The Men of Shelter Island

How Ya Gonna Keep Em Down On The Farm?

Sat Mar 24, 2007 TORONTO (Reuters) By Jonathan Spicer - Real men don't pose for the cover of a Harlequin romance. And that's something the publisher wants to change.
Marleah Stout, Representative of Harlequin Enterprises, the world's biggest publisher of romance novel series said, "We're looking for some guys that are not your usual models, but have that iconic look that women go for -- sexy, sensitive, beautiful and fit," said Harlequin spokeswoman, who attended the open casting.
"We want real men ... exactly what you think in your mind when you're fantasizing or imagining that ideal man."
Toronto-based Harlequin, a division of newspaper group Torstar Corp., sold 131 million books in 94 countries last year. It estimates that a third of American women have read at least one of its titles.

“And what group do you represent, sir?”
“We’re the men from Shelter Island. We’re here to be the new models for your Romance novel covers.”
“All of you?”
“Yes, of course. Is there a problem?”
“Well, there’s twenty of you....and we have certain criteria. I don’t want to be rude, but there’s certain things we require, like hair...”
“Hair? Oh, we got hair! Gerry! Show the lady your back! Look at that! You ever see back hair like that in your life? Looks like he’s wearing a sweater!”
“I see. Uh, well, we also want six pack abs. I don’t see anything like that here.”
“Ooooh, Miss... six pack abs? You’ve come to the right place. Johnny! C’mere and bring the beer out of the ice chest in the car. Now watch this. Okay John, you and Bill, show this nice lady how you can balance a six pack on your stomachs. Look at that.... now that’s talent! Bet ya never seen nothin’ like that before!”
“No, I can honestly say I haven’t. What are those tattoos with the erratic pattern that you all have?”
“Maps of Shelter Island. Island man has to have an Island tattoo. The women all have magnetic maps on their cars. Some wear necklaces of the map. It’s sacred to us. Look. Here’s the Heights... this is Ram Island, and of course, Little Ram, and here’s Coecles Harbor...”
“Stop! I got it! I don’t want to see anything else. Look, I’m sure you’re all nice men. But we need a certain type. Romantic and rugged, that’s what women want.”
“Romantic and rugged? Why didn’t you say so? Joe, get the drills from the toolbox. Joe and me, being sensitive artists in our souls, realized a while ago that different drills have different pitches and David here, sings opera. Joe and me are going to play a little Turandot on Bosch and David’s gonna sing Nessum Dorma. You’re gonna love it.”
“Thank you, that was so special. I never heard the power tool arrangement before. The truth is, you’re just too sexy for our covers. You might overwhelm the women of America.”
”We know. We overwhelm our women on the Island. It was their idea for us to come here.”
“Really? Let me have a phone number. Let me do a conference call with them.”
“Sure.. I get it. You want to work out our fees with them....close the deal, eh?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Hi. Is everybody on the line? This is Cheryl Hinch with Harlequin. Whose idea was it to send the husbands to our audition? Okay, somebody has to stop laughing and talk to me.”
Voice 1: “I won the pool! You called us within an hour!”
Cheryl: “Very funny! How am I gonna get rid of them? They think they’ve got ‘it’ going on.”
Voice 2: “We know, we know. We were just hoping somebody could bring them a little closer to reality.”
Cheryl: “Bringing your guys closer to reality could be a federal grant project. I don’t have time for this. I’ll put the leader on the phone and you can tell them to come home.”
Voice 4: “For how much?”
Cheryl: “Blackmail? You’re blackmailing me to get rid of these guys?”
Voice 1: “Send them home with Chanel bags and Gucci shoes, or we leave them with you.”

“Well boys, it wasn’t a total loss. We had a nice day off island and geez, wait till the wives see these consolation prizes we got; bags, shoes, champagnes, chocolates, Broadway tickets....it’s the jackpot for us tonight! Who knew we were this hot? Next year, more of us will go in. They love us! Maybe we’ll do a calendar....”

Happy St. Patricks Day!

Who’s Your Paddy?

An Irishman walks into a bar and orders three glasses of Guinness, drinking them one at a time. The bartender explains that the beer goes flat when poured and informs the man his beer would be much fresher if he ordered one glass at a time. The Irishman explains he began this custom with his two brothers, who have moved to America and Australia, respectively. This is his way of honoring them. The man becomes a regular at the pub, well-known for always ordering three beers at once. One day he walks in and orders only two beers. Assuming the worst, the bartender quietly offers his condolences. The man looks confused for a moment, and then explains, "No, me brothers is fine. It’s me. I gave up beer for lent."

Now, I just to clear up a few things for the Irish Americans reading this column.

1] The new TV show, The Black Donnelly’s, about a hard drinking family of black Irish in Boston, that fights with themselves and everyone else, is actually a fictional TV show, not a documentary (like my mother thought).

2] Senator Barack Obama is not black Irish. It is Obama, not O’Bama.

3] The Church has gone through terrible scandals in recent years and it’s giving everyone the impression that all priests are child molesters. We know that’s not true, many are just alcoholics. But, for all the rotten apples, there’s a good many wonderful priests. So defend the faith once in awhile and come to church once in awhile too. I know you think the Church is full of hypocrites, but there’s always room for one more...

4] It’s perfectly fine to start celebrating on the 15th if you think the whiskey will hold out for two days. Practice the custom of the non-Irish and put the cap BACK ON the bottle once in awhile.

5] In addition to Do Not Drink and Drive, Do Not Drink and Dial. No one wants to sing Galway Bay with you over the phone. And also, Do Not Drink and Drone on and on....

6] Do not challenge your non-Irish friends to a drinking contest. We have a genetic advantage and it’s not fair to exploit it. This rule is suspended, however, if they are buying the drinks. It is rude to refuse a gift.

7] Keep your explanibrations to a minimum when addressing sober people. Explanibriations are your attempt to explain things while inebriated. It irritates the sober people, but intrigues fellow drunks, so chose wisely before you begin the story.

8] Unlike other cultures, who don’t like stories repeated, we specialize in it. Just remember, there is a 2% embellishment limit to each repetition. When the story has run out of truth completely, it moves into the category of ‘family legend’.

9] If you’re celebrating in public, remember, there’s a difference between a punch that you drink, a punch that you throw, and a punchline. We stand in the punchline to get to the punch. We do not throw THE punch, or throw A punch at anyone in public, our we will BECOME a punchline for another joke.

10] If you’re celebrating at home, remember to give all non-combatants a chance to get under the table before the serious fighting starts.

11] Just as we now have Designated Drivers, we need Designated Door Answerers. When the police come, send the sober DDA to the door. Do not make any background noise or invite the officer in for a drink. He doesn’t know the words to Whiskey in the Jar. Of course, he would if he was Irish, but we know he’s not, because he’s working on St. Patrick's Day.

I think that covers it..... Have a Happy St. Patrick's Day!

LOST LUGGAGE !

Would you like that to go?

Maya Angelou said you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle three things; a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.

Today, I was handling #2, lost luggage. My son had spent Winter Break in Seattle with his Dad. Dad bought him a new xbox and several games which were in the suitcase that was not appearing on the luggage carousel at the Delta Baggage Claim in JFK.

We got there before the luggage and watched at a safe distance as each bag came down the chute. 95% of the luggage that appeared was black, so 95% of the passengers crowded the carousel, masking a mild anxiety that someone else would grab their black bag by mistake. I’ve seen it happens dozens of times, somebody yanks off a bag, checks the tag, it’s not theirs, they heave it back on the carousel. Only 5% of people in America are smart enough to employ this useful observation and buy distinctive luggage. My son and I waited in comfortable chairs for the appearance of a bag covered with a garish pattern of brightly multicolored blocks. Eventually, the carousel stopped, all the black bags were gone. All the designer bags and their imitations were gone. Myself and three other people stood at the bottom of the chute of the motionless carousel, looked up and prayed to the Lord, from whence cometh our help and our bags - or not.

One man, who was not handling the lost luggage test well ( and probably just throws out tangled Christmas lights, I bet), began cursing and hailed the nearest Delta employee who assured us that all the bags were in. It was time to suck it up.

Myself, two other women and the Cursing Man, absorbed the shock as we made our way to the office, the tiny, dimly lit, Baggage Claim Office. It was armed, I mean, staffed with only two, very frightened looking employees. The two other women and myself instinctively slowed our pace just enough to let Cursing Man go first. It was like we all knew, that in addition to not handling lost luggage well, waiting patiently in line wasn’t going to happen either.

And we were right. Cursing Man launched into a tirade that involved slamming the claim form on the counter and castigating the Delta girl, like it was her fault. You could see she was doing her best. The other gal, obviously more experienced, stepped in and took over. I know under her Delta jacket, she had a concealed weapon, because she gave Cursing Man the ‘look’ of a fearless complaint department employee and said calmly, “Raising your voice doesn’t help, sir.” But in her eyes, I could see, “Beneath this counter I have a gun pointed straight at your crotch, go ahead, make my day....”

When I got to the counter, I got the gal with the gun, so I was very nice. I could hear her release the hammer and slide the gun back into the waistband of her skirt. I filled out the form and everything went very smoothly as she gave me my claim number and told me how I could check on their search progress on line. I’ve always found that when you are nice to people who have tough jobs, they are so appreciative, they will go the extra mile for you. She put her name and direct number on my claim form so I could call her if I needed to. I KNOW Cursing Man didn’t get her direct number...

Outside, waiting for a cab, I heard a string of profanity about lost luggage. I was shocked, my son had become Cursing Man.

“Jacob! Where did you learn such language?”
“Look Mom, they lost my *&@!* xbox! I’m going to sue their &^!*@ till they bleed!”
“Jake, lost luggage is going to happen once in a while. You have to learn to handle the unexpected things that life throws at you. How would Daddy handle this?” I knew as soon as the words exited my mouth, that was the wrong thing to say.
“Dad would have demanded to see the President of Delta!” came the accurate response. Cursing Man was a pansy compared to Jake’s Dad when it came to situations like this. Only the appearance of security guards would calm him down.
“Jake, an xbox is just a thing. It can be replaced...”
“Yeah? Well what if it was a suitcase with your jewelry in it?”
“Not the same thing. Jewelry is far more important than a stupid xbox,” I said as I mentally pushed him in front of oncoming traffic.
Let me tell you, Cursing Man has nothing on Well of Deep Rage Woman...