the classic drive-in that you have seen in movies. Of course in order for you to have seen one of them in a movie, the movie would have had to take place prior to the 1990’s for the most part because most of the drive-ins were gone by then. Atco was a two screen drive-in so you would have your back facing the opposite screen when you parked to watch whatever movie you came to see. My uncle and his girlfriend (whoever she was at the time) would take us to see The Apple Dumpling Gang, or whatever other kiddies’ movie was showing that week. That alone was a pretty cool experience seeing Don Knotts on that huge screen, but it was always the other screen I was interested in. On the screen behind me they were usually playing the scary pictures. Of course they were also usually rated "R" and there was noting like watching Bambi trying to stand up on his shaky legs for the first time and being able to turn around and seeing some naked girls boobs get splashed with blood in Satan’s Cheerleaders which was playing right behind me. Good times!

I don’t play with Shrinky Dinks anymore, but it’s good to know they still make them if I really wanted to. I don’t raise Sea Monkeys anymore either but it’s good to know I could if I ever got the urge to. I do still read comics and watch wrestling on TV (there's some version of it on TV just about every weeknight now instead of Saturday mornings) like I did when I was ten years old. I don’t play with Hot Wheels nor do I collect Matchbox cars but I could if I wanted to because they still make them. Not everything from my childhood still exists.  Everyone is in the same boat and probably miss something they wish was still around.  But not everything is.  It can't but we don't know that at the time and no matter how much we are told that it is all going to change as we grow up, you don't appreciate it until it's too late. I can’t go to Grants to get a Grilled Cheese sandwich anymore and who knows, it might not be as good of a grilled cheese sandwich as I remember. I did learn how to make a pretty mean grilled cheese myself in my adult years. I haven’t been able to get a grilled cheese at Grants for over forty years, but it would be nice to. Just one more time. And it would be nice if I got to take my grandmother with me. My treat this time.

Gobble Gobble 'Til You Wobble

Back when we were young-ens and growing up in Smackover Arkansas, Cerpts and I celebrated our first Thanksgiving together as friends. The two girls were his cousins from England and they had no idea what this holiday was about. They are laughing because they just heard me say; "I can almost fit my entire fist in this bird." One cousin turned to the other and said laughing, "He must be talking about you.". Now Cerpts and I are laughing because we were wondering if male turkeys were also called "cocks". Ahh memories. Happy Thanksgiving Blogger family!!

The Haunted Wardrobe

Several weeks ago I bought a wardrobe from an antique store that was having a wicked deal on dead people's things. Now, typically I don't meddle much in the affairs of the recently departed nor the affairs of the previously departed for that matter. However, men do tedious and burdensome tasks all to be in the presence of a woman.

Which brings us to the antique store.

As the door creaks open, I'm immediately engulfed in that familiar smell; old. Its like having five hundred grandma's in one room, all gasping their final breaths at once. For those of you that have lost your grandma, I'm sorry. Get over it, I'm trying to paint a picture here.

We browse through the isles of what I have to admit is finely constructed furniture. Typically when I hear "They don't make 'em like that anymore..." I usually think to myself "There's a reason for that you old ass fucking country bumpkin." This however, does not apply to bitchin' old cars and apparently furniture. The problem is restoring the ancient ones. After wading through the furniture graveyard for about a half an hour, she had collected a handsome pile of crap that will be stored for future decoration. Thank fucking Jesums, I think, and was about to head out when I though I heard something like a child crying coming from around one of the larger islands of debris. I turned the corner and there was the most majestic mahogany wardrobe I had ever seen. It had hand carved lion heads on the doors, and intricate carvings on the trim.  I was in awe of its glory and I think it made me pee a little.

I bought the wardrobe immediately and paid some punks to load it into their truck and deliver it to chateau Cheeks. We fought the motherfucker all the way into my living room, where it came to sit in its final resting place... or so I thought. I cleaned the big bastard up and put a shine on it that could blind a douche at a hundred paces. A few days went by and I finally had my wardrobe filled with my ever growing collection of clothes I will never get around to wearing. I thought, man this is tits. No more trying to repair the hanger bars and shelving that continually collapses under the weight of my huge fat guy clothes.

Something disturbed me though, my clothes started to have a strange odor; something I couldn't quite place yet. I decided to remove everything and wash repeatedly. I put an application on the inside of the wardrobe that was supposed to kill any mold or mildew from moisture and dry up the wood. This turned out to be a bad idea because of the toxicity of the fumes. I had to stay out of the living room for a few days.

One night I fell asleep on the couch ans I was awoken to the sound of a child screaming and crying.  First I wondered where the fuck I was, then wondered who's brat that was.  As I became oriented I wondered if I had just imagined it.  As I sat there pondering the situations creepiness, I heard some more crying.  I went into the bedroom and looked around. I looked in the spare room and checked outside. What the fuck some kids were doing in my house at 3AM was beyond me, but when you hear strange shit at night, you check the scene... preferably armed. I found nothing, and eventually went back to sleep.  I'm a light sleeper, and when I'm expecting someone or something, I tend to sleep a lot lighter. Two hours later I heard the sobbing again. I turned on all the lights and waited until dawn.

Well, I'm no jackass horror movie victim, so first thing in the morning I had some neighbors help me drag the mahogany nightmare back outside.  I thanked them and said nothing more.  I went into the back yard to the tool shed and grabbed the long-handled axe. My neighbors were all like "What the hell?" as I splintered the wardrobe into debris, all while swearing, sometimes in English. That must have been a site. After about fifteen minutes, a crowd had gathered, and at one point I thought the sheriff's department may have been alerted to my actions.

Anyways, I'm selling souvenir haunted wardrobe chunks for five bucks each. My neighbors bought most of it that fine Sunday morning, but I still have lots of it left. It smells like rotten flesh, yeah I figured out that was what the smell was, weird huh, and if you hold it to your ear, you can hear children crying.

Apparently, after some researching, I found out the wardrobe dated back to sometime around the Civil War. It was supposedly from Virginia. There have been some stories of people who lived in Virginia capturing escaping slaves and locking the children in wardrobes a lot like the one I had. Torturing them, eventually starving them to death in some cases. Some of the children were left there, even months after they had died.

 Next time I'm going to IKEA the hell with that shit.  

Ode To Chlamydia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pocahontas once said, and I quote; "The only thing I still have from John Smith is Chlamydia."!  That's right folks, the "round of applause" is the topic of the day.  The silent suffering, as it is sometimes called,  because an individual may suffer from this disease for a long time before realizing they even have it.  Not only that, it is also the most frequent reported STD in the US.  A nice festering case of "Clammy Crotch" is easier to get in the states than a picture of a Harry Styles love child!  An estimated 2.8 million cases are reported each year.  The major cause of the wide spread disease is that the first symptoms usually occur anywhere from 1 to 3 weeks after contracting the disease, if they occur at all.  The first most common symptom is a burning sensation when you go widdle.  Usually this symptom is overlooked as a minor urinary tract infection and treated with water and cranberry juice.  Nice if you want to mix in some alcohol and paint the town with some poon plague, but not effective in treating the disease that is really causing your problem though.  Now comes the fun part.  Do not read on if you get grossed out easily, you have been warned!  I'll wait................. 

 

OK, you've made your decision so here we go.  The fun part starts when the disease spreads and causes that fun stuff we like to call discharge, or seepage.  Usually this is a sign the disease has spread to the cervix, as well as the fallopian tubes and (gasp!!) possibly as far as the rectum!  Keep in mind this is not exclusive to females, although they do have the highest reported cases, 'cause that's just how much we love 'em.  So guys, watch where you drill.  Since this can be spread orally, vaginally, or anally, the disease does not care weather you are hetero or not.  YAY!  Fun for everyone!  In some rare cases it has also been found in the mouth and throat areas of infected partners.  Now here are some of the long term problems this little bug likes to cause: First and foremost, sterility, usually in the female patients.  Some men have become sterile from it as well but only after ignoring the burning sensation while urinating, the red swollen tip, the abdominal pain, and the swollen testes.  Honestly though, if your ignoring all that, you probably shouldn't be making offspring anyway!  It can also cause fatal ectopic pregnancies, as well as arthritis, and skin lesions.  Wait, why the hell we gotta mention arthritis?  I mean if you have any of the other symptoms you really worrying about a few achy joints?  

 

Anyway, where were we?  The squat rot also makes females five times more susceptible to the HIV virus. Who knew? Ever see a baby born with pink eye or pneumonia? Probably cause mom had a case of the bear-cat slop. That's what happens to infants when they come down the birth canal of an infected woman. What was that quote about the sins of the father?  Guess you can add sins of the mother to it as well.  The number one way of getting the disease is by being sexually active with more than one partner.  78% of all reported cases worldwide belong to women and girls 25 years old and younger.  Most cases when cured are often relapsed because they are cured but their partner (or partners) are not.  Every time a new strain of the disease is contracted by the same person the chances of long term complications triple.  With that we close the book on this entry.  Now get out there and stake your claim in those happy humping grounds!

 

  

An Open Letter:

 

Dear Britney,
      I hope this letter finds you doing well. As for myself, I'm a little under the weather. At first, I thought it was herpes, but turns out it was just heat rash. I know you may be thinking why I'd write to you on such a public platform, but after 62 unanswered letters asking for various favors, I figured I'd show how much I lust for you, here, in front of the 3 or 4 people who actually read this blog.  I know that your life, as of late, may be a little hard to deal with.  The whole court thing with your father after being crazy for so long, and that's not even mentioning your marriages.  You've gone from being on top of the world to the bottom rung of Scumville.  Well, maybe the middle rung, but whose really keeping track?  I could very easily blame K-fed for your spiral into the trailer park, but I'm not like that.  I actually think all your husbands are geniuses. Well, not Albert Einstein kinda genius, but a genius, nonetheless.  How can I find fault with a guy who did exactly what I would have done, well, except for the whole impregnating you with my demon seed thing?

 
 

Listen, my little Possum Poon, I don't think it's too late for you to realize that I'm the man that needs to be in your life.  Who cares that I despise kids, that's what our nannys would be for they can watch those little bastards while you and I bask in our lust for one another,  Now, I know what you're saying, something along the lines of "I'm Britney Spears, I can get any man I want." well Britney, that might have been true a while back when you were hot Britney, but you must find someone that can truly appreciate a dirty ho-bag.  Coincidentally, I happen to be that person.  Let me put it to you this way, I can appreciate your fat thighs and stretched marked body. Me!   I'm the one you've been looking for. You see love, had you been smart enough to fall for me, we wouldn't be in this situation, because I would have never desecrated your temple by with my accursed baby batter.  Sure, I would have been happy to deposit some anywhere else you desired, but I would have never impregnated you.  Alas, there is no turning back the hands of time now, and there is nothing we can do but I can promise that I would not do that in the future.  

 

 

Again, let me reiterate, that means to "state again", just thought I'd tell you that, I don't want your head exploding 'cause your little urinal cake brain g0t a terminal case of overload. Now that should show you how much I care about you, darling!  I'm not trying to say anything bad about your current love life.  Although I did think of something a little while ago while I was at the strip club, maybe he helped you through these rough years this to get you into some sort of commitment. As a way of keeping you devoted to him and to continue to hand over the platinum Visa at his every whim. Seriously hun, why not send one of them little black cards my way.  I'm one helluva guy when you get to know me. I even promise to pick you up something nice to wear at night.  All I am saying is if you were to drop that zero you would have much more money for yourself. I don't need that much, a little for some booze and weed, a few dollars for the ladies down at the Slap and Tickle Lounge and I'm golden.  In return I can give you thirty-two seconds of pure, exotic, monkey passion at your request.

 

 

Remember sugar, I dig fatties!  Mostly because I, too, am one of them and like attracts like and all that scientifical biorhythm nonsense.  I know what your going through.  I know you secretly dream what it would be like to be that girl in the Johnny Depp trial poopin' in a bed.  All thin and sexy.  Or even Lyndsey Lohan, who in her own right is kinda hot, at least crazy hot.  And that's all in spite of the occasional bouts with dehydration (close quo-ta-tion marks, but I think you know what I'm saying). I like you just the way you are, I'm wouldn't try to make you loose what is left of your self-esteem.  I wouldn't be out spending your hard earned money like some people we know while you're locked in your bedroom eating girl scout cookies dipped in butter and smoking your life away like a chimney.  I hope you understand where I am coming from. What I think is, it's time to give him his pre-nup money and bring in someone who knows how to treat a river pig like yourself.  

 

 

C'mon peaches, think about it, I come from a place and time where we know how to grab a set of sweaty love handles in the heat of passion. How to squeeze 'em just enough to make you dance around like a freshly de-capped chicken. You cant learn these talents.  Either you are born with them or, well, quite frankly are a know nothing looser like your bodyguard turned hubby. We all know he wasn't born to ride the wave in.  You're dirty, and I can't get enough of it.  I remember when I saw that picture of you walking out of a public restroom bare foot;  I knew then and there I had to have you!  You girl, that's who I'm talking about.  So what if you look like a nightmare without makeup, I'm not trying to be with you for your looks, I'm trying to be with you for your cash. Wait sweetness, I didn't mean your cash; I meant your calves, those fat, luscious, hog calves that need to be slapping against my back.  I know you must feel a bit confused while pondering all of this, but rest assured, I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do.  Not even going ass to mouth, unless you wanted to.  Now that definitely show how much I care about you. I mean if that doesn't, what the hell will? 

 

 

Now you might feel that little pang of guilt about not wanting to separate your children from their father, and I wouldn't want you too.  I know, let him keep 'em.  There's an idea.  That way it gives us more time to be together to do all the wild things we want to do while we grow deeper and deeper in love as well as grow our waist sizes.  It would be great babe, you know it would and I'm willing to forget about all of your shenanigans.  That little 24 hour Vegas marriage thing?  Never happened as far as I'm concerned.  Now that I think about it, that's what that anullingment thing did already so we're all good there too.  I don't need the old, hot Britney, I'm completely satisfied with the bat shit crazy tubby one who walks around with that pudgy belly.  Whaddayasay, baby cakes?  You, me, a bottle of Maddog, a blunt, and some Lynyrd Skynard, or however you spell it, they should have come up with a name easier to spell if they wanted to be more popular, right?  Anyway, think about it, you know where to find me girl.

        XOXOXOXO

 

OK, I'll try to make this blog 365 "ish"

A woman suffered severe burning to her anus after being struck by lightning which hit her in the mouth and passed right through her body.  Natasha Timarovic, 27, of Zandar Croatia, was brushing her teeth at home when lightning struck the building. She said: "I had just put my mouth under the tap to rinse away the toothpaste when the lightning must have struck the building. I don't remember much after that, but I was later told that the lightning had traveled down the water pipe and struck me on the mouth, passing through my body. It was incredibly painful, I felt it pass through my torso and then I don't remember much at all." Doctors at the city hospital where she was treated for burns to the mouth and rear said: "The accident is bizarre but not impossible. She was wearing rubber bathroom shoes at the time and so instead of grounding through her feet it appears the electricity shot out of her backside," a medic told a local television news channel. "It appears to have grounded through the damp shower curtain that she was touching as she bent over to put her mouth under the tap. If she had not been wearing the shoes she would probably have been killed by the blast."

 

Editor commentary: Rectum?  Nearly killed her!  

 

You'll be sorry you ever mentioned it being quiet in here Cerpts!