Completely Different and Totally the Same

So I have been missing in action for a few weeks.  My sincerest apologies.  I know you all missed me.  You did miss me right? A little? No? Tough blog, tough blog.

The reason I haven’t written anything in over a month.  Sadly, we had a death in the family, my sweetheart of a Mother-in-law, Elaine.  I had a great relationship with my MIL, or “Ma” as I called her.  She treated me like I was her son and not  a son-in-law and in return I gave her the love and respect as a son would give to his mother.

The story I am telling here is not about her, those stories are for my heart.  This story is a about some of our experiences in her last day, experiences made with the other families we met in the 10 foot by 8 foot waiting room. Friendships were made and lessons were learned.

After a frantic call from my wife, telling me things were going downhill and we needed to get to the hospital as quick as we can, I left work and broke about a half dozen traffic laws getting to the hospital.  I met my wife at the hospital and we visited her Mom.  She was awake, but out of it.  We stayed in her room for awhile and then proceeded to clear our heads and she and I walked to the waiting room so she could bring me up to date on what exactly was happening.  We sat there after she told me everything and she managed to tell me it was a matter of days or as long as a week or two before the inevitable happened.  We sat silently and within a few minutes an Indian woman and her daughter entered the room.  Two other young Indian men in their twenties walked in as well.  They sat and we exchanged the obligatory smiles that normally occur in waiting rooms and elevators.  In about ten minutes the room filled up with more of their family members, bringing the room way past capacity.  An entire Indian family, immediate and extended, my wife Stephanie and myself.  Cozy.  Cue they praying.  They prayed, loud and vibrant.  We discovered they were Christian.  We are Catholic, well, let me explain that.  We were raised Catholic, but after two recent and what we feel unfair deaths in our family, it is safe to say that our faith has wavered and faltered.  Well, let me explain that.  My faith is almost gone, yes I am bitter, yes I am angry and confused, and yes every good Catholic questions his or her faith from time to time, so I think I am okay.  My wife’s faith, that’s her story to tell, not mine.

So they start praying.  After about thirty seconds, my wife quietly excuses herself. I remain and sit quietly as they pray.  From the years of it being drilled into me by the nuns, I start to mouth Amen and do the sign of the Cross.  Not realizing I am doing it until I realize I am doing it.  It gets noticed, so now I am committed out of respect for this family.  Another five minutes of praying go by and did I mention it was loud, because it was LOUD.  Southern Baptist Church loud.  Oh Lawdy!!  I leave a few minutes later and meet my wife and we go eat.  She asks me why I stayed in there and I just answered that I didn’t know, I just felt like I did.

About my new Indian family, as my wife’s family quickly dubbed them.  The mother was actually the mother of the person admitted into the hospital and the daughter was actually his wife.  His name is John and he is 38.  He came back from a jog, had a heart attack and passed out hitting his head on the ground, which made things worse.  They had to drill into his head to relieve some of the major swelling.

So the next day, we spend the whole day at the hospital and I see one of the young guys who turns out to be John’s nephew.  I ask how it’s going with his Uncle.  We exchange a few words, he asks me who I am here for, we kind of do the whole bro-hug thing and walk our separate ways.  My wife, who stayed the whole night at the hospital tells me she spoke with John’s mom and wife and even fell asleep next to each other in the waiting room.  I smile at her and tell her to stop trying to muscle in on my new family.  She smiles and laughs.  Mission accomplished.  I have to keep her spirits up.  I find out through the course of the day, John’s heart surgery went well, but there was some major complications and the head injury wasn’t helping, yet the doctors were still optimistic.  Sadly, my mother-in-law was not doing well.  Our choices were limited and the doctors were conversing and weighing options, it was a whirlwind of medical jargon and I saw the toll it was taking on my wife and it killed me hurt me that I couldn’t make her pain go away.  I lost my Dad in 2009 and losing a parent is one of the most horrible things a person can go through. I knew how she felt, and it hurt me that she was feeling it.  That night it was decided there wasn’t much more we could do for my mother in law and pain management and comfort was the way forward.  A hard and rough road to travel full of emotion and anger.

The next day, Saturday was a blur. We sat quietly in her room, waiting. We waited and waited and that woman fought.  That morning, the person in the room next to her, had passed and was now empty.  We called it the Death Floor, because we watched families come and go, new arrivals and some people passed away.  It sucked. Royally.

I saw John’s nephew in the elevator at one point during the day, we hugged.  he was improving slowly and we were happy.  He asked about my mother in law and we told him things weren’t good and he frowned and we bro-hugged again. Later that day, I found myself exhausted and overcome with anger and sadness and had to leave my mother-in-laws room.  I once again found myself in the waiting room.  John’s entire family was there, plus more that traveled from out of state and Canada. My wife had no idea where I went and texted me, I knew I was a wreck and she was worse and she needed a laugh.  Here is the text that transpired. Screenshot_2016-03-13-15-02-12 (1)

We needed the laugh and I was glad to provide one for her.  And yes, I had to poop. I eventually pooped, for those who are worried.

Saturday came and went and no changes.  My mother in law fought like a prizefighter. That was her nature, she fought whatever ailed her and kicked butt doing it.  Sadly, this was one fight she wasn’t going to win, she didn’t do it.  Family and friends came and went, saying there goodbye’s.  A new family arrived on the floor, we called them the Blonde Family.  We watched them go through the same emotions we did.  The crying, the hugging, the arguing with the doctors and nurses, even though they knew the doctors were right.  It is a humbling experience, watching others go through what you just went through.  We exchanged the elevator smiles as we passed in the hallway.  Whenever I walked past John’s room, I looked in nodding at him, even though he was unconscious.  A hand on the shoulder to one of the guys, an outreached hand to one of the woman. No words were needed, it was done.  Very weird experience, strangers 48 hours ago and now joined together now because of this common experience.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday, mulling about, tons of quiet time in Mom’s room. All of us holding her, the occasional break to clear our heads or bladder.  At about 8:45 pm she passed away, quietly, peacefully surrounded by her loved ones.  We stayed with her for another hour, saying our goodbyes and recounted some memories.  Then it was the final kiss goodbye, we left my wife’s father in the room, so he could say goodbye to his wonderful wife.  After awhile we gather our stuff and through out the empty water bottles, tissue boxes and random snacks, thanked the nurses and doctors for everything.  Grabbed my mother in laws belongings and did the final hallway walk.  Passed the Blonde Family, who were looking at us as we looked at other families, eyes filled with tears carrying the big green hospital bag with belongings that said, “Hey, look they must have lost a loved one.”  We passed John’s room, he was alone, still unconscious and I nodded to him.  We walked toward the waiting room and saw some of his family. We entered and said our goodbye’s, they saw the green bag and knew.  We gave them words of encouragement.  Hugs were exchanged and some tears and we walked out of the hospital.

So the lesson learned here, at least for me was a simple one.  We are all different. White, black, Asian, man or woman, straight or homosexual.  In the end, we are all the same, praying to whatever God or belief we believe in and begging them by making promises for that miracle to save that loved one.  Somehow this restored some of my faith.  I have a long way to go, I think we all do.

As always, I end with a quote:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey.” –Elaine


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Capital None: Rant #2

Credit cards.  We all have them, we all hate them.  The average U.S. household owes about $15,000.00 in credit card debt.  On a national level that is about $712 billion dollars owed by Americans.  That is simply an absurd amount of cash.

It all started back in college.  Need a frisbee or some other crap, sign up for a credit card from a table set up at the gates of your college.  Since then I have had many credit cards, opened some and closed most.  I played the balance transfer game and the find the best APR% rate. At the age of 41, I have narrowed it down to three cards. A bank card and two credit cards.  Let us discuss Capital One, or I should say Crapital One.  Eleven years ago, I applied for a credit card through my job that was sponsored by my Union.  Now when I got this card, it was not with Crapital One.  I forget who originally had it, but a few years ago, Crappy One bought out the bank holding the card and so began my relationship with these douches.

My wife, who I will admit is alot smarter than I am had a bad experience with Crappy One.  She told me to sever all ties immediately.  She had a bad experience with this company and knew it will end badly.

capital one

Which brings me to present day.  Well, actually last month.  December 2015, really.  I had some extra cash and being the responsible citizen that I am, I paid my monthly bills on time, and since I had some extra cash I paid an extra payment to the aforementioned credit card.  Christmas was kind so at the end of the month I through an extra fifty dollars to the company.  In total, I paid almost $400.00 for a minimum balance due of about $200.00  What could possibly go wrong?

January 4, 2016.  I receive a phone call from Crappy One telling me they never received payment and my account was now past due. Impossible I tell them, I sent them $400.00.  I happen to be in front of my computer and quickly go to my online banking.  My eyes don’t lie, $400.00 paid to Crappy One.  They insist they never got it.  I tell them I have to call the bank and find out what the problem is and I will call them back.  I call my bank and they tell me the money was taken out of my checking account by Crappy One and what dates it was taken.  They tell to print up proof of payment and to fax it to them.  Ok no problem.  I print them up, call Crappy One back and tell them I will fax them the proof of payment the next morning.  So far, so good, right?

January 8, 2016.  In the mail, I get my bill.  Due date: January 27, 2016.  Minimum amount due $569.32.  What the holy fuck?  Late fees and penalties and account closed because of the non-payment.  I call Crappy One on the phone, listen to the computer drone tell me that my minimum payment is $0.00 and my last payment of $400.00 was received on such and such a date. Ok, ok so obviously this was crossed in the mail.  I get to a human to confirm and she in fact tells me that yes, payment was received and there is $0.00 due on January 27th. She gives me my new account balance and all penalties were removed and the account is active and not closed.  Fine, breathe Frank, breathe.

Just to cover my ass, I decide to make a payment like I normally would but since I have nothing due, I only send them $100.00 before the January 27th due date.  I double check with the bank and they confirm payment went through with no issues.

February 8, 2016. The night was moist.  The phone rings, piercing the silence of my quiet home.  I say Hello and a woman asks if Frank Messina is one.  I say Yes, this is he.  Hello this Crappy One, your account is currently past due. My reaction in 3. 2. 1.


So now I have to repeat the whole situation which is a screw-up on their end.  We go through the history.  I am cursing every other word now. Yes Mr. Messina, we received your $400.00 payment, and your recent $100.00 payment, but you owed $104.00.  Wait, what?  You are calling me for $4.00 fucking dollars! At dinner time. $4.00.  After arguing it is explained to me that in November they updated their software system and upgraded their programs.  So apparently the computer program couldn’t figure out my multiple payments.  Really!  This is what I was told.  it is 2016.  Once again all penalties have to be removed, she waived the interest due for this month, told me my new balance due with the additional $4.00 and thanked me for my patience. I told her to close my account and to mail me confirmation the account is closed.  I am doing a balance transfer so these pricks will not get another red cent from me.  If you have any card owned by Capital One, close it now.

February 9, 2016.  My phone rings.  Guess who?  Capital One.  I didn’t even speak, I just hung up.

February 10, 2016. A letter in my mail from an online banking account.  “We are pleased to announce our merger with Capital One.”


What’s in my wallet?  Not Capital One.

“Too many people spend money they haven’t earned, to buy things they don’t want, to impress people that they don’t like.” –Will Rogers.

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A Man’s Dead Best Friend: Revisited

I wrote this a few years ago, but was asked to reprint it by someone.  New material will be added in a few days.  Enjoy this oldie, but a goodie.   Eww I just wrote that.


Since the dawn of man, humans have needed companionship. Men need women, women need men and in some cases men need men and so on and so forth. Whatever your pleasure, we all need a best friend, the dog.

Fred had Dino, Timmy had Lassie, The Little Rascals had Petey and of course Charlie Brown had Snoopy, or should that be the other way around.

One thing that always caught my eye was how we human beings can become so attached to our furry friends. Now, I am well aware of how a dog can become part of the family. I owned a few dogs in my time and have gone through the heartache of losing those pets to sickness and even having to give one away because it was ripping our apartment to shreds.

Another thing I always found interesting was the relationship of movies and dogs. For some reason, the death of a dog in any movie is more heartbreaking then when a person dies in a movie. Do we love canines more than our fellow humans?
Is it me? I find myself getting all teary-eyed when a beloved pooch meets an untimely death. I could watch The Terminator kill and maim dozens of humans, but if so much as touches a hair on that cute wittle puppy, so help me!!!

Take for instance, Turner & Hooch. Scott Turner, played by Tom Hanks, is a cop who leads a very organized life. A VERY ORGANIZED LIFE! Anal retentive and very meticulous, his world turns upside down when he reluctantly has to adopt Hooch, French Mastiff, from a murdered friend. Hooch proceeds to tear Turner’s life apart, literally. He eats or slobbers just about everything he comes into contact with in Turner’s life. As the movie progresses, Turner & Hootch become a great duo. Turner starts to learn to share his life with his new found friend. As Turner closes in on his friends killer, there is a final climactic scene where he is about to catch the killer’s but is outnumbered and in comes Hootch to save the day, by you guessed it… taking a freakin bullet for Turner. In the next scene we see Hootch dying at the veterinarian with a very emotionally wrecked Turner crying. I remember seeing this in the theater and crying my fat little eyes out. I was ok with shots being fired at Tom Hanks, but killing Hootch was just wrong. Granted, we find out Hootch fathered some puppies and everyone, except Hootch, lived happily ever after. SPECIAL FEATURE: Carl Winslow from Family Matters is in this movie, that’s a win-win.

Next up is, I Am Legend. This is a remake of Omega Man, which in turn is the remake of The Last Man on Earth. Ouch, I just hurt myself. In this movie, we are told that Will Smith’s character Dr. Robert Neville is the last man alive on the entire planet. Let me repeat this, HE IS THE LAST MAN ALIVE ON THE PLANET. That alone should make you want to crawl up in a corner and cry. A deadly plague has turned most humans into daylight hating, zombie vampires. They have amazing speed and superhuman strength. Robert Neville, is the last man in New York City, but he is not alone. He is accompanied by his trusty companion, Sam. Sam, short for Samantha is a German Shepherd who was originally Neville’s daughter’s dog. She gave Sam to Neville when Neville was getting his wife and daughter off of Manhattan Island.

Throughout the movie, we are shown flashbacks as to how the plague began and how Manhattan was first evacuated and then quarantined. Simply put, blow up all the bridges and tunnels, good luck and God speed trapped Manhattanites. Back in present day, Neville and Sam cruise around Manhattan in a new Mustang, chasing deer for food and trying to find a cure for the disease. Neville is slowly going insane and has set up mannequins in stores for his amusement. On one outing, Neville notices some of his mannequins have been moved. He investigates and is quickly snared and knocked unconscious by a trap set up by the zombie vampires. Like a trusty companion should, Sam protects Neville. As Sam awakes and the sun begins to set, infected dogs are preparing to attack the trapped Neville. As the shadows grow closer, so do the dogs. Sam defends Neville and in the melee Sam gets bitten. Neville escapes in the nick of time and hurries back to his fortified home to try and save Sam. As hard as Neville tries to save his beloved Sam, he cannot and as she begins to turn into one of the infected. In a gut-wrenching emotional scene, Neville in tears, with Sam in his arms, snaps her neck and… and… I’m sorry, I need a moment. Give me a second, ok folks. Sniffles, sigh… Ok, sorry about that. Neville has no choice to kill his pooch. Now here I am, in a packed movie theater in a post-apocalyptic movie which happens to be one of my favorite genres, crying my chubby little eyes out. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone. The rest of the story is not important. Poor Samantha is dead. Seriously, Neville should just kill himself, his little pooch is gone. Really, what reason does he have to live? Oh yeah, finding a cure, saving mankind, blah, blah, blah!

The next two movies I am going to quickly discuss because although the dog dies in the end, there is no human in real danger of death to compare it too. The first is Marley & Me. In Marley & Me, Marley is a Golden Retriever that is a puppy in the beginning of the movie. The movie is basically the story of Marley and his owners and the journey that their lives take together. Marley cause many mishaps and hi-jinks and as he gets older he gets sick, the better, then sick again and then DEAD! Think you are going to see a fun comedy about a cute little dog. NOOOOO! This is a horror movie. It should be rated R.

The next movie is Old Yeller. I like to call this movie Kleenex. Pretty self-explanatory. If you do not cry at the end of this movie, call a doctor because you have no heart. Yeller is a Labrador Retriever/Mastiff mix and quickly attaches himself to the heartstrings of young Travis. After Yeller becomes infected with rabies, young Travis has a decision to make. He has to shoot his beloved dog. HE’S A BOY! Really Dad, you couldn’t just load Yeller up into the back of the station wagon and take him out to “live” on a farm. Ok, ok, granted they live in frontier times so no station wagon and well, they live on a farm already so he could have just taken the damn dog and shot him, but no Mr. Brady here has to teach his young son how to be a man, so lets him decide to kill his own dog. “Hi, my name is Travis; I am here for my therapy appointment.”

I am sure there are plenty more movies like this, but these four horror shows stick out like sore thumbs.

Your doggone quote: “I’m a mog. Half man, half dog. I’m my own best friend.” –Barf
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Texting while Driving/Rant #1

Occasionally I will go on a rant, it might be quick or long-winded, but it will be filled with laughs, cursing, anger and venom.  It’s called a rant for a reason. Let’s begin, shall we?

Thanks to the advances in modern technology over the past twenty years, we the fortunate Earth dwellers have to deal with a wonderful thing called texting.  We all do it, we all know what it is.  It is so popular it has it’s own language.  Texting has become a legitimate form of communication in social circles as well as business.

Texting while driving your car on the other hand is the most insane and annoying thing that I have to fucking deal with every goddamn day of my life.  Seriously, it has become out of hand in the last couple of years.  Some of my friends will laugh and call me a crotchety, crazy old man and yes that is a definite possibility for my future if I don’t fucking die on my way home from work because some 19 year old slut is texting her BFF in her Daddy’s BMW and crosses the yellow line and hits me head on.

I have a twelve mile commute to work, so 24 miles a day where I can get killed.  Paranoid?  Maybe, but I can count on two hands how many people I pass or get stuck behind who have one hand on the wheel and no eyes on the road.  Hey look, I have a family I would like to get home to.  I promise my kids I will always kiss them goodnight.  People who text, put me at risk of breaking my promise.

You can see who these jerk-offs are easily.  You can find them in any lane.  Usually they are occupying two lanes anyway.  Look for he head bob.  Look at the road, look at the phone, road, phone, road, phone. repeat until done or until you hit a fucking pole.  My favorite move is when they are texting and the road curves a little and they react late.  Nothing better than being next to a douche in a Hummer who over corrects his steering to make you fudge your undies.  Another tell-tale sign.  Brake, gas, brake, brake, gas, look up see no one is in front of you in THE LEFT LANE, speed up then brake again for no reason.

Breathe. I need to breathe. My left eye is starting to twitch.  Ok, so maybe I am the minority here.  I drive a car made in 2015.  It comes equipped with a Bluetooth and hands free device.  If my phone rings, I can answer it from the steering wheel.  I can speak freely and my radio speakers act like a phone.  If I get a text, I get a prompt and one touch of a button, a computerized voice reads my text, which is usually funny when someone curses or is vulgar in a text.  Now here is the catch, I cannot text back, the function will not work as long as the wheels are moving.  I do have a choice through a screen to answer, “I am driving now, cannot talk.”  This is just me, I am one person.  It is a simple solution.

Here is another solution I have for people who text while they drive.  When I get stuck behind someone texting or see someone texting so much they are literally causing traffic and are driving dangerous, I pull up next to them and beep and look at them pointing at their tire.  On my face is the most frightened look on my face.  When they roll down the window, I scream, “Oh my God, your tire!!”  Nine out of ten times, they pull off to the shoulder to check their vehicle and I drive away, laughing.  Yeah I know, I’m an asshole right.  I’m okay with that.

“Anyone here a truck?”


“Take it easy driving — the life you might save might be mine.” — James Dean

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Top Ten Favorite Foods

Welcome to my first Top Ten List.  Now the thing about these lists, they can and will be updated as my tastes change.  They might not make it to ten, they might exceed ten. Either way, I am sure you will enjoy them.

10. French Onion Soup.  Yes, it is a food.  You use a utensil and shove it down your throat. It is an amalgamation of many different tastes.  Let’s start with the onion.  I fucking hate onions.  If an onion is on my sandwich or in my salad, I will fight you.  To me it’s about texture.  In French Onion Soup, the onions are so cooked down, they are manageable to eat. Regardless, depending on the size of the onion pieces in the soup, I usually skip them anyway.  Moving on to the broth; some establishments kill it with spices, keep it simple.  If you use too much spice, you ruin the broth.  A simple beef broth with some white wine, makes a great broth.  Don’t fuck this up. Hey, I’m talking to you. Moving on to the second best part of the soup.  The bread and cheese.  The bread should be a nice chunk of French bread.  if you put over-sized croutons or even yes I have seen this, Rye bread, you might as well eat a bullet.  The cheese should be plentiful and although some recipes call for ordinary Swiss, some use Mozzerella.  Learn this word. Gruyere.  Use a lot, It becomes very melty.  Is that a word?  It should be.  Anyway, the best part of French Onion Soup is the cheese that overflows and gets stuck to the outside of crock.  It is one of the finer things in life.

9. Pizza.  The great thing about pizza is you can put anything on it.  Some people who are traditionalists and will only put the basic toppings on pizza, such as sausage, pepperoni, black olives and yuck anchovies.  Some people just like cheese.  I like all these except anchovies.  For me, it started back in the Brooklyn College days.  I forgot the name of the pizzeria that was in the Junction, but they were the first pizzeria that I was aware of that had what is now called a “specialty slice.”  It was the Baked Ziti Slice.  Simple. Carbs on carbs.  Yumm.  Ziti begat the Lasagna Slice, which begat the Chicken Parm Slice and so on and so on.  It is impossible to go into a pizzeria these days that doesn’t sell a specialty slice.  Some favorites I have had are the Buffalo Chicken Slice, the BBQ Chicken Slice and the Macaroni and Cheese Slice.  I admit these are all heart attacks waiting to happen, but here is my fat logic.  One slice of this type of pizza is filling and you are getting some protein and some vegetables.  Currently I am obsessed with the Honey Dijon Chicken with Bacon Slice.  You can find this wonderful creation at  This is a combination of all things good and holy. A sturdy crust with the chicken pieces and the Honey Dijon Sauce mixed throughout and let us not forget the bacon pieces. Mmmm, I think I know what I am getting for lunch.

8. Any hero.  You literally can put anything on Italian Bread.  It’s very simple.  Cold cuts, lettuce, sun-dried or regular tomatoes and your favorite condiments.  I mean, it is a win-win situation.  Roasted peppers!  Cannot forget those.  Some call it subs, grinders or hoagie.  It’s a fuckin hero.  Now go eat one.

7. Chicken Wings.  I mean really, does this need to be explained.  Buffalo, BBQ, Thai Chili, Any flavor would do.  It’s all about the deal.  Go to places that have deals on wings.  For example there is a restaurant named Croxley’s.  They offer ten cent and twenty cent wings most days of the week.  You can get wings almost anywhere.  First of all do not bread them.  Hooter’s, your wings suck ass.  Deep fry them.  They get crunchy on the outside and then use alot of whatever sauce you are making.  Bleu Cheese is a must and celery, got to have your veggies.

6. The Loaf.  Now you saying what the hell is the loaf.  It is a family recipe.  Start with a good dough.  You can use any kind of filling, but we here in the Messina family like to use sausage, hard boiled egg, ham or prosciutto, and mozzarella.  I cannot describe the taste in words, it is so good.  Here is a picture.  theloaf

Except it, love it.

5. Chili.  Nothing is better on a cold, windy day then a nice bowl of chili.  I have been working on my chili recipe for years and finally am content with what I find is a great product.  I am not going to shower you with how incredible my chili is, in fact, I am going to talk about chili in general.  First off, do not make chili that is so hot, you can’t eat it.  What is the point, you create this conglomeration of a meal just to kill it with the illusion that chili needs to be ridiculously hot.  No bueno.  If you say Turkey, I will punch your dog.  Beef or pork or both.  Cumin, red pepper, cayenne.  Some oregano, thyme and basil.  Don’t overdue it.  Having a secret ingredient doesn’t hurt.  Add a dollop of sour cream or shredded cheddar cheese is the icing on the cake.

4. My Dad’s Sauce.  My father owned a restaurant when I was a kid.  I didn’t really know how hard of a business it was to run, but I remember spending my summers working in the kitchen.  I remember the first thing we did during prep was make the sauce. His sauce was sweet and the consistency of the crushed tomatoes was simply perfect.  Any good Italian doesn’t have a recipe, it just happens.  Sadly this is my dilemma.  I cannot remember how he made it and I have come close a few times but have not replicated it.  I will never stop trying to make it, the fun part is eating the mistake.

3. Chicken Cordon Bleu. Specifically, my wife’s recipe.  Actually it the only one I will ever eat because honestly none can come close to it.  A very simple recipe.  Take a nice sized chicken breast, stuff it with ham, must be Boar’s Head Ham and Swiss Cheese.  Now, here is why my wife’s recipe is the best.  Off hand I do not know what brand she uses, but when it is cooking, as it melts, some of it oozes out onto the cookie sheet.  When it is finished and it cools a bit on the stove-top, you grab a piece of that cheese ooze and eat it.  The mixture of the slightly crisp melted cheese with the juices from the ham and chicken and sweet Jesus Palamino, that’s some good cheesiness.  The chicken itself turns out nice and moist and she always makes extra so I have one for lunch the next day at work.  The sad thing is, it usually my birthday meal and shit that is just once a year.  Sad Frank.

2. Chinese Food.  I have been in a lifelong search for the best dumpling.  I love dumplings, I love Boneless Spare Ribs and the weird red sauce they come in.  I love Dim Sum, even though I have no clue what they are.  I love Chicken with Broccoli or as I like to lovingly call it #56.  I love General Tso and his chicken.  I love Duck Sauce, even though there is obviously no duck in it.  None!  I love Baby Corn and Black Bean Sauce. I love that the Chinese delivery man knows me on a first name basis.  I love they give you cookies with a fortune! I love that after I eat Chinese food, I am hungry an hour later, and what’s better to eat after Chinese Food but more Chinese Food.

1 Bacon. What can I say?   Bacon is the most wonderful creation in the world.  Great with eggs, great wrapped around 98% of all food.  It is excellent as jerky, covered in chocolate. It is great on it’s own, and on a burger.  Bacon doughnut,  yes please.  Bacon ice cream?  I’ve had it and it is fantastic.  I love all it’s salty awesomeness.  If you don’t like bacon, well I cannot be your friend.  I mean just look at it: bacon

This is bringing a tear to my eye.  Like when a proud parent sees there child win a Gold Medal or become President.  I love you Bacon.  You complete me.

Thank you for reading.  As always I ask to click the follow button wherever it is and like and share and please comment.  I will always respond.  God Bless Bacon, I mean you, God Bless you.

“Bacon tastes good.”  –Jules Winnfield


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It Puts the Mail in the Box or Else it Gets the Hose Again

This story is one for the ages.  If it didn’t happen to me I would not have believed it.  You would think being a mailman is a pretty repetitive, monotonous and boring job.  You would be right, for the most part, but there is the rare occasion that something wild or odd happens.  This is one of those moments.

It was a summer day and the weather was hot and a little overbearing.  I was delivering mail on one of my heavier streets. This particular street is in the shape of the letter C.  I am on one side of the street and walking around the curve and notice at one of the houses a woman doing some gardening.  I had only been on the route a few months and was warned by other carriers that there is a trans-gendered woman on my route.  I still hadn’t met all my customers and still hadn’t met…let’s call her Caitlyn.  It was also toward the end of the day and I was pretty exhausted from working and the heat.  If I remember correctly I had about 4 streets left out of 26.

Anyway, I approach the house and I see a woman gardening.  She is wearing jean short shorts and a tank top.  She stands up and turns to face me.  Nice legs, curvy body and very fake but nice looking breasts. My eyes travel up toward her face and  AAARRGGHH.


Guess who I just met.  I hand him, umm, her the mail and smile and walk away.  I cross the street and start delivering to the other side of the street.  I turn and see she is staring at me.  I make it back to the truck and go through my parcels for that street.  This street normally gets a lot of packages and of course wouldn’t you know I have packages for Caitlyn.

At this point, my wife calls me on the phone and I tell her what happened and that I finally met Cait.  I tell her I have some packages for the house and I will leave the phone in my pocket so maybe we can here any exchange and so I don’t have to lose the call.  I park across from her house and she is not out anymore.  I grab the packages and head across the street toward the house.  She comes to the front door and meets me on the walkway.  In a very deep voice she asks, “What are these?”  I answer “Oh, just some packages.”  Now mind you it was hot and I was exhausted and it didn’t register when she came back with  “Ohhh a big package?”  As she licked her lips and stared me down.  Silence, then it hit me.  I chuckled nervously and kind of just walked away.  I get back in the truck and grab the phone out of my  pocket to hear my wife hysterical laughing.

“Holy shit, did you hear that?” I spoke into the phone.  Nothing but laughter on her end.  I start laughing and then notice Caitlyn is at the door waving an envelope.  I tell my wife that I think she has outgoing mail for me, I have to go back to the house.  She goes silent and I walk back across the street.  I approach her and I notice that what I thought was a letter is just a piece of paper.  She is about a foot from me and flat out asks me… “Hey mailman, you want a blowjob?”  Wait, what?  In a span of three seconds, I stammered, “Umm, uhh no thank you.  I uhh, thought you had mail.”  I turn and walk quickly back to the truck.  I start it and get the hell out of there as she’s waving goodbye to me.  I pullover on the next street and grab my phone, remembering my wife is still on the call.  I ask her, “Please tell me you heard that?”  She says no, the call was muffled.  I told my wife what she asked me and she starts laughing then says, “What did you say to her?”  I  said, “What the fuck do you think I said, I said No!!”  She starts laughing hysterically again and then I started laughing.

The next few days were interesting.  Caitlyn followed me two days in a row on her bicycle, just staring at me.  I had to report it to management just to cover my own ass, pun intended.  In case she ever said I did anything to her, I had it on file what happened.  From what I found out through someone who lives in the area, she is known to do this to construction crews and utility crews.  There is no doubt in my mind, I would have ended up down in a hole, rubbing lotion on my skin or else I would get the hose again.


Thankfully I am not a size 14.

So, still think delivering mail is boring.  I hope you enjoyed my escape from Buffalo Caitlyn’s basement hole.  Please remember to like, comment and share.  Most importantly click that follow button.

Your quote:

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT PAIN IS!”  Jame “Buffalo Bill” Gumb

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Just Messin’ Around

So it dawned on me that I haven’t really explained what this blog will be about.  Before I go into that, I should probably let you all know about me.  My name is Frank Messina, I am married and have two beautiful children.  I have worked for the United States Postal Service for almost 15 years.  I have always loved writing and have been an amateur unpublished writer pretty much since childhood.  Way to go after that dream, Frank.  I read constantly and have boxes of books in my basement yet to be read.  I am a big fan of the dystopian genre and specifically the zombie apocalypse.    Trust me, it’s just a matter of time, it will happen.

Other things I enjoy are cooking, cars, video games,movies and naps.  Hey, I’m 41 years old, don’t judge.

The Blog:

Mess In A Round is an obvious play on words.  My last name and well I am round, a little chubby.  Mom called it Husky, they even have a section for it in Sears from what I heard.  I digress.  You are in for some really interesting stuff.  I will be writing about many subjects.  True stories of my life as a mailman, trust me it is not as boring as you would think.  I will be sharing some original content; short stories, an occasional poem, life through the eyes of a father of two adorable kids.  Yeah I am biased.  

I probably will not be going into major political or religious rants.  Probably.  I might tackle some real life news stories.  Maybe an occasional Top 10 list or movie or book review.  I hope you enjoy reading as much as I love writing this.  Please like, share, follow and comment.

A special shout out to my first ever follower. Rachel Falco.  Rachel has her own blog which you can read at  It is about how to provide for your family.  Very interesting and helpful advice.  Thank you Rachel.

That is all for now, don’t forget to hit the follow button, like and share it too.  Thanks.

I will usually end each blog with a quote from a movie, book or song.  Sometimes it will be from me. The following was said to me by a man I look up to.

“If you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life.” — Frank Dell’Alba

He also told me I didn’t know how to use a rake.

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