Being a 40-year-entitled boob myself, it is rare that I come across the entitlements of others, and am left mouth agape. It takes a special person to ever cause me to reel back and think, "My lord, can this person be serious?!" But recently I encountered a fellow entitled boob, and she was firing on all cylinders.
It's Super Bowl week. America's most popular, yet unrecognized holiday. This is Thanksgiving with a better football game. If congress would finally pass a law, giving us Monday morning off – I'd be willing to say goodbye to Valentine's and Labor Day forever. The NFL put together a week of interactive events and attractions, all intended to draw people into San Francisco. Being a Raider fan, I have no dog in this Super Bowl fight, but would love to watch the Broncos lose another one.
There is nothing I enjoy more than hearing from a friend or acquaintance that they want to give stand-up comedy a try. I usually recommend they walk outside in the morning to get the paper in their underwear; it's basically the same, especially if you decide to get the entire block's paper for them.
On Tuesday, I spent what friend Vic Morito likes to call a "Free Day". A "Free Day" entails waking up in bed at around noon – and then frittering the day away – without ever leaving the house. These completely non-productive days, are just what every person pursuing a comedy career, got into comedy for. The ability to rationalize a day of watching Die Hard for the 16th time, or thumbing through a Time Life book about sharks I've had since I was five. But all this is done under the guise of "working on my craft" or "working on my ...
I attended my company Christmas party on Wednesday night. No, not out here in the country to celebrate my yearly tractorship. And no, not down at the Manteca Bulletin so they can laud my rise up the journalistic ladder – I hear they actually plan to move the office soon and not tell me. But the Christmas party for the job I love to hate – Stand-Up Comedy.
Karma showed up at the MRPS Hall this last week in the form of my 5-year-old nephew Bode – and took a big bite out of my behind. I was fulfilling my year end duties as Santa Claus, and he'd just gone through the routine of sitting on Santa's lap. He was completely fooled. A huge relief to myself, as I don't want to be the one that is forever burned into his little head when he figures it all out. It had been in that same hall many years before that a young Chris figured out the ...
It was nearly a year and a half ago that I decided to put my column on the auction block at a local fundraiser. The Bulletin hadn't said I couldn't, so "Entitlement Chris" decided it was fine to do. I figured it would be a nice gesture to donate something charitable and secretly knew it would give me a week off – while someone else had to toil above their keyboard. It was purchased by Alyce Machado Luis, under the guise that at any point she felt the need to speak her mind, dote upon her kids, or simply ...
(While I may be the captain of the ship that is Manteca to a T, I often find it is best to hand the wheel over to a reader, in order to most adequately sail certain subjects. This week first mate Jessica (Donges) Vaughan steers us through Thanksgiving and what it means....)
It's been a good 15 years since I first played Santa during the holiday season. I'd like to think I was first asked to don the suit because of my gregarious nature – but am certain it was just a ramification of being the only one without kids in my age group.
Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that I still live in what is essentially, the same small town I grew up in. Last week I attempted to write a column about the MHS vs. EU rivalry. I hoped to spark some interest in a rivalry game that from my point of view had lost a bit of steam the last decade. The column however was leaked to a few of the EU contingent before it made press. And boy did it get ugly. Phone calls to the Bulletin office with threats of ending subscriptions. Various emails bouncing around town ...
November 06, 2015|
By Chris Teicheira
|Manteca to a T
Here we are nearly midway through the football season. The Raiders and Niners seem to be what everyone thought – one team on the rise, the other a shipwreck teetering on the brink. On the local home front, the Buffs appear primed for another playoff run while the Timberwolves attempt to turn their season around. Across town, the Lancers are struggling a bit.
Sunday mornings on the dairy were always an adventure for me as a teen. Sundays were the day my uncles would take off to be with their families - which meant one thing. I would be feeding calves and cows on this day.
It's the most wonderful time of the year. Baseball playoffs are in full swing. My tractor cab prepped with sunflower seeds and ice cold Squirt cans – ruling my daytime radio enjoyment the way Christopher Columbus intended. The baseball playoffs remind me of one undeniable fact: I've been striking out with the opposite sex for the entire year.
October 16, 2015|
By Chris Teicheira
|Manteca to a T