Hello faithful readers. I know, it has been WAY too long since my last inscription, and for that I apologize. I hope you find the following entertaining, if not worthy of writing your Congressman, or other elected official …
It was a lovely Wednesday morning, just about 8:50AM (0850 for you military types). I was standing outside of the main recruitment building at Randolph AFB with approximately 300 of my closest civilian friends. We were all anxiously awaiting the arrival of our professionally operated limousine … well, by limo I am actually referring to a bus. Anyway … why were we all standing outside? Well, to attend our MANDATED annual Sexual Assault Awareness class of course (because if the course were not annual, we would all forget about sexual assault!)!
My first impression was that I was quite an unfortunate sole because I was almost at the back of the ever-growing line. A few of my closer compadres and I watched impatiently as the first limo, err, bus filled with coworkers and proceeded off to the glorious event without incident. Ha, those suckers! Sure, they made it to the lecture on time; they got good seats to the PowerPoint (PowerPoint and all references to such are copywrited trademarks of the Microsoft Corporation and its subsidiaries – sorry, Bill Gates made me add this) presentation; they were able to view the “dancing girls” in the comfort of their own seats; they got to leave on-time; blah … blah … blah. What they did NOT get to see was the hilarity that ensued shortly after their departure!
“Who were these dancing girls you speak of?” you might be asking yourself at this point. Never fear dear reader, I will get to them soon enough!
So, I digress. Back to the moment at hand … so, we (about 240 of us at this point) have been standing outside for about 5 minutes, on a nice (but crisp) spring morning, patiently awaiting our own luxurious transportation when we see the next limo pulling up. To our dismay, the driver apparently had only been on the job for 1-day (or, alternatively, had been drinking excessively the night before or the morning of?). Why do I toss out such outrageous accusations? Please, allow me to elaborate. This “driver” pulls his vehicle into a 2-lane entrance, but somehow misjudges the length/girth of his transport because he miraculously manages to ram the limo into a protruding branch of a nearby tree, thus shattering a window of his conveyance.
Now, as observant as we are as a group, not all of us immediately realize what has happened … some of us are busy talking or otherwise frivolously occupying our free-time. Nevertheless, we are an organization which is utterly dependant on good communication, so the news spreads faster than a fire in Brittany Spears Beverly Hills’ mansion. Suddenly, this Mensa-president has 240 wide-eyed gawkers watching his every move. What does he do next? Well, he ever so cleverly backs up the bus, missing the tree completely (I know! How did he hit the tree driving forward then?!?!), and parks along the adjacent curb. You could almost smell (or hear I guess) a collective inquiry of: “What the hell is he doing now?”
To our collective dismay, we do not wait long for the answer. Of course, you need to remember this incident took place on a military base. God and everyone else knows you cannot let such a horrific incident take place on a military installation and not respond appropriately! So, the guy parks the bus, and within the next few minutes, a firetruck shows up. Yep, a freakin’ firetruck! Out of the truck pour no less than 5 well equipped (haz-mat suited to boot!) firemen - much to the delight of the female audience I might add. They go investigate the “crime-scene” in full gear. I agree! Who would want to deal with that dangerous broken glass without a hazardous-material suit?!? The “gang” and I are figuring “Well, this is an Air Force base, so they do tend to overreact every now and then … readiness is important after all!” HA! Next thing we know, the Fire Chief himself is on the scene, soon followed by a police car … probably to administer the breath-a-lizer. I firmly believe I speak for us all when I say we were all waiting for the “stop – crime scene!” tape to go up!
Anyway, fortunately, or not, the Transportation department was able to demonstrate their incredible alacrity, and another bus was dispatched to our location. Before we could witness any further antics, we were whisked away to the presentation. Amazingly, the new driver was able to navigate the 2-lane entrance, doge not only the obnoxious tree, but SEVERAL emergency vehicles , and only break zero (0) windows! When I call him a super-human driver, I exaggerate only slightly … obviously!
Once we arrived we (and by “we” at this point, I am referring to the men … and any women with lesbian tendencies I guess) were pleased realize there were 2 (not 1, but 2!!) nubile females about to perform for our amusement. Don’t get me wrong … they were appropriately garbed … but they were slightly attractive nonetheless! They did their “thing” on 2 floor-to-ceiling feathery silk sleeves suspended by a clasp on the ceiling; and it was all done in good taste, albeit slightly odd considering the subject matter of the morning. I actually shed a tear during their performance! No, not because it was soooooo moving … I am no wimp! I shed a tear because I didn’t blink for 5 straight minutes!!! I found it very difficult to ignore their ever-so-sheer form-fitting attire.
Once the completely unattractive fems left the stage, at least we were able to concentrate on the subject matter at hand … or we would have been able to, had we been able to HEAR the speaker. Fortunately for us, the gentleman was a very dynamic speaker, so in retrospect, volume was not an issue. Between his gestures and my keenness, I was able to decipher every intonation. I then shared my edification with the rest of my comrades.
Lastly, we all signed-in, and we all got our colorful participation cards (which we sadly had to part with as we were required to turn them in to our training representatives). We then lined up for our intoxicating trip back to our collective exercise in bureaucracy. Again, we anticipated awaiting the next government provided transport. And again, luckily or not, we all made the very next limo!
We finally had some luck! Right? Nope! We were not so lucky after all. I was last in line, along with another coworker. Big deal; I don’t mind being last. However, as we got on the bus, err, into the limo, we could not help but notice 2 additional vacant seats were NOT available. Evidently, this predicament does not rank very highly on the catastrophe-scale for the gubment. As instructed by our chauffeur, we were not allowed to stand during the ride, so my coworker and I simply placed one “cheek” each on adjacent seats near the rear of the bus, with 2 other coworkers beside both of us on each adjoining bench, creating what I affectionately refer to as a 6-way, since I was the only male in the formation. By the way, if you are not aware, I will be more than happy to inform you as to the plight of dead sardines (upon request only however)! Luckily, the drive back to our place of employment lasted only about 5 minutes. Unfortunately, we had the driver who originally wrecked the bus! No, I am kidding … is it still April Fool’s day? We made it back safe-and-sound. Thank you trans-depot!!! Seriously!
After all the excitement of the day, we made our way back to our respective cubicles. Not to speak for my other coworkers, but my first email made me fall to the floor … to this day, I cannot recall if that fall was in laughter or in pain. Of what did my email inform me? The training we just attended was “FOR MILITARY PERSONNEL ONLY!”
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Arrrggg ...
I apologize for the long delay since my last blog, but it took me forever to get Ringo’s paw prints to get off the keyboard! Now that I have that cleaned up, let me preface this with the fact that I know this is another “list” blog, but I feel obligated to express these feelings before they eat me up inside! Now, I also realize more important (and perhaps more interesting) things are probably going on in our fair city, but hopefully the masses can identify with my point.
So what is my point exactly? My point is that drivers in San Antonio are HORRENDOUS! Having to drive 30 miles (each way!) to work every day for the past 10 year, I have run into more than my share of careless (if not imbecilic) drivers. Fortunately, thus far, I have been able to escape unscathed, but I have certainly had some close calls. What I would like to do here is to edify you dear readers by illustrating some of the threats you too may encounter:
The Drifter – If you are out on the San Antonio streets, drink coffee, lots and lots of coffee … cause you are sure as heck gonna need your reflexes at their apex to avoid these menaces. You may be driving along, just minding your own business when suddenly you notice the car right in front of you, but formerly in the other lane, has begun to inexplicably drift into your lane, no signal, and for no identifiable reason. If you are lucky enough to encounter the least egregious of these hazards, they may turn out to be no more than a nuisance because they tend to self-correct; but watch out, the more perilous versions may end up causing you to conduct an unplanned experiment on how well your car was designed to jump concrete medians.
The Crawler – One of the most personally irritating motorists I have encountered, and all too frequently at that. Now, I know when the weather is less than beautiful, I can expect most vehicular operators to perform at less than peak efficiency, but sometimes, I am tempted to pull my car over, get out, run up to the car in front of me and politely yell: “COMEON! MOVE IT!” You are likely to encounter this sort of exasperating individual if you see any of the following: an out of state license plate, a driver who watches the road from between the steering wheel and the dashboard, an ocean of gray (which just turns out to be the hair of the occupants in the vehicle ahead of you), or last but not least: any in-window sticker.
The Frady-Cat – Some of you readers may actually identify with this description, and you DEFINITELY know who you are. A close relative of The Crawler, the Frady-Cat can be even more insidious. At first blush, these troublemakers might appear to have a modicum of driving aptitude; but, at the first sign of stress (e.g., changing lanes, encountering an interchange, a single drop of rain), these anxious-Annies seem to lose their faculties, and often engage in any variety of offensive driving practices. Just be sure to give them plenty of space, and you should survive – the real problem is recognizing them before any real trouble ensues.
The Maniac – These guys that firmly believe that under no circumstances should you leave a safe distance between you and the car in front of you no matter how fast you're going. If you do, the space will be filled in by somebody else putting you in an even more dangerous situation.
The Caller – Want to lower the IQ of any San Antonio driver by 50%? Hand them a cell phone while they are driving! These fools think they should concentrate on their oh-so-important call rather than what they should be concentrating on, DRIVING! And it doesn’t get any better at red lights, unless you like sitting through green lights while waiting for these buffoons to realize the light has changed. Don’t bother honking, they won’t hear you anyway.
The Anticipator – You gotta love these guys! Green lights ahead, you are cruising along at a nice clip, when suddenly the maroon in front of you feels obliged to test his breaks. You think to yourself, “Wow, I guess the light is turning red.” To your dismay, NOPE!!! The light is still the only shade of green it ever turns, but the smarty-pants in front of you seems to have some cosmic connection with the light bulbs because he can obviously tell the light is just about to turn yellow, and suddenly red, so he is slowing down now. Unfortunately for you, this often results in the putz making the light, and you having to stop since you had to prematurely break to avoid tasting what this dufuss had for dinner, via his tailpipe.
The Guess Where I am Going – Put simply, these jokers think turn signals are just clues as to your next move in road battle, so never use them. They are often seen tossing bio-terrorism bombs (some refer to them as cigarette butts) out their windows as well.
The Hanger – Does your car have a blind-spot? If so, these jackasses will make every effort to reside there until you need to move. Then, as if it were your fault, they suddenly find a penchant for blowing their horns and gleefully letting you know they think you are #1 by gesturing with that one particular finger. Other Hangers like to ride beside you, just like they were a passenger in your car, especially when you are not-so-comfortably wedged between them and some sort of construction barrier. To all those guilty of this offensive behavior, take some advice: speed up, or slow down, it is not that hard!!!
I am not sure how many of you all are aware, but the National Transportation Safety Board recently divulged they had covertly funded a project with the US auto makers for the past five years, whereby the auto makers were installing black boxes in four-wheel drive pickup trucks in an effort to determine, in fatal accidents, the circumstances in the last 15 seconds before the crash. They were surprised to find in 49 of the 50 states the last words of drivers in 61.2 percent of fatal crashes were, "Oh, Shit!" In Texas however, the results were quite different, where over 89.3 percent of the final words were: "Hold my beer and watch this!"
So what is my point exactly? My point is that drivers in San Antonio are HORRENDOUS! Having to drive 30 miles (each way!) to work every day for the past 10 year, I have run into more than my share of careless (if not imbecilic) drivers. Fortunately, thus far, I have been able to escape unscathed, but I have certainly had some close calls. What I would like to do here is to edify you dear readers by illustrating some of the threats you too may encounter:
The Drifter – If you are out on the San Antonio streets, drink coffee, lots and lots of coffee … cause you are sure as heck gonna need your reflexes at their apex to avoid these menaces. You may be driving along, just minding your own business when suddenly you notice the car right in front of you, but formerly in the other lane, has begun to inexplicably drift into your lane, no signal, and for no identifiable reason. If you are lucky enough to encounter the least egregious of these hazards, they may turn out to be no more than a nuisance because they tend to self-correct; but watch out, the more perilous versions may end up causing you to conduct an unplanned experiment on how well your car was designed to jump concrete medians.
The Crawler – One of the most personally irritating motorists I have encountered, and all too frequently at that. Now, I know when the weather is less than beautiful, I can expect most vehicular operators to perform at less than peak efficiency, but sometimes, I am tempted to pull my car over, get out, run up to the car in front of me and politely yell: “COMEON! MOVE IT!” You are likely to encounter this sort of exasperating individual if you see any of the following: an out of state license plate, a driver who watches the road from between the steering wheel and the dashboard, an ocean of gray (which just turns out to be the hair of the occupants in the vehicle ahead of you), or last but not least: any in-window sticker.
The Frady-Cat – Some of you readers may actually identify with this description, and you DEFINITELY know who you are. A close relative of The Crawler, the Frady-Cat can be even more insidious. At first blush, these troublemakers might appear to have a modicum of driving aptitude; but, at the first sign of stress (e.g., changing lanes, encountering an interchange, a single drop of rain), these anxious-Annies seem to lose their faculties, and often engage in any variety of offensive driving practices. Just be sure to give them plenty of space, and you should survive – the real problem is recognizing them before any real trouble ensues.
The Maniac – These guys that firmly believe that under no circumstances should you leave a safe distance between you and the car in front of you no matter how fast you're going. If you do, the space will be filled in by somebody else putting you in an even more dangerous situation.
The Caller – Want to lower the IQ of any San Antonio driver by 50%? Hand them a cell phone while they are driving! These fools think they should concentrate on their oh-so-important call rather than what they should be concentrating on, DRIVING! And it doesn’t get any better at red lights, unless you like sitting through green lights while waiting for these buffoons to realize the light has changed. Don’t bother honking, they won’t hear you anyway.
The Anticipator – You gotta love these guys! Green lights ahead, you are cruising along at a nice clip, when suddenly the maroon in front of you feels obliged to test his breaks. You think to yourself, “Wow, I guess the light is turning red.” To your dismay, NOPE!!! The light is still the only shade of green it ever turns, but the smarty-pants in front of you seems to have some cosmic connection with the light bulbs because he can obviously tell the light is just about to turn yellow, and suddenly red, so he is slowing down now. Unfortunately for you, this often results in the putz making the light, and you having to stop since you had to prematurely break to avoid tasting what this dufuss had for dinner, via his tailpipe.
The Guess Where I am Going – Put simply, these jokers think turn signals are just clues as to your next move in road battle, so never use them. They are often seen tossing bio-terrorism bombs (some refer to them as cigarette butts) out their windows as well.
The Hanger – Does your car have a blind-spot? If so, these jackasses will make every effort to reside there until you need to move. Then, as if it were your fault, they suddenly find a penchant for blowing their horns and gleefully letting you know they think you are #1 by gesturing with that one particular finger. Other Hangers like to ride beside you, just like they were a passenger in your car, especially when you are not-so-comfortably wedged between them and some sort of construction barrier. To all those guilty of this offensive behavior, take some advice: speed up, or slow down, it is not that hard!!!
I am not sure how many of you all are aware, but the National Transportation Safety Board recently divulged they had covertly funded a project with the US auto makers for the past five years, whereby the auto makers were installing black boxes in four-wheel drive pickup trucks in an effort to determine, in fatal accidents, the circumstances in the last 15 seconds before the crash. They were surprised to find in 49 of the 50 states the last words of drivers in 61.2 percent of fatal crashes were, "Oh, Shit!" In Texas however, the results were quite different, where over 89.3 percent of the final words were: "Hold my beer and watch this!"
Friday, January 9, 2009
Hello,
I feel certain it won’t take all of you super-intelligent readers to figure out this blog is not by my best servant, heee, heee, who I will refer to simply as “Mr.” No, that is not a type-o. I for one cannot understand a dang word Mr. or his woman servant, Mrs., says unless the word ends in “–ingo,” or something else that rhymes with Supreme Owner, Manager, Executive Ringo.
Anyway, enough of the introductions; I am the master, and that is all you need to know! But, I do let my servants use the new-fangled device they refer to as a computer-ingo. Fortunately, tonight Mr. did not bother to take the time to cancel his session, and I get to tell you all how everything really works!
First, I run this domain, and what I say goes. For example, here are my top 10 rules:
1. I am the owner of Mr. and Mrs., and it is NOT the other way around!
2. Whenever I want to go outside, I just have to say it once (or twice, or three times, but they always get the picture) and they come right down and let me out (because why should I have to open the door for myself?!?)
3. If it touches the floor, it belongs to me!
4. If the object fits in my mouth, it will be in my mouth, ASAP!
5. If something is in my mouth, these fools should recognize I ain’t lettin’ it go.
6. If my foot is in my bowl, then Mr. or Mrs. best fill up that bowl with the appropriate snack pretty darn quickly, or my foot will stamp that bowl again!
7. Just because I lost my cajones (through no fault of my own) does not mean I won’t hump your leg !
8. If you have a crotch or arse, then I am entitled to smell it; I WILL smell it; and only then will I decide if you are friend or foe!
9. Who am I kidding? If you let me smell your crotch, I’ll help you carry out the unnecessaries (furniture, televisions … or anything else not related to Mr. and/or Mrs. feeding me upon request) if you rob Mr. and Mrs. … heck, I might even accompany you!
10. I am always faithful to my pack (unless a new pack comes along).
Once you simple bipeds recognize who runs things, you and I will get along much better. For example, if you don’t do as I command, I might just conveniently stop forgetting to bark before you have to rent a steam cleaner.
But still, you all do need to learn to realize talent! It seems like every time I try to provide Mr. and Mrs. with a beautiful serenade (which they refer to as a bowel, or fowl, or howl … yeah, it must be howl), they yell at me! I am not sure exactly what they are saying, but the tone, well its just plain cruel! When am I ever so harsh with them?!? All I give is love.
ANYWAY, I have faith that they will learn my language soon enough; after all, I have put a lot of effort into learning theirs! I mean really, who else gives a stupid high-five just to get a simple treat which I obviously cannot reach on my own.
Maroons!
I feel certain it won’t take all of you super-intelligent readers to figure out this blog is not by my best servant, heee, heee, who I will refer to simply as “Mr.” No, that is not a type-o. I for one cannot understand a dang word Mr. or his woman servant, Mrs., says unless the word ends in “–ingo,” or something else that rhymes with Supreme Owner, Manager, Executive Ringo.
Anyway, enough of the introductions; I am the master, and that is all you need to know! But, I do let my servants use the new-fangled device they refer to as a computer-ingo. Fortunately, tonight Mr. did not bother to take the time to cancel his session, and I get to tell you all how everything really works!
First, I run this domain, and what I say goes. For example, here are my top 10 rules:
1. I am the owner of Mr. and Mrs., and it is NOT the other way around!
2. Whenever I want to go outside, I just have to say it once (or twice, or three times, but they always get the picture) and they come right down and let me out (because why should I have to open the door for myself?!?)
3. If it touches the floor, it belongs to me!
4. If the object fits in my mouth, it will be in my mouth, ASAP!
5. If something is in my mouth, these fools should recognize I ain’t lettin’ it go.
6. If my foot is in my bowl, then Mr. or Mrs. best fill up that bowl with the appropriate snack pretty darn quickly, or my foot will stamp that bowl again!
7. Just because I lost my cajones (through no fault of my own) does not mean I won’t hump your leg !
8. If you have a crotch or arse, then I am entitled to smell it; I WILL smell it; and only then will I decide if you are friend or foe!
9. Who am I kidding? If you let me smell your crotch, I’ll help you carry out the unnecessaries (furniture, televisions … or anything else not related to Mr. and/or Mrs. feeding me upon request) if you rob Mr. and Mrs. … heck, I might even accompany you!
10. I am always faithful to my pack (unless a new pack comes along).
Once you simple bipeds recognize who runs things, you and I will get along much better. For example, if you don’t do as I command, I might just conveniently stop forgetting to bark before you have to rent a steam cleaner.
But still, you all do need to learn to realize talent! It seems like every time I try to provide Mr. and Mrs. with a beautiful serenade (which they refer to as a bowel, or fowl, or howl … yeah, it must be howl), they yell at me! I am not sure exactly what they are saying, but the tone, well its just plain cruel! When am I ever so harsh with them?!? All I give is love.
ANYWAY, I have faith that they will learn my language soon enough; after all, I have put a lot of effort into learning theirs! I mean really, who else gives a stupid high-five just to get a simple treat which I obviously cannot reach on my own.
Maroons!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Perils of Sleeping Together
No this is not some preachy entry to warn all the horn-dogs out there about the obvious hazards of private (and public in some cases – I imagine only of course) relations, such as increased risk of STDs, unplanned little pitter-patters around the house, having your partner fall in love when you just thought you were rehearsing for something better, etc. No, this is not that type of entry at all. This blog is to provide everyone out there fair warning about the more dangerous aspects of sharing a bed!
If you find yourself new to sharing a bed, one of your prime concerns may likely be hypothermia. Why? Well, from personal experience, I find women like to cover up while sleeping …. regardless of the detriment to their bed-mate. Countless times I used to awaken to find only the big toe on my right foot still under any type of cover. As I would glance over my shoulder, teeth chattering uncontrollably, I would see what appeared to be a giant cocoon, emitting waffs of steam; oddly enough, I had ice cycles dangling from my nose. But, luckily I live in Texas, so the ice cycles and corresponding sense of impending death by exposure were only present during the two-week cold front that blows through here once a year (what we South-Texans commonly refer to as Winter).
Now, for the more experienced partners, I would like to enumerate some of the less frequent, but equally exciting ways to be roused from a sweet dream or deep sleep:
1) The Karate Chop – lying peacefully, with my back to Tiffany, I began to feel something akin to a light message that grew exponentially in force and repetition. Soon, I had the sensation of lying in bed with a black belt, and I was the training post. After 2 operations to repair my spine, Tiffany vowed to be more careful.
2) The Running Man – this particular event is not quite so hazardous, unless you consider the potential of falling out of bed laughing and cracking your skull on the night stand. One cold night (while desperately trying to avoid the freezing hazard previously mentioned), my wife and I were “spooning.” Well, just as I am about to doze off, Tiffany suddenly gets the urge to run a full marathon in her sleep. Her little legs and arms start pumping furiously, just as if she were sprinting, only lying on her side. My words fail to sufficiently describe the hilarity of the situation, but suffice it say, whenever I feel sad, I just think of that evening, and it still brings a smile to my face!
3) T-Ball – before we got married, Tiff and I went to the batting cages a few times. Tiff would probably be the first to tell you she is not much of an athlete, but she swings a pretty mean bat. Unfortunately, on that fateful evening, my head must have resembled a soft-ball. Not once, not twice, but three freaking times, in rapid succession, I was struck in the skull by Tiff’s “bat,” which luckily for me was only her arms in this case. I only suffered a mild concussion, so recovery was not TOO strenuous.
4) The Freight Train – I think most people, even those who have not slept in the same bed with another human being, may be able to identify with this event. Almost nightly, I find myself dreaming, then the dream turns from one of pleasant thoughts to one of irritation (for example, an old man complaining loudly, someone chopping wood, someone banging loud drums, maybe even a freight train rolling by?). Well, of course, when I awaken, I find the real sound is nothing other than the snores of someone lying close to me. I wonder if that is what Eurythmics meant by Sweet Dreams?
I could probably go on, but I feel this sampling should provide sufficient edification to anyone considering taking up mutual sleeping arrangements. By the way, if you do feel the need for protection, I found this website VERY helpful: http://www.footballequipmentinfo.com/
No this is not some preachy entry to warn all the horn-dogs out there about the obvious hazards of private (and public in some cases – I imagine only of course) relations, such as increased risk of STDs, unplanned little pitter-patters around the house, having your partner fall in love when you just thought you were rehearsing for something better, etc. No, this is not that type of entry at all. This blog is to provide everyone out there fair warning about the more dangerous aspects of sharing a bed!
If you find yourself new to sharing a bed, one of your prime concerns may likely be hypothermia. Why? Well, from personal experience, I find women like to cover up while sleeping …. regardless of the detriment to their bed-mate. Countless times I used to awaken to find only the big toe on my right foot still under any type of cover. As I would glance over my shoulder, teeth chattering uncontrollably, I would see what appeared to be a giant cocoon, emitting waffs of steam; oddly enough, I had ice cycles dangling from my nose. But, luckily I live in Texas, so the ice cycles and corresponding sense of impending death by exposure were only present during the two-week cold front that blows through here once a year (what we South-Texans commonly refer to as Winter).
Now, for the more experienced partners, I would like to enumerate some of the less frequent, but equally exciting ways to be roused from a sweet dream or deep sleep:
1) The Karate Chop – lying peacefully, with my back to Tiffany, I began to feel something akin to a light message that grew exponentially in force and repetition. Soon, I had the sensation of lying in bed with a black belt, and I was the training post. After 2 operations to repair my spine, Tiffany vowed to be more careful.
2) The Running Man – this particular event is not quite so hazardous, unless you consider the potential of falling out of bed laughing and cracking your skull on the night stand. One cold night (while desperately trying to avoid the freezing hazard previously mentioned), my wife and I were “spooning.” Well, just as I am about to doze off, Tiffany suddenly gets the urge to run a full marathon in her sleep. Her little legs and arms start pumping furiously, just as if she were sprinting, only lying on her side. My words fail to sufficiently describe the hilarity of the situation, but suffice it say, whenever I feel sad, I just think of that evening, and it still brings a smile to my face!
3) T-Ball – before we got married, Tiff and I went to the batting cages a few times. Tiff would probably be the first to tell you she is not much of an athlete, but she swings a pretty mean bat. Unfortunately, on that fateful evening, my head must have resembled a soft-ball. Not once, not twice, but three freaking times, in rapid succession, I was struck in the skull by Tiff’s “bat,” which luckily for me was only her arms in this case. I only suffered a mild concussion, so recovery was not TOO strenuous.
4) The Freight Train – I think most people, even those who have not slept in the same bed with another human being, may be able to identify with this event. Almost nightly, I find myself dreaming, then the dream turns from one of pleasant thoughts to one of irritation (for example, an old man complaining loudly, someone chopping wood, someone banging loud drums, maybe even a freight train rolling by?). Well, of course, when I awaken, I find the real sound is nothing other than the snores of someone lying close to me. I wonder if that is what Eurythmics meant by Sweet Dreams?
I could probably go on, but I feel this sampling should provide sufficient edification to anyone considering taking up mutual sleeping arrangements. By the way, if you do feel the need for protection, I found this website VERY helpful: http://www.footballequipmentinfo.com/
Saturday, January 3, 2009
It is About Time
Well, as part of my many New Year’s resolutions, I am going to try and maintain some sort of blog. I figure “Why not? Blogging is the new narcissism.” Then again, I do think I am supremely important, and obviously do not possess the disposable time to maintain such a time-intensive effort just to keep the naïve masses informed. HA! Just kidding! Really, I think I am just too lazy to update this regularly, but I’ll give it a try.
So, I will title this entry: It is About Time
Not to disappoint my numerous fans, but this title actually has nothing to do with your ubiquitous requests for me to begin blogging. Rather, this entry refers to a much anticipated, if not long overdue event my wife and I encountered this evening … and it is about time!
After experiencing far too many encounters with MALE video store clerks, movie ticket-takers, and rent-a-cops of ambiguous sexual-orientation (not that there is anything wrong with that!) pursuing far more than our casual customer / service representative relationship would suggest, I finally got a welcome reprieve.
By the way, for those of you who are curious, no, the presence of my wife has absolutely no adverse impact on the advances perpetrated on my person by these inappropriately intimate epicenes. Quite to the contrary in fact, apparently my wife’s presence seems to inspire even more coy smiles, inquiries about my plans for the evening, etc., as if her presence represents some sort of challenge to them, or is some sort of ruse. While, if I were otherwise inclined, I might find the attention flattering, to borrow a phrase from the Urban Dictionary: “Hommie don’t roll like that!” But I digress, so back to the story at hand…
My wife and I went to a local movie theater (careful to avoid one of my “admirers” at a different theater), and purchased our tickets without incident. However, once we had our tickets in hand and approached the employee endowed with the power to admit us to our particular theater, things took and all too familiar turn … fortunately, I was not the victim of this particular inappropriate familiarity.
As we approached the nice young gentleman, he bashfully smiled at my wife, and without hesitation, began inquiring about the nature of her injury (Tiffany has a stress fracture from running, and is wearing an air cast on her left leg). Now, I think most people would agree one or two questions along this line does not necessarily constitute anything particularly out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, the inquisition continued for a good 2 to 3 minutes, and the young man seemed to become more and more enamored with each response. I was just waiting for him to ask for her (our!) phone number. Eventually, Tiffany was finally able to excuse us as we were going to be late for our show … a good excuse, since introducing me as her husband would likely have had little effect on the conversation.
Now alone, as we walked to Theater 17 and just barely made our show on time, I quietly laughed to myself, and thought “It is about time!” At least my wife can rest comfortably in the knowledge that she and I seem to have the same luck with men.
So, I will title this entry: It is About Time
Not to disappoint my numerous fans, but this title actually has nothing to do with your ubiquitous requests for me to begin blogging. Rather, this entry refers to a much anticipated, if not long overdue event my wife and I encountered this evening … and it is about time!
After experiencing far too many encounters with MALE video store clerks, movie ticket-takers, and rent-a-cops of ambiguous sexual-orientation (not that there is anything wrong with that!) pursuing far more than our casual customer / service representative relationship would suggest, I finally got a welcome reprieve.
By the way, for those of you who are curious, no, the presence of my wife has absolutely no adverse impact on the advances perpetrated on my person by these inappropriately intimate epicenes. Quite to the contrary in fact, apparently my wife’s presence seems to inspire even more coy smiles, inquiries about my plans for the evening, etc., as if her presence represents some sort of challenge to them, or is some sort of ruse. While, if I were otherwise inclined, I might find the attention flattering, to borrow a phrase from the Urban Dictionary: “Hommie don’t roll like that!” But I digress, so back to the story at hand…
My wife and I went to a local movie theater (careful to avoid one of my “admirers” at a different theater), and purchased our tickets without incident. However, once we had our tickets in hand and approached the employee endowed with the power to admit us to our particular theater, things took and all too familiar turn … fortunately, I was not the victim of this particular inappropriate familiarity.
As we approached the nice young gentleman, he bashfully smiled at my wife, and without hesitation, began inquiring about the nature of her injury (Tiffany has a stress fracture from running, and is wearing an air cast on her left leg). Now, I think most people would agree one or two questions along this line does not necessarily constitute anything particularly out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, the inquisition continued for a good 2 to 3 minutes, and the young man seemed to become more and more enamored with each response. I was just waiting for him to ask for her (our!) phone number. Eventually, Tiffany was finally able to excuse us as we were going to be late for our show … a good excuse, since introducing me as her husband would likely have had little effect on the conversation.
Now alone, as we walked to Theater 17 and just barely made our show on time, I quietly laughed to myself, and thought “It is about time!” At least my wife can rest comfortably in the knowledge that she and I seem to have the same luck with men.
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