Ekki-Ekki-Ekki-Ekki-PTANG. Zoom-Boing. Z'nourrwrin

Step It Up

2012-01-13T15:31:00.002-06:00

Okay, so I was looking back through my blog roll and I noticed I only had 72 posts for the last 3 years. I feel like I can do better than that. So here we go. What do I want to talk about? This is totally a stream of consciousness post. No telling what will come out. No telling if anything will come out. Okay, so nothing's coming out.

I'm getting pressure from a couple of sources to resume my short story writing. This is problematic for me as I have just taken up woodworking, as I mentioned in my last post. I enjoy both pastimes, but the workshop is new and exciting, whereas the writing is something I'm a little more experienced at. It's kind of like when you start playing an instrument. When you first learn where to put your fingers, how to make the notes on the page form a melody, it's very exciting. Once you're over that initial excitement however, it becomes a bit tedious. The amount of effort required to improve the quality of your performance is very daunting. Frequent practices, lessons, etc make it seem easier to simply accept your current proficiency.

It's this way with my writing. I know how good I am (eh), and I know to get better I'm going to have to spend a lot of time on a lot of really bad stories before I'm able to produce something anyone would actually want to read. So it's easier to focus on my new hobby, and develop those initial skills and enjoy the fruit of that easy labor. Maybe my writing here and my regurgitation of whatever pops into my head will aid me in developing my skills as an author. I apologize to any of you who are left to slog through the nonsense I produce between now and then.

Woodwork

2012-01-12T13:47:00.005-06:00

It was tough for me to settle on that title, what with it having wood in it. But after considering several other possibilities like Working With Wood (alliterative!) Or How to Start Being a Handyman, my sophomoric mind could no more accept such vague and poorly constructed entendres as the current title. And since "Carpentry" has far too much impetus for the infantile level of knowledge I am attempting to apply to my work, I shied away from it as well.

I've spent the last 6 months or so attempting to turn a portion of my garage into a workshop. The first step of course was clearing out all of the clutter that was constantly-present-and-ever-growing on the half of my garage that didn't contain a car. I had a very clear line of demarcation running down the middle that allowed enough room for entering and exiting the vehicle, but not much else.

So after many weeks of sorting and disposing of the massive amounts of detritus our lives had collected, I realized that I had far too much stuff that I couldn't in good conscience throw out, but had little or no immediate use for. That was the motivation for building "The Shed". Oh what a project that was. Through the intermittent assistance of a couple of associates (one in particular, you know who you are) I was able to construct a 6' tall shed that had a footprint of 4'x8' over the course of about 2 and a half months. Yes, it really took me that long. But I built the thing from 2'x4's and plywood, almost exclusively. And despite what some naysayers may think, I think it looks like a barn. There are those who think the red I chose to paint it in was too garish, since I went for more of the Playskool red barn versus the more traditional blood red.

Anywho, once it was finally finished, I moved all of the indispensable but unnecessary accoutrement out back to the shed and now have a viable space to begin building. The first thing I want to build is something like this, which I expect will take a significant amount of time and many tools I don't currently own. Maybe before starting that I'll work on one of these, if for no other reason than to appease the missus. Show a benefit for all the hours I'll be spending in the garage, that sort of thing. She also wants one of these, which shouldn't be too hard to put together.

I don't plan on this blog becoming a how-to for beginners such as myself, but I may post the occasional pat-on-the-back (kind of like this one) when I complete a project. I promise to minimize the pictures.

The dirt at the bottom is from a recent rain,
the poor paint job is just a poor paint job.

What A Great Idea #15

2011-09-20T10:10:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I know there are some tech-y types who read this blog, so please don't rip into me too hard when I lay this one out. I'm relatively certain it won't work based solely on the amount of knowledge I'm missing regarding it, but here goes.

So I use this software associated with Adobe Acrobat to recognize text in .pdf's and convert it to something I can manipulate. For those of you not familiar with .pdf's, they are essentially images of documents that can be sent around without a fear of them being altered too much or messed with. (if I got that wrong feel free to correct me)

So this OCR software is nice and all, but there are a bunch of situations where it doesn't work. If there's a picture in the pdf, or if there is renderable text, etc etc. But when I look at the screen, it's very obviously an "a" right there looking at me. At some point in the pdf-monitor process something in there recognized that certain pixels needed to be lit up so that my eye would recognize the shape of an "a".

So my great idea is more of a question. Would it be possible to access whatever part of the OS is determining what I see on the monitor and scan that data for certain arrangements of pixels? If they are sending out these couple hundred pixels, laid out just so, couldn't there be program that saw that as a letter and processed it as such for me?

I understand that there may need to be some kind of filtering system, or a determination of font color, or there's the high likelihood of getting every single letter of text on the entire screen, but is it possible? If so it would make my and a lot of other people's jobs a lot easier. I can't tell you the number of times I've had type page after page of stuff into a new word doc just because the OCR couldn't recognize it and when I tried to convert it it went all wonky (that's a technical term) and was essentially gibberish.

What A Great Idea #14

2011-09-09T12:39:00.002-05:00

Alright, so I don't really have all the technology worked out on this one. It's more like I have a problem that I have a vague solution to. The problem is cold drinks. I'm a fan of cold drinks, specifically Gatorade. I like one of those big 32 oz bottles of Gatorade after a hard day out in the sun. The problem is they take up a lot of floor space in the refrigerator, so I don't like putting more than one or two in there at a time. This means if I forget to put a drink in there to get cold, then I have to stick it in the freezer and keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't burst.

So my solution is kind of the anti-microwave. I think I'll call it the Coolwave. Of course that's kind of like cool whip, so it might not work. Anywho, the idea is to have a small chamber with a door, much like a microwave, but instead of a microwave emitter heating up your food I want to have a bottle of liquid nitrogen or something. Once the vessel was sealed, the valve on the liquid nitrogen would be opened minutely, just enough to rapidly lower the temperature in the vessel to whatever you wanted. Then once the temperature was low enough, a fan would start at the other end to suck all the nitrogen out and a pump of some kind could be employed to re-pressurize and perhaps condense the nitrogen back into liquid form.

Of course there would be some loss, combined with the fact that it would be contaminated with whatever air was already in the chamber. Maybe another exhaust system could be used prior to the cooling process to draw a vacuum on the chamber. The power consumption on something like this would probably be pretty high too.

But the uses are pretty far reaching. Not enough ice for the party? Coolwave a few trays. Want to make popsicles for all the kids in the neighborhood who showed up in your back yard? It will only take a moment. Jellos set in record time, mixes and baking recipes that call for something to cool overnight will now only have to cool for a few seconds. You could chill glasses for that frosty mug of root beer, or bowls so your ice cream will stay colder longer (Brandon). The possibilities go on and on.

Like I said, the technology is a bit beyond me. Storing liquid nitrogen is a probably dangerous, and ensuring it was all out of the chamber before you opened it would be important. But the same could be said for a microwave emitter, a very dangerous tool if used improperly. The real problem is the feasibility of returning the nitrogen to a liquid state. I don't know how that is done normally, but I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a pretty hefty cooling tower or something. But hey, they used to say a computer would never fit inside a home, and now one fits in my pocket, so who knows.

Coming Up On Level 3

2011-07-15T12:28:00.002-05:00

Does anybody else get the feeling that raising a child is like playing an MMORPG? Not exactly like it, but you gotta admit there are some striking similarities. It seems like to level up at one of these role-playing games, first you have to get the gem from this place, but to get the gem first you have to get the map from this other place, but to get the map you have to go defeat the ogre in this other place. And on and on and on.

I feel like I'm just trying to level up my children until I reach the ultimate goal of producing a functioning member of society. But to get there I have to go through grueling hours of all the little details that have to be accomplished to get to a particular goal, like learning to walk, or speak, or use the bathroom. Of course to walk they first have to roll over. Then they have to start crawling. Then pulling up on furniture. And on and on and on.

I find that in the games I've played, I didn't necessarily want to beat the game, or be the best, or have the highest rating. I would set myself a slightly lower goal and try really hard to accomplish that, like getting in the top 10,000 on the leaderboard or something. The same is true of raising a child. Don't get me wrong, if I can manage to produce the first female president then woohoo, but at the moment I'm just interested in having a conversation with my toddler that actually makes sense.

Misty Water-Colored Memories

2011-07-14T12:21:00.002-05:00

I wouldn't classify this as a Great Idea, but it is a bit of a quandary that's been bouncing around my skull for a while now. We make assumptions about how everyone in the world perceives the world. Specifically we assume that everyone views color the same way we do. In other words the way I see the color we call red is the same way you see the color we call red.

There really is no basis for that belief. We already know that there are people in this world that have different interpretations of light waves than the norm. We label these people "colorblind". What if there was another subsection of people who could perceive all the colors, but for some reason their brain didn't process them the same?

They could potentially see the color red, but their brain perceives it as what I would call the color blue, were I to look through their eyes. They of course would be raised from infancy to identify that color by the title "red", thereby integrating them into society and no one being the wiser to the difference in their brain.

Now what if there was some truth to the belief that colors play an unconscious role in our moods, like red causing anger, yellow happiness, blue depression, etc. So if this person who is being shown red is actually seeing what the rest of us would call blue, would they get depressed by the color "red"? Would they get angry when shown yellow?

The point is if it's possible for the brain to be wired in such a way as to misinterpret colors, then isn't also possible that those misinterpretations can lead to unnatural aggression, if every time the sky is clear they are angry? Or perhaps someone could be depressed by sunshine. They may be imperceptible and only play a minor role in our overall makeup.

Technologeeeeee!!!!

2011-07-13T13:55:00.002-05:00

So after 3 years of being tied to my desk, my company is finally getting me a laptop. Can you say working from home? I knew you could.

The argument has been made among friends that by having this available at my home I'll be expected to work in my free time, but what they don't realize is I barely do any work in my work time, so the odds of that are slim.

It will be nice to have a second laptop when I go back to school. It happened a couple of times that I needed the computer and my wife was editing or doing something equally time consuming and there was a small scuffle over it. Hopefully such confrontations will be eliminated. Of course I could have just shelled out the $200 for a notebook, but I'm nothing if not stingy. that's not really true, I think it's just that I rarely find justification for spending money on myself.

Of course it will probably have the same if not more restrictions on it, so I still won't have Angry Birds available while I work.

What a Great Idea #13

2011-07-11T10:09:00.004-05:00

I had an idea for how to get to other heavenly bodies (moon, Mars) faster. The biggest problem we have is getting all the stuff necessary to sustain life to the place we want to sustain life, along with the life we want to sustain. So why not send the stuff first? Just get a big block of ice (like a couple of tons worth) and put a big honkin' rocket under it, and hit launch?

I mean, you don't really even have to put retro rockets or stabilizers on it. So what if it crashes? as long as you send it somewhere that the sun won't hit, it will stay ice. Same with the frozen TV dinners the astronauts eat. Although you would probably want them to land nicely. I don't know about you, but I would hate for the peas to get mixed in with the cherry crumble.

I'm definitely one of those people who prefers that the different types of food on my plate don't touch each other. I mean, the point of having mashed potatoes with gravy is to taste mashed potatoes and gravy. But that doesn't mean I want to see what gravy and fruit salad tastes like. You gotta keep 'em separated.

Back on point, once you got the food and water on planet, start sending buildings. Modules of pre-fab housing and what not. As it is everything is automated now a days, so they could probably come up with something that assembled itself. By the time humans got back to the moon there would already be a little city waiting for them.

Heck, for that matter why don't we send a robot to the moon that can build a runway? Then we could take the shuttle to the moon, land it, and take off again. It can't be that hard to build a robot that can level dirt. All you really need is a flat stretch of ground to land a plane. Obviously the shuttle would need to be modified since it was only built for Earth-orbit, but all I'm saying is it can't be that hard.

Only Fools Rush In

2011-07-08T11:34:00.003-05:00

So some dear friends of ours invited us to their super awesome community swimming pool (which is much nicer than ours) for the fourth and we happily accepted. I was excited to take my oldest daughter because it had been quite a while since she had been in a swimming pool. She had enjoyed the ocean after a little convincing, but wasn't a fan of the lake we visited. Essentially I was still on the fence as to whether or not she is afraid of the water. I am no longer on the fence.

She was terrified. It was ridiculous. Their pool complex has a great kiddie pool with turtles and frogs and whatnot, and the entrance to the pool is a sloping tile path made up to look like the beach, so you don't even have to go down steps to get into the water. No sooner did the water start to lap at my daughter's feet did she let out an ear-piercing scream. I was a little surprised by that, since she had been in deeper water in the bathtub and seemed to enjoy bath time immensely.

And she couldn't have been safer. I got her the water wings for her arms and the little pink inner tube to go around her. Now you may say that's a bit of overkill, but it turned out to be just right, since I found out through experimentation that she couldn't use the wings properly to support her weight and keep her face out of the water, and taking off the wings and just using the ring would have resulted in her slipping right through it. I didn't test that particular theory, but I felt confident in it.

As a result of her overwhelming trepidation she spent the entire time clinging desperately to me, all the while loudly proclaiming that she wanted her mommy and she needed to get out. Now you may think I'm a bad dad for forcing my 2 1/2 yr old to face her fears, but you don't know about the times she was distracted from that fact that she was surrounded by tens of thousands of gallons of water.

For instance when the pool operators came around with free little rubber duckies (cuz that pool is awesome) that you could fill with water and they would shoot it out their mouths. She took great delight in spraying me with water or getting sprayed herself, all while perched on my knee. And when I would move quickly through the water, or spin around while holding her, her face would light up and she would even occasionally smile.

Some of my fondest memories are of playing in the swimming pool as a child, and I want nothing more than for her to have that same joy at swimming, but I know if I push her too much she'll just end up hating it. Does anybody know how to convince you child that swimming is fun without scarring them for life? Any help would be appreciated.

What A Great Idea #12

2011-07-07T10:06:00.004-05:00

So I was thinking to myself, people like to tan, but one of the many drawbacks is it takes a while. Another is that it's hard to maintain the privacy necessary to get a good, all-over tan (if you know what I mean). Well here's the solution. It's called Sun-Up.

Sun-up is a panel or group of panels measuring 6 feet by 3 feet that you place around the area you want to do your tanning. The biggest benefit is that they catch the rays that you miss, and redirect them back to you, which cuts your tan time in half. They come on legs that can be adjusted to perfectly catch the sun and direct it back to you. They are tall enough to block out nosy neighbors or, if you're in a hotel, can be set up on the balcony to provide a privacy screen that really cooks.

Now you may be asking yourself, why would I want to lug around 6ftx3ft panels on my vacation? The answer is you don't have to, because Sun-Up is completely collapsible. The 6ft tubes that make up the sides of each panel can be separated from the top and bottom and folded in half, and the top and bottom are used to roll up the reflective Mylar sheet in the center to prevent creases or crumpling. All in all each panel ends up being only 3ft long and only a few inches wide.

By using hollow tubing and Mylar, the overall weight of each panel is kept relatively low, while the feet have a variety of hooks, pegs, and holes that can be used to strap or pin them down to prevent them from falling over or blowing away. Of course with such a thin material the Mylar will be reinforced at the ends where it connects to the frame, and elastic will be used to allow for movement and prevent tearing.

Random

2011-02-28T09:00:00.002-06:00

I wish I knew how to beat-box.

If I'm going to start talking about my kids on here, I'm going to have to come up with an alliterative male equivalent of a Mormon Mommy Blogger. Divine Daddy Blogger seems too pretentious.

I have no idea how to raise girls. I think I'm just going to teach them football, fishing, and shooting guns and see how they do in the world.

I need to get a bigger car. I currently have a Saturn that my family fits in, but just barely. When we go to visit people, anything we take with us has to go on my wife's lap. I think I want something with a third row, but beyond that I'm open to anything. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

I think I want to start a garden. I used to help my grandmother with her flower garden and giggle when she would talk about planting pansies. That was always fun. I'll have grow something more manly of course. And not tell any more stories about me giggling.

Should I get an iPhone? I enjoy playing games on my wife's, and always having the internet available is convenient, but it seems like wherever I go there's internet available (work, home, school, etc.). Is it really that much more convenient?

Telephonic Invasion

2011-02-25T13:01:00.003-06:00

So I was working late yesterday when I got a phone call. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was my wife, so I answered it. After getting no response, I gave a more forceful "Hello?", to which I heard my daughter's voice pipe up with a cheerful "Hi Daddy!" Now this is not an uncommon occurrence. On a regular basis my daughter will want to talk to daddy and asks my wife to contact me for her. The missus dials me up and then puts the baby on, listening to what I say and prompting the appropriate responses.

So I played along, as I usually do. There were 2 things odd about it this time, however. First, her answers were coming much more rapidly than normal. The pause of listening to her mother's prodding was all but eliminated. Second, the conversation was lasting a lot longer than it usually does. We talked about her day, how the new baby was doing, and the general well being of the household.

Finally I asked her to put her mommy on the phone. After an extended pause I heard my wife's surprised exclamation asking why my little girl had mommy's phone. It turns out my 2 year old had unlocked the iPhone, called my number, and had a rather lengthy conversation all on her own. Apparently she had made her usual request to call daddy, but my wife had been busy right then and told her to wait. Which she didn't.

I'm not sure if I should be proud of her mastery of technology or terrified of the implications this has for her future telephone usage.

Something Something Airplane Food

2011-02-24T14:03:00.003-06:00

I'm a dad again! Another beautiful little girl. Everyone says she's beautiful (and I agree), but in the same breath they say she looks just like me. So which is it? Cuz you can't have both. I've told that joke so many times it's lost all its funny. It had some, honest.

I've agreed to go for child number 3, but if that one is a girl too then I'm done. I'm not willing to risk having 4 daughters. I don't think I could handle it. I'm fairly certain I'll struggle with 2. The fact of the matter is if they turn out looking at all like their mother, I won't have adequate ammunition to fend off the suitors of 4 young women.

What's funny about all this is that I was told that having daughters was God's way of punishing you for any inappropriate things you did during your dating years. I used to believe it too because I knew some real scoundrels in the military who fully deserved the gaggle of girls they were blessed with. The only problem is how it applies to my situation. I barely dated. I didn't even have the opportunity for inappropriateness. So I'm no longer sure how accurate that is.

We are lucky in one regard. We went to the doctor on Valentine's day to find out the missus was at a 2-3, and his offer to induce was quickly accepted. Fortunately he couldn't do it until the next day, when my daughter was ultimately born. This is lucky because in 25 years when she does have a boyfriend, he won't be able to give her one gift and claim it for both Valentine's day and her birthday.

This is the stand-up routine my sleep deprived mind came up with over the last week. Beside all that, I'm back in school. I finished up the ol' Associate's Degree (is there an apostrophe there? Associates Degree doesn't seem right.) and have moved on to the big time university. I decided to go with the night classes because ultimately I want a ~~Master~~ MBA and every MBA program in the area said they didn't care where I got my undergrad stuff done as long as I had the GPA. So I took the easy way.

And now the bad news: The diet got away from me. I blame meals brought to my house. Thanks to the kindness of ward members, I have almost gained as much as my wife lost giving birth. Not quite the accomplishment I was going for. Well, I guess I will have to get back on it. Just as soon as we finish all the leftovers.

I'm So Cool

2010-12-08T07:43:00.002-06:00

I did the math and I have 8 Christmas parties to go to this year. Some of them are family get togethers, so I'm not sure if those count, but plenty of them aren't. I've got a work party, a school party, a ward party, a small gathering of our four closest friends, possibly another ward party (I gotta see Brandon as Santa), an early family gathering, the big Christmas Eve party that you have to go to or you're just not cool anymore, and then the Christmas Day feast.

It's so funny to me how rapidly things can change in life. Just a few short years ago, I was sitting in a barracks room in Guam, with only a few other lonely souls to celebrate Christmas with. There were no parties, no family, no real cheer. Unless you want to use "cheer" as a euphemism for booze, in which case there was plenty of cheer. Other than the pathetic faux snow-covered wreath hung on the front door and the endless drone of holiday movies like A Christmas Story and the Grinch, there really wasn't much to indicate that it was Christmas.

Fast forward a few years to me snapping the restraints on a child's car seat as my beautiful six months pregnant wife brings out the last of the food for this particular get together. Surrounded by houses coated in Christmas lights, with Christmas music pouring out of the radio, and me in a cheesy sweater for good measure.

I know the being thankful thing is so last month, but I can't be happier to have such a wide array of good family, true friends, and all the opportunity for happiness anybody could ever wish for. I just hope I can always remember to take advantage of that opportunity.

What A Great Idea #11

2010-11-19T14:17:00.006-06:00

My wife is afraid of electricity. There was apparently an incident involving a nightlight during her formative years. And another incident with a light bulb. And maybe another incident on top of that. I'm not really sure. Suffice to say she isn't a fan, and for that reason my daughter has yet to get a nightlight in her room.

In an effort to assuage her fears, I introduce the Safety Light (patent pending). The Safety Light is a night light that protects the user from possible electrocution/death by covering the prongs with a safety shield whenever the light is not fully inserted into the wall. In essence there is a spring-loaded plastic wall that sticks out from the light that is as long as the prongs and surrounds them.

This is useful because the risk of shock exists when the device is partially removed from the wall, exposing metal without being completely unplugged. With this invention, no matter how far out the night light is pulled there is no way to get access to the prongs, because the spring loaded shield will maintain contact with the socket until the light is fully removed.

Now you may be asking "But if it fully blocks access to the prongs, how am I going to be able to see to line it up when I want to plug it in?" Simple, you addle-pated twit, because the plastic shield is in the shape of the outlet. So all you have to do is line up the edges of the shield with the edges of the outlet and push it in. Or I guess you could make the shield clear, but that seems like more work. I'm thinking just a plain white piece of plastic.

This feels like one of those "duh" ideas, so if it's already being implemented somewhere could you send me a link? I need one for my house. If nobody's thought of it before, let's get crackin' people! Heck, there's no reason something like this couldn't be made to fit over every plug in your house and open up a whole new "baby safe" market!

Tomfoolery

2010-09-24T10:12:00.004-05:00

Dog: What is this?
Me: It's a pizza roll. Try it, you'll like it.
Dog: It tastes like bland bread.
Me: You have to bite into it. The good stuff is on the inside.
Dog: (spitting it out)It tastes like bland bread.
Me: I watch you lick yourself for hours on end, and you have a problem with the taste of the outside of a pizza roll?
Dog: I'm not doin' that for taste.
Me: Fine, whatever, (cracking it open) here try it now.
Dog: (sigh).....FINE.........HOLY CRAP that's the best thing you've ever fed me! Gimme more!
Me: Oh, sorry, I only had one left that I didn't want. If I make some more I'll try to remember to save some for you.
Dog: "If" you make some more? You'll "try" to remember to make me some?
Me: How are you doing air quotes-
Dog: What am I doing out here, barking at every predator and woodland creature that dares to enter my domain, if not for pizza rolls.
Me: Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. There have been some complaints from the neighbors. Could you keep it down out here?
Dog: .......
Me: Well, g'night.
Dog: Whatever dude. You suck.
Me: (aside)

What a Girl Wants...

2010-09-13T13:38:00.002-05:00

Stephanie from Mormon Child Bride recently posted this commentary about women's perception in the world and the roles they accept in society. It got me thinking, as a father of a frighteningly precocious 2 year old, how do I feel about this? Do I want my daughter to be a smart, confident woman who is undervalued because she focused on learning instead of achieving social acceptance? Or would I rather she find her place in today's society, and accept that the easiest way to simple happiness is found in a make up bag?

I know what I'll tell her. I will tell her to pursue her dreams, whatever they may be, and I'll make every effort to make each and everyone of those dreams possible. If she wants to follow in the footsteps of Marie Curie or Mariah Carey, I will support her because I genuinely want her to be happy. But I worry that I'll feel like a failure if she sits at home alone on her prom night.

It would be wonderful if she didn't have to make that choice, if she could be the prom queen and head of the science club, but unfortunately here in the real world it doesn't always work that way. And that is entirely the fault of men like me. Men who spent their adolescence idolizing beautiful bodies and ignoring beautiful minds. And in this man's world, women have to work way too hard to have both a successful career and a happy home life.

I think I'm just going to have to make an extra effort to ensure my fears for her and the world's perception of her don't poison her upbringing. I will try my best to give her all the room she needs to grow. I just hope in the end I'm complete wrong about the way the world is, and it shows her all the beauty and joy it has, with only enough of the bad as is absolutely necessary to help her appreciate the good.

No Excuse

2010-06-04T09:57:00.003-05:00

Pretending last week didn't happen, let's move on to something more interesting. Okay, in my defense, I did get her an i-phone, and let her sleep in. So she still had a good birthday. I need to start saving my posts and having them show up here automatically. Anybody know how to do that?

I know what you're thinking. How is letting her sleep in a good present? Well, our kid is 20 months old and still won't sleep through the night. Also, it was no simple feat. First, I waited until she was asleep and turned off the baby monitor on her side of the bed. Then I got the spare monitor and laid it on the pillow next to me, with the sound off. So the bright red lights flashed in my face every time the baby made a peep, but she didn't hear a thing. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep that night.

When the baby started getting up about 6:30 (as usual, I love being a parent) I went up and got her out of bed. Once she was playing contentedly in her playroom, I went back down and turned the monitor back on. This was important because my wife, seeing what time it was, would immediately wonder why she wasn't hearing the baby yet and check to see if the monitor was on. Upon finding it off, she would leap out of bed in a panic, certain her child had been screaming all night (not an uncommon occurrence, I love being a parent) and the rest of her birthday would have been ruined. Of course I complete all these tasks with the utmost stealth and cunning, only to have her wake up at about 7:30 and refuse to go back to sleep. At least I tried.

A Tribute: Her Cooking

2010-05-26T22:39:00.002-05:00

Now, before anyone gets all upset about me painting her into an apron and pearls, I just want to make it clear that I don't think my wife has ever worn pearls. I should buy her some pearls.

Anywho, my wife is not a great cook. She's a fantastic cook. And the best part is she didn't think she was a very good cook when we got married. Something about a lack of experience. She was mainly a mac and cheese maker. And she could and can make some mean mac and cheese. But the funny part was she made something else (I think it was pasta in alfredo sauce with meat balls), and it was AWESOME (in a high pitch voice).

So I had pasta with meatballs for about a month. Maybe because I praised it so much, but it was really good ya'll! So I had to prompt her into trying something new. And everything she made was great. It was like a Midas touch type situation. Homemade soft pretzels, three different kinds of beef stew (not from a can), Mexican dishes, Italian dishes, I can't even remember them they were so long ago.

I would have to say her masterpiece is her meatloaf. Yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but really she puts no cheese in it whatsoever. Seriously, nobody has tasted her meatloaf and not instantly fallen in love with her. Not that I blame them, but I got to her first. So tough.

A Tribute: Her Needle

2010-05-25T12:42:00.003-05:00

Notice I didn't say needling. Today I would like to discuss all things fabric related. Even that isn't a broad enough introduction to encompass all the things she's capable of with a needle. What's even more amazing is how frequently she taught herself to do these things, or at best had a handful of pointers and then took off with it.

When we first met, she was heavy into needlepoint. For the life of me I can't figure out how she had the dedication and attention to detail necessary to to go thread by thread, counting the number of minuscule holes over from the edge to start a particular color, only to have to repeat the process for the next color. It bottles the mind.

Little did I know she was quickly learning the art of quilting. I discovered her new found talent when she presented me with my very own handmade navy quilt, complete with the navy emblem. After marriage, I quickly learned that quilting isn't nearly as easy as it looks. I was raised around seamstresses and simply assumed the hodge-podge creations I saw them produce were a simple matter of taking a piece of fabric, sowing on another one, then sowing on another one, until you had a big enough square, then sow up the edges. Easy enough, right? Au contraire.

She frequently belittles her own math skills while praising mine, but I have difficulty tracking the multitude of measurements she had to coordinate to get everything to fit just so. And trust me, if it doesn't fit, she spots it immediately. Then it's ripping everything back to square one. I wouldn't have the patience for it. But not only has she gone from novice to someone the church calls on to teach classes in the span of a couple of years, the things she creates are astounding. I just wish she'd make a few for around the house and quit giving them all away. Yeah, the women's shelter needs them more, but they're just so darn nice to look at.

She's dabbled in knitting, and made this beautiful blanket that's wrapped around our beautiful daughter (that she also made, more on that later). She also threw together a precious collection of cupcake hats and candy corn hats for the little one, but there isn't much call for the warmth of knitted clothing in our southern climate. Of course she taught herself how to make all these things. "Yeah! Self-taught! No lessons, thank you very much, Pop." - Steve Buscemi

Something more apropos to our climate are the clothes she makes for the baby now. It would be one thing if she just took a pattern, followed it to the letter, and out came some clothes. Still impressive, cuz I can't do it, but not really earth-shattering. So of course she doesn't just do that. Numerous times she's taken a pattern and said, "You know what, this would look better with sleeves." Or, "That doesn't really fit our daughter's frame, so I'm going to change up the design to make it a better fit."

It's the difference between skill and talent. To me, a skill is something you learn through instruction and practice, until you can do it independent of direction. A talent is the ability to take that skill and through a process inherent to you improve on that skill. So far I have yet to see her attempt anything involving needle, thread, yarn or fabric that didn't turn out beautifully. Not to say she hasn't had the occasional project that didn't work out just the way she wanted, but by and large she's been a success at every type of needlework she's tried. It just makes me wonder what other potential she has in her.

A Tribute: Her Photography

2010-05-24T14:14:00.003-05:00

My wife's birthday is this week, and I don't really talk about her much on here, so I thought I would dedicate a week's worth of blog posts to her. What makes her her, what makes her my wife, that sort of thing. Now while we have an understanding that we don't talk about each other on our blogs without content approval, I think she'll forgive me this one time. Unless she doesn't.

Today I'd like to talk about my wife's favorite diversion. My wife is a photographer. I know, I know, a Mormon SAHM who's also into photography? What're the odds? But she's different (echoes every husband defending his wife's passion). Hmm, how to distinguish my wife from the pack...She's won accolades? She's been featured on blogs, in art shows- the list goes on and on.

That's what makes her different from the hobby photographers. But what makes her better? The simple answer is heart. Not necessarily her own, but what she captures. Sure, she can take the standard picture, with everybody turned toward the camera, big fake smiles on their faces. But her true talent comes out in her photos of people being people. There's a truth to her photography, a window into something deeper than what is seen with the eyes.

Is that sufficiently cheesy and cliché? Let me break it down. The truth I mentioned is not the physical properties of the subject, but those things you can interpret from their appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions, etc. You may see a child playing, but if they have a mischievous grin, you get more out of that photo than just a child playing. An oversimplification, but it helps show what I mean.

This is what she creates with her camera. I am in awe of her. I can set up shots of pretty scenery, or ironic angles that you might not think of, but her talent runs deeper. It's one of the many things about her that amaze me.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

2010-05-19T07:50:00.002-05:00

Am I the only one who got confused when the previews for the movies "Avatar" and "The Last Airbender" started coming out last year? It took me a good 3 months to figure out that they were actually separate movies. It didn't help anything that they are both colorful, imaginitive fantasy lands full of creatures that would make the Labyrinth jealous.

So I finally got around to seeing "Avatar". I know, only 6 months after everyone else this time, I'm getting better! What was the fuss about this movie? I mean sure, it was pretty. But so is a painting in a museum, and I ain't payin' no 9 bucks to see that either. Luckily I only had to pay 1 buck to redbox.

Maybe it's elitist of me, but I spent a long time thinking that redbox was "Netflix: The Trailer Trash Edition". Okay, that's not really a maybe. It's very elitist of me. Their case wasn't helped by the sort of people I saw congregating around their numerous orifices as I made a late night McDonald's run. I certainly get now why there seemed to be more activity just as I was getting out of school arond 8:50 every night.

But I'm a convert. Redbox is definitely for me. Now does that elevate them, or denigrate me? Either way, I'm here to talk about Avatar. As previously asked, what was the big deal? I'm no movie expert, but I predicted 90% of this movie about 20 minutes in. Pretty much everything about Sigorney Weaver's character was bad. And that stinks, cuz I like her. But her scientist routine was cliché, except when it needed to be more visible (like when she found out the marine guy was going behind her back) and who didn't see one of those two dying? Oh, oops, I forgot to say spoiler alert. Somebody dies. I mean, every aspect of that movie was telegraphed. There's only been five guys ever to ride this one kind of flying dinosaur, so guess what the main character is going to do.

And what was with the heavy-handed native american influence? I mean, smacking him as he walked into camp? Been done people. Check out The Last Mohicans, or Dances With Wolves, or any of a dozen other Indian movies. I mean, they whooped and hollered like them, they communed with nature kinda like them, they used bows, arrows, horses (i know we gave them horses, no history lessons please), and used stealth just the same. Is it really so hard to invent a society that you have to just photocopy the nearest indigenous population being pushed out by marauding white people (how many people of color did you count? I counted 3. Not counting the aliens)? Not to say this is a racist film, but that didn't help anything either.

I probably should have researched this topic, because I have no doubt that a million other blogs have said all of the things I just said, but this was my take on it, without any outside influence. I'm glad I saw it, but once was enough. Oh, and it reminded me of a blue version of that movie Fern Gully with Robin Williams. It even had the big bad construction machine that the natives tried to wreck, and a huge tree that they all lived in. Awfully coincidental, wouldn't you say? Oh, you already did say? Well, whatever.

So I'm Thinking About Growing a Beard

2010-03-26T11:04:00.002-05:00

But I'm having trouble figuring out where to draw the line. You know, on my face. I'm referring to the parts I should shave and the parts I should leave disheveled. I guess I could go hobo and not shave anything, until my chest hair connects with my facial hair, which connects under my ear to the hair on the back of my head, which then connects with my back hair (I'm going to get that lasered, I swear). Then I could go around making Chewbacca noises and none of my friends would find it all that strange. Mostly because I wouldn't have any friends left if I went around lookin' like a great big furball.

But seriously, I can't work this out. Should I cut it off right at the jawline? Should I let it creep down my neck a little? I guess it will depend on what kind of coverage I end up with. That's kind of my motivation for this little experiment. I haven't ever really just let it grow, so I have no clear picture of what my facial hair looks like. I mean, I have a picture from the fuzz patch at 18 that we all tried until our parents made us shave that looked more like the grass on a hillbilly's yard than facial hair, but that's it.

I've done the goat a couple of times. It's not easy for me to leave that sentence there, but I won't let those of you with dirty minds dictate how I run this blog. I'm a fan of the goatee, but it's almost more maintenance than just shaving, what with getting the edges right and even, and then trimming the hair you leave so you don't look like Hairy McNo-lips. Right now I have it just under my jawline, kind of in between the edge and my neck. Okay, to be honest I have it just under the jawline on one side and at the jawline on the other. I'm telling ya, it's hard to get even. I have a feeling that this experiment won't last long, since I don't see signs of a thick crop. Maybe I should just park a couple dozen cars on my face and call it good.

I'm a Loser, Baby...

2010-03-24T16:39:00.002-05:00

Well, it's official. I suck at everything. I had these lofty goals of completing my community college career this semester by taking 5 classes (2 in a classroom, 3 online) and graduating in May. I was going to walk and everything. Well, today I had to drop my online classes. I have fallen further and further behind with every week of assignments. There was just no way for me to get caught up, let alone keep up once I catch up. I think what stings the most is the fact that I managed (I just typed manga, heh heh) to complete 14 hours last spring. AND I GOT STRAIGHT A's! What the heck is wrong with me this semester that I can't handle the same load spread out over 5 classes instead of 4? And one of them was nothing but: Work out 3 times a week, record it, and take this super easy online quiz with no time limit that you can take from home with the book and the internet if you don't feel like looking it up. And I couldn't even handle that.

My fervent hope is that there are varying levels of difficulty when it comes to courses, that economics doesn't compare to creative writing. I took economics last year, creative writing this year. I totally thought that I would ace creative writing. I mean, I'm a writer for a living. Plus, this awesome blog. Huh? Huh? Eh? Eh. Anywho, I guess summer school is in my future. If I can't pass these classes during summer school, I'm just going to go find a cave to live in and yell at the kids that come looking for a makeout spot to stay off the grass, even though there's no grass, and carry around randomly sized mason jars of varying color and viscosity just because I'll seem crazy and scary and they'll leave me alone. I swear I haven't been planning this or anything.

What To Do...

2010-02-09T10:52:00.002-06:00

So I have a couple of options open to me. Thanks to the G.I. Bill (and all you lovely tax payers) I can go to any university I want. It's all paid for. A woo hoo. I'm nearly done with all the classes I can take at the handy dandy community college just up the street, so I'm going to have to be moving on to the big bad university next semester. Unfortunately, the school I want to attend doesn't do night classes, what with the cash cow masters program taking up all those slots.

I had resigned myself to attending a more accommodating but less prestigious institution, when I spoke to a friend of mine who shared that his boss was a kind man willing to adjust his work week to make certain days available for school, thus making the dream of big university study a reality. Well it occurred to me that my boss is a kind man, and would no doubt be equally willing to make such an opportunity available to me as well.

The downside: My boss isn't my boss anymore. He was recently offered a position in another department, leaving his job unfilled. As the next level of management is on another continent, there really isn't anywhere I can go to present my case for an alternate work schedule. So, hurray for not having a boss, but now how do I make this happen?

I don't want to bother my old boss, as he can't really do anything anyway, and I'm concerned that when they do finally fill his position, the first thing I say to my new boss shouldn't be, "Hey, nice to meet you, can I have Tuesdays and Thursdays off for the next year?" I guess it's not the end of the world to attend the other college. Plenty of people have gone there and gotten more than adequate degrees. I just don't want to regret not taking full advantage of the opportunities available to me.

Man, this post is kind of a downer. Anybody know any good bathroom jokes?

Curse You, Aqua Scum!!!

2010-02-03T16:24:00.002-06:00

So if you hadn't already guessed it, I'm LDS, aka Mormon. Yeah yeah, I know, big surprise. I didn't say it before now because I didn't want this to be yet another Mormon blog, or worse yet another Mormon subversive blog. Maybe subversive is too strong a word, but you know those blogs where the writer's intent is to show just how off the beaten path they are, how non-conformist they are, or whatever.

Well I'm coming out to address something that has been bothering me. I've noticed that despite a moratorium on all things vulgar from anyone over the age of 17, there seems to be a pervasive need to hold on to the more truculent version of the word "urine".

Now I wasn't raised in the church, but the house I was raised in was extremely religious, and that word was just as acceptable as any other reference to excrement or where such excrement came from (how is it I always seem to manage to bring it back around to poop? I swear I'm not doing it on purpose). At the time (and even now) it didn’t particularly bother me, it just stands out as a holdover from the days when such putrescence would spill from my mouth like the cargo from one of Exxon's many dubiously piloted tankers.

Now there were worse words. The taking of the Lord's name in vain, coupled with beaver-related building, would get you smacked across the room. Also any attempt to discuss copulation in anything short of scientific terms would be the quickest route to a sore backside.

The beaver building by itself, donkey-related chats, dog talk (mainly female), or words to describe body parts that weren't often used to describe body parts would get you a stern talking to or maybe a smack just out of a need for consistency, but I feel like they weren't necessarily on the watchlist quite the way the others were. Honestly all the rest were in a happy little cesspool of depravity, hovering just above your sucks and crap, etc.

Of course I’ve made the argument and will continue to do so that any word said in anger is just as bad as another. It’s the intent that the word expresses that is foul, not the word itself. Just as I can dam a bridge, Joseph could lead the ass carrying Mary, and I don’t want to go to hell when I die, those words when said as an expletive would be strictly forbidden from or around my children. By the same token if they said “FUDGE ME” or “GO TO HECK” or “THAS SOME BULL SHIZZ” I will be just as quick to punish them as if they’d said the word they were attempting to subvert. Many of my friends and family do this constantly and then claim they don’t curse, but I don’t really see the difference.

What A Great Idea! #9

2010-02-02T09:17:00.002-06:00

Okay, so no counter space is a problem. We've all dealt with it. You're in a tiny, cramped apartment with a microscopic kitchenette that you can barely fit 2 people in sideways. So how can you make more room? Well, I had an idea. What if, instead of filling your counter with jars of baking needs (flour, sugar, etc.), you had a dispenser attached to the wall that, with a press of a button or a turn of a knob, could measure out an exact amount of that particular ingredient?

Now there are a number of ways to accomplish this. It could be a mechanical measurement, like some sort of wheel located in the throat of the dispenser that was the size of say a teaspoon or quarter cup, and you just turn the wheel to get to the amount you need. Another option is an electronic system. You would only need a small keypad where you could enter the desired amount and the system could open the dispenser for a specific amount of time to match that amount.

This idea solves 2 big problems. First, the space saving I talked about earlier. Now you may not put a bunch of ingredient jars out on your counter, but you have them somewhere, and wherever they are they are taking up room. And if they're not on the counter, then you have to dig around looking for them every time you want to use them. This puts them conveniently at hand but out of the way. Second, it's an end to measuring cups. At least for dry goods. No more worrying if you got the measurement right, and that many less dishes to wash. All the way around a good thing.

Another benefit, maybe not that big of a deal, is if the dispensers are clear, you always know how much of whatever it is you have left. With just a glance you know to add flour to the grocery list, instead of getting ready to bake those cupcakes for your son's Halloween party that he told you about the day before, only to find you have to make a late night run to the store because when you opened up your Tupperware container you saw it was empty.

And the marketing possibilities are endless. Various sizes, from the newlywed size for those just learning to cook, to the SAHM of 5 who needs the industrial size, to the professional chef who REALLY needs the industrial size. Not to mention a whole line of mini-sizes for frequently used spices with smaller measurements, since odds are against you needing a quarter cup of cumin for anything.

Also, they should have some sort of easy fill funnel that comes with them, since they'll be up against the wall and that will make refills difficult. Maybe even a plastic membrane that covers the top, with a small stretchy hole that you can fit the funnel or can of spice into but will maintain a seal. Because trying to pour spices or really any dry good like that will create quite a cloud.

Tax Return

2010-02-01T14:30:00.002-06:00

Never before has having money actually sucked. I don't know what to do with my tax return. Obviously I'm going to pay down some of my massive debt. And of course the car repairs that I have desperately needed will get done. The problem is, what do I do with the rest of it?

I can't bring myself to put it all toward the Gold Card, because then what am I working for? There has to be tangible benefits to so many long hours at the office (yes, yes, other than wife, kid, house, car blah blah blah). To me, this isn't one of those situations where you do the "sensible" thing. Yawn. I have a budget, with everything accounted for and my credit card debt all but gone sometime in 2013. I want to focus on now.

I thought about getting a concealed hand gun license, cuz what's the point of owning a gun if you can't secretly carry it around and feel superior to everybody? Of course if I did that, then my wife would probably want one, and if I did that then I'd have to get her a gun too. Not to mention the holsters and loose-fitting shirts required for proper concealment.

Then I thought about using it for a down payment on a second car, but that has a whole string of problems associated with it as well. Yet another monthly payment, possible increase in insurance, not to mention giving my wife mobility. I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with that (Kidding, kidding honey, put the gun away).

There's always a nice vacation. A cruise, a resort stay, a cross-country easy-rider-esque jaunt that hopefully doesn't involve drug-induced hallucinations and death by redneck. (What happened to you, Dennis Hopper? You used to be cool, man.) The only problem with that line of thought is when would I go. Between a full time job and 5 college classes, there aren't too many opportunities for travel. (See what I did there? Totally snuck in more bragging. Betcha didn't even notice. Okay, you probably did. I'm sorry.) Sure, I could go during spring break, but that's when everybody else is going. So unless I want to go to Wichita, KS, odds are against me finding anything cheap or drunk topless coed-free.

Is a puzzlement (name that movie). Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

I Finally Have It All Figured Out...

2010-01-22T09:28:00.002-06:00

So have any of you heard of this "Southbeach Diet" thing? Apparently it's all the rage. Well the missus and I decided to give it a go, just for the fun of it (and maybe a few medical concerns, but that's none of your cotton-pickin' business, now is it?). Well it worked. We did it for 2 weeks before Thanksgiving and I lost 22lbs in that 2 week period. {Huzzah. Huzzah} I always get the genie from Aladdin singing "Hail, the conquering hero! BRRR BRR BUDDA BAH BUDDA BAH, buddabuh boppa doo" whenever I get all narcissistic like this.

Of course, I was starting from 252 lbs at 6'3", so I had plenty of room for improvement. And now I have plenty of room (wait for it) IN MY PANTS! (no, that was not an invitation. You know, if I'm not careful with these asides, this whole post could be in parentheses. Wouldn't that be funny? Writing a couple of sentences about one topic, and then spending the rest of the post commenting on those things I was writing about and the styles I was writing them in. {sigh} That'd be a hoot. Anywho.... Oh right) But we went on hiatus for the holidays and of course I gained back about 10 of those el bees, so we decided to give it another go (heh, heh, I-oh nevermind) after the new year got going.

Well, I haven't been quite as successful this time around. Maybe it's destiny for me to be this weight, but I lost those pounds I gained back during the Christmas break, and NOT ONE OUNCE MORE. I emphasize that not only to wake you with my shouting if you had started to doze off, but also cuz it sucks. Dieting is only fun when it's working. I'm so not one of those people you can tell, "give it a few weeks, you'll start to see results". Homie don't play dat. So I quit. The diet is in phases and this one is supposed to last until Sunday, but I went ahead and got some fast food last night. It was good too. What's worse is instead of the strong, supportive wife telling me,"No, we really need to stick with this. It's just a few more days." I got, "I could go for some pizza. Can we get pizza?" We got Taco Bell instead.

But at least I've started working out. I did 30 minutes on my elliptical trainer last night. And that really sucked. What I've figured out (and the title of this post, only 87 paragraphs in, way to drag it out) is that something in your life has to suck. There can't always be rainbows and sunshines and lollipops. If you don't make something suck, life will start sucking all on its own. Better you take the bull by the horns and at least get to choose the sucky parts. Now this is a risky choice, since there's always the chance that life's gonna just go right ahead and suck anyway, but I feel like the odds are greatly reduced if you're running the show.

This could be for a number of reasons. You need the bad to appreciate the good, everything must be in balance, Earl Hickey's Karma talk, whatever. But it's true. Sure some people have it better than others, and others don't necessarily see how bad some have it since others are on the other side of the fence thinking that some are just fat and happy when in fact some aren't all that happy and are wishing they had it as good as others do. And I think i need to lie down.

So what does it all mean? I'm getting back in shape! Yay me! I give it a month.

Time Flies, But Who Cares?

2009-10-19T16:35:00.002-05:00

Hard to believe it's been 2 months since my last visit. What's less difficult to believe (for me anyway) is that there really isn't anything I need to cover to bring all my thousands of loyal imaginary readers up to date. I still have the same job that I never told you about in the first place, I still have the same house that I've never discussed, and I'm stilling going to school for a degree I have yet to elaborate on. All in all, life's life-y.

The truth is I'm having problems galore, but no one wants to discuss stuff like that on a blog, right? It's all supposed to be entertaining. Sure, you can add a little drama and intrigue, but don't be a downer. Heck, even the Nie Nie blog has to constantly make references to their hopes and prayers and how much they believe everything will work out, because if people who were suffering like they did ever put how angry and frustrated and distraught and disgusted they were with life in general nobody would ever read it. Gotta end on a high note!

That's not to say that Stephanie or anybody else suffering through tragedy is definitely feeling those feelings, but I know a majority of them are. How do I know this, you may ask? Simple, because if they didn't feel that way, then those people who have such a genuine positive outlook on life wouldn't be the rare gems that they are. I mean, if everybody who survived a crippling car crash (ah, alliteration) had a smile on their face and a song in their heart, we wouldn't be all, "Wow, you're such a strong person." We'd probably be all, "Quit that singin' crap. I'm tryin' to watch Sportscenter."

I dunno. I guess the point is that nothin' that's wrong with me isn't wrong with everybody else on some level. We all got problems. Maybe that's the antithesis of my little imaginary world in the last paragraph. That's why we aren't entertained by other people's problems. We're all trying to watch Sportscenter!

What a Great Idea! #8

2009-08-17T16:54:00.002-05:00

Little boys like to destroy. It's in their blood, it's what they do, it's just something that parents have to come to grips with. Sure, girls do it too, but not to the extent of boys. So my Great Idea is to design something made for destruction.

The idea is this: Make a toy (a cityscape, a DVD player, a glass vase, a replica of your high school baseball trophies, etc.) but make it out of a series of interconnecting parts. Then attach those parts with some kind of high-tensile strength cabling. Then attach the cabling to a spring-loaded spool. As the little tykes go on their rampage of destruction, all you have to do is pick up the toy, reel in the pieces until they fit (with a few slight adjustments here and there to ensure proper alignment) and then release the spool, thereby releasing the tension on the line and allowing for more destruction at your convenience. With very little effort a motor could be attached to the spool to provide the ease of push-button cleaning.

Where Ya Headed?

2009-08-06T16:29:00.003-05:00

I think just maybe I can be good at my job. It will take a lot of effort (vice the typical little or none), but if I'm willing to go the distance, I really think I can accomplish great things. I won't, because that's just not the kind of person that I am. But it's nice to know that potential is out there. It wouldn't be much fun to have nowhere left to go, no mountain to climb, etc.

I can't imagine being obscenely wealthy. Man that would be the pits. And I'm being serious here. What would I do with my time? I couldn't take a job seriously, because the second an annoying, stressful situation came up, I'd be all like, 'I don't need this crap' and just quit. And there's only so much travelling I can do. I mean, I'd do a lot, like a lot a lot, but eventually that would wear thin. And as much as I'd like to spend my time in a hammock under a tall, shady tree with a cool breeze whispering through the leaves right now, I'm sure once I actually did it for an hour or two I'd be ready for something else.

I guess it would be different if I had some sort of passion. If I had a "thing" that I was really good at. Outside of remembering phone numbers (ala Rainman, only not that well. There's always somebody better) I don't have any amazing talents to expound upon. I guess i could try wood carving, but I can just picture massive amounts of blood from a whittling accident.

It doesn't help that I was never really a goal-oriented kid. I never had one of those "I want to be a _____ when I grow up" type goal. Again, I guess I'm just not that guy. I take that back. I did want to get married, because my parents made it look so great. Also I wanted to be a parent, so I could be the one bossing people around instead of being bossed. Outside of that, I don't think I ever had any real life goals. That's kinda sad. What's the point of life if you aren't heading toward something?

Huh...from another perspective, I've got everything I've ever wanted. When I look at it that way, it's kinda cool.

Kids on the Brain

2009-08-05T09:52:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about what kind of parent I'm going to be, so if my posts lean that direction for a while, I apologize. I think I'm going to be a mean dad. I'm already coming up with ways to torment my children's Saturdays, and the one I have isn't even one year old yet. Cleaning the bathroom, mowing the lawn, doing the laundry. Pretty much everything I had to do as a kid. Of course, I didn't have to do any of that until I was like 8 or 9, but it's good to plan ahead.

I haven't decided if I'm going to pit them against each other, or overly discipline them equally, causing them to band together in their dislike for me. I know as a kid, through no effort of my parents (that I know of) my brothers and I were at each other's throats, constantly competing and bickering. And not in the "we really love each other but we want to have fun rough-housing" sort of way, but more in the "if I only had a place to hide the body" sort of way.

I definitely don't want my kids to be my friends. I think that's the downfall of a lot of parents. A fear of disciplining because their worried it will drive their children away. While I agree that can be true (there were times when I really really really didn't like my parents) I think it's short sighted. I blame TV. Our ADD-addled brains have turned our lives into 30 minute sitcoms, and if the resolution doesn't come quick enough then it's easier not to face the problem at all.

I like to take a longer view. Sure, my kids are gong to hate me. They're going to mumble under their breath against me, go to bed and cry their eyes out, and maybe even come right out and elucidate their disdain for me. But they don't have to like me. They just have to survive intact. If they have a good head on their shoulders, if they can make it out in the real world, that would be good too. If they are some kind of superstar athlete and can fund a world wide vacation for their mom and me, I ain't gonna complain. Nobel/Pulitzer prizes here and there would be a nice bonus.

Here a Blog, There a Blog, Everywhere a Blog Blog

2009-08-04T11:21:00.003-05:00

The title doesn't have anything to do with my post, I just had that song running in my head for no apparent reason. Kids grow up so fast, don't they? I think my biggest fear for my child, outside of physical harm, is that they will turn out to be brats. I mean, how do you keep that from happening? It's not like there are parents out there actively nurturing their children toward brattiness, but there sure are a lot of them out there.

And nobody wants to believe their child is as bad as everyone else thinks they are. To the parent, it's just a phase, or it can be explained away due to some event going on in the child's life. "Junior had to go to bed without dessert because he set his sister's hair on fire. He's really a good boy most of the time."

I can remember as a child how frequently my mother was complimented on how well behaved her 3 boys were (4 if you count my dad, and she did). I always thanked lens-crafters and poorly constructed televisions for giving these people such bad eyesight, since I was certain if they could have seen how we really acted in that restaurant they would have been sharing asides about how the standards for child services stepping in had really slipped.

But as I visit such public arenas as an adult, I notice that it's true, we were well behaved. Heck, judging by some of the tantrums I see these days, we were down right angelic. What's really scary is these are the people who actually try and bring their children out in public. How much worse are the terrors left at home?

It all culminates in a fear for my own children. Of course, there's the equally likely chance of a knee-jerk reaction from me to pounce on them for the slightest infraction, terrifying them into a state of order that only lasts until they realize just how powerless I really am.

"The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."

Where's the balance? How is it so many others seem to have it all worked out, at least when I can see them? That's all I'm asking for. I don't care if they are holy terrors in the confines of my home. Then they're their mother's problem.

What Has It Done For Me Lately?

2009-07-23T16:01:00.003-05:00

I used to be the quintessential pack rat. I kept everything, as I discussed once before. Some of it was in collections, some was just stuff I thought my be important later; the occasional memorabilia from a particularly poignant moment in my life. Whatever. There was a bunch of junk.

No more. I have since flushed from my person this overwhelming need to cling to things. I can without hesitation discard any and all birthday, holiday, anniversary or get well soon cards. I just don't see the point of keeping them. On the rare occasion that the sentiment expressed is from someone who has or will soon pass away, I understand holding onto a token from your relationship to refresh those formerly shared feelings. But other than that, what's the point?

If it's a family member you are still close to, you can express those feelings any time you wish. If it represents a romantic relationship that went south, why keep it around to punish yourself? I mean, unless there's some chance of winning her/him back, it's over. There's no upside to rehashing those feelings you're never going to get to share again. And if the flame can be rekindled, get out there and rekindle it! What good does it serve moping around re-reading creased and crumpled love notes when you can be spending time with the source of such emotions?

And that's just an unnecessarily long diatribe on cards. Don't get me started on the chintzy crap people fill their lives with. I'm all about having nice stuff. I get trying to make a place look nice. But why do you have boxes upon boxes of decorative materials if you already own your home and it's already decorated to the nines? No, you don't need a storage unit, you need a swift kick to the head. Okay, that's a little harsh, but come on people! You have no idea how liberating it is to slough off all the layers of superfluousness and bask in the freedom of the unencumbered.

Sure, all that "stuff" means something. Each little thing has it's own special meaning. But I don't feel like it's accumulative. If you have one stuffed animal from them, then the other 32 don't really add anything. Oh, I know, this orange teddy bear is from when you went to the state fair, and this slightly smaller orange teddy bear is from when you went to the traveling carnival that set up in the Costco parking lot.

Let's un-clutter, people. Give it a try. Ask yourself the hard question, "Will having or not having this ever impact my life again?" If the answer is no, it's time to let go.

Little Help?

2009-07-20T13:14:00.003-05:00

I can't get these darn Christmas songs out of my head. It makes me feel helpless, out of control, and a little alone. But at least I have cheery music to accompany me on my road to depression and insanity. No, as a matter of fact, it is not beginning to look a lot like Christmas, Thankyouverymuch.

Any sure fire methods for ridding yourself of looping, inane music that you just can't seem to clear from your cerebellum? I prefer answers free of a specific caliber or grain, but at this point I'm open to all suggestions.

One Man's Perspective

2009-07-01T10:18:00.002-05:00

Look, there are a lot of guys out there who will tell you what you want to hear. "Yes, that dress does match your eyes and doesn't accentuate the hips you think are mannish at all." "Of course your co-workers are all plotting together behind your back, bent on your ultimate destruction." "No, she isn't a younger, hotter version of you..." et cetera. I'm not one of those guys. Maybe to my detriment, but just don't see the upside.

So what if it makes you feel better for a moment? In the case of the hot girl, odds are you wouldn't believe it anyway, and go on resenting her for doing absolutely nothing wrong. In the other examples, the only thing accepted would be something regurgitated to agree with your point of view, while secretly rejecting or outright ridiculing any attempt on our part to play devil's advocate.

I think my whole point here is we don't want to hear about your menstrual cycle. There, I said it. I'm going out on a limb in defense of manhood everywhere. And I don't care how many men start sawing on my limb in an attempt to distance themselves from me, because deep in their hearts I know they all agree. Just like you don't enjoy hearing about, looking at pictures of, or having anything to do with what any Y-chromosome equipped creature would consider an amazing bowel movement, there are things going on in the land of womanhood that we don't want to be a part of.

Now this may generate some anger from the fairer sex. I need you to know that it's not that we're grossed out. I need you to know it's not just that we're grossed out. Men are fixers. This is common knowledge, I know, but I think what makes us most uncomfortable about the delicacy of the female state is that there really isn't anything we can do about it. Coupled with the fact that any suggestions toward possible amelioration are more often than not ill-timed to coincide with the event in question, we have little incentive to be involved in the process at any aspect.

This is such a tricky subject to broach, because women have little pity for a man's experience in this situation, typically believing (quite vocally) that we need to just suck it up and quit whining. Now I'm all for that. I couldn't agree more. The problem arises when in our best attempts to avoid the subject altogether we are viewed as uncaring or immature, as in unable to handle verbalization about what is going on. This idea is only exacerbated by the standard male response of, "Ew, ew, okay, okay, enough, I get it. No Really, I Get It." This can be followed up by fingers in the ears and a rendition of the ever-popular "La-La-La", first made famous by the Monkees I believe. Maybe it was the Clash.

I accept we have no point of reference. I couldn't agree more that we have no idea what you are going through every month. My point is that the lack of understanding won't ever get any better, despite the best efforts of both sides to make the other understand. So in the future ladies, when you are suffering from your "visit", please just ask for things. A warm blanket, a pillow to curl around, tissues to wipe your noses as you sob uncontrollably at a strangely worded life insurance commercial on TV. We can do that. We can handle that. We're desperate to do whatever we can to make you more comfortable. Just know that references to volume, color, viscosity and I think I just threw up a little.

I Doan Wanna

2009-06-26T11:07:00.002-05:00

It's hard to get motivated to do any real work on a Friday. Okay, it's hard to get motivated to do any real work on any day, but especially on a Friday. It's multiplied here by the fact that so many people either take Friday off or work from home, making it a temporary ghost town, with only the occasional disembodied voice floating over the cubicles from some unseen location.

Of course with being stuck in the office, there's little else for me to do than sit at my computer. And since I'm relatively certain that I've seen pretty much everything the internet has to show me (within my own moral limits), surfing the web doesn't hold any real interest for me either.

So what to do? I guess I could go through my phone and delete all those contacts I've been transferring from phone to phone since the mid-nineties (crtjj, who the crap is that?), but what if it turns out they're actually really important and I just can't remember at the moment? Can't take that chance. I better leave that to the missus. She has a better memory for that sort of thing anyway.

I could organize my desk. Lord knows it needs an overhaul. I used to be so neat and tidy. A place for everything, and everything in its place. I blame the military. But now, I'm just kind of willy-nilly with stuff. If it stacks up too high, I just start a different stack. I blame my wife. Just kidding honey, I still love you <3 <3.

Well, that's about all the time I think I can waste here, so I'm off to find someplace I can hide to play games on my phone until 4. Later.

A Peek Into the Soul

2009-06-18T09:44:00.001-05:00

Men are sometimes closed books. We’ve been programmed at nearly a genetic level to conceal our emotions, as if showing how we feel will give away some weakness for others to exploit. This occasionally makes it difficult for women, and on occasion other men, to really understand what’s going on in our minds. I say occasionally other men because just like we can’t show our own emotions, we can’t show interest in another man’s emotional state either.

But there’s a loophole. A shortcut if you will. If you truly want to see what matters most to a man, the one place you can look is his cell phone. I know, it may sound silly, but a little known fact about men is that they like the idea of keeping readily available those things that matter most. If you scan through the pictures he has taken with his camera phone, you will discover the things he holds most dear.

Now, some of it may be no surprise. A new father’s phone will be littered with baby pictures. A car enthusiast will have pictures of engines and paint jobs. But the really informative stuff is the stuff with staying power. The photos that were taken at some distant point in the past are the indicators of emotional attachment. A man will typically cycle through his pictures on a fairly regular basis, deleting those that are repetitious or poor quality, as well as those that have lost their value. I recently had a purge of a Christmas photo of an uncle wearing a leopard print Dr. Seuss hat. It was funny at the time, and perhaps could have been used against him later, but I just decided I didn’t really care that much about it anymore.

If a photo is still in there, it means that the owner regularly looks at it and makes a conscious decision to hold onto it. Now unfortunately we can’t definitively determine why he has these photos. But it can be a way to confirm that things you thought he had lost interest in or never had interest in are in fact matters of great importance to him.

Harumph

2009-06-07T20:53:00.003-05:00

It's hard to blog when you're in a bad mood. I'd much rather just sit here and sulk about the mean thing I said to my wife. Of course the fact that I instantly regretted it doesn't help. And of course, I should have apologized right then, but that would have ruined a perfectly good storm out. It was good too. I rattled doors and windows and everything.

I know the instant I go and apologize, all will be made right in the world. But still I sit here, typing away. I don't know why I have to be so hard headed sometimes. I really don't know everything, despite whatever claims you may have heard (said by me) to the contrary. The real problem is my wife is just as hard headed as I am, and of course that means that neither of us can admit when we're wrong, and things just blow up from there. I would like to think that I have my moments of humility, however. As a matter of fact, I think I'll go have one right now.

Just a Quickie

2009-06-06T23:33:00.002-05:00

I wanted to really push my luck by getting this last one in before it was officially Sunday. Where I am it is still Saturday, even if other parts of these great United States are on the other side of midnight. I have plenty of excuses for posting late, one of which includes a trip to the ER, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. Hasta Luego.

Paul Blart, Intern

2009-06-05T12:56:00.003-05:00

Yeah, it turned out work isn't picking up quite as much as I thought. I had a little chat with my boss today and he said we can lower the pucker factor to threat level orange. So that's good. I still had to work on a day off though. Can't get that back. Hours of my life, gone forever. And my baby's life. Precious moments of her rocking back and forth, on the verge of crawling. Her precocious stares where she looks like she could easily be 25 years old instead of 25 minutes.

I was going to make a joke about how I don't really care about all of the stuff I'm missing by working and going to school full time, but the more I think about it, the more I think maybe I do care. But we are choiceless. The extra income we get from my VA benefits is a necessary part of our budget, so I have no choice but to go to school. It's kinda like having a second job, only I don't have to work very hard and at the end I'll have a lot more job opportunities. I guess it's like interning with a mall cop. If interning with a mall cop was something you could put on a resume-ay (I do that instead of the accent mark cuz I don't know how to do the accent mark) without people laughing at you.

Easy...Eeeaaasy

2009-06-04T16:16:00.002-05:00

I'm taking an online class for the first time this semester. So far (week 1 down, 5 more to go) I've been pretty good about keeping up with it. This is significant for me because I'm not much of a self-motivator, as evidenced by the 75 extra pounds I carry around. The only problem I've noticed is in the discussion topics the instructor posts to create a discourse amongst my peers and I. I've developed a tendency to blog.

Everyone else puts short, rather brief opinions about the subject matter and how it affects them. I do research. I spent half an hour googling the effects of Hugo Chavez's policies on the rate of inflation in Venezuela just so I could make a joke that was accurate.

So far, on the two topics he has posted, I've contributed 5 times. Three of them were essentially one post but it was just so long I had to break it up (and accidentally deleted one section and had to recreate it. I hate trying to do that. It never comes out as good as the first time I write it.), which meant coming up with not one, but 3 clever titles to go with each post.

In Under the Wire

2009-06-03T17:53:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I'm typing this in the 3.42 minutes I have to spare between work and school, because work suuuuuuuuuccckked today. By that I mean I actually had to do some. And not just some. It was a lot. Like, there was walking around and stuff. Also, this one kinda fruity guy was acting all weird to me. Maybe he figured out that I'm married and therefore not available. Okay, that was kinda harsh. And ridiculously self-absorbed, but we all knew that part was a joke right?

But yeah. So not one, but 2 of my myriad of dormant work projects all of the sudden sprung to life and needed, nay, demanded my attention. Usually one of them will stir slightly, sending me a document or two that needs to be edited and returned within a week or so. It generally takes me a grand total of 30 minutes to perform such a task, so I don't have a lot of stress and strain in my professional life.

But not today. Oh no, today was different. It was special. Today, one of the project managers that I "work for" decided he wanted this whole slew of documents created from scratch. Correction, he was wondering where a whole slew of documents were, despite never showing the slightest inkling of interest in them up to this point.

And then on top of that I screwed up this other document a couple months ago, but it was okay cuz two other guys screwed up their parts on it as well, so it had to all be redone ASAP but nobody was saying it was all my fault or even all that concerned about it being screwed up. Except maybe the guy who found it, but nobody really listens to him anyway, so it was all good. Aaaaand I'm late for class.

And Then Things Took a Turn For the Worst...

2009-06-02T08:55:00.003-05:00

Yeah, so you remember the fun, wonderful, great, and all-around put together advisor I talked about in a previous post? Well, guess who my summer math class teacher is! Go ahead, guess. I'll wait. That's right! Mr. Wonderful himself! I just can't seem to stop using the exclamation points!

I mean, he has a doctorate in something, so he is understandably familiar with the teaching process. And he did teach in what many believe to be the most difficult academic pipeline in the military. But of all the classes in the entire scholastic program here, why did he have to choose mine as the launching point for his return to teaching? Man I'm glad I didn't chew him out there in his office. That would have made for an awkward first day of class.

The Experiment

2009-06-01T10:59:00.003-05:00

Okay, so I'm going to try and be a real blogger for a month. I think everybody goes through a phase like this, where the guilt of ignoring your blog eats at you to the point of wanting to regurgitate whatever nonsense flits through your skull for the sole purpose of being heard by somebody, somewhere in the world, even if it's only so you can be heard making the crazy noise by pursing your lips and flicking them with your index finger while humming.

Did you just do it? I did too. I'm the one writing this and even I couldn't resist. So I'm going to try and post every day. For a month. At the heart of this experiment is an attempt to find my voice. I feel like I've been all over the place with this thing since it started, and while that effectively reflects my eclectic nature, I worry that's it's too wandering and random to do anybody any good. So, let's see what happens.

In the Thinking Position

2009-05-20T13:08:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I had a strange thought. This might go so far as to be classified as deviant, but this is just how my mind works. The sooner you recognize/accept the abnormality that is me, the better off you’ll be with life in general.

So, to the odd thought. What if you were in a public restroom, doing your, you know, business. Dropping the kids off at the pool, we’ll say. And all of the sudden, a pipe burst from the toilet behind you. Perhaps it had suffered too many errant kicks-attempting to flush without touching anything with your hands. You really can’t touch those handles, people. It may be weird of me to not want to touch the door handles leading out of the restroom, based on my repeated observation of people going straight from stall to exit. But the handle on the toilet is guaranteed contaminated. I mean, they wipe, then they flush. There’s no middle ground there. I have yet to witness a restroom patron finish their business without flushing, go wash their hands, and then return to exorcise the demons.

But I’m getting off topic. So the pipe has burst, and you’re still mid-squat. What do you do? Do you wipe up, all the while getting soaked with toilet water? Do you run out and look for another stall to finish up in? And if so, what if there are no other open stalls? Then you’re just a goober with their pants around your ankles, standing out in front of everybody.

I guess there’s a third option. You could just pull up your pants and soldier on, hoping that there aren’t any visible stains to concern yourself with. Of course, if you’re soaked in toilet water, a little brown downtown will be the least of your worries.

Hooray for an A!

2009-05-13T13:14:00.002-05:00

Yes, it's been a while. Yes, I'm yet another blogger, starting yet another post about how long it's been since he posted. I think it's harder for guys to maintain a blog. I don't want to sound sexist or anything, but it just seems like we're more heavily weighed down by the need for content. I'm kidding, of course. I fully expected that to sound sexist.

I'm still kidding. Some of my favorite bloggers are women. Actually, come to think of it, almost all the bloggers in my reader are women. Even the communal blog I post to occasionally is filled with nothing but women. Why is it this blog thing has taken off for the women and not for men?

Don't get me wrong. I know there are male blogs out there. But they all pretty much stink. Except for close friends who's lives I am interested learning more about, we of the less fair species don't seem to have what it takes.

Just so it doesn't seem like I've completely gone off the deep end, the title of this post refers to my achievement of straight A's in my first semester back at college. I don't think I've ever gotten straight A's in my entire life. I remember in Kindergarten getting all S's (it stood for Satisfactory; the only other option was a U) but that was the last time I reached such a grand summit.

Born on Veteran's Day

2009-04-27T13:16:00.003-05:00

Why is it when bad stuff happens (money-wise), it all happens at once? I make quite a bit of effort throughout my day to maintain my finances in such a way that we can have most of the things we want in my family. But it seems like just as I get on top of things, and start to get to a point where I can get ahead, something (or somethings) comes along to screw it all up.

This time it was my brilliant college/GI Bill advisor, who recommended a class that I didn't need for my major. For those of you not familiar with the Montgomery GI Bill, you don't get paid if the class doesn't relate to your major in some way. Well, the VA people didn't find out that this class doesn't relate to my major until mid-April. This means that:
a.) It's too late to drop the class without it hurting my GPA.
b.) I've been getting paid for this class for the last 4 months, and will now have to pay back the money (it will come out of my next payment).
c.) I will get paid less for the remainder of the semester than I had anticipated.
d.) This happens just as I'm needing this money to cover the cost of the summer semester.
e.) I've essentially wasted every Friday night of 2009 at school, taking this class, instead of being at home with my family.

Now there are those who may contend with my whiny-ness, stating either that I should have verified that I needed that class before taking it, or I should be happy that I get to go to college for free (in fact I make a little bit of a profit off the whole deal). To those people I would like to blow a juicy raspberry.

First off, you're right, I should have gone behind the advisor and double-checked his work. It was foolish of me to assume he could do his job. In my defense, he lulled me into a false sense of security by taking the time to sit down with me, walk me through the process of enrollment, and answer all my questions to the best of his ability. Little did I know his complete lack of job experience would soon cost me thousands of dollars.

As to the second point, I take offense at the suggestion that the GI Bill is a gift. Yes, I only had to pay $1,200.00 over a period of 12 months (and then another $600.00 kicker) and will, once it is all said and done, reap a benefit from the program of somewhere in the vicinity of $47,628.00, but I really do feel like I've earned that money.

I guess my biggest problem is that fact that he didn't seem all that bothered that he had thrown my life into shambles, completely wrecked my budget (vacation during the Spring/Summer break is looking less and less likely), and made it extremely difficult to pay the mortgage for the next 3 months or so (Which just went up about $200.00 due to some mis-management of my escrow account. Yay for the banking industry. I should have just gone with the ARM, so I could ignore my mortgage payments for a year or 2). When I confronted him on the problem, he gave me a blank stare, followed by, "Well, there's not much I can do for you. Try this lady. Maybe she can help."

It was a wrong number.

2009-04-23T12:48:00.003-05:00

I like watching the shadows move during a sunset. I don't know if you've ever noticed, but they start to move really fast as the sun sinks lower and lower on the horizon. Usually, such a past-time would be relegated to the ranks of paint drying or grass growing. But at sunset, that's when things really get interesting. Sometimes if there's a shadow moving across a chalkboard or whiteboard, I like to mark it and then see how long it takes to move a foot.

Sleepy and Dopey

2009-04-15T10:15:00.003-05:00

So I think I need to give myself a bed time. Lately I've been getting to bed at around midnight, which kinda sucks since I (try to) get up at 6 every morning. I am definitely one of those people who needs 8-14 hours of sleep a night. The only problem is, how do I enforce it? I could get my wife to do it, but that starts down the long slippery slope from wife/lover/goddess-of-my-life to mother-figure. And that ain't kosher.

The best solution I've arrived at so far is to get rid of the cable TV (gasp). That way I wouldn't flip it on when I got home (at around 9pm), since the only channels we would get would be showing the news at that time (I hate local news). This might solve my problem, but it would mean that the missus wouldn't have anything to watch during her long days at home alone.

I'm stumped. I've got to change something soon, because I won't be able to get away with these naps at work for much longer.

What a Great Idea! #6

2009-04-06T12:44:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I'm tapped out. I figured at least one other person would have a good idea to share by the time I made 5 weeks (actually 3 weeks, I made the last two up on the spot), but apparently all the good ideas are already thought up. Oh well. Back to the drawing board for ideas I guess. I'll keep you all posted if I come up with anything else.

I kind of feel like Tom Hanks on Castaway, like this blog is my own Wilson and I know it won't respond to me, but I still keep carrying on conversations with it. Maybe it will keep me from going insane too.

Um...what?

2009-04-01T12:29:00.004-05:00

As I mentioned in a previous post, there were a couple phrases, idioms, euphemisms, whatever they're called whose origins were shrouded in mystery. At least, to me. And since the reality found here is of my own creation, they are officially shrouded in mystery.

The first was 'dead ringer'. Now, to give myself a little credit, I am familiar with other such phrases (I'm going with phrases okay? You don't like it, write a letter to somebody.) that institute similar words. For instance. 'Saved by the bell' comes from the practice of attaching a bell to the gravestone with a string trailing down in to the buried casket. The point of which was to prevent anyone from being buried alive.

Another olde tyme phrase with similar word usage is 'Send in the ringer'. Of course as we all know this one is in reference to a competition of some kind in which a participant is entered under false pretenses or presented in such a way to misrepresent their abilities. Neither of which has anything to do with somebody looking exactly like somebody else.

The other one was 'apple of my eye'. I got nothin' on that one. The best I can come up with is the 'apple a day keeps the doctor away', which makes no sense whatsoever. Or maybe people used to somehow mistake small apples for eyeballs? Any ideas? Or do you have any such phrases whose origins are unknown?

What a Great Idea! #5

2009-03-30T09:15:00.003-05:00

"Honey, where are the pants I was just wearing yesterday?"

"I put them in the hamper. I thought they were dirty.You left them laying on the floor."

"But I only wore them for a couple of hours yesterday. They're still okay to wear."

Does this sound familiar? Well have no fear folks, because I have the solution. I'm talking about the Almost Dirty™. (Okay, it's not really trademarked, but I thought it would look cooler that way. Of course, I've kind of ruined that with this long parenthetical explanation.) The Almost Dirty is a handy little device to help separate out those clothes that just haven't reached the level of ripe required for cleaning.

It's a fairly simple design, with hooks and baskets that hang discreetly out of the way on the wall, so when you take off those bumming-around-the-house shorts at the end of the day, you'll know right where they'll be the next day. It comes in several different configurations. As a wall unit, a stand alone, and even one that can hang in your closet (though that won't get much use from men).

No longer will men complain about not having that shirt that they just took off. No more will wives complain that they're husbands dirty clothes are all over. With the Almost Dirty, everybody wins!

I don't have a picture or design drawn up, but essentially it's a coat rack with some bars that hang parallel to the wall for pants, and some baskets underneath for the stuff from your pockets, or socks (if you're one of those weirdos who wears a pair of socks more than once), or whatever. The stand alone version is a free-standing coat rack, with an octagonal "halo" that pants can hang from, as well as a basket ring about halfway down.

Other options are a progressive chart, marked with smiley faces, that indicate how long the clothes have been there. If it's 2 days old, hang it on this hook, if it's 5 days old hang it on that one. The faces can progress from happy to vomiting. Kind of like the pain chart at the doctor's office, only with smells.

Oh, the Voices

2009-03-26T08:31:00.004-05:00

I have got to stop using the radio to wake me up in the morning. Or at the very least, put a better station on than the one I have now. All day yesterday I was hearing a rock-and-roll version of Taylor Swift's Love Story, and now I can't get Kelly friggin Clarkson out of my head. Of course, now that I'm talking about it, Taylor Swift is back. "This love is difficult, but it's a reee-eal." Sigh. Yeah, cuz she has it sooo hard.

What a Great Idea! #4

2009-03-23T14:01:00.002-05:00

While I haven't stated this before, I feel it necessary to say that if any of these posts have already been thought of, feel free to mock and deride me to your heart's content.

This week's idea is motivated by by hatred of all things cat. Namely, their litter boxes. I'm sorry, but what possible reason could I have to debase myself enough to clean up the defecation and urination of a fellow human, let alone a lower life form?

Now before the hate mail starts coming, I know there are plenty of people who make their living doing just that. My point is that my pride, coupled with my disgust of all forms of excrement (mixed with a little germaphobia), makes it impossible for me to ever do such a job.

My invention is a simple one. All it takes is a valve to divert water from the toilet, and a hose that drapes over the bowl of a toilet. You partially fill a completely enclosed dome with washable pellets, and allow the cat to "have at it". Once the aforementioned feline exits the contraption, the entrance closes, and something akin to a wash cycle takes place, in which any matter left by the cat is liquefied and exits with the water, and the pellets stay in place.

Of course it's an imperfect system, since there would have to be a filter of some kind on the exit tubing to keep the pellets in, and that filter would no doubt have to be changed or at least cleaned periodically, but it would significantly reduce the interaction between you and cat poop. Which is my ultimate goal in life.

Ahhh, Bureaucracy

2009-03-20T08:16:00.002-05:00

I work in an engineering environment. I am not an engineer, but I am a member of the, I guess you could call it the support staff. We are in the same building as the people who manufacture the things the engineers engineer. Until recently, I was one of the people doing the manufacturing. I guess you could say I switched sides.

When you are in manufacturing, and you come across a problem with a design, or have an idea on how to make a design better, you have to submit it in writing to the engineering staff. Then they review it, and if they agree, they implement the change. Sounds simple enough, right? Okay, sounds simple enough and boring, right?

Wrong. At least, on the simple part. This process can take up to 9 months. For something as simple as changing from Phillip's head screws to Flathead screws. That's because something like 15 different people have to see it before it can get approved. Some of them even get to see it twice. And the best part is, you get almost no feedback when you submit one of these change requests. So you just have to sit back, twiddle your thumbs, and hope for the best.

I used to be one of the submitters. Now I'm one of the 15. It's interesting, how being on the other side can change your perspective sometimes. Seeing what the other half has to go through can make a big difference on your opinion of how things work.

Not that that's the case this time. This time, now having seen both sides of the issue, it turns out my first impressions were right. The 15 are just a bunch of guys who don't really care about the manufacturing people, and unless they get poked (preferably with a sharp stick) they just sit on stuff, sometimes until they die.

Now you may be saying to yourself, "But Nook, aren't you one of the 15 now? Couldn't you be the change you want to see in others?" And you'd be right. I could. But it's a lot easier to just sit on stuff like everybody else. Besides, I don't want to be the one guy who does everything really well.

That has 2 negative impacts. One, everybody will start looking dirty at me and give me the really hard shoulder bump which is just mean and hurts a lot, because I'm showing them up and potentially pointing out the fact that they aren't doing their job. Second, the reward for a doing your work well is typically more work.

See, management types don't like having to ask their employees 5 times a day, "Did you get this done yet? When are you going to get this done? Why didn't you get this done by the time you just told me you would have it done?" So when they find that special guy who can work independent of supervision and really gets things done, they load him up. Also, they try their best to hide him from the world, so no one else finds out about him and tries to promote him.

Of course, I'm saying him in the gender non-specific sense, since everybody knows that those management types would prefer a woman over a man, since they could pay her less.

What a Great Idea! #3

2009-03-17T08:13:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I know, I missed Monday. If there's one thing you learn about me through this process, it's that I don't do deadlines. I'll never work for a newspaper, or a restaurant, or an organ delivery service. I'm just not that guy. But anyway, here's the latest.

Okay, this one is short. I think that whenever Corona beer stops using the dumb relaxing-on-a-beach-without-showing-any-faces/one lone palm tree lit up with Christmas lights from 1982 as their advertising campaign, they should buy the rights to the song "My Sharona" and change it to my "My Corona".

Also Not That Bad

2009-03-10T07:20:00.002-05:00

I meant to have these out this weekend, but stuff came up, I have a life, maybe you should get one, whatever. Here's the rest of them. Enjoy.

13. I have traveled to 20 countries on 4 different continents over the course of 9 years and I can't find a single picture of me in front of a single significant landmark or monument that would prove that I have visited any of those places. Okay, that was bragging, but I snuck it in there, so it doesn't count.

14. I cannot juggle. I have tried to learn on several different occasions, but for some reason I just can't get the rhythm or the timing down. I don't think it's my coordination, because I'm pretty good at some other stuff like hacky-sack and such, but juggling eludes me.

15. I am the worst chess player I have ever met. I am so bad it's scary. I was about 18 years old, and I taught my 10 year old cousin how to play, and he beat me on the following game(s) . One chess program I played had a myriad of computer opponents, starting with "the king" and "the queen" as the most difficult opponents and continuing on through the whole royal court until you got to the easiest character, the street urchin. The street urchin kicked my butt, every single time.

16. I used to collect everything. Keychains, matchbooks, t-shirts, buttons, dice, shot glasses, sunglasses, hats, bouncy balls, hacky sacks, puzzles. You name it, it seemed like I had a group of them stashed somewhere in my room. Then one day I just didn't see the point anymore. I still have some of the stuff I used to collect somewhere, in case any of you have any of those collections. I'll be happy to send it to you. If I can find it.

17. I think the phrase 'ignorance is bliss' is one of the truest things anyone has ever said. I'm glad I have gained most of the knowledge I have, but there are somethings in this world I wish I never knew about. Like skorts. Who the $%@#* came up with skorts? Seriously people.

18. I sometimes take the digits in a number, like a phone number, and subtract and add to them until they are all even. For instance, if presented with the phone number 932-5718, I would take 2 from the 9 and add it to the 3, then take 2 from the 9 and add it to the 2, which would give me 554-5718. Then I would take 1 from the 7 and add it to the 4, and take 1 from the 7 and add it to the 1. Then I would take 3 from the 8 and add it to the 1. That would give me 555-5555. I don't know why I started doing it, but I can't seem to stop, and I get very excited when I find a number that works out like my example where they are all even.

19. I never liked the taste of coffee. I don't drink it anymore, but when I did I never had any that was any good. I would always put mounds of sugar and creamer in it, or buy from Starbucks as a venti mocha half caf crappacino (or however you spell it) and call that coffee. But just a straight up, black cup of coffee always turned my stomach.

20. Same thing with liquor. Any kind of liquor straight is just awful. If you dress it up with fruit juices or soda it isn't as bad, but I just never liked the taste of any of them. I always feel like the story of the emperor's new clothes when I talk about stuff like this, like there's no way anyone else could actually like these things, but they act like they do just so they fit in. No, I'm not too full of myself. Why do you ask?

21. I hate not knowing where phrases come from, like "Apple of my eye" or "Dead Ringer". Why do we say these things? It really bothers me sometimes. Okay, it bothers me all the time. So sue me.

22. I really really like owning a gun. I don't know why, because I never felt like I was in danger before I got married. But now I am constantly thinking about the evils that lurk right outside my door. Especially while I'm at work and my wife and infant daughter are at home. I know if a bad man wanted to do bad things in my home, a wooden door probably wouldn't stop him. I feel fairly certain 13 rounds of 9 millimeter ammunition center mass would do the trick though.

23. I don't know squat about home maintenance or car maintenance. My wife's uncle, who works in air conditioning, had to tell me to change my air filters more than once a year (I apparently had the kind that needed to be changed monthly). He told me this while he replaced the part of my air conditioner that had been fried. Actually, that was about 3 months ago, and I don't think I've changed my filters since. Hmm.

24. I play games on my phone while I go to the bathroom. I used to think that was gross, handling something you held up to your face while you do...that. But I came up with a system that ensures no cross-contamination. Honestly, I think if I could find a way, I would just spend all my time playing tetris. I mean, it's tetris. Who doesn't like tetris?

25. I never wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. There were dozens of potential jobs out there that I aspired to throughout my childhood (though rarely with any real zeal (hey, that rhymes, cool)), but never anything to do with writing. I hated writing in school. Too many rules, too much research. Then I got to college and it was like a whole new world opened up for me. I started to enjoy it. I still don't want to do it forever, but it is kind of fun sometimes.

So that's a little about me. Some of you may have found it interesting, most of you probably just skimmed. I get it. I can be a bit wordy. It's just what I happen to come up with and then bring forth, similar to how an infant will bring forth their recently ingested milk when they aren't feeling well.

What a Great Idea! #2

2009-03-09T07:50:00.003-05:00

So here we are, the second installment of my new weekly post. I know how riveting my diatribe on TV advertising was, so I'll be hard-pressed to top that (my big fat fingers slipped and made me type hard-opressed; just thought that was funny). But I think I've succeeded.

I've been puzzling over this one for years now, ever since my military days. There is a big problem with keeping soldiers cool when they are in certain situations. They have a lot of body armor they have to wear in combat, not to mention the everyday guard positions that all military personnel are forced to participate in at some point or another. This is true for for other professions as well, like policemen and firefighters who wear heavy uniforms. Also, those who participate in most sports, as well as your every day outdoorsman.

My solution to this problem was the water shirt. The water shirt is a article of clothing with semi-rigid tubing sown into it that wraps around the body. That tubing has a regulated flow of water pumped through it to assist in cooling the body, much the same way a heat exchanger works.

My idea is to then connect the tubing to a small fan pack worn on the hip that will have a set of fans similar to those used in laptops. These fans will pass air over the water as makes a couple of loops through the pack, thus chilling the water before it returns to the tubing around the body. There will also be a very small pump attached that will facillitate the water movement.The main flow of water will be under the armpits, where nature agrees we need the most cooling. It will then split off to the front and back and work it's way down to the cooling station on the hip.

One problem of course will be leakage. How do you make it thin enough to exchange heat, while still making it thick enough to avoid being punctured easily? This is accomplished a couple of ways. First, A very thin material will be used on the interior side of the shirt to create the pockets the tubes will rest in. This will reduce the insulation between the tubing and the skin. Second, the tubing itself will actually be tubing inside of tubing, with a thicker tubing being wrapped around the thinner tubing, and gaps cut in the thick tubing on the side closest to the skin to protect it from outside damage while still being able to exchange heat.

Another difficulty lies in powering it. the fans and pump will draw a pretty good amount of electricity, so my first thought was some sort of piezioelectric power supply, that would take advantage of the movement of the wearer to help with power. In reality, however, that would probably only work in a limited number of applications, like the combat soldier or someone in athletics. So a small, rechargeable battery pack would also need to be included, perhaps on the other hip, so the wearer isn't as weighed down on one side.

Now, this has the potential to be unsightly. So it wouldn't be ideal for those in high profile positions, or in a meeting full of suits. But the policeman who's forced to wear a bulletproof vest would find a device like this quite useful. And the average man who wants to go for a run will feel like he's running on a breezy spring day, regardless of the conditions.

Those are a couple of my taglines for this product. Feel free to add your own. Of course, if you have any ideas of your own you feel like sharing, let me know and I'll be happy to put them up here.

It's Not That Bad

2009-03-06T11:10:00.002-06:00

Okay, so since I don't want my weekly post to be my only post, I thought I should probably put something else on here. I don't know from where this sense of obligation springs. The beauty of an anonymous blog is the complete freedom to do or say whatever is on my mind, whenever it comes up. I guess there is some small part of me that hopes that a few people will start to read this, then a few more, then they'll all tell their friends and soon I'll have such a huge following that they'll be clamoring on local and national news syndicates to find out who this mystery man really is!

But that's just because, as I've said before, I have a much higher opinion of myself than I actually deserve. No no, don't try to argue. I'm not just fishing for compliments. I think of myself with these exalted terms, focusing only on the positive contributions I make to society, and ignoring all the rest of the idiotic things I do.

So when one of those facets of my life builds up to the point that somebody around me finally just says, "Dude, what's your problem?" Or better still, "What are you talking about? You're such a dork." Then I realize that I am in fact such a dork and that brings me back to earth for a little while.

But I'm sure my 2 readers didn't get on here to hear me complain. (I always like it when I can use homonyms in a sentence, like 'The maid made the bed' or 'The plane landed on the plain' or my favorite, 'I'll walk down the aisle in the church on the isle.') So instead, I thought I'd share some fun facts about myself. Don't worry, this isn't one of those narcissistic lists of my 25 greatest attributes. The fact that there are 25 of them is a complete coincidence.

1. I can touch my nose with my tongue. I'm not talking about the lame joke where you say, "I can stick out my tongue and touch my nose" and then proceed to stick out your tongue and touch your nose with your finger.

2. I can list, from memory, at least 4 combo meals from every single nationwide fast food chain in America. Except White Castle. Cuz I don't smoke drugs. This should probably disturb me more than it does.

3. I still remember the opening paragraph to the Gettysburg Address that I learned in 5th grade. The reason I still remember it is I have spent the last several years proving I still remember it to anyone willing to sit still long enough.

4. I still remember the Shakespeare I memorized to impress women, not realizing it was (at the time) the 20th century and most of the women I wanted to impress couldn't care less about Shakespeare. As I've already stated, I was a little unaware of how the world worked back then.

5. I have learned 2 phrases in 6 languages (I used to know more, but I have since forgotten them). Those 2 phrases are, in no particular order, "Do you speak (insert language)" and "A little, and badly". So that whatever language someone is speaking that I'm trying to pretend I know, I can always get at least a little chuckle and, have a good excuse for shrugging my shoulders at them when they begin their rapid-fire assault in their native tongue.

6. My first memory is when I was 2 1/2 and I was on a small fishing boat with about half a dozen other people. I was sucking on a grape tootsie pop that my Grandmother had given me and I accidentally dropped it overboard. My 4 year old brother, who had an orange one, threw his over too, just to keep things fair. Ain't brothers swell?

7. I can't remember the last time I was really sad. I just don't get sad. I think there's something wrong with me. I can remember my grandfather's funeral when I was 5 or 6, and I tried to be sad about it, because so many other people were crying and I felt guilty that I wasn't. But I got bupkiss.

8. I tailgate people all the time. Now, in my defense it's much more common in my part of the country than in others I've been too, so it's not as bad as if I did it where you live. The significance of this statement is I still get a little annoyed when people do it to me.

9. I don't really like infants. I love kids. I love playing with them, I love teaching them stuff, I love watching them grow, but I just can't get excited about infants. They don't ever do anything. More than that, they don't react to anything. At least, not with enough consistency that any sort of scientific study would call conclusive. I can't wait until my kid can actually talk and walk and all that stuff. Of course, I might look back at this in 20 years (if we're all still here, 2012 is coming) and kick myself for wishing she would hurry up and grow up already.

10. I occasionally catch myself reading fortune cookies and horoscopes and trying to fit their portents into the current or future events in my life, thereby lending them some kind of credence.

11. I'm such a snob. I used to like reading anything, watching any kind of movie, or watching just about anything on TV. Now I'm nothing but a critic. Which is funny, cuz I kinda look like the character Jon Lovitz played on that cartoon. Kind of, but not really. But I spend all my time saying 'That's so dumb' or 'I can't believe they made a movie about that' or 'who writes these commercials?'.

12. I've been training in CPR and First Aid for almost a decade now, but I'm fairly certain I could never bring myself to actually press my lips to some fat old guy going into cardiac arrest to save his life. Also, the idea of removing something jagged from where it punctured some guys side and bandaging him up creeps me out. Also, broken bones give me the willies. Arms are not supposed to just hang down like that halfway between the elbow and wrist. It's just wrong.

I'm just going to do half of them right now. I'll put the other half up later. If anybody even wants to read the other half. Anybody? Whatever.

What a Great Idea!

2009-03-02T11:28:00.002-06:00

So I've read a bunch of weekly blog post themes, and I thought I'd give that a try as well. My idea for a weekly blog post is a weekly idea blog post. I have some ideas (some good, some not) on ways I could potentially improve certain deficiencies I see in the world around me. The only problem is that I am too lazy to make any effort toward implementing these changes. So I have decided to present them to the world to see if anyone else would be interested in implementing them.

My first post in this vein will be toward the TV advertising agencies of America. There is a big problem with people fast forwarding through your commercials, thanks to the invention of the DVR. Now I will admit to being a culprit of this particular crime myself, back when I had such technology available to me. But it is so easy to skip over the commercials now, that they have been rendered next to useless.

I suggest we harken back to a method of "commercial"ism that was used in days gone by. My idea is to use the actors for a particular show in the commercials aired during that show. Better still, to use the same sets as well. That way, when someone is fast forwarding, waiting to see their favorite program pop back on, they will be forced to pause more often and increase the amount of time they spend watching your commercials.

This would also help with the people who are as technologically defunct as I am, who simply leave the room when the commercials come on. They would also have no choice but to sit and watch since they wouldn't know, for a few seconds at least, if it was just a commercial or if the show had returned.

Of course there are numerous budgetary concerns for such an idea, what with the actors no doubt expecting more money than your average commercial actor would want, but these things could be included in their contract with the main show.

This isn't the most thrilling idea I've come up with, but it is one of the more fleshed out, thus bringing it to the top of the list. If you have any interesting ideas, or any suggestions about mine, feel free to let me know.

Sorry, but life is good

2009-02-26T15:35:00.002-06:00

I feel a little guilty, seeing as the last post on this blog was dated almost a month ago. I'm not sure where the source of this guilt lies, since my weekly update continues to report a grand total of 2 visitors a week. But the guilt remains. Must be my upbringing. What can I say? Things are going pretty good. I can't even think of any piddling little detail I can exacerbate for the purpose of amusing my 2 readers.

I guess I could tell a story. Let's see... It can't have too many personal details. Some people are already getting a little too close. I know, I'll tell you about the time I got lost at a Mennonite Quilt Auction. It was a blustery Autumn day in October, somewhere in the Midwest, and I was tightly wrapped in my jean jacket with waaaay too many pockets. Man, the crap I used to carry around in that thing is incredible. It was all so stereotypically little boy too. Half a yo-yo, a super bouncy ball, some double-bubble (I can't stand it now, but I used to love that stuff), an odd bit of steel I had found on the ground that vaguely resembled something that could potentially come in handy. I was very much a pack rat back then.

Anywho, we were wandering around what I guess were fairgrounds, taking in all the sights and sounds of a bustling rural community. It was a Saturday, so the crowds were out in force. We all stuck close to one another and made our way to the main stage to see what was being proffered. It was a very interesting experience to see/hear my first auctioneer. There were so many assumptions about them being barrel-chested old men with thick handlebar moustaches bellowing out across a crowded room with a torrent of words so fast that it seemed like a foreign language.

Let me tell you, this guy did not disappoint. He was a little more barrel-shaped around the midsection than the chest, and his moustache was a little scrawnier and salt-and-peppered than I expected, but man did he spew forth with a steady stream of-well, I'm not entirely sure I am qualified to say what was coming out of his mouth. In the hopes of propriety I can only assume it was bids being placed, but to be honest he could have been cursing out my mother for all I know.

Despite the intrigue at this new and exciting experience, my siblings and I soon grew bored with the ever-rotating display of quilts. So to stave off the mischief that typically accompanies such boredom, ma and pa decided to do a little more wandering (read:wear out the little ones with excessive walking) before settling in to begin their bidding.

We had no sooner left the small stadium where they were doing the auctioning, when we came across some sort of penny display. This was great for me since just a few months prior I had begun what would be a life-long obsession with coin collecting. So I paused there briefly to see what they were up to. Unfortunately, I was the only one who paused.

Let me set the stage for you here. There were thousands of people at this small event. Got it? No, but seriously, there were hoards of people, moving very quickly from event to event. It reminds me of traffic on L.A. roads, as well as some of the big cities in Texas, where you are about 4 1/2 ft away from the car in front of you going 80 miles an hour. It's not really like the traffic in New York, cuz that's pretty much just at a standstill all the time.

So I look up from the penny trough, assuming that my big brother will be blocking my path and I'm surprised to find my path clear. Like, completely. As in there were only a handful of people left in the area of this booth. And none of them were related to me. This display was set up in the entrance to the auction building, so I rushed outside to try and catch sight of my clan. But they were nowhere to be found.

Not one to panic, I quickly reassured myself that I had heard which displays in which building my mom had planned to visit, so I could just head in that direction and catch-up to them there. It never occurred to my 8-yr old mind that they would actually notice being short one child and return to the last spot they had seen him. So I spent the better part of an hour wandering the fairgrounds searching for my family, with nothing but half a yo-yo for company.

At some point I had the brilliant idea that I could just head to the car, since at some point they would have to leave (if they hadn't already) and so the best place to be would be by their only means of transportation. It just so happened that the car was quite a ways away, which meant I was out of earshot of the announcements over the PA system they had started to make thanks to the vehement cajoling of my dear sweet worried sick mother (see where the guilt comes from?).

So cut this long story short, I hung out by the car for a while until I started to get cold (that denim was fashionable, but it didn't do much to cut the wind) so I headed back to where this all began, not really sure what I would do next. It just so happened that as I was walking into the auction house, my dad was walking out. Cue the joyful reunion, rushed explanations, the telling of how my dad almost bought a $900 quilt because the auctioneer mistook his wild gesticulations to my mother as a bid. It was great.

I look back on it now with such a shudder to think if I lost my child at a crowded fairground for 45 minutes, and the sheer panic that would have overtaken me by that point. I try not to think about it too much.

I have plenty of friends...

2009-02-05T19:48:00.002-06:00

Another good one is, "I wasn't really in a clique in high school. I was friends with everybody." More like, "I was friends with my parents." Today I write about one of our greatest social morays. That is, our social Quasimodos.

Everybody knows one. Most people know several. They are the people that you "have" to spend time with, rather than the people you "want" to spend time with. That may be a gross over-generalization, but it more than includes those I am referring to.

Essentially, there are people in the world that somehow made it to the adolescent development of about 11 or 12 and decided it was far enough. They are the ones who just don't get it, whatever "it" is, although each and every one of them, despite any protests to the contrary, desperately want to.

How do I know? Because, I used to be one. (Dun dun duhhhhh)....(used to?) I grew up in the world of make believe those social midgets among us call acceptance. I believed I had plenty of friends, because television told me that it was normal for smart, well-adjusted, generally put-together young men to get picked-on and bullied mercilessly. Of course TV didn't say this was a daily, if not hourly, occurrence, but I was able to infer.

Also, the socially challenged (that's my last one, I promise), or SC's, create their environment. How is this accomplished? By carefully crafting the boundaries of their reality to only include those people who accept them and enjoy their company. For most of us, that only includes very close family. My own cousin was in the same class as me and a member of the "gang" of boys that tormented me throughout my early schooling.

Sure, I had friends. Two, to be exact. That was for the whole of elementary school and middle school. One of them was more socially awkward than me (only because he didn't care (no, I'm not contradicting what I said before, but he had far less concern for acceptance than I did. He was an exact duplicate of Napoleon Dynamite. Right down to the snow boots and Trapper Keeper. I'm not even joking)). The other one was probably the nicest guy I knew throughout that entire period of my life. He was just friends with everybody. Everyone liked him, without him being popular at all, if that makes any sense.

But I believed that I was accepted. I knew I wasn't cool, but people would talk to me (occasionally). The truth is I would talk incessantly. To anyone who would listen. All the time. We had a system of punishment in grade school that included talking in class(1/2 a mark), fighting (2 marks), being late to class (1mark), etc. I was almost expelled because I got so many marks for talking. That was it. Just talking. Mark after mark. When the expulsion review board met (I'm not even joking) the principal looked at my record of talking, looked at the teachers responsible, and said something to the effect of, "Maybe we should just challenge him more academically."

Because that's how we SC's fool ourselves. That's the Achilles Heel of any path to rehabilitation of anyone you know like this. We are good for something. And we cling to that like -ahem- a child clings to his blanket. That one thing we are gifted with, be it math skills, singing ability, bow-hunting skills, computer hacking skills, whatever. That gets us attention, much the same way a freak show garners it's following. Those people have no interest in bringing home and/or hanging out with these abnormalities, but look at that one guy shove a nail up his nose. Isn't that cool!

So we think 'People think I'm cool' instead of 'People are only friends with me so I'll help them with their math homework'. And it's a nearly unbreakable cycle. Because the people willing to hurt our feelings to help us see the light (the bullies) are the same people whose voices are forgotten as the day is reviewed, and the ones we are willing to listen to (very close family) doesn't want to hurt our feelings/is an over-protective mother who sees nothing wrong with her baby spending all their time at home (not the case for me...at least I don't think so).

If you have one of these people in your life, I have a method of solution. How I was able to solve my own shortcomings and become a paranoid schizophrenic, certain of annoying someone around every turn. It's a simple process. It works for kids or adults (though a bit harder for adults). You just have to make them your friend. I felt each and every one of you cringe at the thought of that, but it's what has to be done.

And I don't mean the kind of "friend" where you say hi to them at the supermarket, and know a single fact about their lives that you constantly ask them the status of. I mean a 'invite them out with you to events or shopping and have them over for dinner' friend. Then, once you're close, you tell them everything they are doing wrong. Maybe not all at once. But casually mention how disgusted you are when people burp in public (sex neutral) or scratch themselves in public (mostly the guys) or don't use proper hygiene (unfortunately sex neutral).

Don't mention it just after the SC has done or said or acted out your pet peeve, but maybe after someone around the two of you has, or at random, or when you see it on TV. Your new friend will take that information to heart. They will seriously consider trying out a brand of deodorant (any brand will do), or over-hear you telling someone to go to the bathroom to make those kinds of noises and do just that. It's a long, arduous process (kind of like this post), but keep in mind, this person wants to be accepted. They may not realize what that entails, and the hours in front of the mirror a young woman has to spend to get ready (not 12 minutes) or the physical activity a guy has to maintain to remain fit (not reading and posting blogs), but if they work up to it, they will be grateful as they leave you in the dust for their new cooler friends. See, they turned around to wave. You didn't see it? Aww.

Well, Shart

2009-01-27T10:28:00.002-06:00

Men are, by all accounts, less concerned with gas than women. It's a fact of life, brought on through a cycle of encouragement from our elder men that we then pass on to our own offspring. More often than not, when faced with a painful bubble and alone, or perhaps as a passive form of spousal abuse, or more commonly in an effort to amuse those of the same sex that surround us (they were brought up in the same cycle), men will let freedom ring.

Now this is no small matter. There are the obvious repercussions that effect all within olfactory range. But there are risks to the perpetrator as well. While slight, there is always the chance that it isn't gas, desperate to get out. Now these occurrences are rare, and typically easy to detect. But there are those rare times, perhaps early in the morning, or after a long night of drinking, when our judgement (as well as feeling in our extremities) just isn't what it should be. Thus the shart is born.

It's an unfortunate word, as it is married to a word I typically withhold from my usual dialogues. But to change it to the more kid-friendly "poop", and we are left with "part", which can easily cause a great deal of confusion.

"Mommy, I parted!"
"You farted?"
-whinier-"No Mommy, I parted!"
"You parted what? The Red Sea?"
"I parted in my pants!"

Mom starts breaking out the needle and thread, and Junior worries that the punishment for this offense is far greater than he anticipated.

Now for those of you who have never experienced or even witnessed such an event taking place, let me set the scene for you. Imagine, if you will, that you have just realized something so profound, so ominous, that your entire demeanor changes. You immediately leap to your feet, like a person possessed. But instead of rushing off to accomplish some newly realized life-goal, you very slowly, while at the same time very quickly, make your way to the restroom.

For any of you who have been witness to such events, you know what a special category they fall into. It is without a doubt, one of the most instantly recognizable and incredibly entertaining things anyone has ever seen. It has all the necessary elements of comedy. It's spontaneous and unexpected (and how), it is something unfortunate befalling someone else, and it involves poop. That's the trifecta.

Suffice to say the reason for this fecal-filled post is due to my own sad occurrence. Yes, you read right. I parted in my pants. I'm not afraid to say it. Especially since this is a completely anonymous blog. And now forever will be. Worse yet, I was only a couple of hours into my day. So I'm sitting at my desk, happily typing along, when I felt the urge. I had low expectations, so I let what I thought was a little gas slip out. Oh how wrong I was.

I of course, immediately rushed (sort of) to the bathroom, all the while hoping to minimize the catastrophe. So what ensued turned into a sort of leaning-back-and-squeezing-in-while holding-my-pants-out-without-looking-like-there-was-anything-wrong run/walk. Luckily I'm just a few dozen steps from the facilities.

Now all the while, some small part of me held out hope. Hope that I was mistaken. Hope that the results of all this effort would not be in vain. So I get into the room and almost start taking down my pants before I got into the stall. Now that would have been bad, since there were other people at the urinals. Worse yet, I knew one of them. So I casually made it look like I was adjusting myself and went into the stall.

Well, I won't go into too many details (HA HA HA HA HA) but suffice to say while there had been an accident, we did not have full penetration. Of course this left me with yet another dilemma. Do I clean up as best I can and soldier on, or do I remove the offending (offended?) garment and join the ranks of the commandos?

Well, I attempted the first option, with little success. So on to plan B. Well, the problem was, everyone and there brother (almost said mother, that would have been confusing) decided that moment was the best possible time to crowd into the stalls around me. Now, I don't know about you, but I think I would be able to tell what was going on if the guy next to me started taking off clothes.

So I waited. And waited. Things were starting to get sore. Eventually there was enough of a gap that I could make my move. But then it hit me. What do I do with it while I'm washing my hands and exiting? I can't exactly leave it sitting on the counter. So I come up with what I still consider a brilliant solution. I removed one shoe and one pant leg, got my leg out, and left the other leg in. I made sure the offense wasn't pressing against anything, and got the heck out of dodge, with a slight bulge around my upper leg. No one was the wiser.

Of course, when I got back to my desk, I had to struggle to get it out of my pant leg. That would have been an interesting discussion if my boss had come around the corner.

Me:"Have you seen that movie Zoolander?"
Boss:"No, I'm straight."

For some reason, I had a Ziploc bag sitting on my desk, which is now being used to seal in the freshness. I resisted the urge to suck out the air as I closed the bag.

Economy sucks

2009-01-13T11:00:00.003-06:00

Pretty much everything to do with economy of any kind sucks. Maybe I'm preconditioned as an American to think less is in no way more, but the fact remains that anything to do with economy, economics, and any other word that gets it's root from the Greek oikonomiā sucks.

For starters, our economy sucks. And not just because of greedy bankers and incompetent politicians, but because nobody involved has the first clue what they are talking about. Not to say I am some kind of expert on the subject, but I've been around the block enough times to know when I'm being mushroomed*. This whole system is waaaaaayy to complicated to explain with a single theory to incorporate Life, the Universe and Everything. But yet those darn ~~humorists~~ economists just keep on trying.

It's so funny to see things like this, where a group of "experts" will take all known data and throw together a hypothesis based on that data. The only problem is that they only have about 10% of the data. What results is akin to several overweight, middle-aged men chasing after a chicken. If you don't know what it looks like for someone to chase a chicken, watch the movie Rocky, and then instead of Sylvester Stallone picture the old guys.

Every time one new facet of the problem gets discovered, there's a flurry of activity to
a.) Incorporate that new aspect into their already loosely formulated idea
b.) Debunk the new fact since it doesn't fit
c.) Be the first to come up with a whole new all-inclusive solution, regardless of how ridiculous.

The economy also sucks because there's so much activity about it and so much discussion that it has become a mandatory course in college. I am now taking said course. There are many reasons this is not fun. One, I am not college-age. I blame the military. But because I am not college-age, the text is not geared toward me, but to the budding, hopeful youths of tomorrow who surround me, idealistically believing that in just a few short years they'll complete their degree and go out and really make a difference.

Since I know better, I feel confident that this (along with 95% of the rest of the courses I have to take) are a waste of my time. I mean, for crying out loud, I'm going for a business degree. How hard is it to run a business? Balance input with output to make a profit. Duuuuuuhhhh. They have all these classes on leadership and other such nonsense. What are they going to tell me that I haven't already experienced by having a job? It's not like there's some super secret managerial technique that they can teach me that will make me the best supervisor in the world.

"All you have to do is play this ultra-high frequency tone three times a day and your employees will increase their efficiency 20%." Every business is different, every job is different, and nothing I learn in those classes will help me be a better leader. Either I'm a good boss and listen to my employees (when possible) or I'm a jerk and do whatever I can to get ahead.

But I digress. The economy class is the epitome of such stupidity. "If you want to sell something, first you have to make it. If you want to make something, first you have to figure out how." Holy Hannah! Are there people in our higher educational systems today that sit in these classes and say, "Huh, so you can't lay everyone off and still make money? Who knew?" It's so painful, and it's only made worse by the self-righteous instructor who just knows that what he's teaching could one day save your life.

And it all boils down to economy sucks because I don't have any money. Stupid $140.00 books. What a load of bull.

*Mushroomed-to be kept in the dark and shoveled a bunch of horse manure.

Bucking the System

2009-01-08T11:28:00.005-06:00

So I found out today I have the Loudest Lunchbox Zipper In the World. It's probably the loudest zipper period, but if I just put "loudest zipper in the world" some minds will go straight to the crotch. Unfortunately I made this discovery at the start of my day in my ultra-quiet cubicle. To put you in the proper mind frame, imagine trying to open and eat a bag of potato chips at the library. You slowly tear open the top, the screeching plastic ripping apart, only slightly masked by the half-hearted cough you let out to try and cover it. Then take the chips, and one by one put them in your mouth. Of course you have to struggle to get your lips closed so the crunching sound will be somewhat muffled. All the while everyone around you knows exactly what your doing and the only thing you've accomplished with this charade is to make yourself look both like a jerk and an idiot.

So that was a great way to start my day. You may be asking why I, a grown man of...some age would be bringing a lunchbox to work. Well I'll tell you. While 99% of the blogs I have read have decided they are going against the norm and not starting a diet this year (FYI, 99% would probably be considered the norm, I don't know where ya'll got your math skills), I've decided to fight this trend by going with the other supposedly more prevalent trend of starting a diet.

Yeah, that's right. I'm a guy, and I'm dieting. After all, swimsuit season is just around the corner. But seriously, I'm fat. Fattie McGee ain't got nothin' on me. There are things that jiggle on me long after the ride has stopped. After serving this country by living in a tropical paradise for a few years, I got out to a life of decadence and sedentariness (it's a word, I looked it up). It has slowly been catching up to me over the years, until finally I breathlessly arrived at my desk one day to realize that walk up the single flight of stairs was hard.

So no more soda or fast food for me. And since everything here at work more or less falls into one of those two categories, I have been relegated to ranks of schollchildren everywhere, with a pretty new red lunchbox with an incredibly loud zipper. Well, it's actually 2 zippers, but I only use one of them and open my lunchbox halfway, which forces me to try and shimmie several oddly shaped lunch-type objects out throughout the day. Oh, I forgot that part. Part of my diet is to eat several small meals a day. So I'm not just ripping into this sucker around noon. Oh no. This goes on all day long. I feel such pity for those who sit around me.

Giddy-up, Jingle Horse...

2008-12-18T07:28:00.003-06:00

Ah, Christmas. I've had many varied experiences with this holiday, in just about every climate imaginable (except desert; I don't think I've ever had a desert Christmas), and I'd have to say I'm looking forward to this one the most. I've recently added to my family, and due to the failures in my own life, I'm really looking forward to living vicariously through my children. That includes the wonders of the holidays.

Of course it doesn't help that I still feel like a little kid this time of year. The beauty of the lights, the gentle strains of Silent Night, the cheesy mushy as-men-we-must-chuckle-a-little-to-keep-from-tearing-up Christmas movies that come on, the occasional snow (this particular clime isn't exactly conducive to a white Christmas), and of course, presents.

Who doesn't like getting presents? Except for one of the poor souls who survived a unabomber attack, everybody gets a rush of excitement when opening gifts. It doesn't even matter what it is. If it's that diamond-encrusted writing pen you had your eye on (I saw one on Secret Millionaire, the coolest show ever), all the better, but it's more about the anticipation leading up to it all.

I for one am also a big sucker for a full house. As previously stated, I have had widely varied Christmas experiences, including ones where I was hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from home. Let me tell you, Christmas in a tropical paradise with only a couple of poor schlubs unable to get home isn't nearly as nice as trudging through the snow drifts to Grandma's house where fresh-baked sugar cookies and warm apple cider await.

So as soon as I "owned" (technically the bank owns it, and will for most of my adult life, and the HOA tells me what to do with it, but that's fodder for another post) my own home, I invited as many people over as I could. It was to the point that that first Christmas I had to have 2 separate dinners, not because her family and mine don't get along, but there were just too many people. I was very happy.

I read on someone else's blog about people who are willing to have people over, but then they need alone time to recharge, and other people who have people over to recharge. I'm definitely the latter. I feel like I feed off the energy of others, like some sort of parasitic creature from one of those sci-fi shows. See I'm all vague when I say sci-fi shows to give the impression that I don't go in for any of that nonsense, when the truth is I could speak intelligently (read: dorkily) on just about every show that ever had the word Star in it.

But I digress. I guess my point is if you're ever in my neck of the woods, you're always welcome for Christmas dinner. Or Thanksgiving. Or Independence day. Or Labor Day. Or Flag Day. Or Arbor Day. What is arbor day anyway? But not Valentine's Day. Me and the missus have to have one holiday to ourselves, for crying out loud.

If only...

2008-12-16T13:08:00.006-06:00

I regularly chew Wrigley's Spearmint Gum in an effort to curb my appetite (with little success). I prefer to chew 2 pieces at once, and so I went to my drawer to do just that. Well, I only had one piece left. Not to worry, I told myself, I have that big 10 pack of packs further back in the drawer. When I fished it out and opened the gum, I discovered it was a lime green color. Fearing some error on my part, I re-examined the packaging, only to find that this particular brand of gum now has a New, Improved Flavor.

While this concerned me slightly, as I have been a fan of the old, unimproved flavor for many years, it was not enough of a concern to warrant a deviation from my original gum chewing plan. But then it struck me. I was about combine the old flavor (from the last remaining piece) with the new flavor. What were the odds that anyone had done this before? Honestly, I don't know too many people who chew a whole stick of gum at a time, let alone two, so the odds of this exact situation occurring to someone else was rather slim.

My mind was immediately awhirl with possibilities. Were there side effects from such a combination? Would I be struck down with a chemically-induced coma, causing all higher brain functions to cease? When emergency services arrived, would they in their ineptitude declare me legally dead? Would I be buried a few days later, only to revive as the first shovel-fulls of dirt were tossed on my casket?

Of course, another possibility existed. What if there were a beneficial reaction to the chemical composition I had just created? What if it somehow enhanced my own physical or mental abilities in such a way as to propel me to the forefront of scientific discovery? What if I was soon able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? What if I were mere seconds away from becoming the most powerful being on earth?

Suffice to say the gum's okay, but I prefer the old flavor. Also, I need a more challenging job.

Out out, Brief Candle...

2008-12-11T11:15:00.004-06:00

Okay, so now I'm a blogger. There was a great deal of hesitancy on my part to get involved in this crowd for several reasons. First and foremost was the overabundance of blogging in general. There are so many of you out there doing this aready, spilling your guts and emoting all over the place, that I felt like I would be any one of a number of clichés that include little fish and small voices.

But after some extensive blog-reading, to the point that I'm pretty sure when I have my annual evaluation with my boss today he's going to tell me about a severe reduction in pay, I decided to give it a try. I was influenced in no small part by other bloggers I read, which only served to re-terrorize me with the fear of sooooooooo many ~~better~~ good writers out there.

I guess it all boils down to whether or not you feel like you're being appreciated in your real life. That's probably my main motivation here. I have (what some may call an undue) opinion of myself that makes me deserving of more attention than what I actually get. If I get it, of course, that will only serve to fuel my delusion. So if you happen across this blog and like what you read, do me a favor and don't tell me.