Valentine's Day is here once again, waving its finger in everyone's face. Commercial on top of commercial make one thing clear – here is what Love requires and here is where you can buy it.
Sunday is the Super Bowl. That means only one thing for this pigskin lover: The Year of 2015 can officially begin. I don't turn my calendar until sports' version of "The Big One" is complete.
I went to the movies twice this week – and watched the same movie.
Ladies, if you take the time to dress your cat or dog in little costumes, this is why you are single…
Is there anybody under the age of 25 that doesn't have a tattoo? It has become the guy's earring of this era with just one difference – you can't take it out. I know my indifference towards the current trend of arm sleeves and neck tats is a bit short sided, considering the fact that I have tattoos.
It was Christmas time of last year when Jason Campbell and myself kicked around the idea of a "Manteca to a T"-type column. We had no idea if the Bulletin would go for it. That was up to Dennis Wyatt. We had no name for it. That was also Dennis Wyatt's stroke of genius. We had no idea what It should be – or what it could become – and we still don't.
EDITOR'S NOTE: This column features comments from Chris Teicheira's Facebook page. The Bulletin isn't responsible for his friends' broken sentences, poor grammar or general lack of interest in punctuation.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Manteca to a T columnist Chris Teicheira is in Costa Rica. In his absence, he's asked Mark Condit to share his thoughts about growing up in The Family City. Worth noting, Condit has purposely misspelled Mick Founts' name wrong throughout this piece for reasons only he knows.
Does anybody remember the actual moment they found out Santa wasn't real?
In attempting to write a column in regards to the homeless ordinances that have been passed – and its subsequent backlash, I realized that even written with kid's gloves – made of angels' wings and butterfly kisses – someone is going to be unhappy with it. So I'm just going to take the gloves off, and say some of the things nobody apparently wants to hear.
I went to the Raiders game over the weekend with a couple of old friends, Steven Strawser (U.S. Army veteran) and Jess Grande (U.S. Marines veteran). The Marines celebrated their 239th Birthday on Monday and Veterans' Day was Tuesday.
It is 5:47 a.m. on a Thursday morning, and I am on Day 5 of a heated argument. Not with a girlfriend – I've learned long ago to cut my losses short in that department. Not with a member of my large Portuguese Catholic family – I've watched the show Game of Thrones and choose to keep my head. But with a group of people I hardly know and in a place that doesn't matter.
Let the candy grab begin. Kids will spend the night filling bags. Adults will spend the next week sneaking into those bags – and don't for a second act like you won't.
You would think after a life spent on a farm, I would have developed an affinity for all types of livestock.
Tuesday night saw the 15th Annual MAMA Awards come and go. The Modesto Area Music Awards are the 209's version of the Grammy's with all the pomp and circumstance to boot.
If you are a lifelong Mantecan then undoubtedly you've developed a little Manteca Entitlement along the way, whether it's riding the slides at Oakwood for free because you knew the right people … or that you can turn left onto Yosemite when leaving MHS if you really, really need Taco Bell … or the expectation that your coffee will be on the house at Johnny's (Ed's Patio for you pre-East Union Baby Boomers). These entitlements are part of the wonderful nuance of being raised in a small town, but when you begin to rely on these entitlements and ...
The list for Manteca's newest Hall of Fame inductees is out and I was excited to see that not only did I recognize every name but I have broken bread with more than a few of them. I'm no spring chicken and have had that short internal dialogue we have from time to time – am I getting old? The answer is a resounding "Yes!" But as I perused the list of 2015 inductees, I felt something besides old. I felt lucky; lucky that I've had the opportunity to have had several of these inductees in my life ...
Spring is for lovers, or in a recent case I encountered, spring is for high school kids to park in orchards, and spend a little quality time with their sweetheart. Is there a more time honored Manteca tradition than a good old "spring orchard fling" when you are 17?
The grass is green, (at least for now) and the kids are taking to the field. It's baseball time, folks, our national pastime. Is there anything more relaxing than taking in a day game? Watching a group of 5- to 6-year-olds bumble and stumble along? Turning a routine ground ball into a comedy of errors?
A strange new thing has been happening to me as of late. I run into various business owners, town officials, and people in positions of power in our town and realize that most are my former schoolmates – or people of my generation. When did I become an adult? Or more adequately, when did my peers – the people I grew up with in this town – take the reins and call them their own? It is both a proud and scary moment to realize that this is my generation's time. Our time to be parents and raise families. Our time to ...
If I can be so bold as to speak for the other Grammar Nazis around the world – call us what you will – but I will continue to goose step until you learn the difference between "there," "their" and "they're."
This last month I took on a challenge – one that most mortal humans these days would fear to try. Take six teenagers to a Taylor Swift concert? No, I'm not that crazy. Go to Wal-Mart on a Thursday night to buy shampoo? I'd prefer greasy hair. Take a date to watch 50 Shades of Grey? No. Obviously I went alone. These things all fail in comparison to the monumental task I achieved the month of February.
I come from a long line of people good at sneaking out of parties. My grandfather Jack Cunningham was considered by many to be the Michelangelo of the Party Sneak Out. I'm pretty sure I once witnessed my brother Richie completely vaporize from a hallway at my Aunt Carol's house – only to reappear on his couch at home to catch the start of the 11 p.m. SportsCenter.
Ash Wednesday has passed, and Lent has arrived. The religious custom of Lent for Christians, is one that involves a 40 day period of prayer, penance, repentance, and atonement, in preparation for Easter Sunday. As a good Catholic boy, I will try my best to observe this period by cutting several things out of my life but some things – things that should probably cut out, and not just during Lent – shall continue. Here is a quick list of these:
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