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Frank Gumola - Journal | Weblog

Weeds V3.0

David got me hooked on "Weeds" when the show first aired. Thanks to a few (four) leaked episodes from the third season (beginning August 13) we're spending the evening in front of my laptop in search of the answer to the question he asked Tonye Patano when we met her at the "Legends!" show back in March.

"Just how the hell is Nancy going to get out of this one?"

Related: Mary-Kate Olsen joins the cast for season three.

This is going to be fun.

Not Talking About My Generation

I decided to lunch with David today, just before heading into work. Saturdays are wonderful workdays; I spend the late afternoon/early evening working in a great section of town, near Tower City.

I don't much care for Tower City but some of the shops are fun to visit (M.A.C., for one) and they have a cheap food court. You know the type: Chinese food on a stick, leathery pretzels as big as your head, buckets of fried anything. All graciously served to you by a bitter young person who has no idea what a "sense of urgency" means.

After placing my order with the less than hygienic mall employee, I turned to smile at the young woman behind be and started to ask her if she had the time.

I opened my mouth and at that exact moment three young "ladies" jumped the line in front of her and proceeded to give their lunch order. Loudly, and all at once.

The young woman who was originally behind me sheepishly announced that she was next in line.

The largest of the three lady line jumpers pointed to one of the smaller ladies and stated, "She cut in front of you. We're just with her."

"And that makes it OK, how?" replied the woman who was previously behind me.

Everything was made right by the eatery's employee, but not before a few nasty looks and rather racist remarks were made by the group of girls.

I see behavior like this on a daily basis and it sickens me.

Yes, sickens.

Here's where I start sounding like and old fart.

What the hell is wrong with people today? What happened to work ethic, manners, and above all, acceptable public behavior?

I'm tired of what has become acceptable language when I'm out in public. David gets where I'm coming from, but tells me I should ignore it.

And that's the problem.

Too many people are ignoring things like this. We need more parents like Mama Gumola in the world. One wrong word from my mouth and *smack!* right in the kisser.

And I see nothing wrong with it.

The last time I went home for a visit, Mama needed to do some grocery shopping. We went to Giant Eagle. I pushed her cart, picked up the heavier items (cases of soda, etc) and smiled as she stopped every five feet to talk to the people in her neighborhood.

A woman asked me if I would grab a certain case of something for her, and without thinking I stupidly blurted out, "I don't work here."

I know. But in my defense, I a.) wasn't thinking, and b.) was having a really, really bad day.

Mid sentence Mama Gumola simultaneously slapped the back of my head and kicked my ass.

And I deserved it.


I can be a tad territorial. I've got a bowl he's not permitted to use, a latte mug he wouldn't dare touch, and a rooster sculpture that must face an open window at all times. That last one? Don't. Move. It. (And don't ask me about it.)

My Boss knows and loves this about me.

I walked into work and immediately noticed that one of the refrigeration units was missing. Until I got to the kitchen. My kitchen.

There it was. Everywhere. Doors off the hinges, stacked not so neatly near the six burner gas oven. My cutting table was covered in greasy machine parts and something resembling a dismantled automobile engine took up most of the floor space.

The expression on my face is one my boss has never seen before. That's exactly what she said, "Wow. I've never seen that look on you until now."

I calmly prepared my morning latte and slowly made my way back into what I was now calling "Le Garage".

I loudly wished for the mess to be a bit less messy by the time I reached for an apron and a fourteen inch blade.

I grinned a "Here's Frankie!" smile and held the knife above my head.

I think Mr. Fixit got the hint. He spent the remainder of his time repairing the unit outside, in the on again, off again rain.

My tilapia tasted especially delicious today.

Maybe it was the extra metal shavings.


Recent YouTube Favorites:Freaky.


A cute, short film.

We're Walking, We're Walking

I don't drive.

When I was sixteen my Mother forced me to take the test for my license using her 1976 Red Lincoln Continental, aka "That Mother Fucking Boat Sized Blood Clot".

Of course I failed, miserably. I may have even hit a small child or two while navigating a blind turn.

After I got the not-so-shocking news that I would not be receiving my license, I (rather angrily) promised my Mother that I would never again take the exam and never again get behind the wheel of a car. Twenty-two years later, I still don't drive. *snap!*

I'm sure I've told this story before, and if so, feel free to laugh again. At or with me, your choice.

This site is going to come in handy when David and I finally get back to Chicago. In my opinion, driving in that city is simply unnecessary.

I don't need the extra financial burden or the responsibilities that come with owning a vehicle.


Wrap It Up, I'll Take It

So I got a great deal on a china pattern OBEY shirt. The one above. Only mine doesn't fit like the one above. Mine is a bit snug. Which would be great if I had abs of steel.


I was blinded by the discount. I never even looked at the size of the shirt. I mean, the shirt fits, but I'm a bit self conscious when it comes to tight t-shirts.

On the plus side; I can always make a killer head wrap.

Or, I could start doing crunches and tighten my tummy.


Head wrap it is.

Summer Vacation Update

David's birthday celebration was held in Chicago this year. What? You didn't receive your invite? I blame the USPS.

The Birthday Boy @ Cocktail

I introduced David to some of my more fashionable friends; Ralph, Louis, and Tiffany.

I like Tiffany best. Just sayin'.

We shopped kids, lordy did we shop. You name the store, we hit it. You name the food, we ate it. If I see one more slice of pizza, I'll hurl it at someone. If I see one more rack of designer duds...well, let's not get hasty.

We ended our trip with a visit to my former Chicago home. I lived on the top floor, a nice one bedroom near Edgewater Beach. Here in Cleveland, David and I live in an area with the same name.

5737 North Kenmore!

I was hoping David would love the city as much as I do, and he did. I was hoping the trip would be enough to convince him we needed to leave Cleveland.

It did, we are.

Spark In The City

David and I watched the city celebrate last night, and from a safe distance. Edgewater beach has a unobstructed views of the downtown Cleveland area. We found a comfortable spot on a grassy hillside and watched the night sky come to life.

(Watch the left closely at the beginning and you'll see David in the frame.)

It would have been incredibly romantic if only hundreds of other couples coupled with screaming children hadn't thought to do the very same thing.

Still, a beautiful display and fun celebration was had by all.