MY LOUSY WORLD: Me and my sitcom buddies

Posted 3/24/11

Sadly, Uncle Leo from Seinfeld passed away last month. His real name was Len Lesser, but Lesser was morer to those of us who loved him.

It’s been said that everything that happens in life can be related to a Seinfeld episode. For instance, when …

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MY LOUSY WORLD: Me and my sitcom buddies

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Frank Rozek, Mike Fink, Scotty Pulse, Craig Downs and I are mourning the recent loss of our Uncle. When the wind blows just right, I can still hear him bellow, “Hellooooo!”

Sure, Leo could be cranky, especially if you ran into him and didn’t have time to chat. He had his little quirks, like shoplifting at bookstores, but as he explained, “All old people do it.”

Sadly, Uncle Leo from Seinfeld passed away last month. His real name was Len Lesser, but Lesser was morer to those of us who loved him.

It’s been said that everything that happens in life can be related to a Seinfeld episode. For instance, when George worked for the Yankees, he hired a carpenter to design a hidden sleeping area underneath his desk, where he kept reading material, snacks and an alarm clock.

In 1976, I worked for a year rolling up sleeping bags at Coleman’s Manufacturing in Pennsylvania. At one point before I got fired, I found a big mound of defective bags, which I’d actually burrow into and nap, undetected.

When we ran together in the ’90s, the aforementioned crew not only gleefully rehashed each Seinfeld episode the following day at the gym, but in retrospect, our escapades mimicked the series. It’s hard to pinpoint who was which character, but Fink, our sports teams coach, most resembled Jerry — controlled, but with a keen insight into the dysfunction all around him.

At the gym one Saturday before a softball tournament, Scotty poured water on my chair and cackled annoyingly when I sat in it. I angrily took the gum from my mouth and threw it at his head, where it lodged in his thinning hair. Mike’s wife Jen said we could stop at my townhouse near the field and she used peanut butter to get it out.

Scotty sat tensely in the kitchen chair where Jen worked on him, while the rest of us got distracted in front of the TV. Suddenly from the kitchen came an anguished cry, “Dammit! Doesn’t he have anything besides crunchy?”

Eventually she had to cut a big swatch of hair, gum and peanuts from his head and we rushed to our game. The wind blew Scotty’s cap off in the first inning, and I stopped the game to direct every player and fan to take notice of the big bald spot.

A few weekends later, we were having beers at Craig’s stepfather’s little house and he and Scotty were leaving to pick up pizza. Craig warned us how picky his grouchy dad was about his place, so “don’t move anything of his; he’ll know if anything was even touched.” When they returned, Craig found me dancing around the living room with a pair of his step-dad’s underwear on my head.

In the front yard later, we again teased Scotty about being cheap, and polled $50 between us to offer for letting us shave his head. He gladly accepted and we each took turns with the shaver. Looking in the mirror half-way through, Scotty said, “I’m liking this look. Hell, I’d have done it for nothing.” He threw a fit when we refused to pay, quoting his own words as justification.

Vengeance was Scotty’s, though, when we all partied one night at Craig’s new apartment. When he left us there alone for a while, Scotty changed his answering machine message to, “Hi there. This is Craig and I can’t get to the phone right now because my boyfriend Bruce and I are in the shower. Leave your number and one of us will call you back when we’re dry.”

Incredibly, it was weeks before he wised up when his mother called and got really upset. He told me in private, “That wasn’t funny. I had been applying for jobs and never heard back from several employers that promised to call.”

There was the scary but attractive new gym employee, Karen, whom I joked with and assumed she thought me charming. One afternoon, I told her, “Ya know, I find those lacy tights quite enticing.” Next thing I know, people all over town are telling me a girl named Karen claimed I’m stalking her and she might get a restraining order. It was real awkward when someone stupidly invited her onto our coed softball team for the annual Snowball Tournament.

I could go on and on. That was only season one of our bizarro, real-life Seinfeld series. Check your local listings for my premiere of season two.

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