Popping THE Question

I have heard it said that “you are never more alive than when you think you are about to die!” I have also heard (or maybe I made it up) that “you aren't measured by what you take away from risk but more by simply taking the risk itself!”

With where I am in my life and what I have to lose, I tend to take less (if any) risk than I used to. However recently, at the car wash, I saw an opportunity to take a risk, knowing that one misstep could amount to my doom.

I was sitting on a bench next to a lady who was surely younger than me, as we waited for our cars to be finished. We were making polite nods in each others' directions when I noticed something about her. This was something I felt I had to ask about even knowing that her answer could go terribly wrong. I dug deep down into my soul and mustered up the courage to ask the question that would either 1) start up a pleasant conversation or 2) LEAD TO MY GORY AND HORRIFIC DEATH!!!!

My fingers were tensing and I could feel sweat furrowing on my brow. She looked at me as if she was anticipating a confrontation. My mouth opened and I was too far into my momentum to stop. I had to get the words out...... I FELT SO ALIVE!!!

“Soooo, you're having a baby? “ I said as she walked away still smiling.

“Yup, in two weeks!” She smiled from ear to ear. Then the attendant called her as her car was ready.

“Congratulations!” I said.  We both went on with our lives and she was excited.  I took a risk, and that risk paid off and made her day!

However, this wasn't my first foray into such a a dangerous realm and, whereas, the only other time I was brave enough to ask the question, I was mostly correct, many do not have the luck I have had and they suffer greatly.

I was at a Christmas party, so it was December.  A woman and her husband we're standing in the kitchen and she was so physically strained that she had to lean back up against the stove.  She looked as though she was about to "pop" any day and have her baby!  I was excited for them.

They weren't talking about it though, which I would've thought would be ALL they could talk about; just by the look of her, I was sure that baby would be born before the new year.  Their complete lack of "we're having a BABY" talk should have given me some warning.  It did not.

I sidled up to the couple and just put it out there:  "So, when are you having that baby?"

She lit up, with joy and smiled.  The husband chuckled to himself and smiled as if proud and terrified at the same time.  "Oh my goodness, we're so excited.  Who told you?"

In hindsight, I'm grateful she didn't ask "how did you know?" because I would have said, "Well, look at your beer gut!!! How could I NOT know?!?!?" And chuckled.  Instead, slyly, I just said, "Ohhhhhh, you know, I just had a sneaking suspicion."   chuckle chuckle guffaw....

Then as if I had just outed them, the wife proudly raised her voice and announced to everyone in the room "guys, we're having our first baby... in JULY!"

JULY?  I just slowly backed away and decided to keep myself out of any further conversation with this family for fear or really getting myself in trouble.  It worked okay, I politically smiled an nodded in joy as I stepped backwards.  She was then crowded by well wishers in the kitchen. 

I sipped my beer and thought that maybe I should NEVER ask people if they're pregnant when I'm drinking.  It also dawned on me that perhaps she was either a) making a fool out of me, b) gonna give birth to a Sasquatch or c) shaped kind of digferently.  It turned out to be "C."

For both of these instances, I survived and it feels AWESOME!!!!! I know, I know... surely I am some sort of adrenaline junky living on the edge. Well, maybe I am, or maybe I am'nt.

But I know one thing for sure, I have stood on the edge, I have risked it all, and I have given others a thrill.  However, it is NOT worth it to me to risk so much for so little, so hear me now.... I am NEVER going to do that again!!!

Dear Imelda....

I think most women's footwear is based on a dare!  There I said it.

Have I said it before?  I may have.  I don't always remember what I've typed about in these posts.  I'm sure I'm going to repeat myself from time to time.

So some time back in history, I'm almost certain that somewhere two ladies got into a fight about who could wear the tallest heel and they're still fighting it out.  I'm sure that at first they were probably sitting innocently in an old candle lit Nordic pub wearing bear skin wraps around their feet, to properly insulate their feet in the snow, when one thought up the idea of adding a heel to their wrap that would put them above the snow.  Over time and few inches of lifting later things probably got personal and Helga got all bent out of shape because Magda was getting more attention from being taller and then it was on!  Surely it was something like that.

Eventually, this became fashion.

"Well a taller heel makes my calves look better" is what I've heard, but I'm not sure that's a real concern when you're hobbling about it pain or walking like John Wayne down a city street as you try to keep your balance in your stilettos.

Really, most women's shoes look terribly painful to me.  I know many women who have to carry their "Pretty shoes" with them to the party/ event only to wear some comfy shoes en-route.  I just don't get it.

Now please don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking the people I know who need "shoe therapy" to cheer them up from time to time.  We all have moment where just acquiring something new is enough to get us through a dull point.  I just don't understand the styles!

I must point out here that I had a former girlfriend who felt her footwear would intimidate me.  It took me some time to catch on, years actually, and her intent was never successful, not because she wasn't sending a message, but because it really didn't register with me.

She was about an inch shorter than me and that was fine.  She could have been taller than me and I would not have had any problem.  Basically, I think if you're maybe 18 inches shorter or 18 inches taller than me I might have an issue, other than that, I really don't worry about height.

It dawned on me somewhere around the time we broke up that when she was mad at me and wanted to either intimidate me or put me in my place, she would wear really high heels.  She would be a good two inches taller than me and kind of cocky.  I'd compliment her on her shoes of course, as I'm no fool, but other than that, I didn't understand why she was being so moody.  I just (foolishly) assumed that she was upset because her feet hurt really bad by the end of the day.

Now, typically the next day or so, after she had punished me enough (I guess) she would wear flats and be shorter and much more pleasant.  I'd compliment her on her shoes and that's all I knew to do. 

Of course what threw me off, and limited my recognition of the shoe message being delivered my way, was that she had a LOT of shoes and never wore the same pair twice in the same month, let alone week (how does the "let alone" phrase work?  Is it supposed to be greater to lesser or vice verse?  I don't know, sorry if I've used it incorrectly).  It's not like I was partnered up with Imelda Marcos or anything, but, seriously, she had a lot of shoes.  Anyway, she would often wear heels and not be in a bad mood and wear flats and not be in a sweet or humbled mood.  So, what did I know? 

I can assure you, I knew nothing.  It wasn't until after we broke up that a relative of hers clued me in.  Lesson learned.

So people, and in my experience, mostly women, have a great desire to accumulate shoes to make themselves feel better.  Granted, I have a lot of shoes, most of which I hardly ever wear, but it's not because they cheer me up or express my mood.  Mainly I have so many pairs because I am afraid to throw them away.  Although I do have a pair of cowboy boots and a pair of canvas sneakers that make me feel SECKSIE & Kewl!!!

But it seems to me that heeled footwear is the dare based product of a designer revolution and personal expression.  I don't know what to make of that.  I don't need my shoes to express any thing.  I just want them to match what I'm wearing in a way that won't get me laughed at.

If my former girlfriend really wanted to get a point across to me, she should have worn black leather combat boots with shiny steel points on the toes.  Upon seeing those I'm sure my comments would have been "What can I do to help?  Please don't kill me!" and "Yes dear."

Why I LOVE Bananas!

We've all been there: 

You walk into the grocery store.  You need Milk!  That's all you need but of course, there are other things you can use.  So you get just a tiny basket and you start at aisle one.  Milk is on like aisle 37 or something.  So, you "shop" and pick up a few things.

By the time you get to the dairy aisle/ section, your basket is full and you realize you're going to have to carry the milk with your free hand.  This is a good thing though, because now you can balance yourself out and have weight in both hands thus limiting your need to lurch around the store like a hunchback.  So, you're grateful to get the milk because a.) balance and b.) you'll be done shopping and you can soon go home.

However, upon reaching the dairy aisle, you run into an old friend.  They are sooooo happy to see you and you are likewise happy to see them.  But they have a cart and you are stuck shifting your weight from side to side to accommodate for the overflowing basket.  You are doing some sort of change hands, hip shod, lurch from side to side dance for them as you speak.  You are grateful to see this friend but really need to end this conversation soon unless you want your sciatica to act up. "Getting old sucks" you think to yourself as you and your friend move towards the check-out.

You wind up the conversation, pay for your groceries, stare at the cashier in awe upon the realization that you fit $132 worth of stuff into one little basket (you are equally proud and disgusted at that accomplishment), you carry everything out to your car with bags in both hands so you are equally balanced, you drive home and un-pack. 

NO FREAKIN' MILK!!!!!

Now, having just read all of that, you think you are reading about a real life experience.  Well, yes, you are, of course you are.  In fact that just happened to me last night. 

But in actuality I was using that whole experience to give you some insight into my mind and explain to you how complicated it is for me to write a blog about any particular subject.

See, if I start typing one of these things with my intention being one particular point, I am most likely going to miss it:

• My brain is like the grocery store. 
• My point is on the last aisle I need to go to. 
• My introduction and build up to my point are all of the other annoying aisles I have to go through to get to my point. 
• If something on one of those aisles distracts me for even one second, I'm screwed.

I recently started typing something about an interesting point about women's shoes but in turn wound up talking about my own shoe collection and followed it up talking about other crap I own.  I NEVER TALKED ABOUT THE WOMEN'S SHOES!!!!

Seriously, look at the title of this one.   Guess where I got lost?

Having just typed this, I honestly don't know why I'm telling you.

I have more shoes than I probably should.  I do not know why.

I have:

1. Brown shoes for work (Rockport); a few months old
2. Black shoes for work (Aldo); got 'em in '03 in Manhattan
3. Adidas Exercise Sneakers; a few months old
4. Black Adidas Sambas (indoor soccer shoes) that I got in college because they were cool!  So, I've had them for over 20 years.
5. Black Adidas Cleats for when I played inter murals in college; again over 20 years
6. Blue Chuck T High Tops that I've had for closer to 30 years, BECAUSE THEY'RE COOL!
7. Sandals for the beach; a few years old
8. Flip Flops for Being on a Boat!; a few years old
9. Converse Canvas low tops for summer sneakers; a few years old
10. Beige Sketchers which are good for wearing with shorts to work; got 'em in '07
11. Brown Dress Shoes for Suits; got 'em in '95
12. Black Dress Shoes for suits; a few years old
13. Cole Haan Slip ons for something, I don't know; gifted to me sometime around '03
14. Brown Leather boots for looking cool; got 'em in '03
15. Black Cobras Skin Cowboy boots; gifted sometime before '00
16. Black Lizard Skin cowboy boots; gifted sometime before '00
17. Merril slip ons from ten years ago; used to be work shoes now I use them for when I mow the lawn
18. Beat up old pair of Rockports; a few years old, old work shoes, can't let go
19. Black Leather Ankle boots; don't know why, don't know when; remind me of boots my Dad had!
20. Cycling Shoes with pedal clips; for tap dancing!!!
21. one pair of payless sneakers that I've only kept because the last time I wore them I was on the sidelines televising a football game and the turf was so hot that the soles melted off of the shoes and then melted back on at a different angle; they're conversation starters even though I cannot wear them.  So really, they're a conversation starter if you happen to be at my house and see them.  Ir right now.  As I blog about them.

Anyway, I'm sure I've still missed a pair or two.  It's ridiculous, I know. Mostly I'm amazed you just read all of that!

The thing is, I only wear either the exercise sneakers or the brown work shoes year round.  The rest I rarely ever touch.  Of course, during the summer I constantly wear the canvas low tops because they make me feel cool!  However, they don't add much shape to my feet, so when I where them on my tiny little feet, I look funny from head to toe.  Really, I'm not a huge guy, but feet my size have no business supporting someone like me.  So those shoes are the only really "mood enhancing shoe" other than my cowboy boots which add just a hint of MACHO to me when I want to intimidate any strangers who come to my door to talk to me about their religion or sell me something.  Yup, wearing just the boots and a Cowboy Hat seems to generate so much machismo that people run away... screaming... hmmmmm...

I also have a lot of hats.  Now, to be honest, I know why and I know how it spiraled out of control.  I won't name all of my hats, but it is safe to say that I did it to myself.  See, I wanted a Cubs hat, but I have an odd large shaped head (yes with little feet) that is difficult to find hats for.  So I bought a Cubs hat that fit the first few times I wore it then got too tight.  So I bought a few more and then someone else opted to help. 

Also, working in television; especially in televising sports, there are a lot of people out for "schwag" and typically you get a hat, if you're lucky.  You may never wear that hat again, but you're thrilled to get it.  I seriously have a hat with an image of a satellite truck on it.  I don't know who gave it to me or why.  BUT I GOT IT!!!

After a while, I realized that I had way too many hats and I completely stopped trying to acquire anymore.  It was at this time in my life that a relative decided that I really liked hats and that I must continue to get them.  So, every year, on Father's Day, my Birthday, Christmas, or just whenever, I get a few hats.  I am grateful for the thought, but I'll NEVER be able to wear all of the hats I own.

I'm sure I have easily over 50 caps, and let's not forget my black door-answerin' Cowboy Hat!

It's nuts. 

So, as it turns out, I collect things, I guess?  Why do I have all the shoes?  Why the hats, and then there's the swords.

I don't have a lot of swords but I guess I do have a few more swords than most people.  I don't play with them or use them (much to my chagrin). I just display them in my house.  I will start sharpening them when my daughter starts dating.  I plan to sit on my front porch bench wearing a white gravy stained tank top and jeans, with some type of weed in my mouth,  while I sharpen/ polish  a sword when some boy comes over to pick up my daughter. 

I imagine saying something like "evnin' son. Be good to my daughter t'night.  I'd hate to have to polish this sword again."  I'm sure I'll have to pay someone to play banjo music off in the distance.

As it turns out, I also have a collection of watches.  Other than my 1980's Swatch watch, nothing is really a collectors piece.  Over the years I have just acquired 10 or so watches.  I didn't know I was a "watch collector" until one Christmas when someone bought me a jewelry box.  I felt odd getting a jewelry box and asked "why are you giving me this?"  The response was simple "so you have a place to put all of your watches"  presented in a "duhhhhh" like manner.

"I don't have a lot of watc..... ohhhhhhhhhh..." and there you go.

I'm not materialistic and I don't know why I have all of this stuff.  I'm not a horder by any means. 

But if I was, I'd still be able to walk around my house safely because of all the shoes I have!

Uncommon Toots

I think that some parenting lessons skip a generation.  Perhaps as a kid a person may make a mistake.  As an adult they remember the lesson they learned from their mistake and figure out how to not set their own child up for the same mistake. 

However, having not learned the same lesson as a child, the original parents kid, now grown up, one day sets their child (the original parent's grandchild; keep up with me here, we're almost through this) up to make the same mistake. 

I'm confused?  Are you confused?  I need an editor.  I'll explain my point with this story that some of you have heard before.

I remember it well. Back in the 70's when my family lived in Chicago, the King Tut exhibit "The Treasures of Tutankhamen" came to, I think, the Field Museum.

Anyway, regardless of where it was, I remember asking my Dad "Why do they call him KING TUT and not his full name?" THere was NO WAY, I could pronounce the full name, so I thought.

Dad's response was pretty much quick and to the point.  "King Tut is easier to say." I guess in my own youthful naivety, I accepted that as the answer.

I had lived my life accepting that reasoning behind the name ever since, until, I became a parent. I have now decided that Dad lied to me to protect me from my own silliness.  But I had learned nothing.

Recently, after watching Night at the Museum and explaining to my child (and others) that "sometimes mummies and all their stuff tour the world," I mentioned Tutankhamen. As it turns out, saying Tutankhamen, as pronounced "TOOT UNCOMMON" will get you a lot of giggles from kids 7 and up. I was probably 5 or 6 when I finally heard the name and said it; nothing registered.

Now I get to hear about "uncommon toots... snicker snicker!!!"

I like to think my Dad did the same thing to his Dad and that's how he learned to NOT teach me how to say Tutankhamen.  Lesson learned. 

KING TUT IT IS FROM NOW ON!!!!

On a side note, I must apologize to everyone who has ever said anything that, out of context, could be misinterpreted as remotely dirty or on some level of innuendo only to hear me giggle... yes, this still happens for me.... A LOT!

I'm so disgusted with my body!

4 am came early today my friends.

I don't get it. Why would my body do that to me?

It's been doing this to me all week!

I think it is mad at me for coming back from vacation. On my vacation I slept really late most days. Seriously, one morning I slept until like 7:35. You don't know how big of deal that is for me. That was a little over 8 hours of sleep. 8 hours is my normal limit. More than 8 and I don't feel great!!! Yeah, that was cheesy and not entirely true, but it popped in my head so I typed it.

Since I got back from vacation the latest I slept until was 5:20 yesterday morning. Most of the week I was up before 5. After yesterday's "late" rising (no shining) I assumed that my body was getting back into it's sleep routine and that I would soon start sleeping late again.

"Tomorrow is the weekend. Surely I'll sleep late!" I thought to myself. However, my body did not concur.

At 4 this morning my body simply woke up. So I got out of bed and read for an hour and then climbed back in bed desperately wanting to convince my body that it was very much wrong about this 4 am wake up. However, my body would have nothing to do with it!

I tried to fall asleep again, but my body would make me roll over to my other side so I could get "comfy." But my body isn't fooling me. It's not after comfort. Nope, it just wanted me to roll over and wake up before I could fall back to sleep.

The next time my body told me to roll over, I ignored it and stayed put. I think I started falling asleep because I thought I was at lunch with my little girl for just a second. But then my body got me up and sent me to the bathroom. Touché body!

So, I gave up and I got up. I fed the dog, made coffee, folded laundry, put another load of laundry into the dryer, opened windows, went outside with the dog and finally at 6:45, I started typing this.

At the rate I'm already going, I just pray that my body wants a good long nap later. Granted, the dog is thrilled with my body this am! At least someone is.

My Movie... MINE!!! Get your own!

I often feel like a complete tool because I like movies that reviewers tell me are bombs. 

For example, last night I happily watched Star Trek Nemesis... just the name gets me all excited about sci-fi blow uppy type things.  And that is exactly what the movie is about. I've met many Trekkies who were offended by this one.  I've no idea why?

I also like Battlefield Earth, as cheesy as it is.  Just the name gets me all excited about sci-fi blow uppy type things.  And that is exactly what the movie is about!!!  This movie is downright HATED!!!

Seeing a pattern here?

But it's not just Sci-Fi cheesiness that I like.  That Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie movie The Tourist, was GREAT!!!  Bad reviews all around and Rikki Gervais seems convinced that it is Depp's worst movie... WHY?  I love it!  It's NOT a Chick Flick, it's a comedic thriller with romantic overtones.  AND PEOPLE DIE!!!  YESSSSS!!!

I even like Kevin Costner movies like Dances With Wolves, The Postman, Water World, The Bodyguard.... the list goes on.  And he gets bad reviews.  Lot's of 'em!

So people are die hard fans of particular genres or just plot and they get furious when they pay good money to be entertained, but it is not exactly how they want it.

I remember one roommate who would get mad at movies because, as he would put it, "This is complete B*LLSH*T!  All of those things wouldn't happen to that ONE guy!"  Of course I'd just irritate him further when I'd say "yes they would, if it was scripted that way. 'CUZ IT'S A MOVIE!!!" 

We weren't the best of roommates.

And that's what people fail to realize, not the part about bad roommates, but the part about scripts in relation to movies.

Most movies we see are scripted to make money and entertain and THAT'S IT!!! Now, some movies are there to send a message aaaaaaaaand make money and entertain, but make money and entertain, in fact, make money is the most important aspect.

I am in it for the whole "being entertained" aspect of the movie experience.  I want to be entertained. 

I remember the first time I saw The ROCK!  I thought "Whoaaaa.... Best. Movie. EVER!!!!"  And then I think I even bought it on VHS... Oh yeah, it was that good!  Now if I watch it, I am ashamed I ever liked it.   But that movie did what it was supposed to do, it entertained me and it took my money.  

I learned a valuable lesson with that movie, first off, DON'T run off and buy the VHS tape of a movie after having seen it only once in the theater.  Secondly, Don Simpson/ Jerry Bruckheimer films are very good at substituting action for plot.  Who needs a plot when you're smashing cars down San Francisco streets.  Have you actually ever tried to watch the movie Bullitt?  It's kind of boring, but then, there are the cars on San Francisco streets.  GIGGITY!!! GREAT MOVIE!!!

Now, I was sorely disappointed with myself for breaking my own rule when I saw AVATAR only once and then promptly bought the Blu Ray Disc as soon as it came out.  However, I just realized, just this instant, whilst typing this blog, that my rule was for VHS tapes... so there you go, no harm no foul.

After watching it a few times, I figured out that it was Dances With Wolves with Smurfs in space.  Dammit.

Anyone wanna buy the Blu Ray Disc of the most amazing movie to ever have "Avatar" in it's title?  I totally need to make space on my shelf for the Blu Ray Disc of The Avengers next month!!!!

I've only seen it once, but I plan on watching it A LOT!!!!

The Child Spies. The Daddy Cries.

I am starting to think that my child is a spy for the other side.  And by "other side" I, of course, mean girls.

As I am often reminded by my lovely child, I am "a boy" and I am "raising a girl."  I never understood her people before I had a baby girl and I'm not entirely certain I understand them anymore now; maybe even less. 

Seriously, she's only 7 and already has so many shoes.  They make her happy.  She never wears most of the pairs she has, but relatives keep bringing them.  Granted, I have a lot of shoes too, probably more than most men.  No, I don't know why.  They tend to annoy me.

She also has a LOT of stuffed animals.  I had five, I think, growing up and I still own two of them.  She has over a hundred at my house alone I'm almost certain.  I won't buy them for her anymore.

But I'm getting off point, kind of. 

I thought I was studying her and trying to learn more about her people.  I'm not getting much.

So far all I know is that if I give a potential date a stuffed animal she'll be happy but chances are, later on, she'll cry if I change the channel?  7 years and that's all I've got.  The rest of the time I am just confused.

I thought I could impact her in a manner that would help me implement my plans into her networks and then her kind would grow up having a better understanding of manly things, like fire and grilling and science fiction movies and why the Cubs MUST WIN THE SERIES!!!  Instead, I've got a girl who wants to put on a dress and heels to climb trees.  And then I find myself actually saying "don't climb a tree in a dress and hi heels, you'll ruin your dress and hi heels!"  What the HELL do I care about ruining a dress and hi heels?!?!?!   I'm a BOY!!!!  I think?

And so it has recently dawned on me that maybe she is a spy for her people and is actually studying me and implementing her own plan.  I think it's working.  First off, she already knows how to shut me up with food or by brushing my hair.   I will fall asleep during a haircut.

Secondly, I want cookies more often than I ever did.  AND CHOCOLATE!!! Her Fault!

Also, I like shoes.  Sure what the hell... let's blame that one on her too.

And then, I sleep with stuffed animals more than I used too.  Granted, I don't know I'm sleeping with stuffed animals until I wake up in the middle of the night staring eye to eye with Eeyore and I start screaming...

And yes, when I wake up scared by a stuffed animal in the middle of the night... I SCREAM LIKE A GIRL!!!

Finally, I cry more than I ever did.  That kid has turned me into an emotional wreck!!!  Although, that could just be the Cubbies.

So, my plan to study her and learn from her has failed; miserably.  I'm basically just trying to keep up with her these days.

I also think she is trying to learn bad words from me.

"Daddy, he said the "S" word!!!"
"What word?  Stupid?"
"Nope" writes in a notepad
"Stupid face?"
"No Dad.  Nice combo though." writes more.
"Silly?"
"Nope" scribble...
"Sonofagun?"
"Nope."  looks down at her pad and mumbles "hmmmmmm... that's new."
So I try to throw her off "SHAZBOT!?!?!"
"Nanoo Nanoo Dad... nice try. Go on."
And it really does just goes on. 

I'm running out of ideas before I start using what I still consider to be the "S" words of my age group.  I mean, I'm honestly trying to be the adult and not teach her anything bad.  I know her game.  So I'll just try to end it and say "well, honey, any S words worse than those you should never say."

"Oh yeah Dad.  Like what?"

SHE'S SO "D" word WILEY!!!!

THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE! .... Crabby Patty?

I hate to limit an actors potential, but I think actors should be placed in specific categories and there they should stay.  I am not saying that they should be type cast into one character, but there should be some regulation on inter-genre work.

More specifically, I think that serious, science fiction, horror, or even romantic actors and actresses should not be allowed to participate in children's programming!

Okay, first and foremost, Eddie Murphy and Ice Cube.... QUIT IT!!!!  You guys were great as dramatic, comedic, offensive actors.  Sure, your moves into children's movies have been lucrative for you, but, damn.... how am I supposed to watch Are We There Yet and NOT hum sweet little dittys by NWA and wait for you to say "YOU JUST GOT KNOCKED THE F OUT!!!"  And Eddie, you were "Mister F You Man!"  It's not that I want the foul language and violence and crudeness from you, it's just that I know it's out there and I cannot watch you be all cutesy and family like.

It would have been fine if you had started out in children's programming and then made the move to a more mature themed audience, in fact that makes sense as you would essentially have grown up with your audience, but you can NEVER go back.  It's too traumatic.

Granted, I'm not suggesting that Jeff from The Wiggles makes a horror movie called "Wake Up Jeff.... It's Time to DIE!"  but he's more than welcome to.  Granted he should never be allowed to wiggle again after having done so!

Arnold Schwarzenegger tried it with what, Twins and Kindergarten Cop and that one where he was pregnant (very sad) and he ALMOST pulled it off.  At least in Twins and K-Cop he got to be violent, but it still didn't really work.

Robert Englund, you too!  You're a great actor when you're killing people off in a horrific manner.  Your forays into cartoon voice overs have almost crossed a line, but thank you for not appearing in a Muppet movie.  Coincidentally, Johnny Depp was in A Nightmare on Elm Street, but he didn't stick with the genre and I don't recall him lasting long in the movie... granted, I've never seen it.

Of course this whole rant stems from what I just figured out LAST WEEK!!!!

Imagine yourself as a 15 year old boy, home alone, watching a movie about immortals lopping off each others heads in a quest for the "Ultimate Prize."  Imagine how cool you would have thought that to be!!!  SEAN CONNERY IS GOING TO LOP OF A DUDE'S HEAD!!!!  Now imagine your disappointment at finding out that Sean Connery lopped of no ones head at any time and the the ultimate prize was not an awesome top of the line 80's home video game system. 

Now, imagine your disappointment 25 years later when you learn that the villain, whom you so wanted to see die because of all of the good guy heads he was lopping off and you rejoiced when his head was finally lopped off because that girl finally shut up and stopped screaming, IS ALSO MISTER CRABS!!!!

I cannot wrap my brain around Victor Kruger and Mister Crabs being one in the same.  Dammit Clancy Brown!!!  You're a great actor and you had me fooled in Shoot to Kill, but you typically scare me.  YOU WERE THE KURGAN!!!!   Now I don't trust you AT ALL around Squidward what with his long lanky neck.  The cut would be quick and clean!!!  DO IIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!  I'll be honest with you though, I don't think there's any hope for you in lopping off Sponge Bob and Patrick's heads.  I'm pretty sure they'd just grow right back.

But you better stay away from Sandy!!!  I'm saving her for my puppy dog to "play with."

Hammurabi's Entire Code

And so as the saying goes... "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and a hundred and sixty-seven e-mails at work because you took a week of vacation of which all but one e-mail is spam but you still have to go through each and every damn one of them unless you want them to be a dark number in your Delete Items box and that number just sits there driving you crazy for days..."

The e-mail part is typically excluded from Hammurabi's Regular Code and I may be paraphrasing him a bit, but he really was quite a visionary when it came to codes of conduct.

There are so many great philosophies out there that people try to utilize in a trendy manner to fit into their workplace.  I remember being told to read Sung Tzu's: The Art of War to help me in the business world.  But then I went into the television business which, although it is a business, it is not really a part of the business world.  At no point did it help me to sit by the river and wait for my enemies body nor did it help me to light a lot of fires at night around the office.  Essentially, I didn't get much out of that for my career field, yet I still told my co-workers that it was "a good read that will help you in the workplace."

I think it sort of helped me to "choose my battles wisely" but I cannot recall whether or not that was Sung Tzu or Mr. Miyagi. But let's face it, Mr. Miyagi's best career philosophy is more beneficial for those working in the auto industry; especially in the field of "copious shinability automobile detail-ism."

It is interesting how more Eastern World Philosophies are utilized in the work place where as your more Western World Philosophies are not as helpful.  Sure there is the whole Christian Philosophy  of "do unto to others as you would have them do unto you" but that pretty much only works if you give your boss a raise and more vacation time in the hopes and expectations that he/ she does the same for you.

But really, could you imagine doing unto another company as you expect them to do unto you in a corporate buyout scenario.  "We're buying you out large conglomerate!..... okay, it's your turn to buy us out now... Good?  HAHA!!!  We're buying you out large conglomerate...."  It would just keep going in a never ending cycle of aggressive consideration for a competitors needs.  Business is too aggressive for that sort of thinking. 

However, if you go really really west for your corporate philosophy, you know, like West Texas, you get to the whole "shoot first ask questions later" mentality.  But see, that's not a metaphor for anything.  You really would carry a gun, shoot your competitor as soon as you walked into their office for a meet and greet.  Then you go to jail.  So it backfires into a whole, "shoot first, ask questions later if you have an opportunity or even a need to do so since you are now going to jail and you are going to lose your business in any settlement deal..."

Sadly, in many of the places I've worked, it seems like the philosophy that is adhered to most is the one about all the stuff that "rolls down hill!"   At times, I have felt like I am at the base of a valley, staring uphill... waitin'.

And with that, that's about all I have to type today.  As it turns out, I really do have a lot of e-mails to go through and on top of all that, I 've got the post vacation itchies.  I just could not get suntan lotion on my back and on the backs of my arms.

What I do in the privacy of my own home stays in the privacy of my own home... unitl I blog about it.

I was bored.  I was alone.  I had nothing better to do and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I sat in my chair, with my back facing my glass front door.  The main "stay out" door was still open.

The dogs slept at my feet staring at me from a reclined position waiting for me to move any muscle indicating that I wanted to play.  But I moved no muscles other than my fingers on the television remote.  The crickets chirped loudly; there's so many of them.

I flipped through the channels.  I could find nothing.  I have more channels than I can count.  I could still find nothing that sounded interesting.

Sci-fi movies... no
History Channel (always good)... no
The Olympics ... no; it's a delay and I know what happened
The Food Network... No, I'm still full from dinner

It just went on and on and on... and then I found it.  I found what I was in the mood for and it was something taboo.  Something I should not be watching.

I got up from my chair, upsetting the dogs greatly, and I shut my front door.  I did NOT need any neighbors or passers by seeing what I was watching.

I opted to lay down and get comfortable on my couch as opposed to returning to my upright position.  I needed to be in a reclined position.   I planned to be there for a while.

The movie started.  There was no suspense or surprise for me as I have seen this movie many times.  I've rarely watched the whole thing through in one sitting, but it's okay.  You don't always have to with this particular movie.  You know the kind of movie, with several "vignettes" combined as one movie with many different characters interacting with one another for several different story lines going on at once.

So, there I was, all alone, excited to be watching this movie but equally ashamed.  It is my dirty little secret.

It is, "Love Actually!"

I really really like that movie but I feel I must get it off my chest and come clean to the world and admit my weakness.  It is a total "Chick Flick" and I feel like there is something wrong with me.  Granted, there are scenes for the men but they're well done and surprisingly tasteful.

Why is it so bad for men to watch romance movies?  Why can't we come in from hunting all day, with dead animals carried on our shoulders, walk into the house  look at our spouses and say, "Honey, I'm beat.  Do you mind cleaning these so I can get a shower and watch Steel Magnolias?"  Because that's preposterous, that's why!

Chick Flicks really are quite boring.  As the saying goes, "Women like movies about one person dying slowly and men like movies about thousands of people dying quickly!"  It's true.  And then Women like movies about feelings.  Men like movies about feelings too but it's more like "are you feeling those 17 bullets I just pumped into you?"  I typically stick by these man quality movies.

But then there's Love Actually.  Why do I like it?  I don't know.  It's funny, it's deep, it's got some giggity moments, and most of the story lines touch on something I have experienced.  It's just an all around good movie for me.

However, until I just outed myself, I would only admit to watching that movie with a woman because she "made me do it."  There are certain programs that you can only watch with someone else and this is one of them.  Other cases are cartoons and kid's programming.  As great as they are, you can only watch them with a child and even then you have to say publicly "I only saw it to take the kid, but it did have some 'grown up' references that the kids didn't understand, so it really was funny."  Because that gives us some level of plausible deniability.

Seriously, way before I was a Dad, I was thrilled that I had a nephew I could take to see movies like Scooby Doo, Shrek, Toy Story, etc... Pokemon was rough though.  There were no redeeming qualities for me in that movie.  I took him out of love for that one.

So, yeah.  I like, no, LOVE "Love Actually" and I don't care who knows.  I'm glad I watched it alone though because, apparently, something got in my eye during the closing credits and they started watering a lot.  That would've been tough to explain to any in room witnesses.

Once I got the eye thing taken care of, I turned on Phineas and Ferb to level off.

Oh Shut Up... It's not like that.  As it turns out, the kid who play Ferb was the kid who played drums in Love Actually.  See how that all works out?  That's what it is, I'm just a fan of Thomas Brodie-Sangster; brilliant actor!

Yup, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Or, is that bad too?

But alas, all good things must come to an end... Until the next time.

Wow!

It's Sunday AM. My first full week of vacation in over five years has come to an end.

My first full week of vacation EVER with my little girl has come to an end.

What a wonderful week it has been! As sad as I am that it is over, I'm ready to go home and get back into my normal routine. Now don't get me wrong, I'd greatly prefer for my normal routine to be in this tiny island community, but it is not.

I am practical or logical or simply mundane enough to understand that this is a vacation and I cannot afford to live in it. I must return to work. I must return to the real world. I must be back in my house surrounded by my things. I miss my couch!!!

This has not been an extravagant or expensive vacation by most accounts. In the course of the past 8 days, I've only eaten out four times; the majority of my meals were home cooked!

I didn't go anywhere exclusive but maybe a little reclusive. It was nice to fall under the radar for a while. I actually left my cell phone in my car, all alone, for like three hours during the day one day while we were here. That's quite a BIG deal!!!

Our daily routine pretty much consisted of waking up, getting up enough energy to drive the 1.5 miles to the other house we are occupying with another very close family, have breakfast, walk the block and a half to the beach with kids and dogs, let my dog play in the ocean, the drag her out, watch her roll in the sand to dry off, then watch her run back into the waves, curse, repeat a few steps with the dog and then head back to the house. Thats just the morning.

Midday pretty much consisted of watching tv while the dogs sleep, loading up everything we can think of and heading back to the beach for a few hours, two adults with four kids in tow. The kids would whine about having to go back to the beach and say how much they didn't want to go and then they would play like wild animals as soon as we got there. After a few hours we would head back to the house for lunch. All the while, the kids would whine about how much they did NOT want to leave the beach. They're cute.

After lunch, there would be more tv and a lot of games played in the cool ac of the house. After a nap (for me and the other adult) my daughter and I would head back to my place for our afternoon showers. We'd hang out with the dog at my place for an hour or so and then head back. Upon our return to the other house, there might be dog walks, bike rides or some games played. Then dinner followed by sunset on the beach. That's my favorite time. Two grown ups sitting in beach chairs watching the sunset and sipping whine or some sort of concoction while the kids played in the waves until it was too dark onl to break out flashlights and look for "ghost crabs" until nothing but stars lit the sky. Then it was back to the house for games and maybe some dessert. Around ten-ish, my girl and my dog and I would head back to our place to sleep for the night.

I could SOOOOO get used to this routine. But alas, I cannot afford it. I must work and I must live I my current hometown.

But this has been a nice "escape" from my normal routine even though I brought my whole life with me. It's been very relaxing and I've had some quality time with my little girl and other people very near and dear to me.

I have learned a few things during this past week. First off, I needed to relax!!! My last full week of vacation was less than a year after my Father had died. I was still a mess when I went, but it really did help me de-stress. In the five and a half years since, my life has completely turned upside down and basically fallen apart. I have not taken much time to truly de-stress from that. This has REALLY helped, but I had some weird dreams about the past few years this week. I will choose to not explain.

I've also learned that pink is the new tan for me! Seriously, in my youth, my Italian blood was very helpful in me getting extremely dark over the summers. However, in my old age, my Irish blood has taken over and I now turn a remarkable shade of of pink. Oh joy!!! It doesnt really hurt like sunburn, but I'm pinkish in places.

I've learned that my child is really bad at getting creative with coffee. Seriously, one morning she poured me a coffee with a hint of "a surprise." That surprise was oj. Not good. The next few days she opted to add coffee grounds to morning coffee to make it "pretty!" Last year she and I came down her for three days. She added syrup and butter to my coffee then. That is called "pancake coffee surprise!" I was.

I've learned that my dog LOVES the ocean. She cannot get enough of it. In addition,I've learned that she is perfectly fine with swimming through the surf whilst towing four kids on boogie boards. Yup, that's my dawg!!!

Mostly I've learned that I need a week or two or more away from work each year to diffuse and recharge. I think any employer who limits their staff to only two weeks, or less, of vacation each year, is shooting their own company in the foot. I'm ready to go back. I'm almost excited to catch up and see what I have missed. Yeah, it sounds crazy, right?

This has been a great week, but next year, I'm brining my couch and I might just put it on the beach!!!

Kids just won't get outside of the box!

Well, I made it a day and if I must say so myself, that is damned impressive!  Such restraint I've shown.

But alas, I am weak and I must blog!  It's okay though, my kid is still asleep and the dog has been fed and visited the grass outside. 

This is a "parenting vacation" that I am on.  It's the type of vacation where, first and foremost, you do NO WORK!  That's the key.  However, in turn, you're life doesn't change much more than that.  I just moved my life at home to another house near a beach for a week.  Dog and child in tow. 

Blogging for me here, as long as it doesn't interrupt in my time with anyone, is pretty much like my weekend blogging.  I'll sit out in the little dining/ living room area of my rental, sipping my coffee, and I will type what I'm thinking about, spending very little time proofreading and I will publish only moments after I have completed my thoughts.  Whereas during the work week, my posts usually sit around for a a day or two waiting to be published after six or seven proofreadings.  As is typical for my weekend posts, as I type, I am all the while hoping that my lovely child will sleep for another hour at least; lest I spend a day at the beach with a monster!  But if she gets that one more hour, or even two, she will be an angel!

Now for her, this is still simply summer in a different house.  Other than a few hours spent in a daycare facility during the summer days, she has a very a relaxing routine.  But she has a routine nonetheless.

I think it's funny that children, and animals for that matter, have to stick to a routine.  You can only take them so far out of the box in stages before they have to get back to their core foundation and take a break.  Sure, this is like a weekend for my daughter too, but she has to stick to a routine. 

For example, yesterday, we got up, went to the grocery store for breakfast goods, went and joined some friends at their place for breakfast and then we took two the dogs to the beach.  Already there, we've had to stick to part of her daily routine what with having to have breakfast and all.  The nerve.  IT'S VACATION!!!  YOU can have breakfast or even food every day, but not vacation!  Pathetic.  I only ate because she and the other kids did.

We got to take the dog to the beach (she had to have breakfast too; animal) and the dog loved it!!!  She was freaked out by dead seaweed on the shore.  That's the only thing that concerned her.  I guess she gets a lot out of smelling grass and this stuff was overwhelming.

After the beach, and a quick lunch (all the eating again)  my child, another child and I went on a bike ride on the island to go pick a few things up from my place.  When we got there, I couldn't believe it, the kids wanted to watch TV!!!  There is a creek right outside my back door filled with more turtles than I have ever seen in my lifetime and as soon as you step out on the back deck they rush the shore to beg for food (I'm guessing that's what they're doing; they don't say much).  But the kids only wanted to watch this for a few minutes.  Instead, they needed some self grounding CRT therapy (it's an old television in this place; here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathode_ray_tube I'm too lazy to explain). 

How pathetic, that they needed this.  Of course, I could have prevented them from watching tv, but, they needed it.  So, I took that opportunity to do some social networking, play some words with some friends and catch a quick nap.  The things those kids just can't let go of just shocks me!

Then we did a bike ride back the mile and half to the other house.

Finally, we did some beach time.  It's a such a nice quiet beach with a very gentle Sound side.  It's not too deep, not too rough and not overly populated.  Of course, the kids needed goldfish crackers, water, suntan lotion, floatation devices to "play with" in the water.... what the heck?  Why do you need all of that stuff?  just enjoy what you have around you and live in the now man!   So, I might have laid on one of there rafts,  so what?  That was only to get them to really enjoy the water.  I never get to lay on one of those things and dammit, I'm on vacation!  Besides, I had such poor cell reception on the beach, I couldn't do any social networking or play any words.  Ughhhh

After the walk home from the beach, the angel and I went back to our place to do some laundry and take showers.  After showers we sat back on the couch and relaxed by watching tv.  WHAT THE HELL!!!! I didn't want to do that, I just wanted to keep going and explore some more.  We've only got a few days left, but, the kid... the kid needed the break, so I obliged her.  That's what I did!  I sat back and reclined on not just any couch, but a beach-vacation couch.  And I nodded off to the joy that is Jumanji; she picked it.

Just as I got comfortable, yeah, I had to feed the dog dinner.  The nerve of that dog!  Then we all loaded back into the truck and went back to the other house for dinner.  Mmmmmmm, homemade spaghetti with a big glass of milk; just the way I like it! 

It was a perfect night afterwards to go watch the sunset at the beach, so we all went.  But the kids... those kids needed towels and flashlights because they might get wet or see crabs on the shore.  So difficult.  I had to text a few people to tell them how pathetic these kids are and how they just can't relax.

After we walked back in the dark of night, I was mesmerized by all the stars I could see above.  I tried to point them out to my child and the others, but they just looked up, said "neat" and then ran inside to play board games.  The dogs could've cared less as well. 

It's insane to me how little those kids could appreciate all the new things that are around them.

But what did I care?  Very little as a matter of fact!  It was time for Pawn Stars to come on, so I needed to sit back on the couch and relax.

Pffffft.... kids and their routines.  They just can't let go!

And this time I MEANT IT... maybe.

I think I'm going to do it.  I'm pretty sure I will.  At the very least, I'm going to try. 

Please forgive me, but I have to.

I'm going to take a break from blogging for a little while; perhaps a week, perhaps a day.  I don't know.  I really can't say.

I am actually going to take a vacation.  I have not done this for a very long time.  Well, I've taken long weekends, but not a true week of vacation in over five years.  The timing is never quite right for this sort of thing.

I will be spending a week with my little girl and some other V.I.P.s. I need this.

Of course, I'll most likely still write every day, but I don't even know if I'll have internet reception.  I know that is hard to believe.  No cell reception?  No wi-fi?  However can one live?  The truth is, I don't know.

I remember back in the early 80's watching an episode of "Ray Bradbury Theater" on PBS, because "Skinemax" didn't exist yet!  The episode was about a man in a future society who was seen as going insane.  In this world of tomorrow everyone had a little device with them at all times so that they could always be reached.  They could type on it, talk to people on it and be seen through a camera on it.  The man going crazy threw his away because he just wanted peace and quiet and less stress.

We'll back in the early 80's such a device was plain old nerdy sci-fi (which we called science fiction) talk.  It was insane pointless drivel to concern ourselves with the concept of actually having one little device on your belt that could keep you in touch and informed at all times. "Popycock" we would say and I don't even know what that means let alone why would say it; but we did.

Well, thirty years later, I am that crazy person.  As it turns out, I have this little device that I have with me at all times that I can type on, talk to people with, see people, read news, play games and plan my day on.  I am sure none of you have such a device and that makes me special; right?  There are times that I just want it to go away; especially this morning at 6 am when my sci-fi nerd device chimed to tell me that a family members birthday is tomorrow....  I hate it, I hate, I hate it (the device, not the birthday)!  And I'm going to keep on hating it until I buy the newest version which is supposed to come available in October.  Then I'll hate that one!  Oooooooooh, I can hardly wait!!!

Yup... Pathetic.

Sooooooo,  I may or may not be finally taking a break from daily blogging.  While I'm gone, I would like you to do me a favor.  Please go back and re-read some of the posts.  When you finish, check one of the boxes at the bottom and let me know what you think.  It's a "reaction" type thing which is a whole "like, eh, and dislike" type thing.  It lets me know what's worth talking about.  Of course you don't have to do this; it's not like it's for credit.  I'm just trying to decide if I even want to keep the "reaction bar," as it is called, on my blog.

Also, please feel free to comment on things.  Your comments do not post automatically as I have to approve them.  I do not mind a critique/ negative comment, I'm only doing the whole approval thing in case someone says something offensive or down right rude.  Some of my closest friends are offensive or downright rude. If you just want to say something to me privately and this is the only way to reach me, by all means do so but specify that you do not want me to publish your comment.  Hell, feel free to tell me about yourself or at the very least where you're from.  I'm curious about who is actually getting a glimpse into the chaos that is my mind.

I know what your thinking "homework, seriously?"  Yeah...no, it's entirely up to you.  I'll keep putting stuff out there regardless.  It's just nice to know if making these thoughts public is worthwhile.

My "rat toothed" brain is going to continue to spew forth ponderings and I will have to take the time to type them out, but who knows when I'll actually post.  Yes, it's very sad, uncertain, confusing and somewhat frustrating, but in a good way.

It's so nice to be awakie and doing stuffy. I just wish I didn't have this headachey!

My Saturday mornings have been so relaxing as of late.  It's very nice!  Soon enough I'll start my season of busy weekends.  That's a good thing.

This particular morning has been just as nice with just a few breaks in my routine.  See for the past week I've been babysitting a Basset Hound and a Bearded Dragon and its "pet" crickets.  The Basset is okay for the most part.  He's more relaxed than my own dog and he sleeps later than my dog, but he snores; he's just older.

The Bearded Dragon is sweet, as far as Dragons go.  The only real disappointing points about the Bearded Dragon are that it is not really an affectionate pet and it does not appear to breath fire.  I was really quite looking forward to the whole "breathing fire" part.  And although, Dragon's IS stupid, this particular "Dragon" is actually a lizard.  And I'll be honest, its "pet" crickets are really just the lizards version of a Happy Meal.

As it turns out, the crickets have been the most work.  You need to keep their living quarters clean and you need to feed them and give them a jelly type substance that replaces water.  I feel like I'm a shepard of sorts, a great and wise Cricket Herder!

I have found that a lot of people are intimidated by an 18 inch lizard.  It can be kind of freaky especially when it plays with the crickets.  I had to go to the pet store and buy some more crickets and this is when I noticed something funny.  I told the girl at the counter that I was looking for crickets for a Bearded Dragon.  She replied all smiles "ohhhhhh you have a Beardie?  How cute!"

Beardie?  It sounds much less intimidating when you say it that way, doesn't it?  Of course, almost instantly all of the animals with intimidating reputations that we humans associate with frequently ran through my head with their cute little nicknames:  "Rotty" for Rottweilers, "Pitty" for Pit Bulls, "Dobie" for the Doberman Pinchers, "Wolfie" for Mozart, etc......

I remember my child buying a stuffed snake and she gave it the most precious name of "Snakey."   Awwwwww.... how niiiiiice!  How is it that the long E sound when added to almost anything makes it cuter and less scary?  I'm not sure I know why but it works.

So, would our Armies have less anxiety if they were persecuting the "Talibanie" or had been engaged with the "Viet Congie."   It worked against the "Iraqi" Army, didn't it?

Yeah.  I think it works.  I'll try this out if the I.R.Sie ever comes at me with an auditie.

In the meantime, before I start my weekend chores, I'm going to sit back, relax, enjoy my Saturday morning and have my Coffee.... awwww, such a cute black liquid!

I don't gotta prove nuthin'! Where's my pillow?

I woke up at 4:30 this morning.  That is relatively early for me.  5:30 is no problem for me most days.  4:30 is a problem. 

I met some friends out for dinner last night.  It wasn't a late night.  I was home by 8:30 and in bed by 9:30 because, I'm obviously no longer a wild man.

I'm okay with this.

I was a wild man in my youth.  I was in a band and would stay out playing until 2 AM sometimes.  On occasion, we'd head back to one of the band members apartments (typically mine) and hang out to relax after the gig.  Some mornings after the gig I'd have to get up by 6:30 am to go into work before heading to my classes for the day.  On Sunday mornings after a gig I'd have to be up to go sing in a Church choir; not one of my best decisions.

Staying out late was actually kind of a job for me.  It was a fun and awesome job, but, it was a job with a really good income.  I hated losing that "job." 

I've had some rough jobs over the years.  I've shingled roofs, bagged groceries, cleaned carpets, and worked as a Tiler's assistant.  I've delivered sausages and cheeses to retail outlets, printed unemployment checks and even slopped barbecue.  Then I finally got into my television career during which I spent 9 years having to be at work by 4:30 am.

Being a morning person, this was tolerable for me but still horribly early.  I'd set my alarm for 3:57 because it felt like a gun shot to the head when it went off; so the time was symbolic.  I was home and back in bed for a nap by 2 PM and in bed for the night by 9 PM.  This worked for me.

Getting up so early for so many years did create a habit in me to wake up early but I was already a morning person.  Back in the "gig" days  I really woke up refreshed even if I'd only had 3 hours of sleep.  Now, I am not certain what refreshed feels like.  If I wake up too early, like say 4:30, I'm tired all day, but if I get more than 8 hours of sleep, I'm tired all day.  And if I go to bed at 8:30 at night and wake up at 4:30, I'm still tired all day.  I try to stay up to 10 and maybe even sometimes I get all freaky and stay up past 11. 

WHOOO HOOO!!!! WILD MAN!!!

So what?  Seriously, what do I have to prove by staying up late?   Nothing.  I have no idea why I'd ever want to stay up late unless it's New Years Eve.  I can DVR anything of importance!

Yet another great thing about being a parent, in a long list of great things about being a parent, is that I now have an excuse to go to bed early.  I was recently at a goodbye party for some friends moving away, when one of the parents looked at me and said at 7:30 "Well, it looks like it's time to go home and put the kids to sleep.  Then I can go to bed early too!  Thank God I can use my kids as my excuse!"

AMEN!!!  I almost accused him of plagiarism but it turns out that until now, I have not openly admitted the benefits of using my child as an excuse to go to bed.  But surely, neither of us are the first to think of this.

I have non-parent friends who still really like to stay out late and they give me a hard time about it.  "Wuss" they'll call me.  "Ya Big Girl" is another term of endearment they'll throw my way.  All to do what?  Make me want to stay out later with someone who thinks I am a wuss or a big girl?  Really?  Call me what you want, but this I know; I have four pillows waiting for me at home and at least one of them desperately needs to be held!!!  That is fine with me.  I want sleep.  I stayed out late A LOT 20 years ago and I had A LOT of fun.  Now I have fun dreaming about it.  I can have fun before 11 PM.  Mehhhhhhhhh!!!!

It just seems so hard to let go of the youthful excitement of staying up late.  I notice that no matter how late my daughter stays up, she always wants to stay up as late as me.  I can remember crying myself to sleep at night because my Mother and siblings got to stay up later than me.  It was awful (Dad was already in bed; he was so wise).  But, as a kid, you are hell bent on staying up late so you can feel like a grown up!  Is that why kids refuse to go to bed or even take naps?  I would KILL for a daily nap!

One birthday, maybe 13, I was actually allowed to stay up past 9:30.... ON A SCHOOL NIGHT!!!!  So as we get older and live on our own for the first time, staying up, and even out, late seems to be the second most important thing we start doing habitually.  Of course, we all know that the first thing we do is run around the house naked with scissors.

Then it happens, the first time you head home at Sunrise you think "I AM AWESOME!!!" And the second  or third time you find yourself thinking, "COOL!"  After a while you start thinking "This sucks, I have to get up and go to work an hour ago."  The excitement just gets sucked out of it after a while.  I don't miss that.

One morning on my way to my 4:30 am job I was riding my bike in to work and passed through a local area where there is a lot of college bars.  One bar in particular was just closing but still had about 20 or 30 patrons milling about out front finishing their "breakfast beverages."  The only light was a street light in the parking lot and the stop light I was riding up to meet at some train tracks.  The crowd saw me and, as if some sort of mob zombie mentality overcame all of them in unison, they stopped talking, looked at me, started talking a garbled mess and then started chasing me and throwing beer bottles at me.  Why?  Because I had slept and was now doing something healthy at 4 am?  I'm sorry but please don't kill me.  I know it's ridiculous to exercise so early in the am, but seriously, go sleep this off and you'll forgive me.

So what did I do this morning at 4:30 AM?  I exercised using things called weights to help tone up the bendy muscles on the front and backs of my upper arms and also for the muscles in my chestle regions.  I also allowed two dogs to take me for one lap around the park before I came back home and walked in place for 30 more minutes on my elliptical machine.

At 4:30 AM it is quite difficult to remember the names of muscle groups especially when you pay attention to them as infrequently as I do.

I'll be amazed if I'm awake past 2 PM today.

Going for Gold! Oh wait... DID IT!!!

This is my 50th (which is gold in "day-iversaries;" there, I just explained the title to you; it's not about the Olympics) published blog since I started this thing in June.  I am still amazed that I have been able to come up with something to type every day.  Really, there's a lot of junk stored in my brain.

I've come to realize that my thoughts are like a rats teeth.  Rats have to chew every day.  If they do not chew, their teeth will grow too large and will eventually kill them.  If I don't get my thoughts out there and off of my chest, they will build up in my head.  I hope they don't kill me, but they do cloud my mind and keep me distracted.  Perhaps I'd be so distracted I'd walk out in traffic or something and get hit by something as simple as an Amish horse cart.  So, yeah, there you go; I must get these thoughts out of my mind because, you know, Amish horse carts!

It just dawned on me that it says a lot about my self image that I thought of myself as rat teeth as opposed to beaver teeth.  It's the same deal for beaver's as it is for rats and beavers are cuter and less disliked.  Yet, I type "rat."  It even says more about me and how lazy I can be that, rather than go back and simply change all the instances of "rat" to "beaver," I've simply kept trucking along, calling myself out as a rat, rather than making sure you think I see myself in the best possible light.

If it matters any, my first instinct was to refer to my daily posts as "cognitive flatulence" but that seemed too graphic, gross and self deprecating.  And yet, I've gone off and told you about it anyway.  I really shouldn't have.  I should have withheld that bit but I already withhold so much.

And there is part of the "crux" for me in this blogging thing.  As much as I am writing, this is only about 50% (if that much) of what I am thinking about.  I just either do not wish to, or feel it is inappropriate to, blog about some of the things on my mind.

I've seen many blogs, very good blogs, that are angry rants.  I see no problems with these blogs but they aren't for me. 

But, at times, it takes everything within my will power to keep my mouth shut or more like my fingers from typing. 

For example, when I witness the misuse of religion(s) to pass militant judgement on others.  For me, this stems from the fact that pretty much every "God Fearin'" religion stresses the whole "Judge not lest ye be judged" and the "let he/ she who is without sin cast the first stone" basis for their beliefs.  This has really brought home the whole "oh wow, look at all the outspoken hypocrites" type response within me.  But then I figured it out; they've all read the quote wrong and think it's "he without stone should cast the first sin...."   Ohhhhhhhh... so there you go, game on... sin away!

My Church has a lot of "defined sins" almost too many to keep up with.  You get used to it and almost find comfort in knowing you're a sinner and you need to pray and try to improve upon myself.  How do I know I'm a sinner?  I got out of bed today. 

So there you have it, Athiest or any religion, Democrat or Republican, Chicken sammich eater or Oreo eater,  the list goes on... unless you're comitting a blatant crime, I'll be doing my best to pass judgement on no one.

And then there's all the political rant blogs.  Rant away.  I don't blame you for your feelings, nor necessarily disagree with you, but, damn.  Some people really do fear change and politics.  I might just be too ignorant to get it.  Ignorance can be bliss!

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I am tired of being force fed anger and ignorance on any and every subject, so I will withhold from forcing my anger or ignorance upon you.  Well, my anger at least.

Also, I get sad but I don't want to blog about it or even make it my status update.  Really, "I made a sandwich and my lettuce was bad... :(" 

Actually, I get down right depressed.  Depression is a very real thing and sometimes it happens for an emotional reason and other times, I firmly believe, it can happen for chemical reasons.  

I've actually noticed within myself that I have been overall happier since I started doing this blog.  Not that all of my posts are rainbow launching joygasms, but they are typically a non-miserable spin on my perspective.  Like exercising the brain and using cheesy cliche's at the same time, "thinking happy (or non-depressing) thoughts makes you a happy (non-depressing) person!"

Sadly I have witnessed friends and loved ones who have destroyed everything they've worked for and everyone around them because they refuse to get help for depression.  They spiral into misery and tell themselves that it is not their fault and they are very happy; everyone else is just mean.  It's very sad, but I am not going to spend time blogging about that.  I just want to focus on other issues.

I LOVE to blog about the joys of being a parent!  I actually had no desire to ever have a kid until right around the time I became a Dad.  I was fine with my life and was more terrified of "breaking" a child than any desire I could have to raise one.  Then I became a Dad.  In an instant, I became "CAPTAIN PUSHOVER!!!"  Not really.  I am relatively strict but I remember what it was like being a kid and I try to help my kid capture those moments and have those memories.  I had a GREAT childhood, in a disciplined household.

What I try my best not to blog about is how awful divorce has been for her.  It has been terrible.  She talks about it occasionally and it still bothers me.  It doesn't really bother me anymore for what I have lost but it tears me up for what she has had taken away from her.

I could spend days upon days upon days blogging about the pain and realities of divorce when kids are involved.  It is sad to me how common of an occurrence it has become.  I've heard soldiers talk about "walking through fields surrounded by dead bodies" well, sometimes, that's what it feels like walking around the playground, but it's not dead bodies, it's divorced parents or children going through it.  What's worse is that the majority of divorced people I know aren't in that situation because of abuse, they are in it because their spouse opted to destroy the family to go search for something better or happier.  And the kids are left to pick up the pieces.

I cannot always blog about many of the everyday occurrences I have shared with some of the people I surround myself with.  I am surrounded by many wonderful people and I am soooo grateful that they are there.  Some I see daily, some I see when I'm in my driveway or walking down the street.  Some I only see during the school year because our kids share a class.  That's fine, I appreciate whatever time we get.

But I can't always blog about these people, mainly because I don't want them to misunderstand me and be offended.  I'm thinking someone out there right now is upset with being referred to as "these people."  Sorry. 

And if I say "one of them is great even though they smell awful... you know who you are;" well, now I've got every one I know upset thinking "OH MY GOD!!! I SMELL?  How could he publish that?!?!?!"  Well, I was kidding.  You don't smell ... most of the time (Andy G.).

And then there are all of the inappropriate thoughts that I cannot blog about.. EVER!!!!  Just between you, me and the fencepost, I have A LOT of inappropriate thoughts go through my head every... ohp; just had one... twenty or thirty seconds or so.  It's annoying. 

You know that point in growing up where you are supposed to learn to control these..... awwwww yeahhhh; sorry.... thoughts?  Well, I slept through the days that those skills were supposed to be learned and completely missed a few of those aspects of becoming a responsible adult.  I can't blog about those thoughts for fear of being ostracized from the civilized world only to end up banished to somewhere like Hoboken.

Seriously, I try not to stir up any controversy when I type out this stuff.  It's definitely on my mind and I've probably just hit the tip of the iceberg today, but I would rather simply not blog for a day or two than have to spew forth my anger, pain, sadness or disgust.  The world and those within can send us enough of that every day.  You don't need anymore from me.

I think people need to learn to appreciate what they have before them.  I think this blog has helped me appreciate more of what I have and have had. 

Look what I've done.  I've gotten all sentimental and deep.  I'm sorry.  I hate it when I do that.

Allow me to make it all better by ending on an inspiring quote from Dr. Johnny Fever:

"BOOGER!"

But I don't WANNA let you grow up!!!

As I've mentioned before, I'm a single Dad.  I am blessed that I get to spend 50% of my daughter's life with her, but I feel I am equally cursed in that I only get to spend 50% of my daughter's life with her.  Regardless, it could be worse.

I cherish my time with my child very much.  I am happy to see her and sit with her.  I am thrilled to play games with her (most of the time) and I am in heaven when she "helps" me in the kitchen, or wash the car, or clean the house, or etc....   Of course, whenever she asks "Daddy, can I help?"  I instantly know that the task at hand is about to take twice as long to complete if it is even ever completed. 

When I was about 5, I once "helped" my Dad change the air filter in the car.  This was a simple process; unscrew the wing nut, lift up the filter cover, take out the old filter, put in the new filter, put the cover back over the filter, screw the wing nut back on; 5 minutes!  Until his dying day, my Dad reminded me constantly that it took him almost an hour and a half to change that air filter.  He gave me a hard time about it, but thirty years later, he still cherished that moment. 

So, I get to relive these moments with my kid.  And that's the key for me, time.  Cherished moments in time spent with my kid.  I've got to make the most of it now because in a few years she'll want nothing to do with me A.) because I'm her Dad and B.) because, as I've already been informed, I'm a "BOY!!!"  followed by an "ewwwwwwwwwww."

Now, the catch 22 for me is that when she is with me, I want her to have as normal of a life as possible and part of that is the whole growing up and playing with friends thing.  Where we live, she is surrounded by her school friends as well as kids in the neighborhood that she has gotten to know.   We live over by a playground; this is like pre-tween mecca!  So we have an almost Norman Rockwell-esque scenario where I am in the kitchen cooking looking out my kitchen window occasionally catching a glimpse of my child playing but constantly hearing the giggles of the kids.  It is a nice memory.  It reminds me of being a kid.  

When dinner is ready, I step out the front door and say "DINNER'S READY!!!"  After about three more tries she'll come home and eat.  Why three tries?  I have no idea?  What kid doesn't want to come in from playing to eat?  Oh yeah, me and every kid....

Of course, the self-centered Dad in me wants my child to stay home and not play with friends so that we can spend more Daddy-Daughter time together, but the kid in me knows that she needs this.  The kid in me wins out most of the time  except for when it comes to AC outlets.  Well, of course, the kid in me loses often enough to the adult me but the outlet thing is pretty serious.

Yup, when I was a kid, before knowing what electricity truly was, I was flipping a light switch, in one of those poorly planned light switch/ ac outlet combos that used to be prevalent in bathrooms, when I missed the switch and stuck my finger into the outlet.

I got lucky and was fine, but I got shocked.  Of course, all I could remember was the fuzzy sensation all down my arm and I ran out excitedly telling my Mother, "Mom, Mom, I went to turn off the light in the bathroom and I think I shook hands with Chewbacca!!!"  It was that fuzzy!  So, as much as I'd really like to shake hands with Chewbacca, as an adult, I've learned that this is a bad idea. 

So I need to let my child grow up and experience real life. 

Is this why the Playdate was invented?  I have absolutely no recollection of such a thing from my childhood.  You either had friends nearby to play with or you played in your room.  Now we schedule appointments with other parents to get our kids to play.  It's a great concept, don't get me wrong, but it is such a new concept that spell check doesn't even like the word Playdate.  Ergo the word is encased in yellow. 

My little girl likes to have Playdates.  I like it when she has them too, especially when they are at my house.  This way, if she needs me I am there and in the meantime, I can listen to all the giggling and fun, while I rest on the couch.  Other parents, who have their kids 100% of the time and even have multiples, tend to be grateful for the break.  I understand entirely. Even I could use a break during my "Daddy Weeks," I just don't want them.   "I'll clean the kitchen next week!"  is what I tell myself.  But then next week comes and I have too many dishes to wash, so I just toss 'em instead!!!  Sure... why not?

There is a problem that I am now learning about Playdates.  See, as previously mentioned, I am a boy and I have a girl.  When girls get together they make high pitched squealing noises.  These noises hurt my ears; I may be part dog.  These noises also hurt the dogs ears especially when the dog hears the noises that sound like "let's dress her up... where's the dog?"  That big dog finds a way to hide like a cat.

Then there's the Barbies.... I was never prepared for Barbies.  I know from experience that dolls are okay, especially G.I. Joe Dolls with Kung Fu Action Grip or whatever.  And Evel Knievel Dolls who really do ride their own motorcycle.  These dolls go outside where the action is (unless it's rainy, or cold, or hot, or something good is on TV).

But, Barbies?  Barbies, get dressed up and down.  The play all over the house, and sometimes, they have a spa day, in the only bathroom in the house.

It is hard to Pee on a Barbie Spa day.

I have to say that nobody , NOT ONE SINGLE SOUL, ever warned me that, as a single Dad, I alone would have to tolerate a "Barbie Makeover" in my bathroom....

Also, during these visits, I am expected to eat, a lot!  Usually it's plastic and make believe food.  This past Saturday, whilst watching History Channel, the visiting friend played "waitress" while my daughter stood back in her room and played "cook."  The waitress would come out and ask me what I wanted to eat and I would name anything I could think of.  Then she would go back to the cook, find out what plastic foods they had and come back and tell me what my choices were.  I knew what they were.  I am the customer every other weekend, but it's still fun. 

After my dining experience had ended, I had the waitress ask the cook to come out so I could compliment "the chef."  My daughter came out.

"Chef, I just wanted to compliment you and your waitstaff on another delicious and well presented meal."
"You didn't eat your peas."
"Yes, I did."
"No, you didn't, I know you and I can see them right there." 
"Who are you my Mother?"
"Eat your peas."
"I did.  I ate the peas, the yogurt, the sandwich, the strawberries and the pretzel."
"I don't believe you, I can still see them."
"Baby, It's all plastic.  You can see all of it."
"DADDY!" 

I ruined the moment by stepping out of character too soon.  On top of that, I missed so much of the documentary I was watching that I now do not know who won World War II.

Also, when girls come over, there are a lot more Easy Bake Oven moments than I EVER had in my youth.  I had all of none in my youth. 

Playdates with boys still happen from time to time.  Technically, these are not Playdates as boys are rarely ever requested play guests.  Playing with boys usually only occurs when the parent(s) of a boy happen to be hanging out; but it happens.  The boys find themselves playing with the Barbies and even giggling at high pitches that should only be hit by castrato tenors.

This past weekend, I had a moment from my nightmares when my girl and another girl were playing with a boy in her room.  Luckily, it was the boys Mother who went in to check on the kiddos.  She came out all casual and giggling.... "They're Playing Doctor!"

There is a small nerve in every Daddy's brain that goes into instant DESTROY ALL BOYS mode whenever they hear the words playing and doctor combined with their daughter.  Luckily this mode was curtailed by how casual and unaffected the Mom in question was about it.  "No really, they have a belt around his arm for his blood pressure, a stethoscope to listen to his heart and they're taking his temperature on his forehead."

Kids are just practicing for real life.  Running outside and playing with friends is a way to become more responsible and more independent in the real world.  I have to let her have a real childhood and grow up as much as it kills me.

Maybe the games they play are there to help them grow up and figure out their future careers?  Perhaps the waitress/ chef gig will help her get the doctor gig? 

If that's the case, I'd really like her to start playing "Multi-millionaire philanthropist who pays for her Dad's life of luxury!"

Спасибо за чтение!

I love it when musical artists collaborate.  Like, Willie Nelson with anyone else, and Frank Sinatra with anyone else, Run DMC with Aerosmith and so many other collaborations.

One of the best and most meaningful collaborative efforts I have embraced in my life was that of Sting and Prokofiev; Sure, lil' Gordy (as I'm sure he was called) was born in 1951 and Sergei passed away in 1953 but what they accomplished in that time was beautiful. 

Together they wrote the song "Russians."  Okay, Sergei Prokofiev wrote the brilliant score of "Lieutenant Kije'" which is an amazing piece of music and Gordon Sumner (Sting) utilized Kije's theme for the music to Russians, a very touching song.  Russians came out at a time when I was just starting to understand the cold war.  Ironically, what I understood was that it didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"So let me get this straight.  The Russians want to blow us up because we don't agree with them but they know that we'll just blow them up right back so neither of us will have anyone to disagree with or even agree with for that matter?  That seems stupid?"

I likened this to that time in the 7th grade when a big bully told me he was going to "beat me up" because I didn't like him.  Of course, my smart ass self replied with something like "and you think beating me up will make me like you?"  He beat me up anyway but I'm pretty sure I got my point across.  I never did like him.

So Sting and Prokofiev's song suddenly got me to think on a different level.  Maybe Soviet kids were sitting over there in their country thinking the same thing I was: "Mom, Dad, they want to blow us up? This sounds stupid!" of course, they probably said it in a language other than English.

Growing up a Navy brat I was always aware of a "cold war" but didn't fully understand.  My friends and I actually discussed, and at times even argued over, what number we were on the U.S.S.R's list of Nuclear Targets.  "It goes, New York, Chicago, Washington D.C., Pascagoula and Goose Creek!  We're in the top 5!"  And if some kid suggested that maybe Philadelphia, or Miami, or California was ranked higher, than us, there was a fight to be had!

But my Dad was a very sensible man.  As a hardened submariner I pretty much expected him to be very "GO TEAM, WIN!!!" but he was more practical and level headed than that.

"Dad, do you hate the Soviets?"
"No son, of course not.  I just don't like their submarines."  He would say with a somewhat serious smile.

But that was enough to help me grow up not being a world damning fanatic!  If Russians felt the same way as my Dad and now me and they really loved their kids, then maybe there was hope for all people. 

In my adolescent mind I thought maybe the U.S.S.R. and the U.S.A were just the big kids on the block trying to impress some cute girl.  Of course, her name was "Afghanistan" and I'm sure the Russians got to the point where they said "she's too complicated and high maintenance, you can have her" and now they're looking at us saying "Oh MY GOD!!!  You're really taking her out?  We were sooooo KIDDING!!!  High Maintenance though!  Am I right?  Yeahhhhh I'm right!"

But another point that I took away from the song Russians was that all the nations in the middle of us were none too pleased.  They were like the last few items left on a buffet, with two really hungry fat guys on either side trying to pick out who gets what, all the while hoping that the sneeze guard really works!

So, here I am, 27 years after hearing a beautiful piece of music that changed my soul.  Of course, my Mom introduced me to Prokofiev, Shostakovitch, Tchaikovsky and many other amazing Soviet composers (as well as Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and The Beatles) and my Dad introduced me to the reality of level headed thinking (unless I forgot to mow the lawn, again) but Sting introduced me to a human mindset shared by Americans, Russians and Europeans.

And now I have a blog.  For my own theraputic purposes I type pointless thoughts that come to my head and I really hope I don't offend anyone.  I've come to realize that I have a really good following in my home nation but my second largest following is from Russia.  I have no idea why or how this has happened but I really appreciate you for reading. 

So thank you Russian Readers for checking in each day... and thank you for Beef Stroganoff, Chicken Kiev and Vodka!  Those are three of the best secrets my people ever stole from your people!  I hope you are not trying to steal any secrets from me.  I don't know any.

Okay, so yeah, there's some residual cold war stuff still in my head. Sorry.

Maybe I just need pants that breathe?

I was walking my dog in the local city park a few mornings back when I happened upon a gentleman whom I am going to assume is homeless. 

I'm making this assumption because I've seen him around from time to time at odd hours acting all homeless.  I've also seen him asleep in the park a few mornings as well as some nights and one time I saw him asleep on a park bench somewhere else in town.  So, through deduction, I'm left to assume he is homeless.  Or he is an undercover cop.  Or he is just very eccentric.  I don't know.  I do know that if you are extremely wealthy and live life by your own rules and sleep in a park sometimes they call you eccentric.  If you do it because times are tough or you've wasted your life or some tragic story, you're homeless.

Whether he has a home or not, is not my point.  He seems pretty harmless.  He does have different clothes on when I see him.  So maybe, he is homeless but his clothes have a lavish bachelor pad?  Again, I don't know how it works.  I hope I never do.

His clothes are what have brought me to today's subject though.  Typically he is in jeans and a raincoat or a leather vest sometimes with a white t-shirt on under the coat or vest but most times no shirt.  I've only seen him in the summer months so I am not certain of the extent of his wardrobe.

However, the other morning when I saw him at the park, he was curled up in a ball, sitting upright with the base of his feet level with his rear end.  His elbows were on his knees and his face was in his hands.  He was wearing slippers as well as a nightgown which he had pulled over his knees to cover his legs.  Yup, a nightgown. 

It wasn't a sexy nightgown by any means.   No, it was nothing lacy or satiny or frilly in anyway but more of your practical get up with curlers in your hair, fix the kids breakfast and then mop the house while smoking a pack of cigarettes kind of nightgown.  If your spouse is wearing this nightgown, it kind of says "STAY AWAY" loudly and clearly.

It was a light blue nightgown with puffy shoulders.  Okay, so maybe the puffy shoulders were a little frilly, but it appeared that he had cut the nightgown at the armpit so his arms could best fit through; so much for the frillyness.  The nightgown was older and worn and had been washed so much that the fabric had thinned out enough so that it was now somewhat transparent.  His back was facing me as I walked past and I could see his hairy back and the space separating his glutious maximi (much better than just saying "crack" dontcha' think).  It was awful.

I only did 2 of my regular 4 to 6 laps that morning.  So, I got to see this twice.  Ughhhhh.... 

But it got me thinking, which, if you follow my blog at all, you should now know that damn near everything gets me "thinking."  Also, what you will most likely not be the slightest bit surprised to hear is that what it got me thinking about isn't anything I've typed so far.  That's right.  What you've spent the last 10 or 15 minutes reading so far is just the introduction to what's on my mind.

I think this is why my Father would usually lose his temper about two to three sentences into me trying to tell him anything. 

"Why are you bleeding?" Hypothetically he would ask.
"Well, yesterday morning when I got up 'Wake Me Up Before You Go' was on the radio and..."
"What the hell does this have to do with you bleeding today?"
"Well, my girlfriend told me that if that song was on the radio in the morning yesterday that I should wear my blue Chuck T's.  So I couldn't wear them today since I wore them yesterday. So....."
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!?"

Once I passed out from blood loss, the doctors were able to explain what had happened.

But 25 years later, I've still got the Chuck T's!

Anyway, why did men ever stop wearing skirts and robes?  They really look comfy!  That's the point I've been working towards.  Sorry if it's a let down.

I'm serious.  Throughout history men wore skirts and they dominated the world!  Look at Rome. The soldiers wore skirts and the politicians wore sheets.  Levi's were hardly popular and Wranglers weren't sold ANYWHERE! 

Now, at least in the US of A, if a guy dresses up in a skirt he is either nuts, looking for a fight or trying to relive his family's "ancient" heritage.  And if you dress up in a sheet, you're either a racist ass or a drunk college kid at a party.

In other countries robes or kilts or grass skirts are worn as a tradition but not often as every day style.  Yes, you might see a Scot in a tuxedo with a kilt, but he's not wearing that every day.  People would just stare at him  for such a strong everyday fashion statement.  But my opinion is "fashion statement HELL!!!  They look comfy!"

The world has become so form over function that style has outweighed practicality.  Why?  I do like a nice fitting pair of jeans, but let's face it, they don't offer too much freedom.  Without being too graphic, that freedom sounds really nice.  I would think men would want and even need that freedom more than women, yet women get the loose fitting clothes.  It's like the cross bar on a bicycle.  Why do men's bikes have to have the raised bar?  If you slip out of the saddle going up a hill you're gonna hit notes that Mariah Carey can't reach.  Trust me, I know.

I wish kilts were common or even socially acceptable in the states.  I'd like to give it a try but I am no trend setter. 

On my way to work yesterday I passed an old guy wearing a blue and black tartan kilt and black combat boots whilst mowing his lawn.  He looked like a nut and not just because of his outfit.  He was an older scrawny pale white guy.  He was balding on top of his head but had long stringy white hair in the back and on the sides with a scruffy white beard and, as a matter of fact, he was missing some teeth.  He looked exactly as one might imagine some shipwrecked pirate who had been living alone in a cave on an uncharted island for the past ten years would look.  Of course, while on the island, he was psychologically stable enough to realize the dangers of skin cancer so he avoided the sun at all costs and that is why he is still so white.  HE LOOKED CRAZY!!!

So basically if you're insane and/ or you have nothing else to lose, like a homeless guy in a park or a shipwrecked pirate mowing his lawn, you can get away with wearing a robe or a skirt for every day activities.  If you're a celebrity or a "traditionalist re-enactor" it's a lot more acceptable.  But if you're me or someone just like me, you can't.  Life is just not fair for an everyday guy like me. 

I'd love to go just one day without having to make an "adjustment" because my pants are too constricting when I sit, or do lunges, or walk, or make a sandwich, etc...

I'm always curious how fashion went from men in skirts to men wearing pants with a codpiece?  I'm sure I could look into this and research it but why bother.  I NEVER want to wear a codpiece.