Make Mine Mike

Little things that make me happy:

● I finally figured out how to get Outlook to stop alerting me every time I receive a new work e-mail. Little dialogue windows used to fade into the middle of my screen… and linger forever… and would show up at least 10 times an hour. That’s a shitload of interruptions. Now the messages pile up in my mailbox all day without me realizing, but there’s some adage about ignorance and bliss… I don’t know how it goes… which is fine by me.

● Summertime produce. I make a mixture of blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and bananas, and I get high on all that fructose and vitamins -- A, B-complex, C… Just no fruits that start with P, thanks.

● On a whim, I bought this almond oatmeal soap at Trader Joe’s and now I’m hooked. It ain’t cheap, but it exfoliates, moisturizes and leaves me smellin’ clean, keen and like pralines. Go on with your Metrosexual taunts. The ladies love an almondy fresh man.

● My cousin was in town last weekend. I like that kid. He grew up in Queens, and whenever I hear him tawk, it reminds me of the time he hung out with my dad in Vegas for a visit. I was sure the two of ‘em wouldn’t get along -- the Curmudgeonly Codger and the Playstation Punk -- but when I asked my cousin what he thought of the old man, he said, “Oh my gawd. Uhncle Hahhvee… is awesome. He is so fuhhckin’ funny. He comes outta the bathroom, after seein’ hisself in the mirrah, and goes, ‘Ya know what? I’m a good lookin’ guy.’ Says to your mom, ‘Hey, Ruth! Lemme tell ya something: I am just one handsome man.’ Heh-heh. Whatta pissa.”

● The Yankees won three in a row. As of right now, it looks like it's gonna be four. Hey, in a season like this, I’ll take what I can get.

● Here’s something that irks me: People who feel they have to do schtick all the time, always performing. Like, you can’t ever just have a brief conversation, solidifying plans, without them doing some kinda accent or purposely mispronouncing words for effect. “Ah, faith n’ begora, top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Mikey-boy…” (you’re not Irish; it’s not St. Patty’s Day, so just lose the leprechaun lingo.) “Sho, whassh on the shhhedule?” (Sean Connery impression? He’s not Irish either; he’s Scottish. Or, are you supposed to be drunk now? What’s with the shhh sshoundshh?) “Veddy goot. I vill see you ven you I see you.” (Yeah, yeah, Colonel Klink. Kishen mein tucchus.)

What was that last entry doing on this list? Well, gripin’ about little things makes me happy sometimes, too.