Criminal Minds

"Never rat on your friends. And always keep your mouth shut." - Goodfellas.

Young "Hendry" gets pinched and learns
the two most important things in life.

There is a code. It's a mostly unspoken code among Italian-Americans. Robert DeNiro's character in GoodFellas did speak it, though.  (I posted it above.)  He said it right after Ray Liotta's character got arrested for the first time. Called them the two greatest things in life. (In the scene depicted on the left.) Peanut, herself half-Italian, subscribes to the code. I guess it's genetic, because I never taught it to her.

Haven't you ever made your friends promise to keep a secret? It wasn't a bad thing, right? When we learned Peanut made her friend pinky swear something, we were mildly concerned at worst. It wasn't that she made her pinky swear, it was what she made her pinky swear. In true mafioso form, our little angel told her friend, "not to tell her mom anything about her anymore." That's right. Peanut's friend got pinched, see. While Peanut generally keeps quiet to us (the code), her friend - not Italian - sang like a canary to her mom.

Turns out, Peanut was tired of us finding out about her exploits at school, no matter how innocent they were, through her friend's mom. So she went to the source and told her to pinky swear... to basically keep her f*cking mouth shut. And guess what the friend did? Told her mom about the pinky swear, who in turn told us about the pinky swear. Vicious cycle. This is what happens when you bring non-Italians into your inner circle.

Here is the anatomy of the crime:

1. Peanut and friend interact at school.
2. The friend tells her mom the story.
3. Peanut tells us nothing.
4. Friend's mom tells My Director.
5. We tell Peanut.
6. Peanut tells friend to keep her mouth shut.

What this little girl who was unwittingly ratting on Peanut doesn't know is there is no witness protection in Kindergarten. This friend - or should I say consigliere, is playing with fire. She's risking getting Peanut pinched. Or worse, herself whacked. While Peanut lawyers up faster than you can say cannoli, her friend spilled the beans with very little effort on the prosecution's part. So she quickly became our source of information. Our stool pigeon. It's mostly funny stuff. But this pinky swear business had us worried.

My Director didn't want Peanut becoming a mean girl. Worse, a sneaky mean girl. Someone who likes to keep secrets, both from us and among her friends. Someone who was perhaps bullying her friend to keep things from us. (Really?! She's five.) I understood her concern, but I also understand the code. (I'm Italian. My Director is NOT.) Sometimes secrets have to be kept. Then again... do they have to be kept in Kindergarten?

While I found all of this mildly amusing, I don't like the idea that my daughter is a schemer. Already.

We've had several conversations with her since the "pinky swear" incident. We've been sure not to be accusatory. We told her we want to hear everything about her day - the good and the bad - no matter what. That it's ok if something or someone bothers her, or if she doesn't like someone or something. We  just want to know anything and everything. Open the vault, kid. We might not always agree with her, we might not always like her decisions, but we will always be on her side.

That was out mini-intervention. It seems to have worked. Lately, Peanut has been spilling the beans herself, to us. Often she volunteers the information without prompting. After all, the code begins and ends with family. We're the best at keeping secrets. And the best at making sure our little princess doesn't turn into a mean girl.

Sometimes when Peanut acts up, it's my fault. I learned that the hard way and wrote about it HERE.

Read more ...

Now She Has a Favorite Movie Quote

My little girl is growing up. Not only that, I have further proof that she is indeed my daughter.  First, it was her obsession with inconsequential details in movies. (It started with Dolphin Tale.) Now, she's quoting movies. Regularly. She's worked it into her witty arsenal. One movie, in particular. And one quote specifically.

Read more ...

What Do You Mean I'm Funny?

I missed almost two months of my senior year in high school because of mononucleosis. Can you believe that crap? Freakin' mono senior year? In this day and age? I was going stir crazy. A parade of tutors helped me through my school work in the mornings and a parade of friends came to visit me in the afternoons. One of those friends was thoughtful enough to bring me a yearbook form to fill out. Even then, way before blogging existed, I was needy and self-absorbed. (Once a writer always a writer.) And this friend knew I would want to be immortalized in the yearbook with my likes, dislikes, favorite memories, and of course, my quote.

Some kids quote Mark Twain or Shakespeare. Some quote John Lennon or Jerry Garcia. Who did I quote? Joe Pesci. His character in Goodfellas, to be exact. It was this quote:

"What do you mean I'm funny? What am I, a clown? I'm here to amuse you?"

It's arguably the most famous scene in one of the most popular movies of all time: Goodfellas. When I was a senior in high school, that movie was already a classic. Now it's one of the ten movies I can't wait to watch with Peanut. I quote it daily. For example, if I ask someone at work to do something a certain way, I just may end it with, "Now go get your shine box." Yeah... I'm manager of the year.

The needy, self-absorbed budding writer in me also wanted my yearbook quote to stand out while standing the test of time. I wanted to be remembered, and remembered as a funny guy. Anyone who is funny wants to remind you how funny they are. So it is with that in mind that I present to you this list of some of some of the funniest posts on DKL:

The post that remains the most-ever read on DKL is this one about Peanut's Ken doll and his "man-gina." It's so funny because "Dude Looks Like a Lady."

To keep with the awkward, plastic private parts theme, few things could prepare me for what I saw when I opened the fridge one morning: Belle saying, "Rise and Shine."

Yet another post with pen!s humor. This one involves real people, including my mother-in-law of all people. And a reenactment from one of Luna's toys, to show "THAT's not a Toy."

Believe it or not, the idea not only to bring my in-laws to Disney with us but actually stay in the same room with them was mine. You might be asking, "What the Hell Was I Thinking?"

Finally, I had a little fun with photoshop when Peanut was caught swiping toys from the daycare playground. It was all part of my effort "To Catch a Thief."

Read more ...

The Junk in My Trunk

My phone rang on an otherwise routine Tuesday. As they once joked on Seinfeld, Tuesdays have no feeling. But that was all about to change drastically. On the other line, My Director hit me smack in the face with a pungent problem:

"The car smells really bad. Are you sure you cleaned all of the milk that spilled?"

When I came home from grocery shopping on Sunday, I opened the trunk only to find a grocery bag filled with milk. The plastic gallon jug had cracked open somehow. I performed what I thought was a thorough cleaning. Apparently not.

"I think I know what happened. I probably missed some of the milk that got into the crevices of the molding." 

"Can you COME HOME EARLY to clean it?" (Mind you, she's home.) 

"Are you serious?" (When did I become Mr. Belevdere?) 

"It smells really bad. Peanut says it smells like garbage. And it really does."

I was later informed that upon pickup from camp, the swagger wagon smelled so bad that Peanut actually cried when she got back into the car. Regardless, I arrived home at normal time. After getting dinner started (Reminder: I'm a catch, ladies), I checked out the car. This is what I found:

Quoting Shawshank:
"Smelling Foulness That I Can't Even Imagine."

This is why doctors don't like to make a diagnosis over the phone. Because once I saw it for myself, I could see and smell that my initial assessment was WAY off. The milk had seeped under all of the beach chairs and toys I had stored back there for summer. (You see, I always like to be prepared in case a spontaneous beach emergency pops up. Who needs to waste time carrying all of that stuff fifteen feet from the garage to the car?) But here, my readiness backfired because I had no idea of the real mess the milk had caused. On Sunday, I just  cleaned what I saw, ignoring the principal law of spilled-fluid dynamics stating that milk goes anywhere it damn well pleases, especially where you can't see or reach it.

My Director hosing off the emergency beach supplies.

Since I do not have the capital to install smell-o-vision technology for you here on the DKL site, let me describe it the best way I can. Disgusting, rotting, fermenting death. Or, as I stated on the DKL Facebook page at the time, I officially knew what Henry Hill felt like after moving the body of Billy Batts in Goodfellas:


Cue tons of Resolve, baking soda, hours of vacuuming, and then an overnight fabric softener mask:

Thanks to my my friend Dave at
Musings of Munch for the suggestion.

The next morning the swagger wagon smelled considerably better... until it got hot out. More baking soda, more vacuuming. There was still a smell, but it wasn't nearly as foul as the day before. And those dryer sheets did help big time.

As My Director and I drove to an appointment later that day, I said:

"I kind of feel like this is what it's like to drive in a dryer."

"Or a garbage truck." 

"Yeah. Or a garbage truck IN a dryer."

Every morning, My Director and I have a quick phone conversation as she's starting her day and I'm putting together my show. My first question is always some form of, "How's Peanut?" Now? My first question is, "How does the car smell?" Suffice it to say, as we approach its second birthday our beloved swagger wagon has forever lost its new car smell.

(Please take some time to catch up some DKL you might have missed. I've been doing this on summer Mondays, telling a new story and following it with links to previous posts about that subject. Today's story allows me to reintroduce a topic I don't often bring up: our swagger wagon. Enjoy:) 

Inquiring minds wanted to know how we survive as two working parents with one car. So I answered with Dude, Where's My Car?. (This post is nostalgic now, since My Director took a new job in our town and now does pickup herself.)

I do have what some might describe as an unhealthy love for my swagger wagon. It's all because I sometimes wish the rest of life could be as easy as my minivan makes things, with The Push of a Button

We almost lost our beloved swagger wagon during a destructive autumn snow storm last year. See how close we came in The Joys of Homeownership: Jersey Chainsaw Miracle

Read more ...