Michael Copeland

My Little Girls are Growing up Too Fast

October 4, 2015 by Michael Copeland 1 Comment

My oldest daughter just turned eighteen. That’s approximately 6,570 days. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital in a car seat that was more than likely not secured properly. Someone once said, “The days are long and the years fly by.” Truer words have never been spoken. It seems surreal to fully comprehend that my baby is old enough to, among other things, serve in the military, rent a car, initiate legal action, buy a lottery ticket and purchase a house. Additionally, in November of 2016, she’ll be able to vote for Donald Trump, Hilary Clinton or whomever she feels will best serve the office as President of the United States. It seems like just yesterday she was deciding on which of her American Girl dolls would get to go on vacation with us.

The year was 1997, and on a crisp fall day in October, after eighteen hours of labor, my wife and I were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. I’ll freely admit that my wife did most of the heavy lifting that day, but I did secure more than my share of ice chips. Hannah (a name we both loved) Kathryn (after my mother) Copeland came into the world at approximately 10:18 pm. As excited as we both were to meet her, I did appreciate that we were able to watch most of the Giants/Dodgers game while we waited for her arrival. Once she showed up we laughed, we cried and I thanked God that she was healthy and safe.

Once we brought Hannah Banana home from the hospital, without an instruction manual no less, we were quick to realize that we knew virtually nothing about raising an infant. We spent a fair amount of time those first few days on the phone with the advice nurse from Valley-Care Medical Center. Luckily, we had met several wonderful families in our Lamaze class who also didn’t know anything about infants either, so together we muddled through those first few months. There’s strength in numbers. Despite our bumbling and fumbling, our little miracle ate, slept and pooped her way to becoming a toddler, then a little girl, a tween and ultimately a teenager. Today, as a young adult, she continues to amaze me everyday.

In 1999, we were blessed once again with a second daughter. Claire (another name we both loved) Diane (a favorite aunt of my wife) Copeland was born on a warm summer day in July at approximately 10:18 am. When we arrived at the hospital around 8:00 am, the day of her arrival, we naturally assumed we had a full day of contractions (breathing, screaming and ice chips) before we would make her acquaintance. Little did we know, she had other plans and before I could even unpack our soothing Kenny G CD, she was lying under the incubator lights due to a touch of jaundice. I dare not mention her crossed eyes. Fortunately for Claire Bear, this wasn’t our first rodeo. Her sister had taught us so much about nursing, changing, bathing and the soothing tranquility of a bouncy chair, that we were almost professionals the second time around. Her maturation has also progressed with astonishing speed. She too has become a teenager and just this past summer took up the sport of driving. Am I the only one that thinks sixteen years old is too young to operate a moving vehicle independently? Can’t we all agree that a full year of tandem driving with a learner’s permit would be a good thing? What’s the rush?

At the risk of oversimplifying, being a parent is a tremendous amount of work. It’s a never-ending stream of long days, sleep deprived nights, chauffeur-filled weeks, entertaining and exhausting vacations, difficult phases and plenty of growing pains. Fortunately, there’s also more joy that you could ever think humanly possible. In my evolution from Diaper Genie, to curling irons, bath time to privacy in the bathroom, bedtime to curfews, play dates to real dates, first words to smart-phones, alphabet to SAT, strollers to tricycles–scooters to bikes and first steps to driver’s licenses, the time has flown by in the blink of an eye. When I look back on photos covering the past eighteen years, I remember my parents saying, “appreciate everyday,” but somehow I didn’t. At times, I long for the innocence, unconditional love and tender moments that I shared when my girls were little. Innocence lost is a term that I have come to appreciate as they begin to face real life struggles and challenges that come with age.

Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying where my girls are at this stage of their lives. Hannah is enjoying the various activities connected to her senior year of high school, considering her college options and working a job. Claire is a junior, a dynamite swimmer and an equally good student. Both girls have a witty sense of humor, are respectful and responsible and act maturely… except when they don’t. We can talk about a wide variety of world topics (politics, sports, religion), but we had a few equally interesting conversations when the topics were Barbies, Play-Doh and all things Disney. Did you know that Play-Doh was first introduced to public schools in Cincinnati, Ohio, as a modeling compound, in the mid-1950s?

The supersonic progression of the girls’ school years is what amazes me the most. As quickly as elementary school (K-5) flew by, the three years of middle school are a blur. Fortunately, thanks to Friday night football and basketball games, proms and homecomings, driver’s education and college applications, the time from freshman to senior year is somewhat more interactive for parents.

To my friends with sons, who have a different set of rules, obstacles and concerns, time does not move slower for them. It has been said that raising girls is easier when they are young and more difficult as they get older and boys are the opposite. Regardless if this is true, children are children and they all grow up too fast. A lyric from the song Young Turks, by the legendary Rod Stewart, goes something like; “Life is so brief and time is a thief, when you’re undecided and like a fist full of sand it can slip right through your hand.” I have no doubt that this is how Billy Ray Cyrus feels every time he watches his daughter Miley in Hannah Montana reruns.

One day, in the not too distant future, I will assuredly long for the memories of this time in my daughters’ lives. When they are eventually married with children of their own, I’ll undoubtedly miss these teenage years. It probably goes without saying that we should all appreciate that our children are growing up and there’s nothing we can do to slow down the march of time. I may just be a simple Twitter philosopher, but I believe we should live, laugh and love with our kids and appreciate every minute together. Whatever time in their lives that should happen to be.

Summer Writer’s Block: The 2015 Version

September 10, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

It’s here again. I find myself afflicted with that dreaded summer writer’s block and the first symptom is constipation of my creative orifice. In layman’s terms, for you non-professional writers in the magazine audience, I just can’t think of a dog-gone thing to write about for September’s end of summer/beginning of fall issue. As most of you know, I suffered from this same ailment last year and out of absolutely nowhere I came up with an incredibly entertaining article on our neighborhood block parties entitled Summer Writer’s Block Party. I’m so darn talented I impress myself sometimes.

But, alas that was last year. This year…I got nothing. The past few weeks I’ve been asking everyone (wife, kids, co-workers, mailman – he sure seems to be around a lot, and the milkman – I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a milkman anymore and he sure resembles the mailman), but no one came up with any suggestions, ideas, interesting stories or even a colorful Haiku? I love a good Haiku.

Perhaps the way to go about this is to simply compile a sampling of ramblings. I see it in the newspaper all the time. When a writer doesn’t have enough material for an entire article, he/she assembles a collection of short blurbs, dare I say vignettes, on a variety of topics to make his/her deadline with the required word count. I could do that. Here goes nothing.

Dreaming – I’ve been dreaming a lot lately. Get your mind out of the gutter. These are harmless PG-13 dreams. Maybe my nocturnal dreamscape is due to the warm summer nights or the Peyote toothpaste I’ve been using? Either way, I often wake-up drenched in a cold sweat having just dreamt that I was running from someone trying to kill me. Coincdentally, it’s usually our handsome mail/milkman. My kids tell me they’ve also been dreaming a lot more than usual, probably about how they’re going to adjust to a new dad who has two labor-intensive delivery jobs. Even our dogs seem to be dreaming, however their dreams are likely connected to 5 lb. steak bones, peeing in every yard in Danville or hopefully biting the mail/milkman.

There are all kinds of websites to help us interpret our dreams. Check out www.dreammoods.com, www.dreamforth.com, www.dream-dictionary.org or www.dreams.com. I’m a little reluctant to have my dreams interpreted for fear of what it could tell me, starting with my insecurity about delivery men.

Kickin’ it – Growing up, kickball was one of my favorite summertime games. For those of you unfamiliar with this totally awesome competitive sport, it’s a unique blend of softball, soccer, dodge ball and Hunger Games. On any given summer day, the kids in our neighborhood would assemble and teams would be drafted. If I happened to be selected a captain it would go something a little like this; “I’ll take Terry Ivie, Laura Faravelli, Victor Martina and the Mocking Jay—Katniss Everdeen.” To start to play, the pitcher would roll a hard rubber ball to the batter and that person would kick the ball. If someone caught it in the air the batter was out. If the ball bounced along the ground the fielders had to pick it up and throw it at a runner. If they hit the runner before that person reached a base they were out. If the runner eluded the thrown ball they were awarded the base. The offense scored runs the traditional way, every time a runner crossed home plate. However, in our neighborhood, the defense could score points by throwing the ball so hard a runner was knocked down, or if the runner cried, or in the event of a decapitation. I’ve convinced our old neighborhood has such a disproportionately high level of adult homelessness and unemployment due to the long-term effects of kickball-related concussion syndrome.

Alive and Kickin’ it – I’ve only sold approximately 17.5 copies of my latest book, Alive and Chillin’. My first book, Alive and Kickin’, sold well into the 20s. Granted, Kickin’ is probably more appealing than Chillin’, but now I’m a little depressed. A good game of kickball would probably get me out of my funk, but now that all my buddies are in their early 50s someone would undoubtedly break a hip. I was truly hoping my book would be released last December so I could capitalize on the holiday gift buying season. Unfortunately, we had to push out the release date due to complicated publishing issues. I couldn’t find anyone to “Like” my book and give a positive testimonial. I’ve seen people post photos of their feet and get 50 “Likes” on Facebook. Hoping to take advantage of the Valentine gift buying season, we tried to drop the book in February, but sadly that didn’t happen either. The book finally came out in May, but the Memorial Day gift buying season did not generate the sales we anticipated. I’m hoping for a Back-to-School gift buying push or I’ll be handing out signed copies to Trick-or-Treaters on Halloween.

Fear of Flying– I’ve done a fair amount of air travel these last few months, for business and pleasure, but I’m not what you would consider a frequent flyer. First Class and Business are too pricy for me so I typically travel in the coach section. Lately, due to all the mergers and acquisitions in the airline industry, I’ve had occasion to travel in Going out of Business class. You don’t get all the perks and benefits of actual Business Class, but you can really negotiate a great deal on the fare. The seats are about as roomy as a high school math desk and to be honest, I get a little tired of the Kirkland brand drinks and snacks, but at least the seat-back televisions in GOOB Class offer a reasonably good selection of 1980s Beta and VHS tapes. Meatballs, Strips, St. Elmo’s Fire and Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!

Higher Education – I recently decided to further my education by getting a degree online. I liked the idea of working toward my advanced studies at my own pace in the comfort of my own home. However, things started going wrong right away. First I didn’t get into the online dorms. I got my housing application in late and now I have to look for off campus cloud housing. Next, I got cyber bullied when I rushed a virtual fraternity. Those guys from Apple Dell Toshiba (ADT) are real jerks. Finally, my 22 year-old test proctor put me on academic probation when I had an unexplained absence during my final exam. Unexplained? I had to give the kids their lunch money and sign for a Fed Ex delivery. Now I have to do 150 hours of web-based community service before I can get my e-diploma. I’m considering dropping out of school.

I’ve got more material on everything from recycled water fill-up stations to Donald Trump and the pre-election election, but frankly I’m exhausted and want to take a nap. All-in-all, I’d say this article is better than nothing unless of course there’s a general consensus that nothing might have been better? I promise to come back with something stronger in the next issue. Something that’s seasonal, topical or spiritually uplifting. Anybody have any ideas?

Comedy is Serious Business

July 31, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Last night, Wednesday night, July 8th, I performed a five minute set of stand-up comedy at Tommy T’s Comedy Club in Pleasanton. My good friend and comedy mentor, David VanAvermaete, talked me into “The Stand-Up Experience” as the premise for this very article. As invigorating as it was, I still feel like I might throw up.

Teaching Mike stand-up comedy is somewhat like teaching a bird to fly. Assuming the bird is a penguin. – DVA

When David initially told me he would be producing a show and brought up the idea, my immediate response was, “Let me think about it…No!” Doing a live stand-up comedy routine on stage was never on my bucket list. I’ll admit that I like attention and the spot light as much as the next guy (OK, more than the next guy), but utter humiliation is not how I envision getting it. David assured me that under his tutelage, I would craft a set worthy of applause and laughter. Hence began my crash course in Stand-Up 101.

This could be a springboard for Mike to explore other forms of comedy. Mime comes to mind – DVA

Prior to our first meeting, David had me write out a word-for-word set. I then performed it for him at his home in San Ramon one sunny day in June. He provided me with techniques on structure, conceptual formula (keep the jokes about myself and my life), word placement and pacing. We met once a week for three weeks as I tightened the content, flow and timing of my set. I was still tweaking my material right up until show time, which probably hurt me because I forgot a few key jokes once up on stage.

Mike’s set started off slow and then tapered off. – DVA

The line-up for last night’s show featured MC, Ben Feldman, who opened and performed for 15 minutes. That was followed by my short set of five minutes. After me, Michael Slack did 15 minutes, followed by featured act, Anthony Hill, who did 20 minutes. Headliner David VanAvermaete, performed a modified version of his full set (30 minutes). The other comedians—now that I can technically call myself a comedian—were incredibly welcoming and supportive. I had met Anthony Hill previously and his encouragement was very heartfelt. I am a big fan of Anthony and last night he was trying out quite a bit of new material, not all of which drew big laughs. Anthony’s ability to roll with the crowd’s tepid response and “transition” was inspiring.

When Mike went up on the stage an anticipatory hush came over the crowd. Unfortunately, the hush persisted well into his set. – DVA

Fortunately, several audience members accidentally laughed… when they got their bill. –DVA

There were approximately 75-80 people in the crowd at Tommy T’s for the show, along with a few close friends and family. Their support (and forced laughter) was very much appreciated. I really wasn’t as nervous as one might expect, probably because I was focused on not forgetting my lines. Below is an excerpt from my set.

1. As you heard, this is my first time on stage and I’ll admit to being nervous. Hopefully my first joke won’t involve me crapping my pants, although that would be funny….to you.
2. I’m so green I didn’t even know what to wear tonight. Someone suggested something to make me look younger and thinner so I went over to Macys at the mall and asked them to direct me to their catfish and pedophile department.
3. Much to my surprise, they had one.
4. This is my joke set list, which I’m going to place on this stool. It’s there to help me find my place just in case I get lost or more likely, have a panic attack or pass out from vertigo. (Said as I look over the edge of the stage)
5. This is a lot higher than the last stage I appeared on, that being the coffee table in our family room. I sure miss my lucky American Girl Doll mic right about now.
6. For those you who don’t know me, my name is Mike Copeland. I am 52 years old, but I’ve been told by a lot of people that I don’t look a day over 60
7. They never tell you as a kid that the first two things to go on an aging white male are hair and butt and I don’t know which one is receding faster?
8. My hair started to recede when I was about thirty one or thirty two…months old.
9. “Receding’ is probably an understatement. The definition of recede is to retreat, well my hair line has retreated all the way down to my shoulders. I think we can all agree that my hairline has finally surrendered.
10. The good news is a local plastic surgeon has asked me to be their “after” photo for their new butt reduction procedure.
11. I guess it could be worse. Loose fitting jeans and the lack of a pocket comb are better than the alternative, that being the three “I” words; incompetence, incontinence and impotence.
12. I am married, sorry ladies. Just like the steak here at Tommy T’s, this boner in Rib Eye is off the menu.
13. 21 years ago I was sentenced to life and ever since, I’ve been doing time at the suburban slow death penitentiary.
14. I kid. My wife is here tonight and she has a great sense of humor, however if I read her body language correctly there goes any hope for a “conjugal visit”. (use air quotes)
15. I bet tonight as we get ready for be there may be a role reversal to our little game. I’ll probably end up being the guard and she’ll be the prisoner who’s just been executed by lethal injection.
16. I have two beautiful teenage daughters, thank you again for that sympathetic round of applause.
17. I’m kind of proud to say, that within their peer group, I’m the cool dad.
18. Probably because I buy them and their friends pot, beer and cigarettes.
19. I’m only kidding, I don’t buy them cigarettes.
20. I love my daughters and they love their…. cell phones, debit cards and anything WiFi.
21. As you heard during my intro, I am writer. Most of the magazines I write for don’t offer home delivery, but you can these periodicals in local bookstores in section entitled, FREE, Take One.
22. Currently, I’m with ALIVE magazine. It’s a lot like Vanity Fair or the New Yorker in that it’s got a front cover, back cover and pages with words and pictures.
23. I write a humor lifestyle column, and I’m pretty sure I know what a lot of you are thinking right now……When did Tommy’s have steak on the menu?
24. The rest of you are probably thinking, “He writes humor? Why not write about what you know more about, like humiliation?
25. I’m not certain that my writing will translate from the page to the stage, as I find that I’m at my most hilarious when I’m sitting alone in my home office late at night, pantless.
26. I find that by not wearing pants, I’m less inhibited, more relaxed and the creative juices are free flowing.
27. Unfortunately, Tommy has a “Must Wear Pants on Stage” policy.
28. I suppose if I was Jerry Seinfeld he might waive that policy. Seinfeld impression: What’s the deal with pants? I’m not wearing them!?
29. When it comes to impressions, I’ve been told my Jerry Seinfeld sounds a lot like Jerry Seinfeld imitating Don Knotts during a prostate exam.
30. In addition to my magazine writing, I have two books in publication. I’m proud to tell you that they are currently on the bestseller list …at the Trunk of My Car Bookstore.
31. We have one convenient location… wherever I am.

I had a bit about a recent traffic incident being the result of “Roid Rage”, hemorrhoids not steroids. I surmised that anal fissures were the cause of Dr. David Banner’s metamorphoses into the Hulk, but it wasn’t really coming together and caused my set to run long. There was also a joke about getting advice from the employees at Tommy T’s immediately following their employee comedy competition, Last Busboy Standing. This bit lacked punch lines. My big ending was a joke about my dogs and some of their inappropriate behavior, but it’s not really suitable for a family magazine and I forgot half of it when I was up on stage.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any less funny, Mike launched into some impersonations. – DVA

For a first timer, Mike had great poise and pretty good timing. He gave the impression he had done this at least once before. – Scot Wilson

I’ve seen worse comics who performed for longer. Mike got some respectable laughs. – Derek Sousa

I liken the whole Stand-up experience to skydiving. The first time I tandem jumped, the adrenaline was pumping and it was exhilarating, but it was somewhat of a surreal blur. The second time I jumped, I was completely in the moment and it was so much more rewarding. Performing stand-up comedy takes a lot more courage than skydiving, but I would consider doing another 5-7 minute set in the future hoping to absorb it all slightly better. I guess I could always turn my house into a comedy club (Mikey C’s) for a night and do my routine from our family room coffee table with my lucky American Girl Doll karaoke mic. Thank you, I’ll be here all week. Two shows; nine and eleven, don’t forget to tip your waitresses.

Watching Mike do comedy is like finding a condom in your teenage son’s wallet – awkward and embarrassing, mixed with a little pride. –DVA

My best advice to Mike is to taper off his performance schedule over the next 4 weeks and then quit altogether. –DVA

I’m a Yankee Doodle

July 4, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Yankee Doodle went to town
A-riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his cap
And called it macaroni’.
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy.

What’s a Yankee Doodle you ask? If you have to ask you’re not one! If you have to ask, you might be a communist (pre-Isis/Jihad American hate group). I’ll tell you what a Yankee Doodle is, not because I should have to, but because I have 1,200 words to fill.

A Yankee Doodle is a patriot; someone proud to be an American. A Yankee Doodle can be any race, religion or ethnicity, but they must bleed red, white and blue, and damn it—that’s me! When you drop a Yankee Doodle on someone they instinctively think of the song. The earliest known version of the Yankee Doodle song lyrics dates back to somewhere between 1755 and1758. It was a big hit on i-Tunes—the pre-Revolutionary War playlist.

The song, Yankee Doodle Dandy, gained popularity when the Union soldiers sang it while marching during the Civil War. The confederate soldiers were probably belting out Sweet Home Alabama. Post war, it became a unifying tune throughout the country. Although the term became a call for national unity, today’s “Y Doodles” are equally proud to be from a state as great as California.

Taking it one step further, we now have more regional Dandies inherently proud to be a Danvillian or an Alamoian, a San Ramonian or a Walnut Creekian. Are you picking up what I’m laying down? 2015 Yankee Doodles rocks their allegiance to country, state, city and community. They raise their flag for the good old USA, the Golden State and home region such as The Tri Valley, Blackhawk, Diablo, Rossmoor, Lamorinda, etc.

If you’re ever read one of my articles in this magazine, and I’m confident at least six people have, you know I don’t share my views on politics, religion, other species or extraterrestrials. Just for the record, they exist. I’ve seen them. Being a Yankee Doodle is more of a patriotic life choice than a club affiliation. It’s a swagger we embrace because we know, for all our nation/state or town’s flaws, compared to the rest of the world, there’ no better place to live on planet earth than where we are today!

The list of Yankee Doodles is long and esteemed. John Wayne was a Yankee Doodle. Ronald Reagan, Amelia Earhart and Dick Clark…all Yankee Doodles. I know Walt Disney was a Yankee Doodle because I once saw Jiminy Cricket dressed up for Forth of July in Uncle Sam attire. That little bug sure could sing and dance. Bruce Springsteen is a Doodle along with Joe Montana, Harrison Ford and… I could name hundreds, maybe thousands of men and women who doodle themselves. Wait, that came out wrong.

The following is a sampling of just a few whom I considered to be Yankee Doodlers. In addition to me and my cousin Ben, the list includes Neil Armstrong, Chris Kyle, Jimmy Fallon, Madison Bumgarner and Buster Posey, Clint Eastwood, Sandra Bullock, Hulk Hogan, Toby Keith, Jon Stewart, Charlie Brown and Snoopy, the entire Curry family (Steph, Ayesha, Del, hot Sonya and adorable little Riley), Bob Costas, John Grisham, Chris Rock, Kid Rock, Duane “The Rock” Johnson, Danica Patrick, Rudolf Giuliani, Captain America, Captain Crunch, Howard Stern, Eric Johnson and Beyonce.

A Yankee Doodle is a Patriotic person. Fiona D., age 11

A Yankee Doodle is a rag in the shape of a swirl hat. Brandon C., age 6 ½

A Yankee Doodle is some kind of noodle food. Jessica C., age 8

A Yankee Doodle is a cartoon character macaroni guy. Hannah O., age 10

A Yankee Doodle is a lady wearing a hat with feathers riding a horse down a dirt road. Taylor O. age 8

A Yankee Doodle is a person who traded stuff with other people and became rich. Jake A., age 10

A Yankee Doodle is a cowboy who invents stuff. Trevor R., age 9

A Yankee Doodle is someone who can’t do what they’re trying to do. Harper C., age almost 5.

A Yankee Doodle is a yellow pony who eats macaroni. Megan L., age 4 1/2

A Yankee Doodle is an old time baseball player with the New York Yankees. Brady L., age 7 ½.

A Yankee Doodle is a noodle dinner with sauce that kids like to eat. Reese M., age 6

A Yankee Doodle is a song you sing on the Fourth of July. Regan D., age 7

Some politicians are Doodles, but not all of them. Some politicians are just plain tools. I think it’s safe to say that Olympic athletes are Yankee Doodles along with anyone in the military. Just for the record, we owe anyone in the military and our military veterans (along with their families) our full YD respect and admiration. OOH-RA!

Back in the 1940s, or was it the 1840s?…doesn’t matter, James “Jimmy” Cagney stared in an American biographical musical movie about the life of George M. Cohen called Yankee Doodle Dandy. I don’t know if Cagney was a Yankee Doodle in real life, because he’s dead, but my wife’s aunt Peggy says Cagney was “The cat’s pajamas.” That could be old people speak for Yankee Doodle? I don’t really speak old people. I speak mid-life crisis. Unless I’m mistaken, it was Cagney who had the famous line, “You dirty rat!” That’s kind of Doodle and gangster.

Lately, I’ve been binge-watching House of Cards and The West Wing on Netflix to amp up my Yankee Doodle political knowledge. I also recently caught a Netflix showing of the movie Independence Day.That’s a fun way tototally geek-out your Americana patriotism. My Yankee Doodle pride will be on full display this Fourth of July and every day after that from here to eternity, because that’s how I roll. Doodle on my brothers and sisters. Doodle on!

Beware of Hotel Hell

June 3, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Poor accommodations can ruin a vacation!

With the school year just about over, a lot of us are making summer vacation plans. Regardless if your travel plan is a visit with family and friends, or the itinerary includes an on-the-go sightseeing adventure or a relaxing destination vacation, you’ll undoubtedly need overnight accommodations. It makes no difference if you travel by plane, train or automobile and end up at the beach, desert, big city or the mountains, where you stay is almost as important as where you go.

I have had more than my share of bad hotel, motel, lodge, inn and resort experiences while traveling. I’ve stayed in places where serial killers wouldn’t leave their victims. I’ve slept in rooms where CSI crime scene technicians refused to go. I swam in a pool that was once a septic tank. I’ve eaten my free continental breakfast when the choices were broken waffle cones, decorated Easter eggs (in October) and expired powder milk. I’ve seen a maid using a leaf blower to clean a room, a desk clerk who was outfitted in a Haz-Mat suit, and ironically, I once had a one-legged bellhop. I’ve seen banquet rooms hosting everything from a Scientology recruitment drive to a support group meeting for cross dressing necrophiliac hoarders. Finally, I’ve wondered if those were actually loose Raisinettes left on my pillow and bedspread by the “turn-down” service. Come to think of it, they were a little saltier than most Goober chocolates.

When I once worked for a company that was a little the cheap side, they insisted all of their sales reps stay at national discount motel chain. When I first arrived, the valet parking lot attendant moved my car off-site and rented it out by the hour. The hotel restaurant doubled as a soup kitchen and the bare chested chef made the daily special in the Jacuzzi. The altar in the wedding chapel was equipped with a metal detector. Happy Hour in the hotel bar consisted of passing around a bottle of homemade bathtub wine wrapped in a brown paper bag. The workout room was fully equipped with a bent hula-hoop, chalk drawn Hop Scotch court and a set of Buns of Steele VHS tapes. I did appreciate that I got a complimentary penicillin shot at every third stay, but I hated that check out was done at gunpoint. I heard that the Cave Dwellers Association (“CWA”) rejected the hotel because the accommodations weren’t up to CWA standards. The Chamber of Commerce proudly listed the venue as the only hazardous waste drop-off site in a 230 mile radius with overnight accommodations.

Once a year, my buddies and I do an annual boys road trip to enjoy a weekend of golf and “Hall Pass” merriment. Over the years, we’ve stayed in some pretty sketchy boardinghouses. It’s a guy’s getaway so we’re not looking for couples massages and sunset terraces, but I’m pretty sure a few of the places we’ve stayed were on the verge of being condemned.

As we pulled into the parking lot last year, which resembled a bombed-out Syrian airport runway, the crime scene tape was still up blocking our way into the syringe-littered lobby. We did appreciate that the concierge, who also handled room service, mani/pedi spa treatments and landscape maintenance, asked if we wanted to purchase a MMP card. The phone in our room had the Suicide Prevention Center on speed dial. The pool was a popular pet-washing destination until someone’s lizard died from a bacterial infection. I understand that the check cashing bodega/adult bookstore/coin laundry down the street frequently complained that the motel guests brought down the image of the neighborhood and I’ll admit many of the other patrons could easily have passed for squatters. At least they had Wi-Fi. The password was… SaveMe.

The worst of my hotel stays may have been on my honeymoon. My worries began when I noticed that the sundry shop was stocked with bug bombs and rattraps. It wasn’t so bad that our room had bunk beds, but we were disappointed that another couple had already claimed the bottom bed. Boy, were they noisy. We were hoping we might be upgraded to a room with carpeting or at the very least drapes, but no such luck.

We found the gardener’s severed finger in the ice machine, the vending machines sold ammunition and our wake-up call was the manager’s wife leaning on her car horn. It resembled a youth hostel without all the warmth and amenities. The black-light AP on my phone made it abundantly clear that the room had at one time been used as a porn set. Our first clue should have been the brochure that suggested visitors bring their own soap, shampoo and fly swatter.

Often times, bed & breakfast establishments aren’t any better. For our anniversary, we stayed at a B&B near the Delta and the sign at the entrance proudly stated, #1 Destination for Conjugal Visits. The maid was attempting to change the sheets in our room when we arrived, but she had trouble prying them apart. The mini-bar consisted of a glass of tap water and a few opened bags of airline peanuts. The complimentary happy hour offered a choice of either hillbilly moonshine or a nice Bartles & James wine cooler from 1982-84, however the plastic glasses all had lipstick stains. The adult movie selection turned out to be hidden cameras set up in the adjoining rooms. While it was pet-friendly, most of the dogs chose to sleep in the car after seeing the raccoon gang hanging out next to the kitchen dumpsters. The good news was there were plenty of those salty Raisinettes virtually everywhere.

I’m quite certain there are those of you reading this article who are non-believers. Those who think I’m making this all up for the sake of another hilariously funny, laugh out loud/can’t put down humor lifestyle magazine article. To that I say, “What?” Much like the Extended Limited Express security guard said, aka homeless guy who offered to watch ourshi…..stuff while we waited for our handi-capable van ride back to the airport, “I may not have much, but I have my integrity (and a 24 oz. can of Schlitz Malt Liquor in his case).” If you can’t afford to stay at the Ritz Carlton, Four Seasons or Fairmont, a word to the wise would be to do your due diligence when it comes to where you’ll be staying. Otherwise, you might just be setting your self up for a visit to Hotel Hell.

Spring Break: A Break We All Need

April 9, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Spring break is just the break I need to break from the monotonous routine I find myself in this time of year. Like many of my readers, both of you, I get up (when it’s still dark outside), let the dogs out, eat breakfast, see the kids off to school, drive to work, put in an exhausting day at the salt mines, drive home (in the dark), eat dinner, read a little, watch some TV and go to bed. Fear not, this isn’t a “Woe is me” article, although it could be if I added the stuff about bill paying, dog walking and helping with homework. I know, Spring Break was designed to give students a one-week break from their studies, but believe me when I say, Spring Break can’t come soon enough for this suburban superhero.

In years past, my family and I have spent our Spring Break at locations such as Lake Tahoe, Washington D.C., San Diego, New York City and we even did a Caribbean cruise with the in-laws one year. Most have been wonderful family bonding travel experiences, but one more day trapped on a ship with my mother-in-law and I would have been dangerously close to jumping overboard.

It really doesn’t matter where our ultimate destination is as long as we get out of Dodge for a week. We don’t actually live in Dodge, but you get my drift. Marshall Dillon and Miss Kitty once lived in Dodge on the long running TV western, Gunsmoke. I wonder if they actually “got out of Dodge” during Spring Break? You have to admit, “Get out of Dodge” sounds a lot better than “Get out of Danville.” Danville is where Phineas and Ferb live. Phineas and Ferb is a delightful Disney Channel series. I know that because my sad routine includes occasionally watching cartoons. I bet even Phineas and Ferb want to get out of Danville for Spring Break.

I’m not complaining about my routine-driven lifestyle, I’m commiserating. Who’s with me? We don’t actually have to go on our Spring Break vacation together, unless you want to, but metaphorically speaking, aren’t we all ready for Spring Break? A break from our jobs, our commitments and our routines is a good thing. It can recharge the battery, stoke the fire or just save our sanity.

Where are you planning to take the family for Spring Break this year?

Hawaii. Who doesn’t love the beaches, resorts and ocean breezes of Hawaii? Aloha baby. –Monica C.

We’re planning a college road trip with our high school son. Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona. –Tom S.

Disneyland. It’s the happiest place on earth. –Cindy G.

Skiing in Tahoe. If there’s enough snow. Is there enough snow? –Jason A.

Huntington Beach. Sun and fun. –George P.

We’re doing a San Francisco “Staycation”. We’ll be sightseeing like European Tourists. –Mike B.

Seattle. College tour, baseball game and a ferry trip to Victoria, BC. —Julie C.

We wanted to go to spring training in Arizona, but Spring Break is late this year so we’re heading to San Diego to see the Padres play baseball and go to the zoo. —John C.

Those destinations all sound very tame and nice, but certainly nothing like the Spring Break of our college days. Spring Break originally gained notoriety sometime in the early 80’swith the hedonistic, college pilgrimage to the legendary Fort Lauderdale. Subsequently, new haunts such as Daytona Beach, South Padre Island, Palm Springs and Las Vegas started drawing the post high school collegiate crowd. I don’t want to brag (yes I do), but I tore it up pretty good back in the day in places such as Lake Havasu, San Diego and Palm Desert. It wasn’t a Girls Gone Wild video (on one occasion it was), but a few of those SBs were pretty epic.

In College, where was your best Spring Break spent?

An RV trip to Palm Springs. We trashed the RV and lost our deposit, but it was worth it. –Mark D.

Miami Beach. Sun, clubs and the beach. It was a blast. –Rhonda N.

There was a wild trip to Lake Tahoe in ’94, but the terms of my probation prohibit me from talking about it. –Justin G.

Probably New Orleans, but I don’t remember a lot of it. –Blake C.

Skiing in Taos, New Mexico. Life was good back then.—Tyler B.

Mazatlan, Mexico. I got shaken down by the local police and had to buy my way out of trouble. It was sketch, but it makes for a great story.—Matt M.

Camping in Yosemite with my college girlfriend was the best Spring Break I ever spent. I still think about it. Don’t tell my wife. –Joe D. (not his real name).

There may have been a time in my younger days when a swim suit, wet suit or my birthday suit were the body surfing/bon fire party apparel options of a wild time at pick-a-name beach somewhere along the California coast. I was the king of the Beer-Bong, the Body Shot and the Ice Breaker, but that was the past. Now, if my teen daughters ask what those vile terms mean, I tell them they’re games invented by the devil and most assuredly cause cancer.

It would be an interesting case study to dissect what a lot of us recklessly enjoyed as young adults and how we don’t want our 17-22 years old to experience any of it. As the head of our family, my job is to show the kids a part of the country and cherish the quality time I get to spend with them. With college looming, I fear that they’ll be exposed to Spring Break boys like I used to be all-to-soon.

Maybe this year we’ll just throw all our stuff in the car and head to places unknown without a preset destination. Yea, like that could ever happen. We’re all about the preparation, anticipation and the execution of the Spring Break. We’re a “tion” family. Granted, the theme and destination of my Spring Breaks may have been altered since the craziness of my youth, but they are still an important staple in my life. It’s a break we all need right now.

The Spring Clean: House, Yard and Garage Beautification

March 10, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Spring is in the air. Birdsare chirping, flowers are blooming and the Giants are at Spring Training in Arizona. Now that we’ve all given up on our New Year’s resolutions, or at least postponed them until after Easter, it’s time to think about Spring Cleaning: That traditional time of year when we plan a major clean up of our house, yard and the garage. This is no easy chore (or collection of chores). It takes preparation, conditioning and training. Back when I was a kid, my parents took great pleasure in participating in our annual springtime neighborhood beautification project. I can still remember my mother’s Spring Cleaning slogan of 1973, “Clean it and I mean it” or her 1979 catch phrase, “If it don’t fit, it ain’t legit” which I’m pretty sure was stolen by Johnny Cochran for his OJ defense years later. My all-time favorite was 1985’s “My louse of a spouse better clean this damn house.” I think my mom was mad at my dad that year. In most households, spring-cleaning still remains a necessary evil and the month of March is when most families begin to tackle this ritualistic effort.

The House

In these days, where everyone needs the newest, fastest and coolest of everything; where nothing is built to last but everything is recyclable, a lot of us accumulate an excessive amount of junk around the house. Growing up, my parents insisted that during “S-C Week,” we would pack up our home like we were moving across country. This fun little task allowed us to throw-out, clean-up and organize the contents of our 1,800 square foot house after 11.75 months of hoarding, storing and ignoring the place. It was amazing what we would find around the house as we emptied out closets, rearranged furniture and unloaded cabinets and cupboards.Sadly, anything from a Santa suit to old Halloween candy to a petrified missing pet could potentially be uncovered.

Discoveries like these would inevitably bring up a few interesting questions, such as: Why did Santa leave his suit at our house, who’s the chocoholic hoarding Kit Kat bars and why did the hamster commit suicide? Room by room, the Copeland Clan would ascend on our targeted living space assignment with one goal: To beautificate the premises.

As parents, the term clean-up may be too simplistic a term when it comes to the thought of tackling the hard-hat excavation of our kid’s bedrooms and closets. I am always amazed at the amount of “stuff” kids of today can accumulate.

My daughters’ rooms often resemble a stinky secondhand thrift store! I like to think of Spring Cleaning the kid’s bedrooms as the great discard of accumulated, worthless junk; a purging of broken and obsolete electronics, and the general discarding of non-fitting or out-of-style clothing.

If memory serves me correctly, I didn’t have one tenth of the stuff my kids have lying around the house. I owned one pair of sneakers, not what seems like hundreds of running shoes, flip-flops, boots, slippers, flats and heels. Not that I wanted a pair of heels. I wasn’t a young Bruce Jenner.

The Yard

My landscape isn’t in any better shape than the house. Despite a lack of rain, I have weeds in my lawn, weeds in my shrubs, weeds in my rock beds and weeds in the cracks of my concrete/driveway. Even my beautiful, stone BBQ island has weeds. Not to mention, every plant-like green thing outside of my house is overgrown to the point that my backyard looks like the Amazon Rainforest or a Rainforest Café.

Back in the day, my Dad would rally his pre-pubescent children around him on a Saturday morning and begin by having us spray the yard with the strongest pre and post emergent chemicals sold (illegally) at black market flea markets. Once that was complete, he would give us access to the sharpest machete-type gardening tools in the shed for a hardy afternoon of pruning, trimming and weeding. Finally, after a refreshing ten-minute lunch break, he would point us in the direction of the riding mower.

But hey, except for an occasional tick or tremor, I turned out OK. Now those pesky OSHA restrictions and child labor laws limit our kids to raking leaves and using the hose. I can’t even get the little buggers to clean up the dog poop. If it weren’t against the HOA CC&Rs, this would be the perfect time of year to shape my agapanthus shrubs into the shape of various zoo animals. Truth be told, my yard just needs some mulch, a few flowers and a synthetic lawn to keep my neighbors from shaking their heads in disgust as they drive by the house and refuse to wave.

The Garage

The garage is the biggest and most difficult of the three Spring Cleaning Triathlon events. It will take strength, endurance and steroids (use them if you’ve got them) to get the wife’s car back into its rightful spot. It is not uncommon to fill every square inch of my garage each year, much like a hoarder’s self-storage unit in Richmond. Last spring, I found my next-door neighbor’s ping-pong table, keg-er-ator and his mother-in-law living in my garage. I have no idea how any of those things got there, but I did return his ping-pong table and mother-in-law.

A proper garage Spring Cleaning can consume an entire weekend. First thing Saturday morning, I slip into my Haz-mat suit and Chuck Taylor high tops and begin removing every last item from the garage and placing it in alphabetical order on the front lawn and driveway. Just kidding, I just throw shi.. uh.. stuff anywhere. Once the garage is swept, power washed and deloused, there’s the job of storing everything to an orderly place, less the 70% of previous inventory that gets trashed, hauled, donated or sold at Sunday’s big Copeland Family White Trash Garage Sale. There will be price slashing specials all day long. If all goes we’ll, I can usually park the little woman’s car back in the garage for about a week or two before we start accumulating new junk and the garage becomes overrun again.

It’s been said that our home is our castle! Spring-cleaning is a great opportunity to spruce up the kingdom. For most of us, our house is our single largest investment and a little curb appeal wouldn’t hurt the value. There’s no denying that a cleaning triathlon is a lot of work, but the results will be rewarding and assuredly worth the effort. If you can get the kids creatively involved you’ll kill two birds with one stone. (I actually found two dead birds in my hall closet last year.)

Granted, I’ve already trademarked the term, The Spring Clean Triathlon, but for a small fee I would be happy to send you a Spring Cleaning kit to get you started. We even have Spring Clean2015 t-shirts in assorted colors and sizes. Think of the slogan possibilities, “Keep it Alive in 2-0-1-5, “Rad Dad and The #1 Clean Team,” or more to the point, “Damn Right I’m Mean – Now Quit Whining and Clean.”

My mom would be so proud.

2 B a Teenager in Love

February 7, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

When I think of February, I can’t help but think of Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day inevitably conjures up images of love and romance. My earliest memories of love and romance take me back to my teenage years. That’s when those of us in the 44-55 year old demographic likely went on our first date. By date, I mean a boy picked up a girl, met her parents and took her to dinner, a movie, maybe bowling or miniature golf, etc. At the end of the night he brought her home. I find it important to clarify the general terms of a date, because from what I’ve observed of real time teenagers in 2015, the concept of dating has become as obsolete as Blockbuster Video, Tower Records or Winchell’s Donuts.

I consider myself somewhat educated on the modern day teenage animal because I have two living in my house. Think of me as a suburban zookeeper. Instead of a pair of lovable panda bears eating eucalyptus leaves, sleeping and pooping in captivity, my two teens eat a lot of pita chips, sleep and poop. I love my teens, but everyday I am more aware how different their lives are from the teen way of life my wife and I experienced. We may not be able to stop evolution of the species, but that’s not to say we can’t long for a simpler time, when relationships prevailed over technology.

One of the most glaring differences in the teen life that I’ve observed is the ritual of dating. Teens really don’t date today. They text, they Snap Chat, they Instagram, they hang out and they hook up. As a former teenage boy, I’m somewhat envious, but as the father of daughters, I’m disheartened. Today’s teenage boys don’t have to experience that series of dating events that helped prepare young men for life. Allow me to illuminate you on the now forgotten Art of Dating (circa 1978).

First Contact: Boy see girl, girl see boy. Flirtation abounds. Hopefully idiot teen boy not annoy girl too much. Boy says, “Would you like to go out some time? “ If girl says yes, it’s game On!

Securing the Phone Number: Getting a girl’s phone number was like winning the lottery. You held something valuable in your possession.

Making the Call: It was not uncommon to practice what you would say. It was not uncommon to be so nervous you felt like you might throw up. It was not uncommon to pray that her father didn’t answer the phone. It was not uncommon to talk for hours.

Planning the Date: A movie and a piece of pie at Marie Callender’s was my go-to first date. All in all, maybe I spent $10.00-$12.00.

Meeting the Parents: Meeting her mom was cool, but meeting the dad was pure torture. The girl was never on time, so “let the grilling begin.”

The Date: See planning the date above. What could go wrong at a movie and Marie Callender’s?

The Good-Night Kiss: Walking a girl up to her front door and hoping for a kiss goodnight on the porch was what every boy hoped for at the end of a date. Making out in the car was just icing on the cake.

The Follow-up: Assuming a date went well, you then had to figure out when to call again. Should it be the next day or a few days later? How you played the follow-up call could dictate if there was a second date.

Side note: I hated getting a girl’s father on the phone. It usually went something like this. “Hello, Mr. Molz, this is Mike Copeland, is Lynn home tonight?” “Yes she is.” “May I talk with her this evening?” “Who may I say is calling?” “Aaaa, it’s Mike Copeland, sir.” “Can I ask what it’s pertaining to?” “I’m a friend from school and I was just hoping to talk with her for a few minutes.” Sweat is now pouring down my forehead and my throat goes dry. “Who is this again?” I am so disappointed that I will never get the opportunity to inflict such torture and pain on a young suitor.

Teenage “dating” terms Today:

Following– When you first notice someone or think you might like a young lady or squire you follow them on Instagram or Twitter

Sliding through the DMs – To Direct Message someone a personal message

Messaging– When you first like someone and reach out to them through a text

Talking – Two people begin texting each other and might even talk at school

Hanging Out – Meeting up at a party, sporting event or somewhere else

Hooking Up – Making out (although it can also involve heavy petting)

A Date – Meeting up with someone somewhere is now considered a date. This is much more common than either party actually coming to the other’s house

A Thing –Two individuals are talking/texting each other exclusively

Relationship–You’ve finally reached the girlfriend-boyfriend stage

If a “thing” doesn’t work out, it’s referred to as “ended.” If a“relationship” ends it’s still called ‘Breaking up.”

As teenage boys in the late 1970s and early ‘80s, my peer group and I looked for role models in television and movie characters to emulate when it came to dating. From Starsky and Hutch, to Jon and Ponch on CHiPs, and Bo and Luke from the Dukes of Hazzard, watching the dating ritual on television was a great resource for inexperienced high school boys. Sadly, few of us had the hot cars these guys had and that put us at a distinct disadvantage.

As a frame of reference, high schoolers Ritchie and Potsie of Happy Days were smoother than the Sweathogs of Welcome Back Kotter. On the silver screen, it was actors such as Matt Dillon, Emilio Estavez, Tom Cruise, Andrew McCarthy, Rob Lowe and John Cusack in such cinematic gems as St. Elmo’s Fire, Risky Business, Sixteen Candles, Say Anything and Pretty in Pink who gave us some structure when it came to asking a girl out and what to do if she actually said “yes.” Apparently mullets and sleeveless t-shirts were a key to dating success.

From what I’ve observed of teenage boys in the past twelve months, they watch a lot of reality TV and are avid gamers. I’m not quite sure how the show Deadliest Catch or the video game World of War is going to get you a girl, so if I’m missing something, would someone please explain it to me? Using a scantily clad Kate Upton in the World of War advertisements is genius advertising, but unless I’m wrong, she doesn’t actually appear in the game or talk to the gamer.

Teen dating has been around since the dawn of time in every country, culture and religion on earth. Granted, there might be different rules or rituals related to teen dating, but it ultimately comes down to boy like girl, girl like boy, boy and girl do something social together. I would hate to see this generation of teens miss the whole dating experience simply due to the emergence of mobile technology and/or the stunted evolution of hormones. Not to mention, I want the ability to flick the porch lights on and off when the occasion arises.

The New Year’s Signs

January 9, 2015 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

I love the New Year! It’s a fresh start, a blank canvas, a clean slate, a “Do Over,” if you will. The question on everyone’s mind undoubtedly is: Will it be a good new year or a bad new year? There is obviously an equal chance it could go either way, but 50/50 really isn’t bad odds. What I’ve come to realize is the direction our year will take usually depends on the subtle signs we’re getting just as the year is starting out. Once “the signs” start coming your way, you first have to recognize them and then, once it’s determined if it will be a Good year or Bad year, start making preparations.

These “signs” aren’t anything as obvious as a street sign or your daily horoscope based on an astrological sign. They are tenuous signs coming at you from different universal directions. If you were thinking there was a movie entitled Signs released in 2002, written and directed by M. NightShyamalan, you would be correct. However, the plot of that popular movie involved crop circles and extraterrestrial life, so there’s almost no correlation to this piece at all. My reference to signs is more like the 1971 song, Signs, by the group Five Man Electric Band. Everyone (who’s super-old) remembers that song right? Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs. Do this! Don’t do that? Can’t you read the signs? But I digress.There is a very strong chance that the New Year will is either going to be a Good one or Bad one, depending on what signs are coming your way.

25 Signs that it will be a Good New Year

1. Despite your over exposure to everything i (iPad, iTouch, iPod, iMac) you have not yet shown any symptoms of contracting “iBola.”
2. No one in your family is dating a Kardashian.
3. Mama June and Sugar Bear get back together for the sake of Honey Boo Boo.
4. A scientist in the Ukraine has finally developed a fat free donut that tastes just as good as a real one.
5. You used all your bitcoins in 2014.
6. Since the creepy neighbor moved away, none of the family pets have had unexplained absences.
7. Words with Friends recently accepted you back after the mandatory thirty-day suspension for habitually playing porn slang.
8. You sold your Cosby Show DVD box set to someone who just came out of a coma.
9. You gave your teen daughter a $20.00 to get a Starbuck’s drink and she actually gave you change.
10. The Witness Protection Program finally accepted you, a week before your scheduled visit with the in-laws.
11. Due to your more than normal consumption of candy canes during the holidays, your classic “Pull my finger” joke now features a subtle waft of peppermint.
12. Your savings account balance is sporting its first comma in months.
13. Your wife says she’s feeling frisky and it’s not even your birthday.
14. Thanks to the frequency of your holiday work orders, Roto-Rooter sent you a “Customer of the Quarter” plaque.
15. The water bill arrived and for the first time in the past year it was less than your mortgage.
16. The FX network announced they’ve decided to run one more season of your favorite show, Sons of Anarchy.
17. Your 17 year old son tells you he’s having second thoughts about getting those cool gauges in his ears for his 18th birthday.
18. Your boss, who you don’t like, just got transferred to the company’s Ferguson, Missouri branch. What…too soon?
19. Your HOA approved your plans to add a moat in your front yard.
20. Your kid’s doctor says the itchy scalp is simple dandruff and not head lice.
21. Due to your recent weight loss, people can finally make out the Def Leppard tattoo you got in ’84 during their Pour Some Sugar on Me tour.
22. You just met your ex-wife’s new husband and he looks miserable.
23. You bought an expensive electronics device at Best Buy and 14 days later it’s still NOT obsolete.
24. Your ISIS application was rejected for lack of anger and meanness.
25. You submit your New Year’s article two days before the ALIVE deadline instead of the standard ten days late. You’re thinking Pulitzer.

25 Signs that it will be a Bad New Year.

1. There’s police crime scene tape surrounding your house following your raging New Year’s Eve Party.
2. You’re considering leaving your outdoor holiday lights up all year to class up the neighborhood.
3. Your physician says that the lab results indicate you have two weeks to live and then he apologizes he couldn’t reach you during the holidays.
4. Your credit score is a single digit number.
5. 2015 is the newest calendar year and also your blood pressure reading.
6. Your New Year’s kiss was with your cellmate Rocco.
7. The Salvation Army called to say they want their red kettle back.
8. At the start of the NFL season, you bet it all on either the Raiders or 49ers winning the Super Bowl in 2015.
9. Your wife gives you a gift card to Forever 61 and you’re only 50.
10. The World’s Fattest Man sends you an email telling you to “Back Off!”
11. Your revised financial plan focuses heavily on Lottery tickets.
12. Your teenage daughter went on Craig’s List offering to trade both of your kidneys for Miley Cyrus tickets.
13. During a recent physical, your physician asks if you’re allergic to embalming fluid.
14. The kid’s college fund depends on you selling your gold crowns on ebay.
15. You’re thinking of filing a work place sexual harassment complaint and you’re self-employed.
16. After six months of intense cross fit training you’re wife says she finds you slightly less disgusting.
17. Your high school reunion now looks like a cast party from Cocoon.
18. Your current “To Do” list reads like a suicide note.
19. Your wife’s cooking has gotten so bad you appear to be a prisoner of war.
20. The cologne your kids bought your for Christmas makes you smell like an ATM machine.
21. Your wife tells you she’s into something kinky, so she handcuffs you to the bed and goes shopping.
22. You’re on a first name basis with the staff at Applebee’s.
23. The balance in your family vacation account would currently only get you a one-night stay at the Motel 6 in Pleasanton.
24. The dog refuses to take a walk with you until you lose some weight.
25. Your wife insists that you learn to write with your left hand so you can keep paying the bills if you have a stroke.

The signs have spoken, although it’s probably safe to say the signs above might be slightly different that the ones you’re receiving. Let’s hope the signs coming your way point to a good new year. Signing off…………

The Gift of Me: Another Interview with Myself

December 8, 2014 by Michael Copeland Leave a Comment

Here I am again, at the home of author Mike Copeland on the eve of the release of his second book, Alive and Chillin’ – More Sideways Views and Do You Know Who’s. Given that his first book, Alive and Kickin’ – Sideways Views From an Upright Guy only sold about 23 copies, I can’t imagine that this is terribly exciting news to anyone other than Mr. Copeland, and perhaps Eric Johnson, his editor at ALIVE Magazine, who also happens to be the President of ALIVE Book Publishing. ALIVE is the company distributing Mr. Copeland’s latest birdcage lining.

As the doorbell rings, I can only hope that the subject of this piece is asleep, not home or possibly even incarcerated. Alas, no such luck. Once Mike eventually does get around to finally opening the door, he gestures me in without speaking. His silence is odd given his narcissistic nature. I’m led into the same den/man cave that we met in almost two and a half years ago just prior to the release of his first book. The first book was panned by critics, but the pages made for wonderful padding in our dog’s crate right before she delivered her litter of puppies. By the scent in the room, Mr. Copeland has apparently given us drinking (Rebel Yell Bourbon) in favor of medicinal marijuana (San Simeon is my educated guess). I’m still not sure how I drew the short straw when it came to our monthly assignments at ALIVE Magazine, but not every pull of the slot machine is a jackpot.

MC: Thank you for having me to your home again Mike. How is this night different from where we were two years ago?

Mike: Please, call me Mr. Copeland. Well for one, it’s December, 2014 not July, 2012 so it’s colder. As an author, I’d like to think that I’m more worldly and mature. Not to mention, a much bigger celebrity in the Tri Valley. I did so many, three or four, book signings, that my name has become much more recognized in literary circles and book store restrooms. I’m huge at Art and Wine festivals along the I-680 corridor and Central Valley Blog conventions. So to answer your question….What was your question? Oh, I think it’s just different because it is. Next question.

MC: What makes you think that this book will sell better than your first book? It’s pretty competitive out there and your first effort didn’t set the world on fire.

Mike: Can you say, Merry Christmas/Feliz Navidad, Happy Hanukkah, it’s Kwanza Baby! Tis the season to be jolly and since it’s better to give than to receive what better way to say “I love you,” “I care about you,” or “quit annoying me,” than by giving the gift that keeps on giving? The holidays are a great time to release a book, because people are shopping for suitable gifts. My new book is a thrilling and provocative, OK – maybe more light-hearted and somewhat entertaining, non-fiction toilet tank distraction that is needed in this world. It was also written by someone people in this area know and love: Me! I’ll even sign it for you if you come by my house.

MC: How do you plan to market the new book differently than the first book?

Mike: Few people know that my first book actually sold over 500 copies, thank you very much. It’s probably safe to say that there’s a lot of buzz for my latest Pulitzer submission. I have a catchy title, right, so that will catch some eyes? See how I did that, using “catch” twice. Plus, there’s this new thing called Amazon and it’s not the river in Egypt. Secretly, I hope we can count on Santa to place a big order. He’s even bigger than Amazon when you think about it.

MC: How is this book, Alive and chillin’ similar or different from your first book, Alive and kickin’?

Mike: In my first book, I was kickin’ and in this book I’m chillin’. You’re not very observant are you? My first book was only humor lifestyle material from my first six years with ALVIE Magazine. This book is a collection of roughly 25 humor lifestyle essays from the last two years, along with over 25 personality profiles dating back to 2008. I’ve also included a few community-oriented pieces. That is some good sh……. Stuff.

MC: You chose to work with Eric Johnson at ALIVE Book Publishing again. How was that experience?

Mike: EJ knows me. Because of our history, he focuses on what buttons to push to bring out my brilliance. E. Johnny works with his authors in a kind and gentle, yet stern and firm manner, depending on the mood of his talent. Personally, I like to be coddled. Eazy Jezzy knows that I also do my best work in my pajamas and Crocs while wearing my lucky fedora. That attire might be frowned upon on at some of the reputable publishing houses, but not at ALIVE world headquarters. If I’m hungry, there’s Cup-0-Noodles, if I’m thirsty, there’s Kool-Aid, and if I’m backed-up (creatively) there’s medicinal incense. I respect that Lord Eric of Johnsonville works hard and leads by example.

MC: When you’re not writing, how do you spend your time?

Mike: Few people know that I’m an uncertified professional ballroom dancer; a sock puppet ventriloquist and I have narcolepsy. Needless to say, my days are pretty full. I’ve also been known to smuggle exotic reptiles into the country, but don’t say anything to anyone because I’m already on the TSA’s “No-Fly List.”

MC: You’ve always proclaimed yourself to be exceptionally witty and glib with a self-deprecating style of humor, who challenges you to be your best? Where do you draw inspiration?

Mike: OMG, stop flirting with me. The key to my success has been to surround myself with people more creative and intelligent than myself. At home, my wife and daughters contently needle and ridicule me so I need to be on my “A” game at all times. I’m intellectually stimulated and challenged by certain, but not all, of my guy friends (Rob, Stan, and Tom – you know who you are). I also communicate telepathically with local comedian, David Vanavermaete. He is one talented and very funny dude. Additionally, Giants broadcasters, Mike Krukow and Duane Kieper educate and entertain me from early March through late October. I don’t actually know them, but if I ever transition to radio, they would be my mentors. Finally, I’m a big fan of the television show, Modern Family. The writing is unappalled and that Cam is a hoot. I would say I draw inspiration from all my surroundings. You might say, I’m a student of Planet Earth University. Too bad I can’t find a PEU hoodie.

MC: Off topic, but didn’t I hear that you were recently involved in a traffic altercation?

Mike: Yes, your muckraking is correct. It was at Bagel Street Café in the Mercantile Livery and I graciously offered to sign someone’s November issue of ALIVE magazine. When that person didn’t appreciate my generous offer, I may have accidently bumped my forehead on hers. I’m embarrassed to admit that the incident was a case of “Roid Rage” Hemorrhoids not steroids. When those things flare up, I get awfully cantankerous. I don’t have any scientific evidence; however I’m relatively certain that Dr. David Banner’s Hulk episodes were the direct result of hemorrhoids. But I digress, fortunately the alleged victim and I settled out of court—the bocce ball court.

MC: Do you have any book signings or public appearances planned for your latest Toilet Tank offering?

Mike: As a first time author back in 2012, the ALIVE PR department booked me at every Rotary Club breakfast, Chamber of Commerce Mixer and Cabi Show in a ten-mile radius. Add to that, we did our share of Stella & Dot parties, Scout jamborees and Senior Center blood drives. My favorite public appearance was a Tinder meet and greet. As for bookstore signings, I had my biggest night at Read in Blackhawk Plaza. There must have been a crowd of six or seven people and at least half of them were there to support me, or use the restroom. I expect this time will be more of the same. Good times.

MC: When do you hit the road?

Mike: Tonight. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now. I’m serious.

As I thanked Mike for his time, he awkwardly asked me if I stole anything while visiting his house. It almost felt like he was frisking me when he gave me a “bro” hug as I was departing. Like I stated at the end of my first profile piece on Mr. Copeland back in the summer of 2012, for an odd fellow he does possess some talent. I actually enjoyed most of his offerings in his new book and found the content somewhat therapeutic while doing my business in the bathroom. I do feel compelled to support our local talent and hope the readers will do the same. Good luck Mike.

For more information on Mike Copeland’s new book, Alive and Chillin’ – More Sidways Views and Do You Know Who’s contact the Alive Media office in Alamo.