I am not yet 40, but I really think I am officially old. I don't feel old. I don't look (too) old, save for a few grey hairs creeping in. And I definitely don't want to act old too often (as my wife can attest). But, I am afraid that I am inescapably old due to the fact that I keep uttering one of the the Old People Pledges of Allegiance: "Kids today are soft." "They have no idea how good they have it." And the classic, "When I was their age [insert rambling discourse on how difficult your life was in the mid '80s compared to how easy kids have it today]..." You can't claim to be young and still insist on carrying on a conversation that begins with an Old People Pledge. If you are volleying a complaint about a generation below you, you are officially old.
Now, there are varying degrees of olditude, so the mere fact that you are acknowledging that you are old doesn't put you immediately into God's Waiting Room, but it does make you old. Never once in my 20s did I utter an Old People Pledge, because I was too busy having fun and starting a career to be concerned with the teenagers coming up behind me. And in my young to mid thirties, I was frankly too sleep deprived from starting a family to care what was going on in the generations below me. No, it wasn't until my late thirties that I started to even notice the generations below me, and a few more years after that to utter an Old People Pledge. But now that I'm here, well, you have to jump in with both feet, right? So I'll go ahead and say it: I can't freaking believe that many colleges are not requiring SAT scores of their applicants. Are you kidding me?? One of the most nerve-racking, nausea-inducing, your-whole-future-may-hang-in-the-balance-if-you-blow-this-test moments of my youth will now be a tape deck, or VCR to these kids - something they know existed a while ago, but they can't quite remember why. I mean, when I was there age (Pledge!) we spent the better part of two years taking the PSATs, preparation courses, pre-tests, and then took the SATs, usually multiple times. It was a right of passage to completely bomb one of the exams to such an extent that you convinced yourself you'd never get into college and you'd be digging ditches for the rest of your life. And the Rolodex of excuses you created for discussions with your friends, parents, teachers, and college admission directors was a work of art that you carefully honed and edited, and memorized: "Well, I really concentrated on Verbal this time, so my Math should really come up big time when I take it again." Or, "I'm not very good at standardized tests." Or, "I was absolutely killing it, and I ran out of time." And then there were the horror stories of the kid that so and so knew who screwed up the answer key and all of his answers were off by one line. Terrifying for a 17 year old with college ambitions. And so what if it was biased and didn't really accurately test how smart you were! that's not the point! the point is, it was a rite of passage that everyone had to go through and it either broke you or made you stronger. And now? Nada.
It is bad enough that there is no dodge ball in gym class anymore, no jungle gyms on the playground, and every organized sport up until junior high ends in a freaking tie, so none of the kids will ever have to lose at anything (God forbid!), now we'll soon have an entire generation who doesn't know the pressure of the SATs. Now wonder we are getting our butts kicked by economies all over the world! Plus, where else except an SAT prep course will you learn cool words that sound great, but you can never pull off in normal conversation? Words like ennui (melancholy), eschewed (abstained), and cadre (basic unit). If the next generation is happy at another friend's misfortune, they will never know they are experiencing schadenfreude, and a great story-teller will be just that, he will not be a raconteur. Yes, the SAT will slide off into history like so much detritus. And me? Well, I'll be on a train that leaves New York at 3:00pm traveling 50 m.p.h., arriving in Chicago at a time no teenager will be able to figure out.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Parental Guilt
So our youngest daughter came home from nursery school the other day with one of those handprint/poem thingys that they love to spring on you every year. Now, the kids have each had fantastic teachers over the years, so I don't want to sound ungrateful, but it is a wee bit presumptuous of a teacher to send home parenting advice in the form of a four-year old's art project, don't you think? Like I need any more people in my life laying a guilt trip on me. All of a sudden I am being told what I can be upset at my kids about? I have an idea - maybe my three kids can go over to their house for a month and coat their bathroom in a healthy layer of toothpaste, and spill milk, chocolate milk, lemonade, water, juice box, maple syrup, and three unknown, random, but incredibly sticky liquids on every piece of furniture they own. Then they can find melted candy bar, gummy worms, potato chip crumbs, half eaten lollipops, and chewing gum in their car. Then, my kids can ruin their $3000 paint jobs by creating Sharpie marker 'murals' on their walls. Then my kids can each run through a field covered in dog doo and goose crap and drag that mess onto every rug and carpet in their house until the whole place smells like the backroom of a kennel in August. Then, when they are absolutely about to go ballistic, I will hand them a laminated handprint and pithy poem that says "please don't be mad at me because I'm little and I'll be big soon", and see who they try to strangle first - the kids or the idiot who handed them this freaking poem!
I love the idea that being four years old is some kind of get out of jail free card. What, being four is suddenly a license to trash my house? At what age am I allowed to be upset with them oh Ye of Infinite Patience? Does there come a point where denting my car with a tennis racket becomes a punishable offense? Or am I to look the other way for all eternity because someday they will be older and ticking me off about more important things? So kindly save the guilt trip for someone else and just send home the egg carton caterpillars. Or so help me, I'll send my four year old to your house on a 95 degree August day eating the biggest Popsicle you have ever seen in your life.
I love the idea that being four years old is some kind of get out of jail free card. What, being four is suddenly a license to trash my house? At what age am I allowed to be upset with them oh Ye of Infinite Patience? Does there come a point where denting my car with a tennis racket becomes a punishable offense? Or am I to look the other way for all eternity because someday they will be older and ticking me off about more important things? So kindly save the guilt trip for someone else and just send home the egg carton caterpillars. Or so help me, I'll send my four year old to your house on a 95 degree August day eating the biggest Popsicle you have ever seen in your life.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Requiem For a King
Well, its official, Chips and Salsa are dead. Now, for the record, I'm not talking about nachos, because nachos will be with us until the end of time due to the MCF - melted cheese factor. The MCF is a scientific theory I have developed that postulates that human beings will eat 83% of the substances on the planet if you pour melted cheese on top of them. When you throw in the BC - the bacon corollary, that percentage skyrockets to 99% - only excrement and "things found stuck to a subway platform" were eliminated. You can read all about my findings in the June issue of The Journal of Angioplasty and Coronary Disease.
But chips and salsa (sans cheese) are over as a primary food source. I don't know when it happened but I have noticed it for quite some time, yet I didn't say anything for fear of declaring a premature death (kind of like those news stories you occasionally hear about a hospital or nursing home sending some poor person off to the morgue while they were still breathing. For God's sake, how hard is it to stick a mirror under some one's nose - you don't even need medical training! But I digress.) I went to two parties this past weekend, both incredibly fun affairs (a Kentucky Derby party and a Cinco de Mayo party if you must know) and both served copious amounts of food, including (the dearly departed) chips and salsa. And, as I suspected, the chips and salsa were routinely ignored in favor of new flashier appetizers like those cheese/spinach puff things, spring rolls and dim sum, or old standbys like pigs in a blanket, chicken skewers and the cheese and cracker platter. And chips and salsa can't even hold their own against other dips, routinely getting their asses kicked by artichoke dips, sour cream and onion, crab, and its own cousin - the Mexican cheese dip (MCF at work in two of the three dips of course). Did I mention that one of the parties we went to this weekend had a Mexican theme? If you are chips and salsa and you can't even defend your home turf, what chance do you have in a non-Latino setting? Where did it all end? One minute chips and salsa were the talk of the town - a must have if you were throwing a cocktail party. Now, they sit lonely and ignored until the chips are so stale and chewy, you can blow bubbles with them, and the salsa gets that crusty green film on top from sitting untouched for so long.
I can't tell you how many times we have hosted a party and as I am cleaning up afterward (or is it afterword, I can never get that straight), I empty an entire bowl of salsa back into its container. And it goes into the back of the refrigerator with the other seven partially-full salsas until two years later when you end up cleaning out the refrigerator and you come face to face with six to ten dead salsa containers. Where have you gone Jose' DiMaggio? A nation turns its hungry eyes away from you. But the chips and salsa industry doesn't seem to mind because until now, no one has had the guts to declare them dead. So people will still keep buying them and putting them out, and stuffing them in the backs of their pantries and refrigerators, refusing to acknowledge they are gone. But I will. I will stand up and publicly mourn this first ballot Appetizer Hall of Fame inductee. Take your place in the Pantheon with the retired appetizers like Potato Skins, Pickled Eggs, and Cru-de-te (other than the carrots and broccoli). Enjoy the hereafter.
But chips and salsa (sans cheese) are over as a primary food source. I don't know when it happened but I have noticed it for quite some time, yet I didn't say anything for fear of declaring a premature death (kind of like those news stories you occasionally hear about a hospital or nursing home sending some poor person off to the morgue while they were still breathing. For God's sake, how hard is it to stick a mirror under some one's nose - you don't even need medical training! But I digress.) I went to two parties this past weekend, both incredibly fun affairs (a Kentucky Derby party and a Cinco de Mayo party if you must know) and both served copious amounts of food, including (the dearly departed) chips and salsa. And, as I suspected, the chips and salsa were routinely ignored in favor of new flashier appetizers like those cheese/spinach puff things, spring rolls and dim sum, or old standbys like pigs in a blanket, chicken skewers and the cheese and cracker platter. And chips and salsa can't even hold their own against other dips, routinely getting their asses kicked by artichoke dips, sour cream and onion, crab, and its own cousin - the Mexican cheese dip (MCF at work in two of the three dips of course). Did I mention that one of the parties we went to this weekend had a Mexican theme? If you are chips and salsa and you can't even defend your home turf, what chance do you have in a non-Latino setting? Where did it all end? One minute chips and salsa were the talk of the town - a must have if you were throwing a cocktail party. Now, they sit lonely and ignored until the chips are so stale and chewy, you can blow bubbles with them, and the salsa gets that crusty green film on top from sitting untouched for so long.
I can't tell you how many times we have hosted a party and as I am cleaning up afterward (or is it afterword, I can never get that straight), I empty an entire bowl of salsa back into its container. And it goes into the back of the refrigerator with the other seven partially-full salsas until two years later when you end up cleaning out the refrigerator and you come face to face with six to ten dead salsa containers. Where have you gone Jose' DiMaggio? A nation turns its hungry eyes away from you. But the chips and salsa industry doesn't seem to mind because until now, no one has had the guts to declare them dead. So people will still keep buying them and putting them out, and stuffing them in the backs of their pantries and refrigerators, refusing to acknowledge they are gone. But I will. I will stand up and publicly mourn this first ballot Appetizer Hall of Fame inductee. Take your place in the Pantheon with the retired appetizers like Potato Skins, Pickled Eggs, and Cru-de-te (other than the carrots and broccoli). Enjoy the hereafter.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
People I've Got My Eye On
The world is a pretty big place full of a lot of people, most of whom have annoyed me at one point or another, I think. There is no getting around it, there is just way too much time in the day and way too many people with whom you come into contact not to be completely annoyed by a whole host of people for a whole host of reasons. In fact, I was going to call this column "People I Hate", which would have been much catchier, but I had to change it because, A) when it comes right down to it, I don't hate them because, B) life is way too short to waste precious moments hating these, well, losers (or jackasses, I can't decide which), and C) there is far too much hate in the world as it is without me adding any to the pile. And when you think of it, hate is a pretty harsh word that should be reserved for reviled figures throughout history like Hitler, Pol Pot, and Barney (the purple dinosaur, not some random guy of the same name). So, I've renamed the column "people I have my eye on" (I'm too tired to capitalize it again) so I can A) come back to hate them later if my philosophy of life changes or, B) if the people on this list become any more annoying (cause let's face it, a guy can only take so much). So without further ado, here is my list of people I have my eye on:
1) The guy who uses a Latin phrase for his high school yearbook quote. Is there anyone on the planet who is more annoying that this guy? Way to stamp yourself as a pompous ass right out of the gate there sport - nowhere to go but down and you're only 18 years old. You're in the prime of your young adulthood, preparing for four great years of college, you have great song lyrics, a passage from a great book, movie quotes, and random friend moments at your finger tips, and your decision is to go with e pluribus unum or whatever? Authored by a guy who has been dead for six hundred years? Where is the logic in this idea? No one except you and three other losers can understand it, you immediately announce yourself as the aforementioned pompous ass, and twenty years later when you are showing your kids your yearbook, you will have instantaneously lost their respect forever, and you will have no idea what the quote even means. And all to prove what exactly? That you think you are smart or better than your classmates? That you studied a dead language for four years for no reason whatsoever? That you spent your high school years playing Dungeons & Dragons in your basement instead of, you know, making actual friends and stuff? That you took a cousin to your prom? I mean, if the quote is so deep and so memorable, and had such an effect on you, you might want to think about translating it into English and save yourself a lifetime of ridicule professor. What sane person - especially an eighteen year old - is going to read your yearbook quote and say to themselves, "Wow, Stan used a Latin quote for his yearbook, I'll bet that is a deep and powerful message. I had better run to him, or to a Latin teacher, or to the internet to find out what it means!" I'll save you the trouble - None. I'll also save you time and preview everyone's actual reaction: "Man, what a tool Stan is."
2) Snooty, condescending barista. First of all, 'barista' is to coffee service as 'sanitation engineer' is to garbage man - let's call a spade a spade, shall we? You pour cups of coffee for your job (you know, until that degree in philosophy or anthropology starts to pay big dividends). So the next time you go into a coffee shop to order a medium coffee with milk and this idiot looks up and announces that what you really want is a "demi-grande hazelnut Colombian blend con leche", kindly reply, "Yes, as a matter of fact that is exactly what I want and I want it extra hot so when I dump it over your head it will hopefully scald the pretentiousness right off of you". This is not open-heart surgery, or cancer research, or splitting the atom, this is grinding a bean and filtering water through it, so lose the 'tude will ya? Gracias.
3) Snooty, condescending waiters/sommeliers. See barista above. Hey, Bottle Jockey, all I want is a halfway decent wine that tastes good, that doesn't require a second mortgage to purchase. So kindly do not look at me like I have not showered in a week when I choose to ignore your recommendation of the $180 bottle of Opus One in favor of the $13 Bobby's Jo's Big Bottle of Red. Kay?
4) The guy who feels the need to shout things out at concerts and comedy shows. Dude, as hard as it is for you to wrap your little pea brain around the idea that no one is there to hear your pithy little witticisms, we have paid good money to hear the musician or comedian currently on stage. And trust me, he/she is not there to have a conversation with you, or in fact, acknowledge you in any way. And your date/girlfriend/wife/buddy is not impressed unless they too are gigantic jackasses. So, if you can go ahead and kindly keep your unfunny, inane comments to yourself, the rest of us would really, really, really appreciate it.
5) The guy who feels the need to shout things out at the movies. The Cro-Magnon man of "idiots who yell things in public places". At least the moron who shouts things out at a concert is speaking to an actual live person. You are shouting at a screen.
6) Guys with two first names like Dave Davidson, Chris Christopher, Mike Michaelson. Wait, I'm amending that because, more often than not, this is not their fault. It is the parents of people with two first names that I've got my eye on. If your last name is Thomas, and you have every single other name on the planet available to you, including any number of names you can just make up (like any Hollywood star kid's name - Apple, Rumor, Goat Cheese, for example) and you come up with Thomas again - well congratulations because you have made the top 3 of most annoying people alive. How can one even justify this? Is it stupidity? Mind numbing lack of creativity? Or is it a marquee-sized neon sign that you have just given up? Whatever it is, it couldn't be any more annoying.
7) People who don't obey the rules of 4-way stop signs. Now, as driving rules go, this has to be one of the more simple concepts because we learned it in freaking nursery school - take turns. If you go first, then I can go, then she can go, then he can go, then we start all over again. So if a four year old can master this concept, why does it seem to escape so many adults?
8) Parents who send out chain letters on behalf of their kids. Those of you who have kids know exactly what I am talking about. You go get your mail and there is a letter for one of your kids with three packs of stickers or stamps, or something sticky with glitter on them which, as we all know, is like heroin to a six year old - they absolutely can't resist it and can't walk away from it. And the letter says something to the effect of, "I have sent you these stickers, now you send this letter to ten kids and include my name and then we will both get 4,000 stickers back!!" Yay!! Listen, first of all, I don't want two stickers in my kids' hands never mind 4,000. My house already looks like the back of a Deadhead's VW bus because of the stickers already in their possession. We have stickers on refrigerators, windows, headboards, cork boards, posters, bikes, scooters, helmets, and occasionally, paper. I'm pretty all set with stickers. Second, its fine if you want to teach your child the fine art of the Ponzi scheme, but can you leave my kid out of it? If I want an Amway salesman, I'll drive to the Midwest and look for a guy with a mustache and a mullet, but I certainly don't need one under my own roof, thank you very much.
1) The guy who uses a Latin phrase for his high school yearbook quote. Is there anyone on the planet who is more annoying that this guy? Way to stamp yourself as a pompous ass right out of the gate there sport - nowhere to go but down and you're only 18 years old. You're in the prime of your young adulthood, preparing for four great years of college, you have great song lyrics, a passage from a great book, movie quotes, and random friend moments at your finger tips, and your decision is to go with e pluribus unum or whatever? Authored by a guy who has been dead for six hundred years? Where is the logic in this idea? No one except you and three other losers can understand it, you immediately announce yourself as the aforementioned pompous ass, and twenty years later when you are showing your kids your yearbook, you will have instantaneously lost their respect forever, and you will have no idea what the quote even means. And all to prove what exactly? That you think you are smart or better than your classmates? That you studied a dead language for four years for no reason whatsoever? That you spent your high school years playing Dungeons & Dragons in your basement instead of, you know, making actual friends and stuff? That you took a cousin to your prom? I mean, if the quote is so deep and so memorable, and had such an effect on you, you might want to think about translating it into English and save yourself a lifetime of ridicule professor. What sane person - especially an eighteen year old - is going to read your yearbook quote and say to themselves, "Wow, Stan used a Latin quote for his yearbook, I'll bet that is a deep and powerful message. I had better run to him, or to a Latin teacher, or to the internet to find out what it means!" I'll save you the trouble - None. I'll also save you time and preview everyone's actual reaction: "Man, what a tool Stan is."
2) Snooty, condescending barista. First of all, 'barista' is to coffee service as 'sanitation engineer' is to garbage man - let's call a spade a spade, shall we? You pour cups of coffee for your job (you know, until that degree in philosophy or anthropology starts to pay big dividends). So the next time you go into a coffee shop to order a medium coffee with milk and this idiot looks up and announces that what you really want is a "demi-grande hazelnut Colombian blend con leche", kindly reply, "Yes, as a matter of fact that is exactly what I want and I want it extra hot so when I dump it over your head it will hopefully scald the pretentiousness right off of you". This is not open-heart surgery, or cancer research, or splitting the atom, this is grinding a bean and filtering water through it, so lose the 'tude will ya? Gracias.
3) Snooty, condescending waiters/sommeliers. See barista above. Hey, Bottle Jockey, all I want is a halfway decent wine that tastes good, that doesn't require a second mortgage to purchase. So kindly do not look at me like I have not showered in a week when I choose to ignore your recommendation of the $180 bottle of Opus One in favor of the $13 Bobby's Jo's Big Bottle of Red. Kay?
4) The guy who feels the need to shout things out at concerts and comedy shows. Dude, as hard as it is for you to wrap your little pea brain around the idea that no one is there to hear your pithy little witticisms, we have paid good money to hear the musician or comedian currently on stage. And trust me, he/she is not there to have a conversation with you, or in fact, acknowledge you in any way. And your date/girlfriend/wife/buddy is not impressed unless they too are gigantic jackasses. So, if you can go ahead and kindly keep your unfunny, inane comments to yourself, the rest of us would really, really, really appreciate it.
5) The guy who feels the need to shout things out at the movies. The Cro-Magnon man of "idiots who yell things in public places". At least the moron who shouts things out at a concert is speaking to an actual live person. You are shouting at a screen.
6) Guys with two first names like Dave Davidson, Chris Christopher, Mike Michaelson. Wait, I'm amending that because, more often than not, this is not their fault. It is the parents of people with two first names that I've got my eye on. If your last name is Thomas, and you have every single other name on the planet available to you, including any number of names you can just make up (like any Hollywood star kid's name - Apple, Rumor, Goat Cheese, for example) and you come up with Thomas again - well congratulations because you have made the top 3 of most annoying people alive. How can one even justify this? Is it stupidity? Mind numbing lack of creativity? Or is it a marquee-sized neon sign that you have just given up? Whatever it is, it couldn't be any more annoying.
7) People who don't obey the rules of 4-way stop signs. Now, as driving rules go, this has to be one of the more simple concepts because we learned it in freaking nursery school - take turns. If you go first, then I can go, then she can go, then he can go, then we start all over again. So if a four year old can master this concept, why does it seem to escape so many adults?
8) Parents who send out chain letters on behalf of their kids. Those of you who have kids know exactly what I am talking about. You go get your mail and there is a letter for one of your kids with three packs of stickers or stamps, or something sticky with glitter on them which, as we all know, is like heroin to a six year old - they absolutely can't resist it and can't walk away from it. And the letter says something to the effect of, "I have sent you these stickers, now you send this letter to ten kids and include my name and then we will both get 4,000 stickers back!!" Yay!! Listen, first of all, I don't want two stickers in my kids' hands never mind 4,000. My house already looks like the back of a Deadhead's VW bus because of the stickers already in their possession. We have stickers on refrigerators, windows, headboards, cork boards, posters, bikes, scooters, helmets, and occasionally, paper. I'm pretty all set with stickers. Second, its fine if you want to teach your child the fine art of the Ponzi scheme, but can you leave my kid out of it? If I want an Amway salesman, I'll drive to the Midwest and look for a guy with a mustache and a mullet, but I certainly don't need one under my own roof, thank you very much.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Can Wii Stop Time?
I haven't posted for a while - mostly due to a very hectic travel schedule, including two weeks in Asia on business. It was a great trip both from a business perspective and because it was my first time to that part of the world, but it was a long time to be away from my family. I haven't been away from them for that long, ever, and I was struck by just how much they have changed - not that they grew so much in two weeks, but that the two-week separation from them showed me how quickly they are growing up. When I see them every day, getting dressed, getting ready for school, playing and participating in various activities, it becomes a seamless stream of events, so I rarely notice their aging. It is only upon a noteworthy event, such as a graduation or birthday that I stop to think how quickly it is going by. Being away for two weeks qualifies as such a noteworthy event because when you're a half a world away, two weeks seems like two months.
I bought the girls China dolls in, well, China, and the dolls are based on an actual queen, empress, and princess from ancient China. The girls were very excited to get them and we were talking about how they were queens and princesses, etc. and I said, "just like the Disney princesses". To which my oldest said, "I don't really like Disney processes anymore." And she said it not in a mean way, but in a matter of fact, 'that's kids' stuff' kind of way - and she may as well have hit me in the face with a baseball bat. My princess grew out of princesses? How can that be?? It was only two years ago that we were in Disney World and she was so awestruck by Cinderella that she would barely go near her for a picture! And now, two years later, no princesses? I was crushed. Who replaced my baby with an adolescent while I wasn't looking? And right after she said it I had to catch myself from screaming, "You do too still like princesses! You have to!" But, she doesn't have to, and Disney has been replaced by American Girl dolls, and computer games, and Hannah Montana concerts. And I can only look at those pictures from our trip to Disney World and wonder how two years can feel like a lifetime.
Speaking of computer games (and Hannah Montana), several of her friends now have the Wii video games system, which for the uninitiated (for example, me, until about two months ago), Wii is an interactive video game system where you actually perform the action that happens on the screen. If, for example, you are playing Wii Tennis, you swing an electronic stick as if you were swinging a real racket. And I have to tell you, this is the coolest thing I have seen in a long time. I played tennis, golf, bowling, and baseball, but there are also things like Hannah Montana Dance - where you have to keep up with on-screen dancers, and Guitar Hero where you have to play the notes of songs on a fake guitar as the notes on the screen come down faster and faster. The technology is amazing - I think we're going to have to get it for the girls, but I'm holding out for Wii natural childbirth and Wii colonoscopy - anyone can play tennis.
I bought the girls China dolls in, well, China, and the dolls are based on an actual queen, empress, and princess from ancient China. The girls were very excited to get them and we were talking about how they were queens and princesses, etc. and I said, "just like the Disney princesses". To which my oldest said, "I don't really like Disney processes anymore." And she said it not in a mean way, but in a matter of fact, 'that's kids' stuff' kind of way - and she may as well have hit me in the face with a baseball bat. My princess grew out of princesses? How can that be?? It was only two years ago that we were in Disney World and she was so awestruck by Cinderella that she would barely go near her for a picture! And now, two years later, no princesses? I was crushed. Who replaced my baby with an adolescent while I wasn't looking? And right after she said it I had to catch myself from screaming, "You do too still like princesses! You have to!" But, she doesn't have to, and Disney has been replaced by American Girl dolls, and computer games, and Hannah Montana concerts. And I can only look at those pictures from our trip to Disney World and wonder how two years can feel like a lifetime.
Speaking of computer games (and Hannah Montana), several of her friends now have the Wii video games system, which for the uninitiated (for example, me, until about two months ago), Wii is an interactive video game system where you actually perform the action that happens on the screen. If, for example, you are playing Wii Tennis, you swing an electronic stick as if you were swinging a real racket. And I have to tell you, this is the coolest thing I have seen in a long time. I played tennis, golf, bowling, and baseball, but there are also things like Hannah Montana Dance - where you have to keep up with on-screen dancers, and Guitar Hero where you have to play the notes of songs on a fake guitar as the notes on the screen come down faster and faster. The technology is amazing - I think we're going to have to get it for the girls, but I'm holding out for Wii natural childbirth and Wii colonoscopy - anyone can play tennis.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Valentine's Day Massacre
Well, its been about two weeks since Valentine's Day and my ribs are just now recovering from the beating I took in the card store. There were two or three women who were also shopping for cards and between them they worked me over like Wilt Chaimberlain boxing out for a rebound. Every time I went for a card on the rack I would be nudged over, stepped in front of, and outright elbowed out of the way! When you throw in the annoyed sidelong glances and frustrated sighs, I was about as welcome as Brian McNamee and a Clemens family reunion. I don't mean to generalize (ok, maybe I do), but women are like surgeons when standing at a card rack - every move is calculated, precise, and purposeful. They move around one another like they can read each other's mind, and apparently, I was completely screwing up their routine. But women have a distinct advantage at a card rack that men don't have - cards writers write all of their cards for women. That is true of most holidays and occasions, but it is especially true on Valentine's Day.
I could have been at that card rack for four days and read every single card in there, but as a man, I am left with two choices by the Card-Writers of America: a four page Shakespearean love sonnet that no man from the last 300 years would actually say out loud, or a variation on the following theme: "I am a no-good, lousy-dressing, out-of-shape, lay-about, do-nothing, loser that doesn't deserve you, but since I acknowledge that fact in a corny card once a year on a made up holiday, everything is ok." That's it, those are my two choices. I am either an effeminate, emasculated sap, or an oafish loser who depends completely on his wife for every basic need. Thanks greeting card industry for that Hobson's Choice, really appreciate your efforts here. Feeling really manly in a card store to begin with, so thanks for that final knee to the groin. Next time throw in an ax murderer theme too, and maybe a thumb-sucking imbecile, so I can branch out in my greeting card persona. Are there any normal human beings who write greeting cards? Do they really believe that guys fall into one of these two categories? I know that greeting card people pander to the type of people who find Ziggy amusingly relevant, but come on! Throw me a small bone here.
And what about the recipient of these cards? I would be completely insulted if I were a woman and received one of these cards. I want to meet (actually, maybe I don't) the woman who actually enjoys receiving the four page sappy sonnet card. First of all, the prose is throw-up inducing awful, and whoever sits around and writes it should be taken out back and beaten. And second, do the women who receive them honestly believe that the guy put any thought whatsoever into reading all of them and then picking out the throw-up inducing one that best summarizes how he feels about her? Do women actually read the card and think to themselves, "wow, he must really care about me and our relationship." Are some women really that dumb? No guy has ever read more than two lines of one of these cards. Most of it is written in tiny, flowy cursive anyway and who's eyes don't glaze over after one or two sentences of tiny, flowy cursive? No, he just picked the one that looked nice with the lace doily border and red envelope, went over to the next aisle and picked out a box of year-old heart-shaped chocolates and was out the door in 45 seconds. I guarantee you that he put more thought into his lunch order that day than he did picking out that card.
And what if a woman received a card from door number two (the "I'm and idiot" card)? If I were a woman reading this a light bulb would go off - woman thinking to herself as she's reading the card: "You know, you really are a loser. I can't believe I actually married you. I'm calling a lawyer first thing tomorrow- after I get my nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. And thanks for the chocolate, I've only been trying to lose this last ten pounds of baby weight for a year and a half, this should help."
So, if those are my two choices next year I'm going to save my ribs - and my psyche - another beating and do what any normal guy does under the circumstances: buy her a piece of jewelry and have my kids make a card.
I could have been at that card rack for four days and read every single card in there, but as a man, I am left with two choices by the Card-Writers of America: a four page Shakespearean love sonnet that no man from the last 300 years would actually say out loud, or a variation on the following theme: "I am a no-good, lousy-dressing, out-of-shape, lay-about, do-nothing, loser that doesn't deserve you, but since I acknowledge that fact in a corny card once a year on a made up holiday, everything is ok." That's it, those are my two choices. I am either an effeminate, emasculated sap, or an oafish loser who depends completely on his wife for every basic need. Thanks greeting card industry for that Hobson's Choice, really appreciate your efforts here. Feeling really manly in a card store to begin with, so thanks for that final knee to the groin. Next time throw in an ax murderer theme too, and maybe a thumb-sucking imbecile, so I can branch out in my greeting card persona. Are there any normal human beings who write greeting cards? Do they really believe that guys fall into one of these two categories? I know that greeting card people pander to the type of people who find Ziggy amusingly relevant, but come on! Throw me a small bone here.
And what about the recipient of these cards? I would be completely insulted if I were a woman and received one of these cards. I want to meet (actually, maybe I don't) the woman who actually enjoys receiving the four page sappy sonnet card. First of all, the prose is throw-up inducing awful, and whoever sits around and writes it should be taken out back and beaten. And second, do the women who receive them honestly believe that the guy put any thought whatsoever into reading all of them and then picking out the throw-up inducing one that best summarizes how he feels about her? Do women actually read the card and think to themselves, "wow, he must really care about me and our relationship." Are some women really that dumb? No guy has ever read more than two lines of one of these cards. Most of it is written in tiny, flowy cursive anyway and who's eyes don't glaze over after one or two sentences of tiny, flowy cursive? No, he just picked the one that looked nice with the lace doily border and red envelope, went over to the next aisle and picked out a box of year-old heart-shaped chocolates and was out the door in 45 seconds. I guarantee you that he put more thought into his lunch order that day than he did picking out that card.
And what if a woman received a card from door number two (the "I'm and idiot" card)? If I were a woman reading this a light bulb would go off - woman thinking to herself as she's reading the card: "You know, you really are a loser. I can't believe I actually married you. I'm calling a lawyer first thing tomorrow- after I get my nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. And thanks for the chocolate, I've only been trying to lose this last ten pounds of baby weight for a year and a half, this should help."
So, if those are my two choices next year I'm going to save my ribs - and my psyche - another beating and do what any normal guy does under the circumstances: buy her a piece of jewelry and have my kids make a card.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)